VIscount Besieged (20 page)

It was, she had
decided, typical of him to behave in this contrary fashion.
Moreover, with him in the room, she was on her mettle. Not that
there was any reason in the world why she should be
.
Why
should she care what he thought of her performance?

Nevertheless,
she felt a good deal put out. In the first place, Roborough was so
rude as to have addressed not one syllable to her all evening. And
in the second, he apparently had not a word to say of her Lady
Teazle. True, she was forced to recollect, after their acrimonious
discussion that morning, it was not surprising that he should be
reluctant to talk to her. But he ought to have known that she had
not meant that she hated him.

She caught
herself up. What was this absurdity? She
did
hate him. Was
he not the selfish brute who schemed to sell her home only so that
he might settle his gambling debt with Syderstone? Mind, that was
not quite decided. Not that she had much doubt that it would prove
to be true. Only, she thought, with a yearning that she barely
acknowledged, she did not wish to prove Roborough’s character in so
base a light.

In the event,
the party did not break up until late, and she had no opportunity
to converse in any privacy with Syderstone. She was so tired by the
time she got to bed—the previous night’s deprivations now taking
their toll—that she fell asleep almost immediately and did not
wake until morning.

Reaching the
stables, she discovered that the viscount had already ridden out on
Titian. A bleak depression fell over her spirits. Not that she
wished to ride with him, of course, but it was impolite of him not
to have waited for her. It was clear enough how little he wished to
attempt to make up their differences—if such differences as they’d
had could be made up. Which, of course, they could not, if it
should prove that he was in debt to Syderstone.

These thoughts
did nothing to lighten her mood. The ride helped. But if she had
half hoped to come upon Roborough she was disappointed. By the time
she came in to breakfast, he had already eaten and gone, as had
Syderstone. She ate a solitary meal, therefore, and experienced a
perverse satisfaction when she discovered that it was raining. That
would teach him to spend the day gallivanting all over the
estate.

She knew she
ought to rehearse, but she had no heart for it. Instead she
wandered restlessly into the drawing-room just as Cousin Matty was
coming in through the door that led to Mrs Alvescot’s
sitting-room.

‘
Is
Mama already up?’ Isadora asked, and then perceived her mother
entering behind.

‘
Dora, there you are,’ cried Mrs Alvescot. ‘My love, you must
listen to what Cousin Matty has told me. Everything is changed and
we must remake all our plans.’

‘
What
plans, Mama?’

‘
Dora, my love, there is no depending upon Roborough, it
seems,’ said Mrs Alvescot, catching at her daughter’s hands and
squeezing them.

A cold wind
seemed to shiver through Isadora. Don’t say Syderstone had been
repeating his dire tidings to Mama
,
of all people. Or was
she merely talking of the family’s future?

‘
If
you mean that he will not help us,’ she began, ‘I am by no means
sure that—’

‘
We
cannot talk here,’ interrupted Cousin Matty urgently. ‘Let us go
back into your sitting-room, Ellen. It would not do for either of
the gentlemen to come upon us discussing these matters.’

‘
Oh
dear, that is very true, Matty,’ fluttered Mrs Alvescot, allowing
herself to be ushered back the way they had come.

‘
Cousin Matty, what is all this?’ demanded Isadora as she
followed them both into the little room, unmistakably still
exuding a gentlemanly air, with its wood framings and comfortable
leather chairs, apart from the pretty striped sofa brought in for
Mrs Alvescot, which stood out so oddly, along with the
higgledy-piggledy bits and pieces dropped here and there that
inevitably accompanied the lady of the house in her daily
perambulations.

Dragging Isadora
down to sit with her on the sofa, and barely waiting for Mrs
Alvescot to be seated in a chair opposite, Cousin Matty launched
into her explanation.

‘
Dora, I had occasion to speak to Cousin Roborough last night,
and it pains me to tell you that there is no hope from that
quarter.’

‘
None
at all,’ agreed Mrs Alvescot, shaking her head sadly. ‘Such a pity.
For when we heard he was still single, you know, my
love—’

Wrath swept
through Isadora. ‘So that is it. Really, Mama, I would have thought
my sentiments towards Roborough had been sufficiently well
advertised. How could you suppose—?’

‘
It
is not your sentiments that have settled the matter,’ interrupted
Cousin Matty, ‘but the viscount’s.’

Isadora’s eyes
came round to her. She was conscious of a most uncomfortable
sensation as her anger gave way to some unnamed emotion.

‘
What
do you mean?’

‘
I do
hope you will not mind too much, Dora, my love,’ said Mrs Alvescot
anxiously. ‘But after all you have said of him I do think we were
in any event hoping for too much.’

‘
What
has he said?’ Isadora demanded, the feeling in her breast
intensifying so that she experienced some difficulty in controlling
her breathing.

‘
I
only hinted at the matter,’ Cousin Matty told her, a touch
defensively, ‘and he immediately quashed the possibility
outright.’

Isadora drew one
or two painful breaths. ‘Are you telling me that you put it to
Roborough that—that he should marry me?’

‘
Not
in so many words,’ Cousin Matty said hastily. ‘I only suggested
vaguely, you know, the interesting circumstance of your both being
single.’

‘
Only!’

‘
But
he is determined to remain a bachelor, Matty says,’ Mrs Alvescot
disclosed sadly. ‘He says he already has an heir in his
uncle.’

‘
But
what did he say about me?
’
Isadora almost
screamed.

It was Cousin
Matty who took up this point. ‘Although he made it abundantly clear
that he had no interest in marrying you—’

‘
Well, I could have told you that,’ put in Isadora, ‘but how
dared he say so?’

‘
He
did not precisely say it,’ said Cousin Matty conscientiously, ‘but
I could not mistake his meaning. Nevertheless, he seemed to feel
that you would very soon be married, and gave the strongest
encouragement for you to look to Syderstone.’

Isadora stared
at her. The strange discomfort vanished. She had no difficulty in
recognising the surge of emotion that took its place.

‘
He
did what?’

The two elder
ladies exchanged glances of dismay. Then together they rushed into
speech.

‘
Now,
Dora—’

‘
My
love, pray—’

‘—
there is no occasion to—’

‘—
do
not get upon your high ropes!’

‘
Cousin Matty,’ Isadora broke in with careful restraint, ‘do
you tell me that Roborough had the audacity—the
vulgarity—the—the—?’

‘
I do
not know why you should take on so, Dora,’ said Cousin Matty
reprovingly. ‘No doubt Lord Roborough considers himself to be
acting in your best interests.’

‘
My
best interests!’

‘
Dora, my love—’

‘
Mama, do not speak to me, for I cannot at this moment be
trusted not to say what I shall afterwards be sorry for,’ Isadora
begged in a barely controlled tone, rising hastily to her
feet.

‘
Dora, you shall not conduct yourself in this way, ’said Cousin
Matty, getting to her feet also and seizing Isadora’s
arm.

‘
Matty, pray,’ pleaded Mrs Alvescot uneasily.

‘
No,
Ellen. It is a great deal too bad of Dora to take up this attitude.
Lord Roborough has shown her no sort of harm, and when he proves
himself to be interested only in the security of her future—for he
said himself that Syderstone is eminently eligible; those were his
very words—’

‘
Eminently eligible. I see,’ Isadora said flatly.

She had listened
with barely suppressed impatience to Cousin Matty’s speech,
thinking only that if she had known what Isadora knew she would
have spoken very differently. But her quarrel was not with Cousin
Matty. She withdrew her arm from that lady’s hold and strode to the
passage door.

‘
Then
let him repeat those words to me
—
if he dares!’

She marched from
the room and straight up to the stair head, pausing there a moment
to catch her breath. She was so angry she could barely contain
herself. She wanted to scream and rant and rave. She wanted to rip
her nails across Roborough’s face. How could he? Oh, but she would
kill him for this! Now she saw all the ramifications of his plot.
She had been a fool ever to suppose that Syderstone spoke anything
but the truth. This despicable scheme confirmed it all.

Rushing down the
stairs, she was making for her parlour, intent only upon finding
some measure of calm so that she might confront Roborough when he
returned in a controlled fashion—for he would only get the best of
it if she attacked him in her present mood—when voices caught her
ear as she passed the library. He was already back, was
he?

Without pausing
for thought, she threw caution to the winds and, seizing the
handle, flung open the library door. It crashed back upon its
hinges, startling the occupants of the room.

The viscount,
seated at the desk by the window, and facing the door, watched in
stunned silence as Isadora strode into the room, her brown eyes
blazing. He had started as the door had banged open, dropping the
quill pen with which he had been putting his signature to papers
that Thornbury had brought and splattering ink across the sheet and
blotter.

‘
Damnation!’ he muttered, noticing the mess as he rose
automatically to his feet. He had time for no more than a brief
look at the lawyer, who was staring blankly at Isadora—as well he
might.

‘
Lord
Roborough,’ she uttered in a voice of suppressed passion, ‘would
it be too much to ask if you might spare me a few moments of your
valuable time?’

Good God, what
on earth was the matter now? The sarcasm was lost in the volcano of
her fury. He doubted whether she realised she had used it. Signing
to Thornbury—whose astonished gaze had come around to him in mute
question—to leave them alone, he bowed slightly.

‘
Certainly, Isadora.’ Waiting only until the door
closed-quietly, thank God!—behind the lawyer, he said briskly,
‘What have I done this time?’

‘
What
do you mean by telling Cousin Matty that you wish me to marry
Syderstone?’ Isadora demanded without preamble.

His brows rose.
‘I was not aware that I had done so.’

‘
Oh,
don’t try those tactics on me!’

‘
What
tactics? You will have to be more explicit, Isadora, if I am to
understand you.’

‘
I
think you understand me very well indeed,’ Isadora said
dangerously. ‘Syderstone is
eminently eligible
, is he not?
No doubt that is why you have determinedly thrown me in his
way.’

‘
Thrown you in his way? Are you mad?’

‘
And
pretended to participate in this stupid game of rivalry, in which
you know perfectly well you had no serious intent
whatsoever.’

Roborough drew a
breath. ‘Isadora, either you have completely taken leave of your
senses or—’

‘
Do
you deny that you said I should very likely be married
soon?’

‘
I
may well have said so, but if that is all your reason for this
ridiculous accusation—’

‘
Oh,
I have scarcely begun, Roborough, when it comes to
accusations.’

His eyes
narrowed as anger burgeoned in his own breast. Now what had she in
mind to throw at him? Was there no end to the crimes he was
supposed to have committed?

‘
Indeed?’ he said icily. ‘Perhaps you would care to be more
specific.’

His tone gave
Isadora pause. She eyed him, a little of her ability to think
coming through again now that she had discharged some of her
spleen. She wanted to move him. She had come here precisely for
this. But the sight of those light eyes, the sound of that easy
voice—both hardening against her—cut at something so deep within
her that it sliced right through her anger, leaving her open to…oh,
God, was it pain?

‘
Well?’ he prompted as she hesitated. ‘You have vilified me so
much already that one more item to my discredit is hardly likely to
concern me.’

‘
Vilified…’

Isadora turned
away from him, striding restlessly to one of the big bookcases and
running aimless fingers across the glass that sheltered Papa’s
leather-bound tomes.
Vilified
. An ugly word. Had she spoken
only ill of him? She was confused, her brain cloudy. She had come
in here to take him to task—how was it that she could not remain
furious with him?