The Duke's Deception (8 page)

As the first
tresses of hair fell she almost regretted her decision so closed her eyes until
the job was done. She heard the busy snip
snip
of
shears until finally Jane picked up a brush and ran it through her hair.

‘My, miss. What
a difference!’

Marianne’s eyes
flew open and she knew she had made the right choice. The hated ringlets

were gone and in their place were
shining golden curls that tumbled in a mass around her face. She shook her head
experimentally and ran her hands through the crop.

‘I can hardly
credit how light my head feels. It’s as though I have been set free. Thank you,
Jane, you’ve done an excellent job.’

She stood up and
Jane removed the towel from her shoulders and shook it vigorously. ‘I cut the
hair off in such a way it can be plaited and stored.’

‘Whatever for?
Why should I wish to keep my redundant curls?’

‘To have a wig
made up if you should ever have a need to.’

Marianne
giggled. ‘I don’t want it, but you may do with it whatever you wish. It’s
almost time for dinner. Quickly, help me back into my gown.’ As she had kept on
her petticoats and slippers the evening dress was replaced and adjusted in
minutes. She gazed delighted at her stylish appearance then holding her skirts
carefully in one hand, her matching silk reticule in the other, she went to
join the Griersons for dinner knowing she was tardy.

She walked
carefully and arrived more gracefully than was her wont. She paused at the head
of the stairs to pass her small embroidered bag to the other hand, leaving one
free to grip the banister as she descended. Tonight was not the night to arrive
in a heap on the floor. She wished her entrance to be spectacular but not in
that way.

A soft murmur of
voices came from behind the double doors of the grand salon. Had it been opened
up especially in her honour? She grinned; far more likely opened to pay homage
to the wonderful gowns.

She glided
across the hall smiling at the stunned expressions of the two footmen. She hesitated
in the archway strangely unsure and about the radical change in her appearance.
Charles was the first to spot her framed in the candlelight. He almost choked
on his drink.

‘Marianne! You
look so different I hardly recognized you.’ He walked towards her his eyes
glittering. He reached out and took her free hand and drew her into the room
and into a pool of silence and a circle of shocked faces.

‘Look at this.
Have you ever have seen anything so beautiful, so perfect!’

Lord Grierson
cleared his throat. ‘Well, my dear, I hardly know what to say. The gown is
indeed lovely— but the short hair? Well! I never thought to say this about such
a style but it is exactly right on you.’ He beamed around his family assembled
in their finery. ‘I shall have to hold an event here to show you off, my
child.’

‘Thank you,
Papa. I am relieved you approve. My hair was so very thick and heavy I have

suffered constant megrims. I’m
certain I will be free of them from now on.’ She glanced at Emily, surprised
her foster sister had not commented. ‘Emily, you look lovely in your gown.
White is perfect with your dark hair.’

‘I’m so sad
you’ve cut off for your lovely hair, Marianne, but I agree with Papa it does
suit you. With your new crop and elegant gown I did not at first recognize you.
You look so much older, does she not, Mama?’

Lady Grierson
nodded, her dark hair still
unsilvered
was dressed
high and adorned with a

crystal coronet in which several
golden yellow plumes danced. The feathers matched her ensemble perfectly.

‘Yes, I declare
I approve. I wouldn’t wish you to do the same, Emily, for you have not her
natural curls but on Marianne it’s indeed, perfect. And the gown! Well, my
dear, the colour is not what I like to see on a young girl but again I am
forced to admit that it works. Mrs Dawkins is a clever woman.’

Emily slowly
rotated sending the hem of her dress swirling in a mass of white gauze and silk
around her
slippered
feet. ‘And I love this gown.
It’s the finest I have ever owned. I cannot wait to invite Arabella over and
show it off to her. Thank you so much, Marianne, without your being here I
would not have such wonderful clothes to wear.’

Marianne doubted
Arabella would find even one of their new garments to her satisfaction. ‘We
will have to wait until the event Papa has promised to wear these gowns.’

‘Yes, Papa, what
are we to do? Shall we have a ball like Arabella?’ Emily asked.

‘No, my love;
nothing so grand. Perhaps a neat dinner will suffice. You can play the
pianoforte and our guests can dance afterwards.’

‘Nonsense, my
lord. You will wish to employ someone to play. Emily shall not miss the
dancing.’ Lady Grierson was strident and Marianne saw Lord Grierson’s
complexion darken.

Quickly she
intervened. ‘I can play most tunes, Mama, and I expect several of our guests
can do so too. We can all take turns at the piano.
That way
no one will miss more than one or two dances.’

Lord Grierson
looked unconvinced then relaxed his rigid pose. ‘I think on reflection that is

an excellent notion. Thank you, my
dear Marianne, for offering. As we will be inviting only close friends we need
not stand on ceremony.’

The elderly
butler appeared to announce dinner was served. Edward sidled up beside

Marianne and whispered shyly. ‘I
think you look splendid. It must be such a relief to get rid

of all that hair.’

‘Thank you,
Edward. You are quite correct. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted from my
head. I feel inches taller.’ She grinned. ‘But that of course could be due to
the high heels of my evening slippers.’

Together they
followed the others into the drawing-room. The main topic of conversation was
naturally the proposed informal dinner and dance which was discussed to a
standstill. Then it moved on to a horse race to be held on the coming Saturday,
two days hence.

‘I hope you are
all coming to watch me,’ Charles said. ‘I have been practising for weeks.’

‘You needed to,
brother,’ Edward grinned at Marianne. ‘Last time he didn’t even finish, his
mare went lame halfway round.’

‘Bess is a
different horse now. She’s race fit. I’ve been training her daily.’

Lord Grierson
smiled. ‘We are all coming to support you, my boy; I have a wager on the result
so I shall be watching with interest.’

Marianne noticed
Lord Grierson did not specify on which horse he had placed his money but
Charles appeared happy he had his father’s complete confidence.

‘Where do these
races take place?’ Marianne asked.

‘On Great
Bentley Green. We race three times around the perimeter. There is a festive
feel to the event and stalls are set up and people come from miles around to
participate and spectate.’

‘It sounds
exciting,’ Marianne replied. ‘I shall look forward to attending. It will be the
first time I’ve seen anything of that sort.’

The party broke
up late; the gentlemen didn’t linger over the port or leave to play billiards
but joined Emily, Marianne and Mama in the grand salon. There they played noisy
games and sang songs around the piano. The supper trays came in at ten o’clock
and after that they retired.

Marianne
noticing the brightness of the moon as she returned to her room recalled her
discovery of the boys’ clandestine activities. She had postponed her decision.
Indeed had pushed the unwanted knowledge to the back of her mind. She was
becoming too fond of them to contemplate informing, if indeed they
were
smugglers.

She smiled as
Jane slipped a nightgown over her head. If she was not to expose them she
supposed she was now condoning their involvement. What a day it had been! She
had discovered her guardian was masquerading as someone he was not, she had
decided not to report her foster brothers’ nocturnal activities and she had
radically changed her appearance.

Martha Frasier
would not have been so bold but Marianne Devenish was a brand-new person, she
could do anything she wanted. She must trust Cousin Theo would regard her
sophisticated image with the same enthusiasm.

Chapter
Eight

Sultan was now
sound. Marianne was able to ride out on him next morning resplendent in her new
habit. Jane assured her the dark blue superfine and severe military cut suited
her admirably. Unfortunately without her abundant hair the matching peaked cap
was too loose and slipped constantly over her eyes.

‘Here, miss,
stuff some straw into the crown. That should do it,’ John suggested helpfully.

Marianne eyed
the offering dubiously knowing the straw was possibly alive with unpleasant
crawling things. ‘Thank you, John, but I think I would prefer to remove the
cap.’ She handed it to Tom who was waiting to toss her up.

On returning from
her morning ride she retired to the library to read until the time to change
for her drive with her guardian. A light tap on the door heralded the entrance
of a footman carrying a silver salver on which was a note. She removed it.

Her name, Miss
Marianne Devenish, was written in a bold black scrawl across the folded paper.
Her heart skipped and her lips curved. Marianne turned the note over; the
missive was sealed with a blob of red wax, no imprint on it. Why had Cousin
Theo written to her? Was he unable to keep their appointment later that day?
She opened the letter knowing the answers would be inside.

Disappointed she
read that there was to be no phaeton ride that afternoon for her cousin was

engaged elsewhere. She was
accustomed to spending her days alone with only a book for company. However she
had been looking forward to the drive and getting to know her Cousin Theo a
little better. Now she would be obliged to sit quietly in her sanctuary. She
could not settle to her book, she was flat and bored. Surely missing a drive
with her guardian was not the cause of her dissatisfaction?

The Grierson
party were ready to leave for Great Bentley races by noon on Saturday. Marianne
was to travel in an open carriage with the other ladies and the men would ride.
It had been deemed unnecessary for more than Tom and Billy to accompany them
therefore the majority of the Frating Hall staff had been given the afternoon
off to enjoy the entertainment on The Green.

Mama settled
herself more comfortably on the faded squabs and instructed her two youngest
daughters, Beth and Eleanor, to sit still and stop wriggling.

‘I can hardly
believe the difference in you girls; I declare I shall be quite blushing with
pride.’

Marianne grinned
at Emily who was sitting beside her. ‘Your pale-yellow sprigged muslin was an
inspired choice, Emily. And your charming poke bonnet with its matching ribbons
will surely turn a few heads.’

Mama nodded her
agreement. ‘Emily’s dark hair is set off to perfection, is it not? But I wish
you had agreed to bringing more than that light wrap, my dear, it might well be
chilly by the time we return this evening.’

‘A spencer would
have ruined the hang of the dress, Mama. And anyway I don’t feel the cold.’

Beth decided to
venture a comment. ‘I think Marianne’s gown is lovely, too, Mama. What is the
colour called, I forget?’

‘Eau-de-nil, my
love. And you are quite right to say so. It’s a pity that your smart new
haircut is invisible under your dear little chip-straw bonnet, Marianne.’

Marianne reached
up and fingered the large bow tied stylishly under her chin. ‘I own I could
wish this to be a little less conspicuous.’ She smiled. ‘But I admit I am
pleased with the cut and colour of this outfit.’

Their carriage
was forced to join a queue of vehicles all heading for the festivities at Great
Bentley. This gave Marianne ample opportunity to glance surreptitiously at the
occupants of the other carriages and also at those travelling on horseback.
They seemed affable, nodding and waving when they saw the Grierson carriage but
even to her untutored eyes none were clothed quite as well as they were. The
complacency on Mama’s face showed this had not escaped her attention either.

However, the
admiring looks from the many members of the military were beginning to make her
uncomfortable. The presence of officers was inevitable owing to the fact there
was a large barracks at nearby Weeley and, according to John, a second barracks
at Colchester.

‘Oh, look,
there’s dearest Arabella with Lord and Lady Hawksmith,’ Emily exclaimed.

Marianne pinned
on a happy smile. ‘How delightful! I am so looking forward to meeting the Earl
of Fennimore and his Countess.’

‘I shall take
your across directly we arrive,’ Emily promised. ‘I do believe that’s Charles
riding beside them. Does he not look smart in his dark green riding coat and
beaver?’

‘Indeed he does,
Emily. And Bess looks in fine heart too.’

Marianne watched
Lady Arabella smiling, her usual affectations absent as she conversed with
Charles. Then she noticed the two other occupants of the smart equipage. The
gentleman was of short proportion and middle years, his dark blue jacket
straining and his neck cloth a froth of white. He looked amiable enough. The
stony faced woman sitting by his side told her Charles’s suit was doomed to
failure. The Countess was directing a glare of such venom in his direction
Marianne was amazed he hadn’t fallen from his horse. She was quite sure she
didn’t wish to be introduced to the formidable Lady Hawksmith.

‘Will there be
many participants in the races, Mama?’

‘Yes, Marianne;
it is surprising is it not that so many can afford the entry fee? But the prize
purse is substantial and you know how gentlemen love to gamble. There will be
thousands of pounds won and lost today of that you can be sure.’

Marianne
shivered as an image of her would be abductor filled her head. He was a
hardened gambler so John had told her. Lady Grierson mistaking her sudden
silence for nervousness smiled and patted Marianne’s hands.

‘Don’t fret, my
love, you no longer need to feel ashamed of your appearance. I have noticed all
the admiring glances you have been receiving from the gentlemen we passed. You
will be the talk the village by tonight. Having another beautiful heiress to
pursue will occupy them wonderfully.’

Marianne stared
at her in horror. She had come to this rural backwater to hide from prying eyes
not be the centre of attention. With so many families holding house parties it
could only be a matter of time before word of her whereabouts filtered back to
Sir James.

‘I have no wish
to be pursued, Mama. In fact I think I would like to go home. I don’t feel at
all the thing.’

‘Nonsense, my
dear, you will enjoy it. We have no gazetted fortune hunters here, just a
handful of young bachelors from good families hoping to meet a suitable young
woman to marry.’

‘I’m sorry, Lady
Grierson, but I am unwell. I have a sick headache and I need to go back.’

Lady Grierson
looked more closely. ‘You do look peaky. I don’t know how we shall manage. I am
afraid you will have to wait until we can disembark, then your Tom can drive
you to Frating Hall.’

Marianne felt as
if a million eyes were fixed on her and all knew who she was. Using her middle
names was a thin disguise after all. Amongst so many how could there not be
someone who would recognize her? She closed her eyes and forced herself to
relax, to force the nausea down.

She remembered
the conversation she had had with John before he left for London the previous
day. He had reminded her that as she was she would no longer fit the
description of Miss Martha Frasier. Slowly her rebellious digestion subsided
and her colour returned.

She pushed
herself up in the seat and risked a glance at her hostess, relieved she was
occupied waving and nodding to her many acquaintances. Resplendent in
dark-yellow damask and matching turban her adopted Mama was revelling in the
chagrin
of her peers when they saw her.

‘I am feeling
better, Mama. The nausea has passed; it will not be necessary to go back.’

‘Excellent. It’s
as I thought - no more than apprehension. You are not used to going about in
company are you, my dear?’

‘I am not.’ Her
rides and walk in Bath could hardly count as society. ‘Good heavens! I can see stilt-walkers
and jugglers.’ Marianne twisted round in order to get a better look.

‘No, you mustn’t
do that, Marianne,’ Emily remonstrated. ‘It’s vulgar to gawp; Mama is always
saying so.’

Marianne
reluctantly did as she was bid. ‘Do the races start immediately? Will we have
time to walk around the stalls and watch the entertainers?’

‘The first race
is for small ponies and starts at once. It has taken so long to get here we are
late. There will be ample time after Charles has ridden to explore all the delights
of the fair.’

The carriage was
stationary and as Tom prepared to negotiate the turn into the yard of The Lion
Cousin Theo, astride his stallion Lucifer, came alongside.

‘There’s no room
in there, ladies. You would do better to disembark here and then Tom can leave
the carriage at Bentley Hall.’

Lady Grierson
simpered. ‘Thank you, Sir Theodore; we will do as you advise. Come along,
girls, if we hurry we can join your papa to watch the pony race.’

‘Cousin Theo,
why have you brought that animal here? He is likely to lash out at any moment.’

Theo bowed in
Marianne’s direction. ‘
Lud
, my dear, I can hardly run
after the other horses on foot for that would make me a laughing stock!’

‘You are racing?
Oh dear! Bess will never beat your stallion. Charles will be so disappointed.’

Emily
intervened. ‘He will not, Marianne. Charles knows he cannot win, it’s his
ambition merely to acquit himself well.’

Marianne was
unconvinced. ‘But he has been talking so passionately about winning. How can
you be sure he will be resigned to losing?’

‘Allow me to
know my own brother, Marianne. He was disappointed to pull up short of the
finish last time; he completed only two circuits and did not even start the
third. It will be enough for him to arrive in the first wave of competitors.’

*

Theo had hardly
listened to this exchange. He had been unable to drag his eyes from his ward
who had metamorphosed overnight into a diamond of the first water. He had been
aware she was a pretty little thing but dressed as she was - she was breath-taking.
He shook his head angrily. He was here to find a traitor before the bastard
could betray England’s troops into the grasping hands of Napoleon.

He couldn’t
allow himself to be distracted; he must suppress his feelings. After all he had
only been acquainted with the chit for a week; hardly time to become enamoured,
surely? What he felt was transitory - a passing fancy - no more.

Lucifer threw
his head up almost unseating him and recalled him sharply to the present. He
smiled down at Marianne. ‘I must leave you now. I need to settle this brute
down before our race. I’ve spoken to Lord Grierson and it’s arranged that you
will be dining at Bentley Hall this evening.’ Seeing Lady Grierson opening her
mouth to protest he quickly added. ‘It is to be a buffet supper, served
outside, quite informal; there will be no need for anyone to dress.’

Lady Grierson
smiled. ‘In that case, sir, we shall look forward to joining you. It is some
years since I had the pleasure of visiting Bentley Hall. After Lady Devenish
died Sir Richard became something of a recluse and did not receive.’

Marianne turned
her back on Lucifer in order to admire two pairs of matched greys pulling a
high-perch phaeton. The stallion stretched out his head and snatched at her
bonnet sending it down over her eyes temporarily obscuring her vision.

‘Devil take it,
Marianne, what have you done to your glorious hair?’

Emily came to
her rescue and deftly undid the bow and removed the bonnet, thus revealing a
head of golden curls.

Marianne turned
and smiled somewhat tentatively up at him. ‘I had it cut off, Cousin.’

‘Good God, I am
not blind, I can see that,’ he snapped. ‘Whatever possessed you to do such a
stupid thing? All women should have long hair; it’s the way things are.’

‘That is
fustian, Cousin. If gentlemen can arrange their locks as they please, then so
can we. Lord and Lady Grierson approve and I love it.’

Lady Grierson
and Emily watched this lively exchange with astonishment. Too late he realized
his mistake and did his best to repair the damage.

‘Lady Grierson,
I do beg your pardon for my intemperate outburst, so fatiguing being cross, is
it not? It was such a shock, Marianne had such very lovely golden tresses and,
do you know, I was thinking seriously of composing an ode to their beauty.’
Marianne snorted inelegantly into her bonnet and he was hard-pressed to keep a
straight face.

‘I own, Sir
Theodore, you surprised me by your vehemence. I thought you such an amiable
gentleman.’

He bowed a difficult
feat whilst sitting astride a plunging horse and at the same time wishing to
give the impression you were a jackanapes who wrote poetry. ‘It is the muse, my
dear Lady Grierson, when it strikes I am consumed by a burning desire to write
and now I have been brutally deprived. I am disappointed in you, Cousin
Marianne. I shall have more to say on the subject when we meet for dinner this
evening.’

Marianne rammed
her hat back on her head and nodded politely. ‘Good luck in the race, Cousin
Theo, I do hope you have no mishap.’ She meant exactly the opposite.

*

Emily re-tied
the bow under Marianne’s chin and tilted her head to one side. ‘Having less
hair has made your bonnet too big. I am sure it wouldn’t have tipped forward so
readily otherwise.’

‘You’re right. I
must ask Mrs Dawkins to alter them when she comes with the remainder of our
order.’