by Stella Riley
‘Do you know,’ said Rockliffe looking mildly pained, ‘I really would prefer not to contemplate the mating habits of my siblings.’
‘Mating habits? Is that what we are discussing?’
‘You were. I was attempting not to. I was attempting to establish whether I might begin planning an elaborate and wildly expensive gift in the anticipation of a happy event … some time during March, perhaps?’
Adeline rose and crossed to settle comfortably on his knee, arms around his neck and mouth against his throat. ‘Yes. You may. And don’t be thinking it will be like Vanessa. I have never felt so well in my life – not a whiff of sickness.’
‘I rejoice to hear it.’ He settled her closer against him. ‘So this time I will not be required to hold the basin at some ungodly hour of the morning?’
‘I sincerely hope not.’ And trailing smiling kisses along his jaw, ‘But if it should become necessary, you will be the first to know. Meanwhile, go to Newark and solve the mystery. I’ll await your return with bated breath.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Having spent the previous night at the Woolpack in Newark, Rockliffe arrived at Chalfont just before noon. It was Saturday and it was raining. His Grace, having sent his coachman to the back of the property in search of shelter for himself and the horses, was about to become aware of the significance of these facts.
The first clue was when he was left standing in the meagre shelter of the porch while the door went unanswered. Rockliffe rang the bell again … waited again … then lifted the latch and let himself in. It was immediately clear that the reason no one had responded to the bell was because it was unlikely anyone had heard it over the din. Someone, somewhere was playing slow, painstaking scales on a harpsichord, while from the landing overhead came a series of thuds, yells and shrieks of laughter, mingled with shrill yapping. The duke hesitated and had just decided to track down the would-be musician when a maid shot into the hall to stare at him out of startled eyes and say breathlessly, ‘Beg pardon for nobody answering the door, milord. But if you was looking for the earl, he’s not at home just now.’
‘Is he not?’ Rockliffe stripped off his gloves. ‘Then I will wait. Meanwhile, I would appreciate a word with the … er … housekeeper.’
‘Housekeeper? Oh. Miss Lizzie. Yes, milord. She’s upstairs --’
A particularly loud thump from above caused her to stop speaking. The harpsichord also fell silent and a young voice yelled, ‘Will you all shut up? I’m practising!’
‘Upstairs playing skittles with the children,’ finished the maid helplessly. ‘If you’ll just follow me to the parlour, milord, I’ll get her.’
‘Thank you,’ nodded Rockliffe. ‘Perhaps someone could ensure that my coachman has found the stables? And both he and my groom will need the opportunity to get dry – if it isn’t too much trouble.’
‘Mr Phelps went to see to it. It was the coach as told us we’d got a visitor.’ Rose dropped a curtsy. ‘Please sit down and I’ll fetch Miss Lizzie directly.’
Leaving the duke to absorb the shabbiness of his surroundings, Rose pelted up the stairs to say, ‘Miss Lizzie – a gentleman’s come and he’s ever so elegant and there’s a crest on his carriage, only his lordship isn’t here and he’s asking for you instead so I’ve put him in the parlour.’
‘Breathe, Rose,’ grinned Arabella. ‘I’ll come down.’
‘In your old gown and with your hair all adrift?’
‘It’s either that or keep him waiting,’ she shrugged. And over her shoulder to Tom and Ellie as she descended the stairs, ‘Carry on with the game if you wish but please keep the noise down a little. We don’t want our visitor to think he’s come to the mad-house. Rose … you’d better see about some tea. His lordship is tuning the Caldercott ladies’ harpsichord this morning so he may be some time.’
Entering the parlour with a smile and a curtsy, Arabella had greeted their visitor before she actually looked at him properly; so when she did, it took a moment for her to behave as if she received striking, aristocratic gentlemen every day of the week. She said, ‘I’m sorry Lord Chalfont isn’t here to receive you, my lord and I’m not entirely sure when he’ll be back. But in the meantime, perhaps you’ll take some tea and tell me if I may help you in any way.’
Even without the confident manner, the duke knew instantly who she was. He had met her late father only once … but he remembered those storm-grey Brandon eyes quite clearly. He said gently, ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rockliffe.’
The ground shifted under Arabella’s feet and she took an uncertain step back. All the colour ebbing from her face, she whispered, ‘Rockliffe? Oh.’
‘Quite. You look shocked. May I suggest that you sit down?’
She folded bonelessly into a chair. ‘You … you know. Don’t you?’
‘Yes – though until this moment I was not entirely sure.’
‘Wh-What gave us away?’
‘A number of small things made me wonder. As yet, however, neither the duchess nor I have said anything to Elizabeth. Who else is aware of your … masquerade?’
‘To begin with, nobody. But Max – my brother - has also guessed. He wrote to me.’
‘And Lord Chalfont?’
‘No.’ Her eyes widened and she shot to her feet. ‘And please – please don’t tell him! I have to do it myself. I must! I wanted to do so anyway and … and I have to make him understand. He isn’t … he won’t … I d-don’t want him to think I deliberately set out to deceive him.’
‘Forgive my saying so, but you appear to have set out to deceive quite a number of people – of whom Lord Chalfont is only one.’
‘Yes. But we – Lizzie and I never meant to harm anyone. And I didn’t know Julian – his lordship, then. I didn’t know he would be … well, the way he is.’ She stopped, then added helplessly, ‘Everything is different now.’
‘In what way?’ Rockliffe asked, already sensing that there was more going on here than guilt at being caught out.
‘It – it just is,’ she said miserably. ‘You wouldn’t understand. I --’
‘Miss Lizzie?’ Tom stamped in to stand beside her. ‘Is that man upsetting you?’
‘No.’ She managed a tense smile. ‘No, Tom. I’m fine – really. Go back to Ellie.’
‘You don’t look fine.’ He turned a baleful scowl on the duke and then, reaching a decision, turned back to the door and yelled, ‘Rob! Come here and stay with Miss Lizzie. I’m going to get Sir Julian.’
‘Don’t!’ said Arabella rapidly. ‘His lordship won’t be able to leave what he’s doing half-finished and --’
Appearing with Ellie hard on his heels, Rob said, ‘What the matter?’
‘This man’s upsetting Miss Lizzie and I’m fetching Sir Julian.’
Instantly, the two younger children flanked Arabella and took her hands. Before either of them could speak, however, Violet also stalked in to deposit the tea-tray on the table, saying, ‘You don’t need to go, Tom. Mr Phelps already went off in the farm-cart.’
At this point and having to suppress a smile, Rockliffe decided he might as well sit down. He said mildly, ‘You may observe that I am not attempting to threaten anyone.’
Violet sniffed. ‘Do you want me to stay with you, Miss Lizzie?’
‘No.’ Pulling herself together as best she could, Arabella said, ‘None of you need to stay – though I thank all of you for offering. This gentleman doesn’t mean me any harm. He is the Duke of Rockliffe … and he is a – a relative.’
‘Of yours?’ demanded Tom; and when she nodded, he spun to face Rockliffe, turning from protective to belligerent in the space of a heartbeat. ‘Well, duke or not, you ain’t taking her away – if that’s what you’ve come for. We won’t let you. Sir Julian won’t let you.’
Ellie’s fingers tightened convulsively on Arabella’s and Rob said, ‘You wouldn’t go, would you? You wouldn’t really leave us?’
‘You c-can’t,’ qua
vered Ellie, her eyes filling with tears. ‘We’re a – a family.’
The lump in Arabella’s throat made it impossible to say anything.
‘Do you think everyone might cease jumping to conclusions?’ murmured Rockliffe. And looking at Arabella, ‘At present, all I require is some private conversation – preferably before Lord Chalfont returns. And a cup of tea would also not be unwelcome.’
She swallowed hard and nodded. ‘Violet … perhaps you and Rose could see to the best of the spare bedchambers in case --’
‘Please do not go to any trouble on my account,’ murmured Rockliffe smoothly. ‘I have taken rooms in Newark and will return there presently.’
‘Oh. Then you may go, Violet.’ Trying not to look too relieved, Arabella turned to the children. ‘Tom … take Rob and Ellie upstairs, please. I – I’ll join you in a little while.’
On a sound of undisguised disapproval, Violet stalked from the room. Tom, on the other hand, stood his ground, saying, ‘I’m not going nowhere till Sir Julian gets here.’
‘Tom, please! I know you only want to help but this is upsetting Ellie.’
‘She’ll be more upset if he makes off with you while we’re not looking. We all will.’
‘Perhaps,’ sighed the duke, ‘I might suggest a compromise?’
‘What’s that?’ asked Rob suspiciously.
‘It is a means whereby we all get a part of what we want. If, for example, you were to stand guard on the other side of the door, I could speak to … this lady … and you will be on hand to stop me if I attempt to abduct her. Does that sound reasonable?’
Rob and Ellie looked at Tom. After a moment he said grudgingly, ‘I suppose.’
‘Excellent. Then perhaps we can progress.’ He waited with raised brows until the children had trooped reluctantly from the room, then directed a faint smile at Arabella and said, ‘Might I now have some tea? Very little milk and no sugar, if you please.’
Arabella reached for the teapot and without looking up, said, ‘I’m sorry. They don’t usually behave like that.’
‘You need not apologise. They love you.’
‘It – it would seem so.’ She placed the tea beside him. ‘They love his lordship, too.’ And added abruptly, ‘They aren’t his, by the way.’
‘I know they are not.’ Rockliffe took a sip of tepid tea and managed not to grimace. ‘Did you think I came here without learning a little about Lord Chalfont?’
Arabella eyed him with sudden suspicion. ‘What else do you know?’
‘I know that he inherited an impoverished and mismanaged estate; that he is housing three children who have no claim upon him; and that he plays the harpsichord. What I do not know and am hoping that you will tell me is if the … attachment … between you is mutual.’
‘What?’ The word came out as a strangled gasp and Arabella could feel herself turning scarlet. ‘Attachment? Th-there isn’t one.’
‘Forgive me … but your whole attitude towards his lordship tells a very different story.’ The enigmatic dark gaze remained fixed on her face. ‘My question is whether he returns your regard and, if so, whether he has already declared himself.’
She stared at him for a long moment and then looked down at her hands.
‘You are mistaken. There is nothing of that nature between us. But if you’re thinking that he – that we have behaved improperly --’
‘I do not think it and it is not what I asked.’ Rockliffe paused, his mind busy with how this muddle could be straightened out. ‘Arabella … for numerous reasons, I ought to remove you from here but the children will clearly not release you without a fight. And if --’
‘The children aren’t the only ones who will fight,’ she burst out. ‘I will, too.’
‘I gathered that. And if, as I was about to say, his lordship is of the same mind --’ He stopped, listening to the sound of voices in the hall. ‘Ah. Well, it seems we shall soon know.’
The door opened and Julian strode in, extremely damp and dishevelled, but his looks not in the least diminished by either. Barely glancing at the duke, his eyes settled on Arabella and he said rapidly, ‘What’s happening? Ellie is crying, Tom is in a temper and all three of them seem to think you’re going away. It isn’t true, is it?’
‘Not if I can help it.’
‘What?’
Trying to ignore the plummeting sensation in his chest, Julian looked at Rockliffe.
His Grace had no difficulty in interpreting the expression in the earl’s eyes because there had been a time when he had been all too familiar with the feeling that caused it. He thought, Well … that answers one question. And rising slowly, he held out his hand, saying, ‘Lord Chalfont … I am Rockliffe.’
‘He means,’ muttered Arabella, ‘that he is the Duke of Rockliffe.’
‘Oh.’ Accepting the outstretched hand, Julian nodded. ‘Your Grace?’
‘I must apologise for arriving on your doorstep uninvited and unannounced,’ continued the duke, ‘but I am afraid we find ourselves in an unfortunate situation.’
‘Do we? That is … I’ve no idea what you mean or why you’re here.’ And, to Arabella, ‘Or how you and the duke know each other, come to that.’
‘Until an hour ago, I’d never laid eyes on him,’ she replied bitterly. ‘I wish I still hadn’t. But I know who he is because he – he’s a sort-of relative. The same sort, if you like, as the fourth earl was to you.’
‘You … you’re related to a duke?’ He stared at her, becoming increasingly alarmed. ‘How? No. You can’t be.’
‘I think,’ said Rockliffe smoothly to Arabella, ‘that you should explain. If you wish to be private, I will brave the infantry in the hall.’
She shook her head. ‘Finish your tea, your Grace. We’ll talk in the library. Julian?’
‘Yes. Now.’ Sick with anxiety, he led her from the room and when the children showed signs of asking questions, said tersely, ‘Later. Don’t worry.’
Once inside the library, he locked the door, leaned against it and said, ‘You needn’t explain anything. I don’t care who he is or why he’s here. I don’t care about any of it. Just tell me you aren’t leaving.’
‘I don’t want to,’ she said, her voice low and raw. ‘But he – the duke --’
‘Can he make you?’
‘I don’t know. I hope not.’ Arabella lifted her head and looked into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Julian. I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth before this. I wanted to. And if it had just been about me, I would have. But --’
‘Elizabeth … will you please, for the love of God, just tell me whatever it is you and he think I need to know?’
‘Well, that’s it, you see. I - I’m not Elizabeth.’
‘What?’ For a handful of seconds, Julian thought he’d misheard, followed by the peculiar feeling that the floor was slowly dissolving under his feet. He said carefully, ‘Not Elizabeth?’
‘No.’ She dragged in a painful breath and forced out the words. ‘Elizabeth is my cousin. I – my name is Arabella Brandon. We … we changed places.’
He shook his head, as if to clear it. ‘I’d ask if you were joking. But you’re not, are you?’
‘No. We were both invited to stay with the duke and duchess and Lizzie’s been in London all the time I’ve been here. But somehow, Rockliffe has guessed what we did and he came here to make sure.’
‘And now he is sure?’
‘Yes. So he probably thinks it’s his duty to either take me to London or send me home.’
‘Christ.’ Julian shoved a hand through his already windblown hair and tried to quell a rising tide of panic. ‘But why did you do it? It – it doesn’t make sense.’
‘I … I didn’t want to go to London. Lizzie did but her father wouldn’t let her. She would never get another chance and it seemed stupid and unfair that she was denied this one. So when you offered her the position here, changing places seemed the perfect solution.’ She stopped, absorbing the expression of hurt bewi
lderment in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. Not that we did it – I’ll never be sorry for that. But I’m desperately sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner. You have no idea how much I wanted to.’ She waited for him to speak and eventually when he still did not do so, said, ‘Please say something. I don’t blame you for being angry and --’
‘I’m not angry.’ In a futile attempt to hold back the words boiling inside his head, he folded his arms tight across his chest. ‘How can I be angry? It doesn’t matter what your name is. It doesn’t change who you are. I don’t know your cousin. But I’m glad you came instead of her.’ He hesitated and then, staring down at his feet, added unevenly, ‘It’s not just the children who don’t want to lose you. I don’t either – and not only because of them. I can’t … the thought of you not being here … of how it was before you came … I can’t go back to that. So no matter what this duke says or threatens … please don’t leave. Promise that you won’t?’
‘I’m not sure I can promise,’ she said unhappily, ‘but I’ll do my very best not to let it happen.’ Everything he’d said made Arabella hope and wish and hurt. Mostly it made her want to cross the floor and hug him; the only thing that stopped her doing so was those defensively folded arms. ‘Taking me to London will be awkward because Lizzie’s already there using my name. And I can definitely refuse to let him send me home.’ She risked going a few steps closer. ‘I don’t want to leave, Julian. I’m happy here. I love – I love the children.’ And you, she thought, I love you more than anything. ‘And if you can forgive me for deceiving you --’
‘I’ll forgive you anything as long as you’ll stay,’ he cut in doggedly, finally letting his arms fall loose at his sides and peeling himself away from the door in order to unlock it. Then, with a crooked smile and reaching out to lace the fingers of one hand with hers, he said, ‘It may take me a while to get used to thinking of you as Arabella, though. But for now, let’s just go and tell the duke that you’re staying.’
* * *
Having reassured the children as best they could on their way back to the drawing-room, promising to explain properly later, they stood side by side and told Rockliffe that Arabella would absolutely not be leaving Chalfont.
