VIscount Besieged (16 page)

‘
What
do you mean?’

He
laughed. ‘My dear Isadora, what better weapon could I have than to
turn you loose upon the man?’

‘
I
knew it. He is not a friend of yours at all, is he?’

‘
No,
not at all,’ he admitted.

‘
Then
why is he here?’

Roborough regarded her enigmatically. ‘Your curi
osity
is getting the better of you again, Isadora.’

She emitted an
infuriated sound. ‘Why can you never answer a simple
question?’

‘
Why
can you never keep your nose out of what does not concern you?’ he
countered.

‘
Don’t talk to me as if I were a schoolgirl,’ she flashed. ‘And
your selling the house is my concern.’

‘
I
stand corrected.’ He sighed. ‘Very well, Isadora, let us
compromise. If you will only refrain from interfering, I will tell
you everything you wish to know.’

Isadora was
silent. It was a fair offer. But to make such a commitment would be
to shackle herself, and she was loath to do that. Especially when
she did not yet know what might be in the wind.

She looked round
at him.

‘
How
can I give you any such assurance? It is like making a commitment
without knowing the terms of the contract.’

‘
Good
God, girl, I don’t know them myself! Do you think I am doing any of
these things from choice?’

She regarded him
steadily. ‘Then why can I not know the reasons for your being
obliged to do them?’

He shook his
head, that bitter curl twisting his lips. He was aware that what
she asked was only just, but he could not expose the ugly truth. It
had been bad enough telling Thornbury. But that had been
unavoidable. There was no real reason for Isadora to know. Besides,
one did not subject a female to that sort of tale, no matter how
much she thought she wanted to hear it.

‘
Suffice to say there are reasons that would satisfy even you.’
He looked at her then. ‘Trust me, Isadora. I will not fail you, nor
your family. But let me alone on this head, if you
please.’

Isadora said
nothing more. His air of sincerity touched her. All her instincts
told her to believe him. But her native caution warned her to be
wary. She did not know him.

All at once she
realised that she wanted to—know him? Trust him? She could not
tell. She only knew that something in her responded to his appeal,
warming her to him quite against her will. It was almost persuasive
enough. But not entirely. No, if he wanted her trust, let him earn
it. And might she not with advantage pursue this game with
Syderstone? It offered just the opportunity she had
sought.

If Roborough was
disappointed that she did not respond, he did not show it. His
farewell was cheerful enough as he left her to go and change. Well,
then. If he did not care at all, no more did she. She would
concentrate on Syderstone.

***

Isadora’s
resolve suffered a set-back when she discovered what was afoot
between the elder ladies that evening. Cousin Matty began by
bemoaning the absence of the viscount.

‘
Such
a pity that Cousin Roborough had to go out. It makes the house seem
so empty. Do you not feel it so, Ellen?’

‘
Oh,
dear me, yes,’ fluttered Mrs Alvescot. Then she smiled at the
visitor. ‘But we have Mr Syderstone instead.’

‘
Yes,
indeed,’ agreed Cousin Matty, casting a sly glance at Isadora. ‘I
am sure you, Dora, must be so happy to have dear Mr Syderstone’s
entertainment in your hands.’

Isadora gazed at
her blankly. What in the world was this?

‘
You
have not seen Dora act yet, Mr Syderstone,’ put in Mrs Alvescot.
‘Did you know how very talented she is?’

While
Syderstone—elegantly attired for the evening in plum brocade and
black silk breeches—was replying suitably to these comments,
Isadora eyed her mother and Cousin Matty in some suspicion. If they
had set their minds on this for a suitor, they would find
themselves disappointed. Great heavens, she wondered that they had
not enquired of him whether he was single! All desire to play
Syderstone’s game left her.

‘
I
look forward to seeing Miss Alvescot perform very much,’ Syderstone
was saying.

To Isadora’s
consternation, he rose from his chair by Mrs Alvescot as he spoke,
moving towards the sofa set somewhat apart, where she had settled
with a volume of Shakespeare. Now she only wanted to discourage
him.

‘
I am
glad they encouraged me a little,’ he said, low-voiced. ‘I could
not think how I was to rescue myself without rudeness.’

‘
Why
should you wish to?’ demanded Isadora shortly.

‘
Come, come, Miss Alvescot,’ he chided gently. ‘You know very
well, since we were seated apart at dinner, that I have as yet had
no opportunity to obey Roborough’s behest that I monopolise you
tonight.’

‘
I
did not think it a behest,’ Isadora said drily.

‘
That
is because you do not rate your own attractions as high as you
should.’

‘
I
fail to follow your reasoning.’

He smiled in a
rather superior way. ‘Therein lies your charm. Roborough, you must
know, is willing for me to have you all to myself only so that he
may test his success.’

‘
Fudge.’ Isadora almost snorted. ‘I wish you will cease this
absurdity. He has no such interest in me.’

Syderstone’s
gaze became a little more intense, his features taking on a serious
look. ‘That, Miss Alvescot, is to your advantage.’

There was an
edge to his voice, and Isadora was conscious of a sudden shift in
the atmosphere. Her heartbeat quickened slightly. What was this
now? All the determined flirting had been a ruse, it
seemed.

‘
Your
meaning?’

He leaned a
trifle closer. Isadora, aware of an inward shrinking, forced
herself to remain still. There was a look of malevolence in the
vivid eyes, although his voice was silk.

‘
Roborough, my dear, is scarcely suitable game for an innocent
like you to be flying at.’

‘
Indeed?’

Isadora tried to
keep the coldness she felt out of her voice. Did he think she was
setting her cap at the viscount? Inexplicably, whatever her
suspicions of him, it was not at all to her taste, she found, to be
told ill of him.

‘
You
will not deny that you are very little acquainted with
him?’

‘
No,
I will not deny that,’ Isadora agreed, a touch of ice in her voice.
‘But you, Mr Syderstone, have come here purporting to be his
friend. How is it possible that you can speak of him in this
way?’

‘
I
cannot bear to watch him acquire influence over you.’

‘
You
are mistaken. Roborough has no influence over me.’

‘
We
must hope not.’

She drew a
breath. ‘Mr Syderstone, you do not appear to like Roborough. Yet
you followed him here. Why?’

‘
I
had sufficient reason,’ responded the other, a smile on his lips
that did not reach his eyes.

‘
You
will have to be more specific if I am to believe anything you say
of him,’ Isadora said drily. ‘You are not his friend. He was not at
all pleased to see you.’

The smile grew.
‘What an observant child you are.’

‘
I am
not a child, Mr Syderstone,’ Isadora said sharply. With a rustle of
her black silk gown, she made as if to rise. ‘Do you intend to
answer me? Because if not I have better things to do with my
time.’

Syderstone put out a restraining hand. ‘No, don’t
go.’

‘
Then
stop prevaricating, if you please. Why did you come
here?’

His
eyes met and held hers. ‘I came, Miss Alvescot, to redeem a
debt.’

‘
A
debt? You mean you owe him money?’

He laughed
lightly. ‘The boot, ma’am, is on the other leg.’

Isadora’s heart
dived abruptly. Roborough owed Syderstone money? No. Impossible.
She could feel herself trembling somewhere inside. Why in the world
this should upset her so much she could not for the life of her
imagine. Somehow, that the viscount should be in debt to this
creature filled her with dismay. And disgust. She could not believe
it.

In a flash, she
realised why. Gentlemen owed other gentlemen money for only one
reason. Her lips felt cold and her voice seemed to scrape in her
throat as she asked, forcing the words out, ‘How can it be that
Roborough owes you money?’

The smile on
Syderstone’s face was chilling. ‘It is a debt of honour, Miss
Alvescot. A gambling debt.’

Chapter Six

Isadora slept
badly. Indeed, she felt as if she did not sleep at all. For hours
she tossed and turned on her pillows, by turns cursing
Syderstone—the bringer of bad tidings—and Roborough, the subject of
those ill words.

A gambling debt.
Of all things she might have supposed to be the motivating force
behind the viscount’s actions, this was the last. It was not simply
that he could have come here heartlessly to drive them out of their
home for his own gain that horrified her so, but that he should
have come looking for a solution to problems brought about by his
own fell deeds.

She had heard of
gamblers who played so high that they lost everything, leaving
their families destitute and at the mercy of compassionate
relatives. But she had not expected to be tainted by such wicked
irresponsibility in her own home. Indeed, in her own family, for
he was related to her, however distantly. In the face of this
monstrous evil, her own scheme to become an actress, damaging
though it would be to her family’s social position, seemed to her
as nothing in comparison.

Worse yet was
the realisation which came to her in the early hours that Roborough
had very nearly succeeded in winning her over. Just as he had won
over the rest: that pleasant, easy manner, the smiling reassurance,
the teasing laughter, and the warmth. All false, a facade to screen
the real intent—to use their home to save himself from
ruin.

‘
Trust me,’ he had said. And she very nearly had.

Here the image
of his eyes, warmth radiating from the crinkling corners, and the
burnished hair crowning the strong features, caused Isadora to
groan and beat her pillows, fighting the melancholy truth. She had
begun to like him. She would have given much to be able to trust
him. But that was all at an end. She could never trust him after
this.

A treacherous
little voice in the back of her mind whispered that perhaps it was
not true.

Isadora sat up
in bed. Could it be that Syderstone, with some wish of blackening
Roborough’s name, had invented the story? But then, why was he
here? That must be the reason. She was grasping at straws. Except
that she knew nothing more than the bare fact. Of course she had
enquired no further into the matter. How could she? So deeply
shocked had she been by his revelation that she had, as soon as she
was able to move, excused herself abruptly and run to her room to
sort out the chaos in her mind.

Hours later,
heavy with lack of sleep and dulled into numbness with thinking,
she had not sorted it out in the least. Worse, she felt quite ill.
She could not possibly ride this morning
.
Hastily, she sent
a message via her maid that Totteridge must make alternative
arrangements for Juliet’s exercise. If there was a sneaking
suspicion in her mind that she was afraid of meeting the viscount,
she banished it. She could not ride. She was not fit for it. One
glance in her mirror confirmed this. There were shadows beneath her
eyes and her skin was pale and drawn. She looked positively
haggard.

Well, there was
nothing she could do about it. Except that, at all costs, she must
avoid comment. For she could not distress her family with this
fresh piece of disastrous news.

Roborough might
think her capable of that, but… The thought petered out. He had all
but accused her of heartlessness towards her family. Such a surge
of rage shook her that she was obliged to grasp at the chest of
drawers, where she was standing, to steady herself. Such duplicity!
Such a mean spirit! To put her in the wrong when his own
unspeakable fault ought to have been writhing his conscience. Oh,
how she hated him.

It was a moment
or two before she could compose herself sufficiently to appear
normal before anyone she might meet. Not that she expected to find
anyone, she was so late.

But a few
minutes later, when she entered the breakfast parlour, she was
disconcerted to see not only Syderstone, but Roborough too at the
table. She halted in the doorway, aghast. Why had she not foreseen
this? Somehow the knowledge of his perfidy had made his physical
presence disappear. She had not expected ever to see him
again.

Both gentlemen
looked up. Both smiled in instant greeting, rising from their
chairs.