Devonshire: Richard and Rose, Book 2 Read online

  “Why should he devote himself so much to Miss Terry?”

  “Because he wishes to bring her down,” I confessed. “He will entrance her, lead her on and then drop her.”

  “Why should he want to do that?”

  It sounded far-fetched, if one didn’t know Richard. I shrugged. “I told Richard about the slights she offered me in the past. I only mentioned them, but Richard has a fierce loyalty to those few people he allows into his confidence.”

  She bridled, her shoulders stiffening. “He won’t do it here.” After a pause, she continued, in a softer tone, “But really, my dear, everything I’ve seen here today only confirms the reputation he brings with him. He’s a roué, a rake, a charming deceiver.”

  I looked up at her, smiling slightly. “Yes, it is quite a reputation, isn’t it? But I cannot take credit for reforming him. He gave all that up before he met me. He told me he’d grown up.”

  “I’ve never seen a leopard change its spots that much,” she commented acidly.

  I couldn’t tell her everything. Not the years of anguish he spent living down Gervase’s scandal, furious with his parents for sending his brother away, angry at his mother’s cold, calculating attempts to marry him off. “He created his own reputation and then it bored him.” I hoped that would do. A thought occurred to me, how I could make her understand. “Lady Skerrit, do you trust Martha?”

  “Lady Hareton? Of course I do.”

  “Then ask her how it is between Richard and me. She only saw the depth of affection we share once, but she’s unlikely to have forgotten it.” I had recourse to my fan once more. I continued to trace the pattern with my finger as I told her. “This must go no further, but if I can’t trust you, I can’t trust anyone.”

  No one could hear us. They were all sitting slightly apart, most of them listening to Eustacia Terry in full flow. Still, I spoke quietly. “Steven Drury attacked me at the Abbey—in a particular way, if you know what I mean.” I met her eyes, and saw she was horrified, but in consideration of where we were, she didn’t exclaim aloud. “He didn’t succeed, but in order to escape him, I was forced to rouse the house with my screams. Martha and James saw Gervase stop Richard from killing Steven, and then he turned to me, and—well, they all saw what happened then.” The kiss, the total attention to me, the way he picked me up and took me away to tend to my sprained ankle. His total absorption in me. I smiled when I remembered. They saw what I meant to him, and they were unlikely to forget, since it was so unlike anything they had seen in him before. Richard didn’t allow people to see the man under the glittering exterior very often.

  Lady Skerrit took a deep breath to steady herself, and let it out slowly. “I see. Well I would trust Lady Hareton’s opinion as much as I trust my own. Thank you, I shall certainly speak to her.”

  “And when the gentlemen return, watch him closely, ma’am. I’ll try to draw him out for you, just for a moment.” She nodded, but I saw she was still sceptical, her lips pursed, a slight frown still creasing her forehead.

  I got to my feet. “If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll try to limit the damage Richard is inflicting. Speak to Miss Terry, try to warn her away.”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise, my dear. Perhaps, if things are as you say, you should speak quietly to him later. Persuade him not to lead Eustacia on.”

  I shook my head. “He won’t be deterred from his purpose. Not after I made the mistake of telling him—what I have told him. But perhaps I can make Miss Terry listen. He will only persist if she encourages him.”

  “I doubt it,” said Lady Skerrit, but she let me go.

  I walked to where Miss Terry and her friends stood, to one side of the great fireplace, out of reach of the sparks that occasionally spat from the logs. They bowed civilly enough but a distinct chill lay in the air, as though they had been talking about me. I had become accustomed to that, in the past.

  “Your cup must overflow,” Miss Terry said acidly. “First the elevation in your fortunes, then you catch such a notable bachelor. Tell me, do you expect him to give up his wicked ways for you?”

  “He gave them up some time ago,” I said calmly. “I’m afraid I can’t take the credit for that.”

  “It didn’t seem like it over dinner,” said one lady. Miss Terry hid behind her fan in pretended embarrassment.

  I regarded her with cool hauteur. “That, in case you didn’t recognise it, was flirting. Miss Terry, I came to warn you. Please be careful. Lord Strang is dangerous.” With an inward groan I wished I’d put it differently. But how to explain Richard to someone who didn’t know him? Someone who didn’t want to listen?

  She flushed and tossed her head disdainfully, her golden ringlets bouncing around her pretty shoulders. “Dangerous? I couldn’t see any of that. I did think he was one of the most charming men I have ever met.” She leant forward to me confidingly, not lowering her voice one jot. “Is it true he jilted his previous fiancée?”

  “No, she jilted him.”

  She laughed. “I can hardly believe that. She married Steven Drury didn’t she? Who would prefer Steven Drury over Lord Strang?” Her acolytes tittered in chorus.

  “Miss Cartwright evidently did,” I said. “She’s a considerable heiress and used to getting her own way. She wanted him, so she took him.”

  “She sounds like a woman after my own heart—except she chose the wrong man.” Eustacia looked around for approval and her friends laughed again. “I wouldn’t let Lord Strang go, once I had him. Though you’ll have your work cut out to keep him.”

  It was a secret fear of mine, but I was determined not to let her see that. “It’s true that you have more to redeem you than Miss Cartwright.” Miss Terry’s thoughtlessness and cruelty was drawn from her youth and inexperience, while Julia Cartwright’s was calculated. Richard had always thought Julia stupid, but I wasn’t so sure. Miss Terry showed a loyalty to her friends that would be alien to Julia. It was why I tried to help her now, but I feared I was too late.

  Miss Terry bowed in mocking acknowledgement of the compliment. “Still, he may prove more fickle than you think. And that brother of his—is he attached to anyone?”

  I replied in the negative. It might be as well if she was drawn to Gervase. He was kinder than his brother and she wouldn’t come to any harm with him. With that in mind, I gave Eustacia a few hints. “He’s so rich, even he doesn’t know how much he’s worth. Although he left the country in disgrace, he returned in triumph. Lord Strang sometimes says he’s the poor relation, in comparison to his brother.”

  Miss Terry fluttered her fan. “I still prefer the elder brother, and the title. I’ll get him off you, Rose, see if I don’t. He’ll marry me in Exeter, not you.”

  At that point, the gentlemen came in. Richard looked around the room and strode over to us when he saw me. “Such a charming sight.” He fixed his prey again after a brief, reassuring glance at me. A vigorous fluttering of fans rewarded him. “May I show you ladies a trick or two?” He gently took my fan. “The ladies in London deploy their fans—so—if they wish to attract the attention of someone across the room.” It was pretty to see all the girls as they copied him, like a chorus. “And so, and so,” he continued, demonstrating. His gestures were exquisite, elegantly delineating hidden emotions and desires, showing how beautiful the language of the fan could be in the hands of a master, but at no time were his gestures anything but masculine. Richard exuded masculinity with every pore, his affectation of rich clothes only underlying the fact that he needed no props to prove his essential nature. A predator in the ballroom, a dangerous, untamed element always in his eyes, in every ripple of well-trained, sleek muscle.

  He shot me a wicked glance and I realised one of the gestures he’d used was not at all proper. “This means ‘would you like to dance with me?’” I knew it meant something far more risqué.

  During my visit to Eyton, one of the guests at his parents’ house kindly demonstrated some of the elegant gestures to me, and had shown me one o
r two of the ones to avoid. The one Richard just demonstrated was definitely one of those.

  “My lord,” I said in warning, but the expression he turned to me was one of angelic innocence.

  “Madam?”

  I sighed. “Never mind.” This was mild, compared to what he could do. Perhaps that wickedness would satisfy him.

  Lizzie came over to join us. “Martha says it would be quite proper if you should like to play for us, Rose, and Lady Skerrit says she would love you to play.” I suspected they were colluding to get me away from the group, but then I realised how I could get Richard away from his game, and I agreed.

  I went over to the harpsichord and searched for some music amongst the sheets piled on a little table next to the instrument. I soon found what I wanted—a fiendish piece which had taken me forever to master. I ran my hands over the keys to ensure the tuning was suitable. It was.

  With Lizzie to turn the pages for me, I began to play, and soon the magic happened. I loved music, and spent much of my spare time practising, but Richard had never heard me play before. I had not thought it seemly in Derbyshire, being in deeper mourning, and in Yorkshire all the instruments were out of tune.

  I forgot myself when I played. I tried hard to be worthy of the music, but this time I kept some of my attention on the gaggle by the fire. Richard had his back to me, but after a little while, a few minutes at most, I saw his back gradually straighten. He bowed to the ladies, turned, and came over to the harpsichord. Miss Terry shrugged her shoulders because she knew of my prowess on the keyboard which she disdainfully referred to as my gift. It was not a gift, because I had worked so hard for it.

  Richard stood by me, his attention on my hands, and occasionally he glanced at my face, his expression inscrutable. He still held my fan, but he quietly laid it down.

  I finished the piece to the usual smatter of applause, and requests for more, but I smiled and bowed, and left the instrument for somebody else. I picked up my fan and led Richard to a sofa where we could sit together, away from his admirers.

  “I had no idea you played,” he said.

  “Everybody plays.”

  “Not like that they don’t.” There was no guile now, no elegant flirting.

  I tried to explain. “In a house as crowded as the Manor, there’s little privacy. With my music, even if there was someone else in the room I wouldn’t have to talk to them, I could enter my own world. So, I practised a great deal. Do you like music?”

  “It’s one of my greatest pleasures. I, too, can enter a different world with its help, and believe me, I’ve needed to from time to time. I shan’t give you any flowery compliments on your playing; it would be an insult. You must know how good you are. It stands alone, without any help from me.”

  “Do you play?”

  “Everybody plays,” he repeated with a smile, then got to his feet. “I’ll get you something to drink. I confess I need something. My mouth is completely dry after that particular surprise.”

  He came back with two glasses of wine. I accepted mine, sipped and put it down. I glanced across the room and saw Lady Skerrit watching us, as I had asked her to. I picked up my fan and spread it. “I do love you,” I said from behind it. It was enough.

  For a brief moment the polite mask was dropped, and his face glowed when he lifted his glass to me. “To your eyes,” he said, and drank. When he lowered his glass he was back to the socially adept Lord Strang again. I hoped Lady Skerrit had seen, but I dared not look across to where she sat.

  “Do these ladies go to the local Assembly Rooms?” he asked easily.

  “All the gentry around here does.”

  “You’ll be out of mourning next week. Should you like to go?” At one point I would have dreamed of nothing better than to attend Exeter Assembly rooms with my own betrothed by my side. I used to sit by the wall with a fixed smile on my face and dream my time there away until it was time to go home. I hardly left my station at all the whole evening, but now, I was happy to leave it all behind me and go on.

  “Do you want to flirt with those poor girls again? You shouldn’t you know, Miss Terry has already put up a challenge to me.”

  He looked amused. “Will you take it?”

  “Do I need to?”

  He smiled at my response. “You know the answer to that. But I promise I won’t overstep the mark. Will that satisfy you?”

  I sighed. “It will have to.”

  “And I know of one or two people who will arrive in Exeter early for our wedding. Lord Thwaite expressed a wish to explore the area when I last spoke to him. London will be emptying and while many people will head straight for Bath, and only come here for a few days, there are others who will use our wedding as an opportunity to see something new. Society is constantly bored, you see. I’ll see if I can muster any of them for the Assembly Rooms. The chances are, the young women here will be so taken with all the new people, they’ll leave me alone.”

  The thought of that relieved my mind considerably. “In that case, I think it an excellent notion. It will also give Martha a chance to meet some of the people she’ll be expected to mix with in future, but on her own territory.”

  “Then that’s settled. When is the next one?”

  “The end of next week, I think.” I knew well when it was. It used to be our only distraction, and Lizzie’s only chance to show off to all and sundry.

  “I’ll speak to Lady Hareton tomorrow,” he promised.

  Chapter Six

  Martha had no objections to our attendance at the Assembly rooms the following week.

  On the Sunday I watched with amusement Richard’s and Gervase’s reactions to the family preparing for church. We attended the local parish church, and although we usually walked there, in deference to our exalted visitors, today we took carriages.

  Someone flung open the main door to the Manor and the air filled with the cacophony of small children. “Walter—where is your hat?” mingled with, “Lizzie—can you lend me some gloves?” from Ruth and “Where did I put my prayer book?” from James. All at high volume, all at once.

  Martha dealt with all the demands and requests one by one, patiently and steadily. I ran upstairs a couple of times to fetch various items, including my own prayer book that I had forgotten, and soon enough everyone was ready.

  I took Richard’s arm and Lizzie took Gervase’s when he offered it. “Is it always like this?” Richard murmured to me, bewilderment and amusement mingling in his voice.

  I smiled up at him. “No, sometimes we’re late. This is restrained compared to usual. They’re being good because you’re here.”

  He smiled broadly and turned to Gervase. “Could you see our mother putting up with this for long?”

  Gervase responded with a grin that matched his brother’s. “She would have the headache instantly.”

  “Our last day of mourning,” Lizzie reminded me.

  I had grown so used to seeing the subdued greys and blacks I’d forgotten how we must all appear, but next to Richard’s scarlet cloth coat, our dowdiness became explicit. Gervase, in a soft brown, blended in with us, but Richard stood out without effort, perhaps without noticing—but I doubted it. “I’m glad this is ending. This is a travesty of when I really mourned before. I might throw my mourning gowns away and start again if and when I need them.”

  “You’d be well advised to,” Richard said. “I don’t mean to disparage you, my love, but whoever made these gowns for you did you no favours. They seem to have been made for somebody else.”

  “They were. Martha bought them in York readymade, and they were altered by a maid for me. I have some new gowns, and I shall wear one tomorrow. For you.”

  “I shall look forward to it.” He smiled again and leant closer. “If it wasn’t the Sabbath, I’d make a totally scandalous suggestion I have every intention of carrying out in the near future.” I flushed, and he laughed and took me out to the carriage.

  I felt foolish travelling down the high street of Darkwa
ter village in such style, amongst the villagers who knew me so well, but I stuck it out and when we reached the old church at the end of the street, events were almost normal. I tried to forget Richard’s murmured words to me.

  I burned for him. I thought of that time at Hareton almost constantly now our wedding grew closer. I wanted him so much sleeping had become a problem for me, and now he slept only a few doors away from mine, the urge grew worse. Not the thoughts our vicar would encourage, but I was always honest with myself, and I knew the few weeks until our wedding would be the longest I ever experienced. I wasn’t used to this intensity of yearning, and I had no idea that one experience of lovemaking would lead to this longing, until touching him blew me apart.

  Richard and Gervase were used to stares, so they took no notice of the congregation, but once we were ensconced in our high-sided pew nobody but the Reverend Mr. Claverton from his high perch in the pulpit could see us.

  James dozed as usual and the children behaved like little angels for a change. Even Ruth stopped scowling. The service continued on its soothing way, the familiar litanies and responses passed without pause and I let myself dream of what was to come, trying to keep my mind away from the more physical aspect of our relationship. I’m not sure what the sermon was about, but it wasn’t long, only half an hour or so. I itched and burned with desire and shame, sitting next to the man I loved, feeling his presence.

  We led the congregation out, and spent some time accepting felicitations from people. Richard was gracious, I tried to follow suit.

  Afterwards we stopped to speak to the vicar. Mr. Claverton had the pleasure of Steven’s assistance last year, and after the usual courtesies, Richard asked him about it. “Do you miss Drury’s services?”

  “Frankly, my lord, not at all,” Mr. Claverton said. “I hardly knew he was gone. I did have my doubts before, but once he left, I realised how little he attended to church affairs.”

  “So you would oppose any attempts he might make to enter the church again?” Richard’s voice was soft, but his gaze steady and firm. There was nothing of the society man, or the libertine about him today.