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‘The devil you have. Of all the foolish starts! How old are you?’
She put up her chin. ‘Two-and-twenty.’
‘And you said yourself you have never before been out of Lincolnshire.’
‘What has that to say to anything?’
‘You can know very little of the world. Whereas I...’ he stopped and raked one hand through his hair ‘...I know too much of it.’
‘I am well aware of that!’ she flashed back. ‘For all your title, you are no less a felon!’
His eyes darkened. She braced herself for a furious response, but he merely shrugged.
‘I cannot deny it. But that is all the more reason you should not be here. You should never have embarked upon such a foolhardy scheme, alone and unprotected.’
Arabella suddenly felt exhausted. George had been her world since childhood. Could no one understand that? Tears were not far away and she looked up at him, saying wretchedly, ‘What else have I to live for?’
Ran saw those emerald eyes shimmering with tears and thought she must have loved her husband very much. Something clutched at his heart and he turned away to resume his pacing.
He said, ‘Have you learned anything that might help you?’
‘Very little,’ she confessed. ‘I want to know who else was at Meon House when George was a guest there. I had hoped, tonight...’
He heard a sniff and glanced around to see her surreptitiously wiping her eyes. He paced a little more, trying to convince himself that the plan in his head was every bit as hare-brained as the one she had described.
‘Very well.’ He stopped in front of her. ‘Let us continue this masquerade for a little longer.’
She stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I will help you. A short note to Lady Meon tomorrow should repair any damage tonight’s little fracas may have caused and we will work on the acquaintance until the lady divulges a little more information.’
‘No!’ She was on her feet now, staring at him as if he had run mad. ‘I cannot stay here.’
‘Why not? You have been content to do so thus far.’
‘That was different!’
‘How was it different?’ He uttered the challenge, preferring her anger to the desolation he had heard in that one sniff.
She glared at him. ‘You were not here.’
‘And now I am.’ He smiled. ‘Which will make your presence here all the more plausible.’ He saw her look of horror and added, ‘By Gad, madam, I am not suggesting we should be man and wife in anything other than name, but it will be necessary to live under one roof! I have already ascertained that Beaumount has separate rooms for the Earl and his Countess, so only your maid and my man need be taken into our confidence—’
‘But you are a—a criminal,’ she interrupted him, retreating behind her chair. ‘Perhaps even a murderer!’
Ran stopped, all desire to laugh gone.
‘You should have considered that before you began this charade,’ he threw back at her. ‘Let me allay your fears, if I can. My biggest crime was to be a damned young fool! I was sentenced to be transported for fourteen years and, having survived the voyage, I was prepared to serve my time and to make a fresh life for myself on the other side of the world. Circumstances, in the form of a pardon and the death of the old Earl, conspired to bring me back to England.’
‘But it cannot be long before people know you are in England,’ she argued. ‘Word will soon get out that you have no wife.’
‘By the time that information reaches Devon I hope we shall be finished here. You will disappear and no one need ever discover your true identity.’
‘But what of your staff?’ There was a note of desperation in her voice. ‘What must be their feelings when they know you have duped them?’
‘I did not dupe them, my lady! I have merely...’ he waved one hand ‘...not corrected the misapprehension.’
‘Now you are playing with words, my lord!’
‘Very well,’ he said, goaded. ‘They will believe you were my mistress. What of it? Is that not the sort of behaviour expected of great lords?’ He shrugged. ‘I shall no doubt feel obliged to apologise for playing such a trick, but I pay them well enough. The matter will soon be forgotten.’
‘Not by me!’
She was staring defiantly at him, her head up, eyes blazing, and suddenly he did not want her to think him the sort of master to disregard the feelings of his staff. He did not want her to think ill of him at all.
He said, ‘I do not like this subterfuge any more than you, but what’s done is done. We may as well continue with it.’
The words sounded gruff, uncaring, and she continued to stare at him with angry disapproval. Damnation! Did she not realise he was trying to help her? If there had been dark deeds at Meon House then who knew what dangers might await such an innocent if he left her to continue her enquiries alone. He issued his ultimatum.
‘So, you must make your choice, madam. You can either accept my help, or you give up your investigation and go home.’
Arabella glared at the Earl. Since leaving Lincolnshire she had been aware of how vulnerable she was, how alone. True, she had Ruth. The loyal maid had been with her since she was a baby, but if there was real danger, then she was putting Ruth at risk, too. Lord Westray might well be able to help her obtain the information she required. If one could forget his past.
It occurred to her that she found it only too easy to ignore the fact that he was a convict, but she was merely being charitable. Wasn’t she? All the guests at Meon House had had no difficulty in accepting the new Earl, even with his tainted history. Although they were not pretending to be his spouse. She swallowed.
‘Very well, sir. I will accept your help.’ She hesitated. ‘I am very grateful to you.’
Some of his stiffness disappeared and she saw the glimmer of a smile.
‘No, you are not at all grateful. You would like to tell me to go to the devil.’
Her own anger seeped away. ‘That would be very uncivil, would it not? In your own house.’
‘It would indeed.’ His smile fully appeared now. ‘Off you go to bed. We will discuss this further in the morning.’
She managed a faint smile herself and with a soft ‘Goodnight’ she left the room, forcing herself not to run.
When she reached her bedchamber, Ruth was pacing up and down.
‘Oh, thank heaven!’ She took her mistress by the shoulders and turned her towards the light, subjecting her to a close and critical inspection. ‘What happened? What has he done to you?’
‘Nothing, Ruth. I have come to no harm at all.’
The maid gave a loud sigh and plumped down on a chair. ‘I don’t mind telling you, when I heard that the Earl of Westray had turned up and was bringing you back here I was that worried! I fear we are undone, Miss Arabella.’
‘Nonsense. This is a slight setback, Ruth, nothing more.’
‘Has he not exposed you as an impostor?’
A small bubble of laughter fizzed inside her. She said airily, ‘On the contrary. He has agreed to help us.’
The maid looked anything but reassured by this news. She frowned.
‘And what does His Lordship want in return?’
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.
Chapter Four (#u8698743f-fb21-5683-8a6c-9d22feb5b46c)
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 my lady every time I address you. I shall call you Arabella.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘That is your name, is it not?’
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, “You have killed me, Freddie. I trusted you to help but you have failed me.” Then Mr Letchmore rushed out and we never saw him again.’
‘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?’
