Mesalliance (5 page)

‘Are they?’ His
eyes rose briefly to encompass her. ‘Then I fear they are doomed to
disappointment.’

‘Oh – not about
you. It’s her – the cousin. Di can’t understand why she didn’t say
that she knew you when she first heard we were coming.’ She paused,
irritatingly aware that his attention had wandered again. ‘I must
say, it does seem very odd. But then, according to Di, she
is
odd. I gather, when she first came to live here, Lady
Miriam had to resort to quite strong measures to stop her wandering
off for hours on end and then coming back with her hair like a
hayrick and her shoes in her hand.’

Rockliffe
continued to scrutinise the gold box through his
quizzing-glass.

‘Strong
measures?’

‘Mm. Thea was
about to tell me only Di began talking of something else so the
chance was lost.’ Another pause and then, casually, ‘Which reminds
me … what do you think of Diana?’

‘Diana?’ He
lowered the glass and examined the box at arm’s length. ‘Ah yes. A
pretty child and possessed of a certain … vivacity. I believe I
must disagree with you, my dear. It is most definitely florid.’

Not without
difficulty, Nell ignored this diversion and said flatly, ‘Pretty?
Is that the best you can do?’

‘Isn’t it
enough?’ He turned to her, a gleam of lazy amusement lurking in his
eyes. ‘You appear put out, Nell.’

‘That’s not
surprising, is it?’ She came abruptly to her feet. ‘You’re being as
provoking as you know how.’

‘Oh no,’ he
said softly. ‘Not quite. Not at all, in fact.’

For perhaps
half a minute, she fixed him with a fulminating stare before
sweeping wordlessly to the door and shutting it behind her with a
distinct snap.

The Duke
smiled. He dropped the snuff-box into his pocket, picked up a fine,
cambric handkerchief and prepared, without haste, to follow in her
wake.

*

Dinner was a
gargantuan affair and lasted far longer than Rockliffe thought
necessary. He had been placed, as expected, beside Mistress Diana –
whose conversation consisted almost solely of attempts to lure him
into juvenile flirtation. He declined to play but with such adroit
ambiguity that she could not be sure of it and, in between parries,
he surveyed the company with an increasingly jaundiced eye.

Nell had been
awarded the heir of the house but was receiving scant attention
from him. The Duke smiled to himself. Young Mr Franklin had plainly
been given his instructions and either found them unpalatable or
was simply digging his heels in. But he need not worry. No matter
how pretty Lady Miriam’s planning, Nell could – and almost
certainly would – wreck it in a moment.

Opposite
himself and Diana, Harry Caversham engaged Althea in stilted and
rather desperate conversation. Really, taken all in all, her
ladyship deserved credit for trying. His Grace caught Harry’s eye
and lifted one sardonic brow. Harry choked over his wine.

At the other
end of the table, Sir Roland expounded on field drainage to a
palpably bored Mr Horton. The younger son still remained notable
only by his absence and Cousin Adeline was not present either –
which was, of course, hardly to be wondered at. Rockliffe’s boredom
deepened.

It was not
until the ladies retired that he was finally free to speak to Harry
Caversham and then that gentleman’s first words were exactly what
he’d expected.

‘Ye gods! I
hope I don’t have to go through that too often.’

Black eyes
encompassed him with sympathetic mockery.

‘Hard work,
Harry?’

‘Exhausting.
And it makes me somewhat resentful of the fact that, when Dick
asked me up here, he didn’t say anything about ducal
competition.’

‘No? But you
might have had my place for the asking, you know.’

‘Aha!’ grinned
Harry. ‘Got other interests, have you? And how
is
the fair
Carlotta?’

‘Open to
offers, I imagine. Interested?’

‘Not me. I like
a quiet life.’

‘Do you? Well,
I’m sure it’s here for the asking.’

‘I said quiet –
not silent!’ His lordship reached for the decanter and delivered a
casual riposte. ‘It must be that little witch of a cousin, then. I
suspected as much. No beauty, of course … but she has a damnably
seductive mouth – as I’m sure you’ve noticed.’

The Duke
sighed. ‘Don’t be vulgar, Harry.’

‘Me? Never!’
came the laughing response. And then, ‘Tell me all about
Northumberland.’

‘You would be
disappointed. I have the most shocking memory.’

‘You mean
you’ve a very convenient one.’

‘The privilege
of age, my dear,’ replied Rockliffe blandly, continuing to smile.
‘And now, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think I might have
the port?’

A stray shaft
of sunlight creeping mischievously under his lids pricked the Duke
into wakefulness and caused him to look sleepily across at the
chink in the curtains that was its source. The silence and the
absence of his valet told him all he needed to know about the hour
and, with a muffled groan, he turned over and resolutely closed his
eyes. From outside came the plaintive call of a peacock; then again
and again. Rockliffe settled deeper into his pillow and thought
longingly of sleep … but it was too late. He was wide awake and
filled, moreover, with a strange restlessness that could only have
one result. He flung back the covers and got up.

Despite his air
of fashionable laziness, there was little Perkins habitually did
for him that he could not do for himself when the need arose and an
hour later he was dressed, shaved – albeit in cold water – and
about to pull on his coat when a tap at the door heralded his
valet.

‘Your Grace!’
said Perkins, plainly aghast. ‘Why did you not ring?’

‘I suppose
because I am not entirely helpless,’ came the calm response. And
then, not without amusement, ‘Why so appalled, John? I’m fairly
sure I fastened my breeches.’

Perkins
smothered a grin and said severely, ‘But your Grace’s hair!’

‘Ah. Yes.’
Despite a thorough brushing, traces of last night’s powder still
clung to it and he had drawn the line at washing it in cold water.
‘That is a problem, I grant you.’

The valet
reached for the powder box, shook out the cape that would protect
his noble employer’s clothes and said, ‘If your Grace will sit down
– it is but the work of a moment. And you must understand, sir,
that a man has his reputation to consider.’

‘That is
indisputably true,’ sighed Rockliffe. He had wanted to simply walk
outside and take a breath of early morning air - but Perkins’
reputation was not the only one that would be at stake should he be
unlucky enough to meet anyone. He sat.

His hair once
more adequately powdered and neatly tied, he left his room behind
him, descended the stairs and found his way into the garden.

It was cool yet
and quiet and the dew was still heavy on the grass as he strolled
unhurriedly through the arbour to the tiny pavilion he had glimpsed
from his window. The early sun dappled its shallow steps and
endowed the roses that curtained its trellised walls with
flamboyant splendour. Rockliffe disposed himself negligently on the
stone bench within and watched idly as a small bird winged its way
into some hidden retreat behind the crimson blossoms. Somewhere
close at hand, the gurgling sound of water was punctuated by the
spasmodic croaking of frogs and all around was the tranquil whisper
of leaves. And then, without warning, Adeline was there before
him.

He realised
then that he had known she would come. For a long moment he merely
looked at her and then, rising slowly, said the only thing that
seemed relevant.

‘You have
changed.’

The narrow
brows arched.

‘So you said.
So have you.’ She surveyed his powdered head with an air of mild
enquiry. ‘You are going grey, perhaps?’

‘Alas,’ came
the equally gentle retort, ‘you will never know.’

‘You think I
care?’ Her smile was brittle.

‘Enough, at
least, to comment on it.’

She shrugged.
‘It makes you look older.’

‘I
am
older. And so, my dear, are you. Old enough, shall we say, to know
better than make clever little remarks in the bosom of your
family.’

‘We can’t
always choose our weapons,’ she said, in a tone which suggested
that he should have known it. ‘But I’ll admit I hadn’t expected you
to be embarrassed.’

‘Is that an
apology?’

‘For what?’ The
aquamarine gaze remained perfectly impervious. ‘It is not my fault
that you allowed yourself to be betrayed into a lack of
finesse.’

Since this was
a fairly accurate echo of his own thoughts, it was unreasonable to
be annoyed. His drawl became a fraction more pronounced and he
said, ‘Is it not? It could not, I suppose, be that the improvement
in your appearance is exactly proportional to the deterioration in
your manners?’

This time her
smile was faintly compassionate.

‘But the one is
a direct result of the other. Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Ah. I see.
Neatly brushed hair and a fresh gown are but outward signs of a
relentless campaign of persecution that has naturally left you with
no alternative but to fight back with your tongue. How foolish of
me not to have guessed it.’

She stared
consideringly at him and, for a brief instant, he had the feeling
she was about to say something that might matter. Then it was gone
as she moved away from him to touch one swaying bloom with long,
delicate fingers.

‘One does what
one can,’ she said. ‘I haven’t any excuses.’

‘Have you
not?’

‘No. Or none
that you would understand.’

His hostility
evaporated again.

‘You used not
to be so insular. Try me.’

Silence
stretched between them for a long moment before the dark brown head
moved in a slight gesture of denial.

‘To what end?
These people you call my family are of your world … and they are
like you in attitude, if nothing else.’

‘You make a lot
of assumptions.’

‘I don’t think
so. There is a basic truth you haven’t yet accepted. It is that, in
the only senses that matter, you and I are total strangers.’

He found
himself noticing that the skin which used to be lightly golden was
now pale, like that of one kept too much indoors; and then the air
became curiously charged. Though no longer angular, she was still
very slender and the wide, passionate mouth, coupled with the fluid
grace of her every movement, combined to fulfil and exceed the
promise he had seen in her eight years ago. What she had now in
abundance was a rare quality he could only describe as allure; rare
and dangerously heightened by the remoteness in her eyes.

His next
thought was no more than a logical progression but the
unexpectedness of it produced an instinctive recoil that caused him
to say abruptly, ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Since
grandfather died. It was the spring following your visit. There was
no money and they said I was too young to live alone so they wrote
to my aunt.’

Seven years,
then. He received a hazy impression of what it might have meant to
be uprooted and brought to a place where everything she did was
suddenly and bewilderingly wrong. He said slowly, ‘It was hard, no
doubt. But it can’t have been entirely without its advantages.’

‘Of course
not,’ came the ironic reply. ‘It saved me from a barbaric existence
in equally barbaric Redesdale and I am now a different person. Let
the bells ring out.’

Once again her
bitterness grated. Very well; so life had not dealt particularly
kindly with her – but neither had she apparently made any effort to
come to terms with it. She was twenty-four years old, unpleasantly
barbed and no more than passably good-looking … and she made him
want to both kiss and shake her. It wasn’t a sensation he
relished.

Brusquely, he
said, ‘Why so ungrateful? What is it you lack? A husband?’ And saw,
with some relief, the first crack in her composure.

It was
short-lived, however. For an instant the blue-green eyes reflected
something he could not put a name to and then she had recovered
herself well enough to say coldly, ‘That is a singularly stupid
suggestion. I am far too useful to my aunt to be married. And who
is there, do you think, who would have me? The curate? The
school-master? You?’ She paused and favoured him with a mocking
smile. ‘Or no. I forgot. They want you for Diana.’

‘Your powers of
observation astound me,’ he said caustically. ‘Do pray
continue.’

‘What else is
there to say?’ She turned away, as if losing interest. And then,
‘Of course, she’s extraordinarily pretty.’

‘As you say,’
he agreed, watching her carefully in an attempt to decide if there
really had been a trace of wistfulness in her voice. ‘But beauty,
as they say, is only skin deep.’

‘Or in the eye
of the beholder? Yes, I know. Does that complete the platitudes for
today?’

‘Not quite.’ He
wondered why he was persevering when she was so obviously
determined to be difficult. ‘It’s also in the possession of an
extensive wardrobe.’

The slim
shoulders stiffened. ‘If that remark was designed to console me,
I’d like to point out that it was neither necessary nor accurate. I
have two gowns that once belonged to Thea and I look attractive in
neither of them. Diana, on the other hand, could be wrapped in a
sack and still be beautiful. Couldn’t she?’

‘Perhaps. It’s
not a question to which I’ve given any thought.’

‘No?’ She
turned her head and there was a wholly astonishing gleam of
laughter in her eyes. ‘Poor Diana … and she so very set on becoming
a duchess.’