It was hard to think when all the time a golden bubble of sweet anticipation was steadily growing inside her. She went shopping with Nell and Cassie and came home with a swansdown-trimmed negligée – the transparency of which both excited and alarmed her and provoked the girls into a variety of unseemly remarks. Then, without quite knowing how it came about, she found herself accepting Isabel Vernon’s invitation for Nell and herself to spend the following evening at Ranelagh.
‘It will be a very small party,’ explained Lady Isabel in her gentle way. ‘Just Philip and myself and Harry and Jack, I thought. It’s so pleasant, sometimes, to simply relax amongst friends.’
Lord Philip emerged at his wife’s side looking faintly sheepish.
‘I’m afraid your party has grown, my love. Charles Fox and March want to come.’
‘Do they indeed?’ asked Isabel, not without humour. ‘Well, unless I can find two more ladies to balance the party, they can’t.’
‘One more,’ grinned his lordship. ‘Jack has already suggested – ever so casually! – that we include one of her Grace’s cousins.’
‘I wish,’ said her Grace absently, ‘that you would call me Adeline.’ And then, ‘Which cousin?’
‘The quiet one. Althea, is it? Though personally I don’t see how we can ask one without the other.’
‘Why not? Since Diana would happily go without Thea, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t work the other way about,’ responded Adeline. ‘And, quite frankly, it would do Thea good.’
‘Then that’s settled,’ said Isabel. ‘We’ll invite Mistress Althea to please Jack … and I’ll ask Lady Delahaye to spare us Cassandra.’
‘To please Mr Fox?’ grinned Adeline. ‘Or Lord March?’
‘Neither.’ Isabel smiled mischievously back. ‘They are both coming to flirt with you. I thought you realised.’
Naturally pleased at the prospect of visiting Ranelagh, Nell said less than might have been expected on the subject of Lord Harry’s inclusion in the party and, instead, threw herself with gusto into the absorbing matter of what to wear. What she thought was therefore less apparent than usual … and Adeline, caught up in her own private whirlpool, was too pre-occupied to enquire.
They were to travel to Chelsea in cavalcade – Harry having elected to join the Vernons and Jack to ride with Lord March and Mr Fox. Adeline, who had volunteered to bring Cassie and Thea but had no desire to meet her aunt or Diana, solved the problem by despatching Jeanne in the carriage to collect both young ladies. Then, her party complete and filled with varying degrees of joie-de-vivre, they set off for the pleasure gardens.
The girls, reflected Adeline idly, made a pretty trio. Nell had chosen a white ruffled gown and a domino of her favourite rose-pink; brown-haired Cassie wore topaz taffeta over primrose and Althea was pale but excited in lavender and blue. Since the only person who mattered would not be there to see it, Adeline spared little thought for her own pale apricot ball-gown and domino of cream watered-silk – but she supposed she looked well enough.
Certainly, on arrival at Ranelagh, it seemed that March and Mr Fox thought so for they both immediately offered their arms to her and showed every sign of allowing no one to proceed until one of them had ousted the other. It was, of course, all perfectly amicable and Adeline let them hone their wits for a moment before saying kindly, ‘Don’t squabble, gentlemen. I am not a bone to be picked.’ And then, with an oblique, provoking smile, she offered her hand to Lord Harry.’
‘Such style,’ sighed Cassie. ‘I wish I had it.’
Nell, her eyes dwelling with dawning resentment on his lordship’s oblivious back, vouchsafed no answer. And Althea, smiling shyly into Jack’s grey eyes, did not even hear. Cassie shrugged, accepted Mr Fox’s arm with complete good-nature and left Nell to follow with Lord March.
The gardens were lit by a myriad of coloured lanterns, cunningly concealed amidst trees and shrubs. There were numerous tiny kiosks, grottos and bowers - ornamental ponds, fountains and cascades; and strains of music drifted out from the elegant pavilion where dancing was already in progress. Ignoring all of it, Harry Caversham laughingly informed Adeline that she was a minx.
‘I don’t know what Rock’s about to leave you to your own devices this way. Where’s he gone, anyway?’
‘To the country. He didn’t say where,’ she replied tranquilly. And then, ‘You’ve got a whole evening in which to make Nell see you in a new light. Do you think you can do it?’
‘The question is – do I want to?’ The blue eyes were seraphic but his voice was not. ‘One gets tired, I find, of being repeatedly kicked. I think I’ll further my acquaintance with Cassie.’
They supped in one of the booths in the Great Rotunda in an atmosphere of increasing conviviality. Nell wished that she had stayed at home. It wasn’t that she minded Charles Fox and March flirting in that absurd way with Adeline … though by the time she’d been subjected to it throughout supper and for a full half hour afterwards, she was beginning to find it tedious. And of course it was entirely beneath her to resent the trouble everyone was taking to set Thea at her ease when she knew – who better? – that this was exactly what the poor girl needed. But she did think it was a bit much for Harry to ignore her in that rude way and for Cassie to encourage his nonsense quite so blatantly. Not, she told herself firmly, that she was in the least bit jealous of Cassie – who was, after all, her very dearest friend; but she did wish that someone would take some notice of her for a change … just so that she wouldn’t feel so miserably left out.
Pride and a solid grounding in good manners pinned a smile on her face but beneath it lay a well of confusion. She ought not to mind Lord Harry’s defection since she herself had ordered it. But somehow, now it no longer seemed that he’d been pursuing her with Rock’s connivance, the triumph of successfully repudiating him had lost a lot of its savour. And the worst of it was that she did not know why.
‘Nell!’
She dragged herself reluctantly from her thoughts to meet Isabel Vernon’s mildly exasperated gaze.
‘I’m sorry, Isabel. Did you say something?’
‘Not above three times. Indeed, I’d not have persevered but for the fact that I’d like you to tell me if the gentleman in salmon brocade who is approaching us is Althea’s uncle.’
‘Probably,’ replied Nell carelessly. And then, ‘Yes. It is. Why do you ask?’
‘Because I’ve let her slip away with Jack – and Cassie and Harry too, of course. There seemed no harm in it. But her uncle may enquire and it seems unfair to let Adeline bear the brunt.’
‘Oh.’ Depression lodged like a lead weight in Nell’s chest. She said tightly, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. I doubt he’ll care a fig.’
Adeline, responding coolly to Mr Horton’s overly-elaborate bow, was thinking much the same thing. It therefore came as a slight surprise when he said chidingly, ‘You must forgive me, my dear, if I observe that your care of Althea leaves something to be desired. I have just seen her in the pavilion, dancing with Mr Ingram – and apparently unchaperoned. I do not, you will notice, count the presence of Mistress Delahaye.’
‘Most understandable,’ said a composed voice at his elbow. ‘But – as Mistress Althea’s hostess – I’m afraid that these strictures should more properly be addressed to me.’
Turning sharply, Mr Horton found himself meeting a pair of soft but surprisingly direct pansy-brown eyes.
‘I hope you’ll pardon my intrusion, Adeline,’ continued Isabel pleasantly, ‘but I couldn’t help overhearing – so it seemed only right that I trouble you to present me.’
To the mild liking Adeline already felt for Isabel Vernon was added respect. She smiled, took up her cue and watched her uncle losing the initiative beneath her ladyship’s gentle flow of apology.
‘And now,’ concluded Isabel at length, ‘it might be best if I recovered my charges from the pavilion – if, that is, my husband has not already done so. March … your arm, if you please.’ And with the
briefest of gleaming glances for Adeline, she walked away.
Mr Fox, who was not averse to making the most of Lord March’s absence and did not, in any case, care for Mr Horton, drew Nell’s hand through one arm and offered the other to Adeline.
‘Though one cannot, of course, imagine dear Jack doing anything in the least clandestine,’ he remarked languidly, ‘doubtless we are all equally agog to find out.’
More interested in finding Cassie and Harry, Nell merely nodded.
Adeline, however, delayed to say sweetly, ‘I trust that your mind is now sufficiently relieved, Uncle?’
‘Not entirely. I believe I would be grateful for a moment of your time,’ he replied. ‘I daresay Mr Fox will be pleased to escort Lady Elinor to the pavilion in order to allow us a moment’s privacy.’
‘I doubt it,’ observed Adeline dryly. ‘And really – having just taken me to task for being an indifferent chaperone – I’m surprised at you for suggesting it.’
Something flickered in Richard Horton’s eyes and his mouth tightened. Then the cat-like smile re-appeared and he said, ‘You mistake me, my dear. I meant only that they precede us. Her ladyship need never be out of your sight.’ He offered her his arm. ‘Shall we?’
The old Adeline would simply have refused and cared nothing for the consequences. The new one was irritably aware that he had made it impossible for her to do so without being blatantly rude in front of Charles Fox. Then, as she hesitated, Nell said abruptly, ‘It’s all right, Adeline. Mr Fox will take me to Isabel and you can join us presently.’ And without giving her startled escort time to demur, she hauled him off along the Azalea Walk.
‘How delightful,’ purred Mr Horton. ‘Tact is such a rare quality in the young that I am quite bouleversé.’
Ignoring both this and his proffered arm, Adeline started to follow in Nell’s wake, saying crisply, ‘Come to the point. I don’t intend to let you ruin my entire evening.’
‘Don’t you? That remains to be seen.’ He fell into step with her and abandoned his smile. ‘I asked a favour of you, Adeline – and you failed me.’
So it was that. She had suspected as much. The aquamarine eyes filled with sympathetic mockery and she said, ‘So you haven’t been elected to White’s, after all? What a shame. But you only have yourself to blame, you know. Rockliffe doesn’t like being fleeced at cards.’
The blood rushed to Mr Horton’s head and, beneath the paint, his face burned.
‘Are you suggesting that I have done so?’
‘Yes. Did you think he wouldn’t notice? If so, the experience should be a valuable lesson to you. And instead of bemoaning the fact that he probably saw to it that you were black-balled, you should be hoping that he hasn’t also exposed you for the cheat you are.’
Richard Horton swung her round to face him.
‘Hold your tongue and listen, my clever little bitch. Your high-and-mighty husband won’t expose me. Of course he won’t. And do you know why? It’s because he has the misfortune to be married to my niece – and he won’t have scandal attached to his family. He can’t touch me, Adeline. He daren’t.’
‘I suspect you’ll find,’ came the calm retort, ‘that he’ll dare anything – when it suits him. The world isn’t going to point a censorious finger at Rockliffe, Uncle. And, even if it did, he has more than enough character to carry it off.’
‘Does he?’ His hand dropped away from her and he was breathing rather fast. ‘And what if someone … myself, for example … were to tell him that his wife is a bastard? What then, do you suppose?’
For a moment, Adeline simply stared at him. Then, with a shrug and a tiny, derisive laugh, she said, ‘He’d probably say – as I do – that it’s pot calling kettle. With the possible exception of Diana, you are the biggest bastard I know.’
His mouth curled unpleasantly.
‘You misunderstand, my dear. I am not insulting you. I am stating a literal fact.’
Something in his expression reached her and her scalp prickled. The words still had no meaning but she found that she was standing very still, as though any movement might send her hurtling over the precipice. With careful detachment, she said, ‘What, in plain language, are you trying to tell me?’
‘Why, just that you are a by-blow, dear heart. A base-born, misbegotten, illegitimate so-called love-child. Your mother was a slut, Tom Kendrick was a cuckold and you – Duchess – are a true bastard in every sense of the word. Is that plain enough for you?’
The ugly words dropped like stones into her mind, drowning out the music and laughter of Ranelagh. Finally, she said distantly, ‘I don’t believe you. If it were so, Aunt Miriam would have told me years ago.’
‘Would she? Think about it. Have you never wondered why none of us spoke of your mother – or why you were never taken to visit her grave? Of course you have. And now you have the answer – or part of it.’ He paused, enjoying the moment. ‘Now … shall I tell you the rest, I wonder? Or shall I take my story straight to Rockliffe? How difficult it is to decide.’
Adeline’s brain seemed paralysed. Something didn’t make sense but she couldn’t think what it was. She said, ‘Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll ask my aunt.’
‘By all means – if you think you can trust her to tell you the truth. She doesn’t like you, Adeline. She never has. But now you’re a duchess, she’s rather anxious to secure your goodwill … so for Diana’s sake, she’ll say exactly what appears to be necessary.’ He smiled and smoothed a crease from his salmon-pink sleeve. ‘Sleep on it, my dear. One should never be hasty. I’ll give you twenty-four hours before I seek out Rockliffe. And that is generous of me … for I should so enjoy humbling him.’
With difficulty, she said, ‘The person who could do that hasn’t been born yet.’
‘You think so? Well, we shall see. And in the meantime, should you decide to send for me, I’d advise you to assemble sufficient resources to … incline me in your favour.’ He stepped back and made her a flourishing bow. ‘The choice is yours, dear Adeline. I trust you’ll use it wisely.’
And pivoting gracefully on his high, red heels, he strolled unhurriedly away down the gravel path.
Not unnaturally, the rest of the evening was a nightmarish blur in which only the effort of appearing normal when she re-joined the others made any real impression. And, once in the carriage, she was equally oblivious of Thea’s gentle radiance, Nell’s silence and the line of worry that was beginning to mark Cassie’s usually placid brow. The truth, of course, was that by then her mind was on a treadmill … and, until she was quite alone, it was only sensible to leave it there.
‘Richard would say anything. I don’t believe it,’ ran the refrain. And, in counterpoint to it, ‘Richard would say anything – but it could be true.’
Cassie was set down in Conduit Street and Althea restored to South Street. Then they were back in St James’ Square and Nell, with an unconvincing yawn, made straight for her bedchamber.
Adeline remained motionless in the hall for a moment, her hand on the smooth end-sweep of the banister. Jeanne would be in her room, waiting to help her undress. Someone else to be faced. She did not think she could bear it.
Numbness was turning to nausea and the house seemed suddenly stifling. Without stopping to think, she turned away from the staircase and swept across the marble floor to the salon … and from there into the small, moonlit garden.
‘Richard would say anything. Richard would say anything. It could be true.’
It could be true. And that, it seemed, was as good a place to start as any. Adeline sat down on the stone parapet, drew a long steadying breath and forced herself to concentrate.
What, exactly, had he said? That she was a bastard.
Her hands started to shake and she gripped them together, deciding to by-pass this point for a while. Very well. He’d called her mother a slut. Would a man speak so of his own sister if it were not the truth? Richard might. But why? Well, that at least was easy. He took pleasure in hurting.
She’d known that for years. More … for, on this occasion, he planned to kill two birds with one stone by making a profit as well.
‘Assemble sufficient resources to incline me in your favour,’ he had said. In other words, ‘Pay what I ask or I’ll tell your husband instead.’
It was hard to examine the possibilities logically and stop her thoughts flying ahead to the only thing that really mattered – but she knew that she had to do it now or she never would. The trouble was that the little she knew pointed both ways at once. There were reasons why Richard might lie – but nothing that said he was lying; and, if there were recollections from the past that aligned with his tale, she could not remember them.
Stalemate then … unless she gave him the satisfaction of asking him to finish what he’d begun. And show her proof of it. She shivered and pulled the silk domino more closely about her, thinking, ‘I can’t – I can’t. I don’t want to hear any more of it.’ But that was no solution – for if she didn’t buy the poisoned dart, it would be aimed at Tracy. And that, of course, was something she couldn’t – wouldn’t – permit.
She rose and began restlessly circling the garden, her skirts sighing over the dew-wet grass. She thought of Tracy’s face as it had been yesterday morning … and the sweet, budding expectancy that had been growing inside her ever since.
‘Why now?’ her heart cried. ‘Why now? It isn’t fair!’
Not fair? No. But then life often wasn’t. She’d known that for years, too. And though this monstrous thing obviously had to be faced, there was still a strong chance that it wasn’t true. So it would be stupid to wallow in self-pity or give way to panic. If she wanted to protect both Tracy and her own fragile promise of happiness, she would have to fight.
She stopped pacing and looked up at the first fingers of dawn striking the sky.
Mesalliance Page 19
