Sarah Mallory – His Countess For A Week (страница 9)
Arabella could not deny she had asked herself the same question, but she was not prepared to speculate about that just yet.
‘I have promised him nothing,’ she said at last. ‘Now, help me to undress, Ruth. I need to sleep!’
A short time later Arabella was alone in her room, in her bed, with just the bedside candle burning. She lay back against the plump pillows, gazing up at the intricately carved tester as she thought about the new Lord Westray. She did not know what to make of him. He did not appear outraged at her deception, merely amused. Perhaps in comparison to his own dark deeds this pretence was a trifle, but when she had mentioned his past he had flinched as if she had touched an open wound.
She wished she knew just what he had done, that she had made more enquiries into his past, but at the time it had seemed unimportant; the new Earl was half a world away.
How old could he have been when he was convicted? She did not think he was yet thirty, so he would have been almost a boy, one-or two-and-twenty, perhaps. The lines around his eyes and mouth indicated more than mere laughter. Dissipation, perhaps. Or hardship. His hands, she had noted, were not soft, but calloused from tough, physical work.
How had he survived? What deprivation had he suffered? He had received a full pardon for his crimes, but the life he had led for the past six years must have left its scars. And she was in his house, posing as his wife. Strangely the thought did not worry her. She was not afraid of the new Earl, but perhaps she should be.
Arabella slipped out of bed and crossed to the connecting door leading to the Earl’s chambers. The key was in the lock and she turned it, giving a little nod when she heard the satisfying click. It was best not to take any chances.
Randolph woke to the sounds of his man making up the fire in his room to ward off the damp, grey chill of an English November day.
‘Good morning, my lord. There’s hot water on the stand for you and I can light more candles, if you wish?’
‘No, thank you, Joseph. There is sufficient light in here.’
Ran pushed himself up against the bank of pillows and clasped his hands behind his head, his eyes fixed on the dark shape of the connecting door on the far side of the room. He had noticed yesterday that the key was on the other side. He had not tried the door, but he was damned sure if he did, he would find it locked.
As it should be, although he could not deny that knowing Arabella was sleeping in the next room had disturbed his rest. He spent a few moments in agreeable contemplation, allowing his imagination to picture her sleeping, her glorious golden hair spread over the pillows, eyes closed, the long lashes resting on her cheeks, her soft red lips inviting a morning kiss.
Enough! Ran shifted restlessly. It was an agreeable daydream, but he must put it from his mind. He threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. Mrs Arabella Roffey was only recently widowed and still grieving for her husband. Only a heartless rogue would take advantage of the situation.
He was finishing his breakfast when Arabella entered the dining room. She hesitated in the doorway, uncertain and shy. He gave her a reassuring smile.
‘Good morning, my lady.’
She was looking particularly fetching in a pale blue morning gown, her shining hair caught up with a matching ribbon, and he fought down an urge to jump up and escort her to her chair. A footman was on hand to do that and a second stood ready to pour her coffee and offer her a freshly baked bread roll.
‘I trust you slept well?’ he asked her as the servants withdrew from the room.
‘Yes. Thank you, my lord.’
‘I would much rather you called me Randolph.’
A blush suffused her cheeks. ‘I cannot do that!’
‘Why not? We are supposed to be man and wife.’ He pushed away his empty plate. ‘I warn you, I do not intend to call you
Her chin went up. ‘Of course. I would not lie to you, my lord.’
‘No, it will be much better if we are truthful with one another. What plans do you have for the day?’
‘Why, none.’ The question appeared to take her by surprise. ‘If you had not arrived here, I should have been at Meon House this morning.’
Meavy came in with a fresh pot of coffee and Ran waited until they were alone again before replying.
‘Do you blame me for wanting to meet the woman masquerading as my wife?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘We shall pay a call upon Lady Meon today and I shall apologise for dragging you away so precipitately. Although everyone was most understanding.’
Her cheeks reddened. ‘It was mortifying.’
‘I am very sorry for it, but I think you deserved to be punished a little, do you not?’
He smiled, to take any sting from the words, but she did not see it. She would not meet his eyes. She had assumed a look of indifference and was studiously applying herself to her breakfast. Ran stifled a sigh. Perhaps it was best she stayed aloof. It was far too tempting to flirt with her.
She said quietly, ‘You said you would help me.’
‘And I will, but I need to know just what story you have given the people here if we are to carry on with this masquerade.’
‘I have told them almost nothing. They could hardly ask me about the reports in the newspapers concerning the new Earl. That is why I thought it would be safe to pretend I was your wife. I merely explained you had returned to England unannounced.’
‘Well, that much is true! What reason did you give for your coming to Beaumount alone?’
‘I said you had business elsewhere.’ She bit her lip. ‘I may have given the impression we had quarrelled.’
‘A lovers’ tiff!’ He grinned. ‘And your swooning would have done nothing to dispel that idea.’ He saw that she was looking uncomfortable and forbore to tease her further. Instead he said, ‘Tell me what you expected to achieve at Meon House.’
Arabella paused, considering. ‘I hoped to discover what went on there and which of George’s particular friends were there with him. He never told me, you see, and I knew so few of his friends. There were only two I recall coming to Revesby Hall. One was George’s groomsman at our wedding and the other was Frederick Letchmore. He called upon us soon after George came home that last time. My husband was very excited about his visit and could hardly be still while he waited for him to arrive. He was like a child anticipating a treat.’
‘And was that usual for your husband?’ asked Ran.
She looked troubled and did not answer immediately.
‘His temper had become mercurial in the past year. One moment he was all charming, devil-may-care insouciance, the next he was despairing. Blue-devilled, he called it, but said I must not worry. When Mr Letchmore arrived, George asked me to leave them alone together, to talk. Which I did, but not long after that he sent Mr Letchmore away. He was more angry than I had ever seen him. I clearly remember him saying,
‘And did you learn just how he had failed your husband?’ asked Ran.
She shook her head. ‘George was in a towering rage following the meeting, almost incoherent and railing against his false friends, as he called them. After his death I wrote to both gentlemen, but I do not think my letters ever reached them, for I had no replies. I discovered Letchmore had left England. I thought it might be to escape any repercussions over George’s death. I wondered... I thought perhaps he might be one of those gamblers who exist only to prey on unwary young men and relieve them of their fortune.’
‘You think your husband was one of those, er, unwary young men?’
‘Yes! Especially after I discovered how much of the marriage settlement he had already spent in just three months. It would explain his anger with Mr Letchmore, too. George would never tell me why he suddenly became so set against him.’
‘Sometimes illness can cause people to change,’ said Ran, choosing his words carefully. ‘Perhaps you could tell me about your husband’s last days, if it isn’t too painful?’
She pushed aside her plate and sat very still for a moment, her green eyes gazing at nothing.
‘He was very disturbed when he came home that last time. I had never seen him like it. He would go for days without sleeping, but sometimes he was almost euphoric, and would talk to me about what we would do when he was well again. At other times the black mood descended and nothing would please him.
‘I confess I did not like to be with George when he was in a temper. He would lash out at everyone. He even railed at Dr Philps and complained that everyone was against him. That we all wanted to kill him. The doctor had no remedy for whatever was ailing him. George grew weaker. He was very sick and could keep nothing down. He was very thirsty, too, and confused.’
Ran put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, watching her. ‘And what was the cause of this malady?’