A Perfect Likeness (21 page)

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Now who’s playing games, madam? I refer to the fact that you are marrying me simply to save Liskillen, and certainly not because you are being the dutiful daughter.”

“How do you know that?” she whispered. Had Delphine said something? Or maybe even Felix?

He smiled a little. “Shall we just say that I made it my business to find out all I could about the woman I was thinking of marrying? I know all about your father’s debts, Miss St. Charles, debts which I fully intend to settle once my ring is on your finger.”

For a long moment she continued to stare at him. “Why?” she said then.
“Why
are you doing this?”

“Is a husband not expected to do such things for his new bride?”

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

“Do I? You flatter me, I think.”

“Maybe I do, but then, I cannot be much of a judge, since I know so little about you, not having gone to great lengths to find out about you before coming here.”

“That was remiss of you.”

“So it seems.” She held his gaze. “I still do not know why you are taking me as your wife, do I?
You
have discovered why
I
am entering into this contract, Sir Sebastian, but you are still amazingly coy about your own reasons.”

“I may choose to tell you one day, Miss St. Charles, or then again I may decide never to divulge my reason.”

She smiled a little scornfully then. “Oh, Sir Sebastian, how smoothly you think to continue deceiving me, but the truth of it is that I already know your reason.”

His eyes sharpened. “Do you indeed?”

“Yes, and I suppose I am not really surprised that you wish to keep it secret, for it is hardly commendable, is it?”

“Since you apparently know so much, I suggest you enlighten me, for I am all curiosity.”

“Why do you
still
try to mock me?” she cried.

“I’m not. Of that you may be certain.”

“I can’t be certain of anything where you are concerned!”

“Oh, yes, you can, madam, you may be certain that one day soon I will be your husband. But first, I wish to know what it is that you
think
you’ve found out.”

She flushed a little. “There is no doubt about my information, sir. I have it from a very reliable source.”

“I’m waiting, Miss St. Charles, and my patience is fast running out.”

“You’re marrying me because you need a wife quickly in order to gain your kinsman’s fortune. You’ve chosen me because you think I will not stand up for myself, that my provincial and rather obscure background will have made me suitably weak and unsure of myself.
That
is your reason, Sir Sebastian, and I’ve known about it since my very first night in England.” She hesitated, on the verge of telling him about the letter, but something made her step back from the brink.

Anger had flashed into his eyes. “Well, I don’t need to ask the name of your source, do I? My cousin Felix’s hand is only too plain.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“No? How strange then that in Town recently he mentioned the selfsame inheritance, which I assure you does not exist. I’m disappointed in you, madam, for I didn’t think you would be fool enough to pay heed to a man as shallow and contemptible as my cousin. It may be a little late, but perhaps I should still warn you that he is venom in human form, nothing delights him more than causing trouble for others, and you would be wise in future to keep him at a considerable distance.”

“May I remind you, sirrah, that
you
placed me in his house?”

“I do not need reminding, madam.” He gave a short laugh. “Dear God above, if I am supposed to have chosen you because you are weak and will not stand up for yourself, I’ve made a singularly ill-judged choice, haven’t I?”

“Even a worm will turn, sir.”

“To be truthful, madam, I do not see you as a worm.” He looked at her again. “Ignore my cousin’s stories, Miss St. Charles, for they are false. I am
not
marrying you so that I may lay my grasping hands upon some imagined inheritance.”

“You tell me not to trust the duke, but should I trust you any more?”

“Since we are to be husband and wife, madam, I would have thought it fitting that you attempt to trust me, for if you cannot, then perhaps it would be best to call a halt to the proceedings after all.”

She looked away. “No, I don’t want that.”

“No, because of Liskillen. What a dilemma you are in, to be sure, for you must save your father’s estate, but in order to do so you must marry a man you do not seem to particularly like and whose word you apparently cannot rely on.”

Oh, if only you knew the truth of how I feel about you ... She met his eyes. “What we are contemplating is not a love match, sir, it is to be a marriage of convenience. You have made that perfectly clear, and I am under no illusion whatsoever.”

“Miss St. Charles,” he said softly, “I do not know what you mean by a marriage of convenience, but if by any chance you should mean a marriage in name only, perhaps now would be an appropriate moment to inform you that that is most certainly not what I intend. When you become my wife, you will be my wife in every sense of the word.”

The flush which had stained her cheeks all along now became positively fiery.

He smiled a little. “Now, then, do you still wish the marriage to proceed?”

“Yes.” Her voice was scarce above a whisper.

“So do I, Miss St. Charles, which would seem to bring us back to the beginning of this conversation. I have every intention of marrying you, and I will not be swayed by the interference of others. I am also prepared to meet your father’s debts in full, which is, as I understand it, your sole purpose for giving yourself to be my wife.”

She searched his face. “I am still no nearer hearing the truth from you, am I? You deny the existence of an inheritance, which implies that you have another reason. What could it possibly be which makes a man like yourself decide to take a woman like me as his wife? I would like to know, Sir Sebastian, for to be sure, it is a mystery to me.”

“And it will remain a mystery, madam, until such time as I think it right to tell you. Now, then, can we close this endless discussion and get on with the business in hand? We were about to set off for Tremont Park, as I recall.”

For a moment she hesitated, not satisfied with the way things had gone. She had wanted answers, but she had had none. Should she provoke him by facing him with her knowledge of his mistress? But even as she thought of it, she discarded the notion, for it would serve no purpose at all. Besides, whatever
his
reasons,
she
still wished the marriage to go ahead, and it could only do so on his terms.

“Is there still something on your mind, Miss St. Charles?”

“No.”

“Then may we proceed?”

“Yes.”

He said nothing more, offering her his arm, and they walked back to where the groom waited with the horses.

They rode down through the park toward the woods and the battlemented gateway marking the boundary of the estate, following the road toward the Royal Charles Inn, and the crossroads by Tremont Park’s lodge. Overhead the leaves were cool, the sun dappling the way with soft shadows. The fading rhododendrons still looked bright between the trees, the pink, mauve, and crimson of their blooms softer now as they came to the end of their life. The scent of pine needles and silver birch filled the air, and on either side of the way the banks were covered with thick, feathery ferns.

Bryony could hear the murmur of a stream nearby; perhaps it was the same stream from which she had rescued the doll. She glanced at Sebastian as she remembered the incident, for if ever she had shown herself to be unsuitable and not to have learned anything from the duchess’s tuition, it had been then. But still he intended to marry her.

She had completely forgotten Delphine’s warnings about the horse’s freshness and wasn’t giving it the attention she should. Suddenly there was a loud, piercing whistle, and almost immediately a huge gray lurcher burst from the undergrowth, snapping and snarling around her terrified horse’s heels. The horse reared and then bolted, the lurcher darting at its legs all the while.

Bryony screamed, clinging to its mane. Sebastian shouted after her, trying to urge his own terrified mount in pursuit, but it only capered around, its eyes rolling with fear as it fought against the command which would take it after the hound. The groom was thrown heavily, his horse immediately galloping back in the direction of Polwithiel.

In the confusion, Bryony still clung desperately to her fleeing horse. She screamed Sebastian’s name, but suddenly there was another whistle and the lurcher broke off, vanishing back into the woods as swiftly as it had appeared. In a blur she saw a cloaked figure running away between the trees, followed by the lurcher. She saw it for only a split second, but she knew that figure, she’d seen it before!

The low branch hung down directly in her horse’s path. It struck her on the forehead, sweeping her from the saddle so that she fell heavily, rolling over and over like a rag doll. A blinding pain rushed over her as she lay still at last, gazing weakly up at trees which were fading from green to a deep, deep blue. From a strange distance she heard Sebastian rein his horse in beside her. Her eyes could not focus properly as he leaned over her, cradling her head in his arms.

“Bryony? Bryony, are you all right?”

She couldn’t answer him. Everything was slipping away into a velvet darkness. His voice seemed to echo over and over in her head. She knew no more.

She was warm and comfortable and did not want to open her eyes. A lethargy spread deliciously through her and she did not want to struggle free of it. The sheets between which she lay were lavender-scented and it was good just to lie there cocooned and protected, safe from everything.

But sounds kept intruding upon her refuge, the rustle of a woman’s skirts and the low murmuring of a man’s voice as two people came into the room. What were they saying? Her eyes still closed, she turned her head a little to listen.

“Lady Delphine, I do not wish her to leave her bed until I have pronounced her fit enough so to do, and that will not be for some time yet. I have administered laudanum to make her sleep a great deal, and I have put a balm dressing upon the wound on her forehead. Instructions have been left as to the precise amount of laudanum to be given at any one time, and I do not wish the dressing to be disturbed at all.
I
will do that myself when I inspect it tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“I do not think her injuries are anything other than superficial, although of course I cannot be sure yet. It was a very bad fall. There do not appear to be internal injuries, but a blow to the head is always alarming and may prove more serious than appears in the beginning. If you should become anxious about anything before I am due to call again, please do not hesitate to send for me straightaway.”

“Very well, doctor.”

“She will not wish to eat at all, but she may feel thirsty, in which case I recommend an infusion of chamomile, but nothing more. Is there anything else you wish to know before I leave?”

“No, doctor, I think you have said everything you need to.”

“Very well, I will go to see her grace now. I trust that her sprained ankle has not been giving too much cause for concern?”

“No, doctor, although she is hardly a model patient.”

“No, my lady,” he replied, a smile in his voice, “but it must be difficult for a duchess to have to do as she is told.”

“Her rank has nothing to do with it, sir. She is difficult by nature. She was informed that the little bridge was unsafe, and a notice to that effect was actually fixed to the parapet, but she still insisted on going that way. She has no one to blame but herself for her sprained ankle. Miss St. Charles, on the other hand, has had a dreadful accident and she is entirely deserving of my sympathy.”

Delphine’s skirts rustled again as she and the doctor went out. Silence returned. Bryony lay there, wanting to open her eyes but not having the will to do so. She thought the window must be open, for she was sure she could hear the gulls over the estuary. Perhaps they were flying around the top of the folly. No, they weren’t, they were going farther and farther away now.... From the edge of consciousness, she slipped back into a deep, drugged sleep.

The room was candlelit when at last she awoke properly. She could feel something tight bound around her forehead, and a throbbing pain deep in her temple. It was this throb which had at last disturbed her long slumber. She lay there, puzzled for a moment, for she could remember nothing. Candle shadows moved slowly over the room, turning the bed’s dull blue canopy to a dusty shade of lilac, the same lilac as the gown Delphine was wearing as she sat reading nearby.

Bryony’s brows drew together curiously. Why should Delphine be sitting there like that? “Delphine?” she asked hesitantly.

Delphine put the book down with a glad smile. “You’re awake at last!”

“Why are you here? You were ill and went to your bed—”

“I was quite well again once I had had a sleep. But you mustn’t worry about
me,
it’s you we have to worry about. How are you feeling? You’ve been in bed for two days.” She paused. “Don’t you remember the accident?”

Bryony stared at her. Two days? But memory was beginning to return and she could see again the blur of trees and leaves as
her horse bolted. The pain in her forehead made her frown suddenly and she put her hand up to the dressing, but Delphine hurried to stop her. “No, don’t touch it, the doctor said it was not to be disturbed.”

“I know,” whispered Bryony, vaguely remembering, “I heard him.”

“You were awake when he was here?”

“I think so. I don’t know. I was so very tired.”

“That would be the laudanum.”

“I remember the accident, at least I think I do. There was a dog.”

“Yes, that devil which has been worrying our sheep. I really am cross with Petra, for although she denied it, I
know
that beast comes from somewhere on Tremont.”