Anne O'Brien – Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow (страница 47)

‘You asked, quite specifically, that I should not introduce you to any mistresses I might have or bring them into our house. I have done neither.’ And will not. I do not have a mistress. I love you, if you did but know it.

‘You do not have to introduce them.’ Sarah looked down her nose, which Joshua recognised to be very much in the style of Lady Beatrice. ‘It is clear to me by the way you look at them. It is an insult to me that you should flaunt them in this way!’

‘Sarah—just who are these mythical creatures?’ There was a heavy weariness in his voice.

‘The Countess of Wexford, for one.’

‘She is nothing to me. Neither then, despite all appearances. Nor now.’

‘And the dark lady, tonight, in this very room—you kissed her cheek!’

‘So I did.’ What point in denying it? He was aware of nothing but the bleak chill creeping though his veins as the web of deceit pulled more tightly around him, binding his limbs, his choice of words. Ice cold, numbing, whilst his unbelieving wife burned with anger and humiliation. And it was his fault. Even if by omission, a failure to push for the truth so many years ago.

‘And I know that you have her portrait hidden away in the attics of Hanover Square.’

Ah! So that is it. What could he possibly say to explain that away? In the end he did not even try. ‘That also is true. But she is not my mistress.’

‘Oh? So what is she?’ Sarah was aware of nothing but the bleak cold in the silver eyes that held her gaze when he delivered that statement. And she would have given all she had to believe it. But how could she, with the evidence of her own eyes?

He stepped back, a clear sign of retreat, perhaps even of defeat. Such a little gesture, but it well-nigh broke Sarah’s heart. She had heard nothing from her lord that might reassure her or tear holes in the weight of evidence against him. Instead he acted to put distance between them once more

‘I will not answer such accusations, Sarah. Forgive me.’ The sense of betrayal was as if a forged band of metal tightened around his heart and he could not stop the bitter words. ‘I did not realise when I married you, my lady, that you were so suspicious, so given to unfair judgements, without true evidence. I hoped that you might trust me. It seems that I was wrong in my judgement of you.’

‘Whereas I,’ she retaliated, quick as the deathly strike of a viper, ‘knew of your reputation from the very beginning, my lord. I should have taken heed of it, should I not, and should never have married you.’

After which, there was no more to be said from either side.

They left the anteroom with a black cloud of mutual suspicion and condemnation between them. And, on both sides, a terrible premonition of blighted love.

Sarah returned to Theodora’s side with a swish of her satin skirts, to take a healthy gulp of champagne, cheeks becomingly flushed, but with a demeanour far from composed.

‘What is it?’ Thea had already caught sight of Joshua’s furious figure across the room, where he stood to watch his wife with compressed lips.

‘Not a thing!’ She took another drink and spluttered a little against the bubbles.

‘So why are you drinking that champagne as if it might save your life? And why is Joshua glaring at you across the dance floor as if he could happily wring your neck.’

‘Joshua and I have had a… a disagreement.’

Theodora paused in sipping her own champagne at what was obviously a bald understatement. ‘What? Only one? Nicholas and I thrive on them, at least one a week!’

That forced Sarah to choke on what might have been a laugh, which was Thea’s intent as the glassy expression and the suspicion of tears in her sister’s eyes were a matter for some concern.

‘I think—I know!—that Joshua has just renewed his liaison with one of his mistresses.’

‘And why should you think that?’

So Sarah finished the champagne in the glass and told her. A somewhat garbled tale of public kisses and pictures in attics.

‘It does not sound likely to me,’ Thea advised with deliberate calm and lively curiosity. ‘Why keep her picture in the attic if she is his mistress, where he cannot see it? Are you sure it is the same lady?’

‘Yes. Perhaps it was to hide it from me!’

‘Mmm. But he did not hide the Countess of Wexford, did he?’ Thea cast an eye around the ballroom. ‘And you say that the lady is still here at this incredibly tedious event?’

‘Yes.’

‘What does Joshua say?’

‘He denies it.’ Sarah blotted a stray tear with her satin glove. ‘But I would expect no other.’

‘Well. I suppose he would. In my experience, gentlemen do not enjoy having to admit to faults and failings.’ Thea thought for a long moment, eyes narrowed on the golden bubbles remaining in her glass. ‘In my opinion, there is only one thing to do. Ask the lady.’

‘I can’t do that!’

‘Well, I would if I found a portrait of an attractive woman in Nick’s attic at Aymestry and then found him kissing her.’

‘Well… put like that…’

‘Especially if, through marriage, they were my attics too… ‘

‘I suppose…’

‘Come along. There is nothing to be gained by dwelling on the unknown and the unknowable. We will find out what we can.’ Thea took her sister in hand, very much the diplomat’s daughter. Sir Hector Wooton-Devereux, she decided, would have been proud of her. ‘I will come with you. All we need is the opportunity to speak to your dark lady alone…’

The opportunity presented itself only a little later in the evening when groups of people began to make their way into the banqueting room, laid out for a light supper. For a brief moment the dark lady was seen to be alone, separated from her escort. Sarah with commendable courage and considerable outrage made her way across the ballroom in that direction. Theodora would have followed, but her path was blocked by a familiar figure.

‘Theodora—I know what she is about. In God’s name, stop her.’

Theodora looked up at the striking Faringdon face, troubled by a range of emotions she could not even guess at. She could not help but allow her heart to soften. The difficulties might be of his making, but she found herself prepared to give him far more sympathy than had her husband. Such was the Faringdon charm, she supposed, although there was little evidence of it at present in the stern expression.

‘I doubt that I can.’

‘It would be better for all.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘No. I am not sure of anything at this juncture.’

‘Well, I am. I don’t know what you told Sarah and I don’t know what the truth is, but at the moment she thinks the worst of you!’

‘I know it.’

‘Tell her the truth, Sher,’ urged Thea, deliberately picking up Nick’s affectionate family name. ‘It cannot be worse than Sarah believing what she does, and Sarah can deal with the truth. Better than lies and charades. We had too many of those in the Baxendale family to accept them with any degree of comfort.’ As she remembered her own attempts to hide her Baxendale connections from Nicholas. What a disaster that had been.

Theodora patted his hand and followed her sister to discover the truth.

Sarah had approached the dark lady and come to a halt beside her.

‘Madame. Forgive the intrusion, but I would beg a few words with you.’

‘Do I know you?’ The lady appeared surprised, but not unfriendly.

‘No, you do not. I am Sarah, wife of Lord Joshua Faringdon.’

‘Ah.’ The straight dark brows rose with some hauteur, but there was a distinct sparkle in the lady’s eyes.

‘So I think you know of me,’ Sarah prompted.

‘I do indeed…’ The lady inclined her head. ‘I am the Marquise de Villeroi.’

‘Yes… I mean….’ What do I say now? Are you my husband’s mistress? Sarah discovered the dangers in Thea’s plan to confront the lady. But as she became aware of Thea’s presence beside her, she gathered all her courage and used the only possible opening. ‘I wish, my lady, to know why your portrait is in the attic of my home in London.’

The Marquise smiled. But with no hint of shame or discomfort, or even of surprise. ‘That seems a perfectly reasonable request to me,’ she remarked. ‘I think that we should find a private corner where we might sit—and I will try to explain what I can.’

So the little anteroom was witness that night to a second fraught conversation. The ladies drew the enclosing curtains against any who might be tempted to seek out the private space, and sat on the delicate gilded seats.

‘Well, my lady…’ the Marquise took up the initiative immediately as she spread her skirts and disposed her gloved hands in her lap, before embarrassment could set in ‘…I did not know until tonight that Joshua had remarried.’

‘Yes.’ Sarah was not inclined toward trivial conversation. ‘Some weeks ago. But I would know—what are you to him?’

‘Sarah—may I call you Sarah?’ The lady lifted her hands in what could have been seen as a plea. The hauteur had vanished. Instead there was a warmth here, a depth of understanding, and not a little melancholy. ‘I presume that you and Joshua are at odds over this. I am sorry for it, for the blame is partly mine. I think it will solve all your problems if I tell you my name. I am Marianne.’

Sarah’s lips parted on a soundless ‘Oh’. Theodora’s fan paused in mid-sweep. The two ladies who heard the admission looked at each other in obvious astonishment.