“Perhaps that was because she thought you were already married?” The valet rolled his eyes. “Even a female lacking Miss Ellingham’s intelligence would doubt your intentions.”
“Obviously.” Jason drained the final drop of liquor from his glass. “Despite my very inadequate offer of marriage, I am determined to have her for my wife.”
“Then you have no reason to act so bleak,” Pierce replied. “Things will eventually work themselves out. I would think that being in love would bring you some measure of happiness.”
“Unfortunately, there are other complications.”
The valet drew in a deep breath and released it slowly.
“They will vanish once Miss Ellingham learns the truth.”
“Not entirely.” Jason rose to his feet and stretched out the stiffness in his back. “I fear she is somehow connected to the financial discrepancies at the estate.”
“Are you certain?”
The question made him slightly dizzy, for that was the crux of his dilemma. No matter how hard he had tried, Jason could not wrap his mind around Gwendolyn’s involvement. He simply could not believe that she could be so devious, so dishonest. But he had seen for himself how jittery and nervous she was in the portrait gallery around the forgery.
She clearly knew something and had elected to hide it from him. But why? Was she protecting her sister, who had possibly painted the forgery? Or someone else? Her uncle, perhaps? He was a good friend of Ardley’s.
“I am only certain of my misery and confusion,” Jason replied in a somber tone.
“Then best leave this problem to be solved at another time. I fear you have pressing issues to deal with at the moment.”
“Something more pressing than my future, Pierce?”
“Indeed. Forgive me for not mentioning it sooner.
The darkness when I first entered the room addled my brain and clouded my memory. Your brother, the real Lord Fairhurst, has just arrived. He is waiting in the drawing room to see you.”
Three days. It had been three days since she had last seen him. Three days also since she had learned the awful truth about her uncle and his dishonorable way of trying to cover his gambling debts.
Gwendolyn had tried to forget Lord Fairhurst, had tried to push from her mind how much she cared about him, how much she still wanted to be a part of his life.
She knew it was an impossibility, yet her stubborn heart clung to the hope that some miracle would occur and she would be free to indulge in her feelings.
However, Gwendolyn was a woman who listened to her head. Though she might dream of a miracle, she knew she must face the reality. There would be no magical fairy tale ending for her and the viscount and she was determined to accept the truth of the situation. It would have been far easier if she could simply walk away from the viscount, but the situation with her uncle made it impossible.
It was imperative that she keep some line of communication open between herself and Lord Fairhurst. If Uncle Fletcher was unable to set things to rights, Gwendolyn knew it would be up to her to plead his case, to somehow convince the viscount not to throw her uncle in jail and ruin all their lives.
So, as much as she would have loved to ignore this latest request from Lord Fairhurst to meet with him, Gwendolyn had decided she must acquiesce. The note had been delivered yesterday. The previous two she had returned unopened, but for some reason she had been compelled to open this one. Already she worried that she had delayed too long in responding.
Even as a child, she was not one to gnaw and wiggle at a loose tooth. Instead, to the sheer horror of her sisters, she would tie a piece of thread around the offending culprit and then swiftly pull. A moment of sharp pain and the problem was solved. Of course, the fact that she was now likening Lord Fairhurst to a tooth was merely a further example of how bizarre her life had fallen.
Telling only Emma where she was going, Gwendolyn had set out on horseback directly after luncheon. The stable boy at the Moorehead Manor greeted her politely, promising to look after her mount. As expected, the butler answered Gwendolyn’s knock.
“Good afternoon, Snowden. Is his lordship at home?”
she asked as she tugged off her riding gloves and jammed them into the deep pockets of her riding skirt.
“Miss Ellingham! Good afternoon.”
Uncharacteristically flustered, the butler glanced over his shoulder. “Is Lord Fairhurst expecting you?”
“Not precisely. But he did request that I call upon him.
I will wait in the drawing room.”
Barely taking notice of the sudden paleness in the butler’s face, Gwendolyn sailed past him. She easily found her way, but drew to a halt when she entered the room, discovering it was already occupied. By Jason.
He turned as she entered, lifting a monocle up to his left eye and peering intently through it. “Good afternoon.”
His voice was calm, almost bored. After three days of impassioned notes and messages from him, this was hardly the reception she anticipated. Thinking this might be a deliberate move to keep her off balance, Gwendolyn felt her temper begin to rise.
“For pity’s sake, put that thing away. We both know your eyesight is perfectly fine. You look like a fool when you flail it around. A pompous fool.”
His eyebrow shot up as he slowly lowered the eyepiece.
“Apparently you got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, and your disposition has worsened as the day wore on. Still, there is no need to take out your sour mood on me. Especially in my own drawing room.”
“I am here at your command, my lord.” She glared daggers at him, emphasizing her displeasure at his attitude. “Reluctantly, I might add.”
“I demanded your presence? Impossible!”
A small sound of frustration escaped from her lips. “I give you fair warning, my lord, I have no patience for your tomfoolery today. So stop acting like a ninny.”
“A ninny? Saints above, did you just call me a ninny?”
“’Tis more polite than saying you are an ass,” Gwendolyn retorted in a sickening sweet tone.
For a heartbeat he glared at her. She could not read the quick expression that passed behind his eyes, but it made her feel very wary.
“Your sharp tongue and rude behavior are intolerable. I demand an apology,” he declared, clenching his jaw.
“You can demand whatever you like. ’Tis what you seem to do best—make endless demands on people.”
“Now see here, young woman, if you do not cease behaving in this uncivilized manner immediately, I will have you forcibly removed from my home!”
Young woman? Had he just called her a young woman?
What game was he playing out now? Gwendolyn opened her mouth, but the angr y retort died on her lips. Lord Fairhurst truly was furious. Though his voice remained calm and never rose in volume, the depth of his anger radiated from every fiber of his being.
She paused, leaned forward and stared closely at the man standing before her. His face and body were etched in her memory, yet there was a small, subtle difference she could not easily discern. His features were handsome, his eyes green, his hair the same shade of blond.
He was dressed rather formally for an afternoon at home. The garments, as usual, were of the finest quality, well cut and expertly tailored, yet somber. Though she could not help but notice they lacked the usual flair and boldness she always associated with the viscount. Finally, she noticed a heavy gold signet ring glittering on his left hand. Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown. Jason never wore a ring.
A sinking feeling of dread washed over her entire being.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“I am Fairhurst.” Squinting, he lifted that ridiculous monocle again. “More importantly, who the devil are you?”
His question was preposterous, yet confirmed her suspicions. He was not Jason. Gwendolyn rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers. “But that’s impossible. You cannot be Fairhurst. I am well acquainte
d with Lord Fairhurst. And while ’tis true you bear an amazing resemblance to him—”
Gwendolyn suddenly ceased talking, her mind trip-ping ahead over the facts. He was not the viscount, yet he looked exactly like him. What was so preposterous to imagine suddenly became crystal clear. This gentleman was Jason’s brother, Jason’s identical twin brother.
But why had he referred to himself as Fairhurst?
“Ah, I see the light of truth has gone off in your head and struck you speechless.” He brushed an imaginary bit of lint off his navy blue coat and gave her a slight grin. “I confess to enjoying the silence.”
“You are Jason’s brother,” Gwendolyn said slowly.
“I am.”
“But you claimed to be Lord Fairhurst?”
“I am Fairhurst.” There was a shade of scorn in his tone. “’Tis a peculiar situation, I grant you. Circumstances of fate gave me that title and eventually I shall in-herit the earldom from our father. I am the elder twin, the oldest son, though in truth I was born a mere seven minutes before my brother.”
For a moment, Gwendolyn could not catch her breath. She felt a peculiar tightness at the back of her throat, as the emotions lingered inside her. Jason was not Lord Fairhurst. But why had he deceived her?
“Have you recently arrived at the manor?” she croaked out.
“Just a few moments ago, actually.” He moved toward her, then pulled up short, as if suddenly realizing the extent of her distress. “It appears that you were under the misconception that my brother was the viscount. I assure you there is a logical explanation.”
Gwendolyn’s eyes glistened as she peered up at him.
Jason had lied to her, had lied to them all. But why?
“Logical perhaps, but acceptable? I think not, my lord.”
There was a commotion at the door and they both turned to see the intruder. Jason strode into the room, then stopped suddenly. His eyes rounded with shock and a stinging curse fell from his lips.
The nearly mind-numbing confusion gripping Gwendolyn rapidly developed into an overwhelming sense of betrayal. She looked from Jason to his brother, noting once again the subtle differences between the two. Lord Fairhurst was stiffer, more formal, more distant. Jason was more polished, more stylish, in a casual, yet sophisticated way.
Her lips quivered. From anger, from vexation, from pure emotion. Jason took hold of her elbow and she nearly jumped at his touch.
“I can see that you are distressed,” he said.
“Because you have lied to me? Lied to us all, Lord Fairhurst? ” She swallowed deeply. “I have never met a pair of twins before. The resemblance is quite extraordinary.”
“It has diminished slightly as we have aged,” he insisted.
“Hardly.” She bit her lips fiercely to repress her tears, to distract the pain. “Since I now know you are not who you claimed, may I be so bold as to ask your real name?”
“I am Jason Barrington.”
“And your brother?”
“He is Jasper Barrington, Viscount Fairhurst.”
“Ah! You chose to reveal your true first name to me, Jason. How extraordinary. I suppose I should be deeply flattered at the honor.” She curled her hands into fists and faced the viscount. “I must inform you, my lord, that your brother took to being addressed as Lord Fairhurst like a duck to water. I suspect he secretly covets your title.”
Jason stepped for ward and reached for her hand.
“Gwendolyn, please, you must allow me to explain.”
“Why? So you can make an even greater fool of me?”
She twisted away, eyeing the door, but Jason blocked her exit. Worried she would lose the very tentative hold she had on her emotions if he touched her again, she turned to his brother.
“I wish I could say it has been a pleasure to finally meet you, my lord.” Lifting her chin, she swallowed valiantly to dislodge the lump of emotion in her throat.
“But I, unlike other members of your family, prefer not to indulge in lies.”
Having distracted Jason’s attention to his brother, Gwendolyn seized her slight advantage and ran for the doors. Ignoring Jason’s pleas for her to stop, she stepped past him and hurried out the door. Heedless of the fact that the exertion was making the fierce red color she felt blossoming on her cheeks even more prominent, Gwendolyn broke into a run.
The quiet she left behind was complete. Jason’s eyes met his brother’s, and the two stared at each other for several seconds in stunned silence. Pushing past his brother, Jason tried to follow Gwendolyn, but a strong grip on his arm held him back.
“I take it you refused to follow my advice and have assumed my identity while living here?” Jasper asked.
“My God, Jasper, you have not lost your talent for stating the obvious.” Jason leaned his head for ward and closed his eyes, desperately trying to sober his mind. The half-decanter of brandy he had recently consumed was still swirling in his head, along with the picture of hurt and horror on Gwendolyn’s face. “Could you not have gone along with the charade for a few hours or at least waited to talk with me before revealing your identity?”
“No,” Jasper said as he released his grip. “I warned you the idea was ludicrous. No good ever comes of deception, brother.”
Jason slowly opened his eyes. “Spare me the two-penny philosophy. What am I going to do? How am I going to fix this mess?”
“Why would it be necessary? I assume she is one of the local girls? From her ensemble, I deduced she was respectable, yet clearly a woman of modest means. Her opinion is unimportant.”
“I had forgotten what a pompous ass you can be at times.”
Jasper straightened the line of his coat, then glanced at his brother with interest. “She insulted me. More than once.”
“Well, she is highly intelligent.”
“Spirited, too. And very attractive, if one appreciates such dark, striking hair and eyes.” Jasper reached out his hand again, this time patting his brother on the shoulder. “Still, no need to look so glum. I vow you will forget her as soon as you return to London.”
“You don’t understand. I love her, Jasper.”
“Of course you do,” Jasper said with a knowing grin.
“Just as you love all women. That’s hardly a surprising revelation.”
“I want to marry her.”
Jasper did not even bother to hide his astonishment.
“Does she know?”
“Yes, she knows.” Jason paced about the room, his eye on the whiskey decanter. But he knew the last thing he needed right now was another drink. “I’ve already asked her, but she refused, believing I was you and therefore already married.” Jason threw himself into a chair and sighed loudly. “God, what a colossal mess I have made of everything.”
“No more than usual,” his brother said cheerfully.
Jason lifted his head and glared at his twin. “Stuff it! I am in no condition to tolerate your jibes. If you push me, I will probably take a swing at you, and that will do no one any good.”
The mood in the room suddenly shifted. “You really are serious about this woman?” Jasper asked.
Jason felt a bit of his heart crumble. “I am.”
“Then you had best get your sorry ass out of that chair and hurry after your dear Gwendolyn. If you manage to catch her before she leaves the estate, you can try to explain, apologize profusely and then beg her forgiveness.
Trust me, brother, you would be a fool indeed to let a woman like that slip from your grasp.”
Jason did not have to be told twice. He raced out of the drawing room, ran down the back hall and out of the house through the French door that led to the terrace.
Assuming from her riding costume that Gwendolyn had come on horseback, he rounded the side of the terrace and charged toward the stables.
He caught her just as the stable boy was leading her horse to the mounting block. “I’ll take care of that, George,” he said.
Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed fire at him,
but she waited until the servant obediently left before speaking. “Save your breath, sir. I have no interest in hearing anything that you have to say. I only wish to be gone from here as quickly as possible.”
“Gwendolyn, please. I beg that you give me a chance to redeem myself. Life is far too short to waste your time being angry over a misunderstanding.”
“Oh, so you did not intentionally deceive me? Lie to me? Lie to all of us? Did I merely misunderstand when you claimed to be Lord Fairhurst?”
He felt his jaw go taut. “I was wrong to continue the deception after we became so close, but you must know that was never my intention. I came here on business for my brother and decided it would be better accomplished if I assumed his identity.”
Her eyes flickered, their dark depths turbulent with emotion. “The real Lord Fairhurst seemed surprised at your little masquerade. Did you also neglect to inform him of your plan?”
Jason ran his fingers through his hair, then clasped the back of his neck. “Jasper and I were in disagreement about the best way to handle the situation.”
“Why does it not surprise me that you refused to listen to anyone’s opinion?”
“All right! I was wrong. I admit it. But I ask you, why do you think I have been so anxious to speak with you these past three days? After the night we spent together, I realized that I should have told you the whole truth. I tried to get you alone, to tell you ever ything, but you purposely eluded me. And you have continued to rebuff all my attempts to see you.”
“I will concede that you have tried to make amends, but ’tis a clear instance of too little, too late,” Gwendolyn replied, her voice laden with skepticism. “There were opportunities too numerous to count before that morning when you could have told me the truth, yet you elected to continue with your deception.”
“Do not walk away from me, Gwendolyn,” he pleaded, his voice sounding hollow, even to his own ears.
She stopped and turned her head. Her face had gone pale. “You leave me no choice.”
Her expression was cold and unyielding. But there was also something unbearably poignant and lonely about her that tugged relentlessly at his heart. He hesitated, trying to find the right words, the right gesture that would somehow make this nightmare end.
How to Enjoy a Scandal Page 23
