Fortune's Folly - The Confessions Of A Duchess Part 12

She turned her head away and screwed her eyes up against a sudden and unexpected sting of tears. It was unlike her to cry. It was only because she was feeling so weak and wretchedly alone. She wanted Dexter to stay with her now, wanted it with a fierce ache of the heart, but at the same time she knew that she had to make him go. Indulging herself when her feelings for him were still so new and acute would not do any good.

"Thank you for all the help you gave me last night, Mr. Anstruther," she said. "I shall always be exceptionally grateful for your medical skills."

"Laura," Dexter said, "speaking of last night-"

"Let us not," Laura said quickly. Her feelings for him were so painful she thought she would choke if she had to talk about it. "Nothing of significance happened," she said. "Let us forget it."

After a moment she heard Dexter sigh again and move away from the bed. "I will talk to you when you are feeling stronger," he said. "We will talk, Laura."

Laura did not reply. She heard the door close softly behind him. She felt so bereft then that it was like a physical ache that took her breath away. But she knew that raking over the past, trying to re-create the illusory tenderness she had shared with Dexter for one night, could only lead to danger for Hattie and heartbreak for her. It was better this way. In the clear light of morning and with the aftertaste of the brandy bitter in her mouth, she knew there could be nothing else for herself and Dexter, no love, no future. There was too much to keep them apart. He wanted the calm stability that a wealthy, pa.s.sionless marriage would bring. She wanted to protect Hattie from the stigma of illegitimacy at any price. And that was an end to it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

"LAURA! HOW ARE YOU?" Alice Lister laid down a posy of pale pink roses on the hall table and stripped off her gloves before coming over to enfold Laura in an unexpected hug. She stood back and surveyed her friend with her shrewd brown gaze. "Oh dear! You look very drawn. Should you be out of bed today?"

"There is nothing wrong with me," Laura said, laughing as she hugged Alice back. "At least there was nothing wrong until you arrived and told me that I looked like a hag!" She looked her friend up and down. Alice's eyes were very bright and her cheeks very pink though it was not possible to tell if it was as a result of the cold wind or some strong emotion.

"I didn't say you looked like a hag!" Alice protested. She frowned a little. "You look a little pale, that is all, and it is scarce surprising after the accident you had. Rachel told me that you had only just escaped a nasty injury."

Laura wondered just what Rachel had told Alice the previous morning-and more to the point what Dexter had told Rachel to say to anyone who asked. It certainly would not be the truth, that he had spent all of the previous night with her. If that rumor circulated in Fortune's Folly her reputation would be in the ditch and his prospects of marrying Lydia with it. She shrugged slightly, trying to shake off a feeling of blue devilment. Her shoulder gave a twinge, reminding her to be careful.

"I was lucky," she said, smiling at Alice. "There was a masonry fall-"

"So I heard," Alice said. "You were knocked unconscious and barely managed to struggle home alone. What a terrible thing!"

"Alone," Laura said slowly. "Yes, yes, I was." So that was the story Dexter had put about. She felt ridiculously disappointed that he had removed all reference to himself from the tale, as though those moments of extraordinary intimacy between them had counted for nothing. But perhaps they did not mean anything to him and anyway, he could hardly take credit for rescuing her without some difficult questions being asked. She swished crossly over to the bell pull and relieved her feelings by almost tugging it from its socket.

"Your cousin told me all about it," Alice said. She bit her lip. "Lord Vickery is a very officious man. I met him in the lane just now and when I expressed my intention to visit you to see how you were, he quizzed me mercilessly about how I had heard of your accident, and who was talking about it and any number of things that are none of his business!"

"I see," Laura said, suddenly understanding the cause of Alice's pink cheeks and militant expression. "I am sorry. Miles can be very protective of my welfare."

"He need not try to protect you against me," Alice grumbled. "I am your friend! I find him very..." She stopped, frowning.

"Very overbearing?" Laura prompted, trying not to smile.

"Well, no," Alice allowed. "Not completely. He is not unpleasant. In fact, he can be extremely charming, although I am in no danger of having my head turned by him, of course."

"Of course not," Laura agreed. She reflected that Dexter must have told Miles of her accident though not, she a.s.sumed, the scene in the wine cellar that had preceded it. If he had done, Miles would probably have called him out. She sighed.

"I hear from Rachel that you and Lady Elizabeth held Miles up as he was crossing the bridge this morning and demanded payment of the pontage tax," she added, realizing that Alice was about to ask her what was troubling her and seizing on a change of subject. "That must have tested his fabled charm."

Alice's face broke into a mischievous smile. "Yes, we did. He was very annoyed. And then several of the younger men chose to try the stepping-stones to avoid having to pay to cross the bridge and then they fell in the water! Lady Elizabeth and I thought it vastly amusing."

"We must think of some more medieval laws with which to torment the gentlemen," Laura said. "The Mischief Ball next week may present us with another opportunity." She picked up the roses. "Are these for me? Thank you very much, Alice-they are very pretty."

"I know that Hattie brought some lilies for you yesterday," Alice said, "but one can never have too many fresh-cut flowers about the house. Will Mrs. Carrington put them in water for you, or should I run down to the kitchens?"

"I am sure Mrs. Carrington will do it," Laura said. "Her arrangements are always very elegant. She is feeling a little better today and has baked a simnel cake for us to have with tea. She says it is a medicinal recipe."

"That sounds delicious," Alice said, slipping off her winter pelisse. Carrington had appeared from the kitchens and now tottered away with Alice's coat, gloves and bonnet. He was almost bent double under their meager weight. He had placed the posy of flowers on the top of the pile and it bobbed about rather like a cork in a stormy sea.

"I will bring up the tea tray, your grace," he said. "And may I say how delighted I am to see your grace up and about this morning?" His face shook with horror and shock. "I had no idea, no idea at all, that you were down in the wine cellars the night before last-"

"Please do not worry, Carrington," Laura said, interrupting him as she feared that he was shaking so much he would drop the entire pile. "And there is no hurry for the refreshments."

"Poor Carrington," Alice said, watching the butler with concern as he tottered off. "Can he manage?"

"I expect he will need to carry the cake separately," Laura conceded, ushering Alice into the drawing room, "but he will manage quite well and he does like to do these things for himself. He is very proud."

Molly had lit the drawing room fire and with its bright flames in the grate and the autumn sunshine flowing in, the room was almost cheerful. Alice subsided with a sigh onto the ancient velvet chaise and Laura took her usual armchair at the fireside. She was aware of Alice's scrutiny, as though her earlier rea.s.surances had not satisfied her friend, and now she sighed.

"Stop staring at me!" she said with mock severity. "I am perfectly well."

"If you are sure..." Alice did not sound convinced. "Where is Hattie this morning?"

"She is taking a nap," Laura said. "We played together in the long gallery with the toys that Miles brought for her from London-he gave her the most beautiful spinning top and a new doll whom she has named Emily, and some wooden animals to start a toy farm. Hattie was so excited that she quite wore herself out."

"Lord Vickery does not strike me as the type of man who would have much interest in children," Alice said. "You surprise me."

"Miles is a most doting G.o.dfather to Hattie," Laura said, amused at the continued interest in her cousin that Alice was not quite managing to hide.

"And yet he is a rake and a fortune hunter," Alice said crossly. "It is most inconsiderate of him to have any saving virtues for it makes it impossible to dislike him completely!"

"If you remember that he is officious and interfering," Laura said with a twitch of her lips, "I am sure you will not find it difficult at all."

The door opened and Carrington came in with a stately shuffle, bearing the tea tray. He placed it by Laura then retreated to fetch the cake. The whole operation took five minutes.

"Pray let me pour, Carrington," Laura began, as the butler lifted the teapot with a hand that shook so much half the contents splashed onto the carpet.

"Madam," Carrington said with dignity, "I could not possibly permit it."

Laura contented herself with cutting the cake whilst he served Alice tea.

"It is a terrible affliction they both suffer," Alice whispered as Carrington, duty finally completed, withdrew with triumph and the empty teapot. "I am sure the d.u.c.h.ess of Cole must be a monster to have upset them so!"

"It is very sad," Laura agreed. "And pray do not mention to the Carringtons that Faye and Henry are in Fortune's Folly, Alice, or they are like to become completely prostrate."

"Of course not," Alice said, munching on the simnel cake. "I met the d.u.c.h.ess of Cole in the market square when I was on my way here," she added. "Naturally she cut me dead. She had just accosted Mr. Anstruther in the street to invite him to join a house party at Cole Court for a shoot."

Laura felt another twinge to be the recipient of this information, though this time it was her heart rather than her shoulder that pained her. An invitation to Cole would be the next, logical step in Dexter's courtship of Lydia. She wondered why she had not antic.i.p.ated it. She wished she did not care about it.

"Perhaps Faye thinks that a week of mindless slaughter will put Mr. Anstruther in amorous mood," she said snappishly.

Alice giggled. "Poor Lydia," she said. "Her mama has rather been pushing her in the direction of any gentleman who is remotely eligible, has she not? I am surprised she does not auction her daughter to the highest bidder!"

"For pity's sake do not suggest it to her," Laura said, "for she would no doubt think it a splendid plan. I can see it now-a public sale in the market square!"

"Anyway, Mr. Anstruther refused the invitation," Alice said, with a sideways glance at Laura. "He did not seem very keen at all."

"Strange, when he has been dancing attendance on Miss Cole this se'nnight," Laura said, attacking her simnel cake viciously with her knife. "I think he will make her a declaration soon and he will have no one but himself to blame if he thinks it worth taking on such a mother-in-law."

"He has not known her very long," Alice said, her brown gaze resting thoughtfully on Laura's face.

"They first met years ago," Laura said. "Besides, it takes very little time for a fortune hunter to weigh up the value of an heiress's dowry, Alice, and everyone knows that Mr. Anstruther's prime consideration is to marry a fortune."

Alice smiled. "You seem quite put out by the whole affair, Laura."

"Not at all," Laura said hastily. She had momentarily forgotten just how observant her friend could be.

"Perhaps the d.u.c.h.ess will invite him for Christmas instead," Alice said.

"Perhaps," Laura agreed. The thought of Dexter newly betrothed to Lydia and celebrating Christmas at Cole Court caused her a stab of pain, for she could suddenly see that this would be the beginning of her torture, not the end of it. There would be Dexter and Lydia's wedding, and the honeymoon, and the birth of their first child, and the christening-she could only hope that she would not be invited to be G.o.dmother-and then the appearance of a whole brood of little Anstruthers. They would be a proper family. They would belong together.

Laura swallowed hard. How would she feel when she watched Lydia walk up the aisle to join Dexter at the altar? It seemed impossible to imagine that she would feel indifferent enough to attend the wedding. Faye and Henry would be sure to invite her, not because they wanted her there but because it would be the appropriate thing to do. She would have to make sure that she and Hattie were taking an extremely long trip when the invitation arrived.

With a huge effort of will she turned her thoughts aside before Alice could sense her unhappiness.

"Are you going to the recital at the pump rooms tonight?" she asked. Her voice did not sound quite right even to her own ears and there was a p.r.i.c.kle of tears in her throat.

"I fear so," Alice said gloomily. "Mama has decided it would be a good thing. She enjoys music, whereas I am tone deaf." She looked closely at Laura. "You have turned very pale, Laura. Are you quite well?"

"I am absolutely fine, thank you," Laura said, smiling brightly even as she felt wretched. She had never confided in another person in her life. She realized that she did not even know how to do so. What could she tell Alice, after all? That she had spent the night with her cousin's suitor? That she was in love with him even though he thought her a faithless wanton?

Rachel knocked at the door and Hattie rushed in with shrieks of excitement, upsetting the teacups. She grabbed Alice's hand and dragged her away to see the Emily doll and Laura followed, smiling and chatting, just as she had always done at Cole Court, gracious, guarded, the perfect dowager d.u.c.h.ess once more.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

DEXTER SAT BACK in his uncomfortable gilt chair in the pump room recital hall, rubbed the back of his neck and tried to relax as he waited for the start of the evening's concert. Conversation had been stilted around Sir Montague's dinner table that night. Every heiress invited had declined the summons to dine, with the inevitable exception of Miss Lydia Cole. In fact there had been only three women present in total: Lydia, her mama and Lady Elizabeth Scarlet, who had claimed that the only reason she was eating at her brother's table was that she would otherwise starve. Sir Montague had been almost incandescent with rage to be snubbed by the ladies of Fortune's Folly and had glowered and growled his way through the entire meal.

Dexter had been seated with Lady Elizabeth on one side and Lydia, inescapably, on the other. Lady Elizabeth had spent the meal baiting Nat Waterhouse, who seemed impervious to her teasing, whilst Miss Cole had been silent for most of the time. She had answered Dexter's pleasantries in monosyllables whilst her mother had craned her neck to watch the progress of the happy courtship from her place farther up the table. It had been stilted and ghastly.

The rest of the day had not been much better. Dexter had met up with Miles and Nat to discuss the most recent developments in the investigation of the murder of Sir William Crosby. There had not, in fact, been a great deal to discuss. Dexter himself had had no success with his inquiries at the Red Lion. Nat had gained little from his discussions with the local constable who had originally investigated the case. Miles had interviewed the game-keepers and beaters who had been out on the estate with Sir William when he had been shot but none of them had apparently seen or heard anything unusual or remotely helpful. The only thing that had caught Dexter's eye was a note in the transcript of Miles's interview with the widowed Leticia, Lady Crosby, to the effect that an engraved ring had been stolen from her husband's body.

"There was no mention of this in the constable's original report," Dexter had commented.

Miles had looked smug. "Her ladyship said it was too private a matter to tell the constable," he said. "Sir William was a bluff Yorkshire man with a reputation for dispensing tough justice. She did not feel it would enhance his standing for it to be known after his death that he wore a ring with a lock of her hair in it that was engraved with her initials. Sentimental nonsense, he apparently called it, and only did it to please her."

Nat laughed. "How on earth did you get her to divulge that to you, Miles?" He paused. "No, forget I asked that. How stupid of me. I can guess."

"Not my type, old chap," Miles said. "And even I have some standards with regard to the seduction of recently bereaved widows." He stopped. "Though now I come to think of it, do you remember Lady Compton-"

"Spare us," Dexter said. "So the ring was missing when his body was brought back?"

"Correct," Miles said. "Taken by the murderer, presumably."

"Why would he do that," Nat said, "when Sir William's silver hip flask and his snuffbox were not taken?"

"As a trophy, perhaps," Dexter said. "Or to prove to someone else that Sir William was dead."

"To prove it to Sampson," Miles said, "if he were the instigator. Find the ring and we have found the murderer?"

"Possibly," Dexter said. "Although he may have destroyed it, or given it to his mistress, or done any number of things with it."

"Vanity says he would not destroy it," Nat said.

Certainly Warren Sampson was not wearing Sir William Crosby's ring that night. He had greeted Dexter with a firm handshake and his usual bonhomie, and apart from an ostentatiously huge diamond cravat pin he wore no jewelry at all. His gaze had lingered on Lydia Cole for rather longer than politeness dictated and Dexter had seen her blush, but with discomfort rather than pleasure, he thought. The Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Cole had been very civil to Sampson and had invited him to join their party but Sampson had declined, choosing to sit a few seats away with the Wheeler family instead.

Dexter tried to find a comfortable position on the spindly legged chair. The prospect of the evening ahead was difficult to bear. He had Lydia once again placed next to him and Faye penning him in on the other side. Lydia was habitually silent, her head bent in apparent rapt concentration on her reticule. Faye was staring at him in an attempt to bludgeon him into starting yet another unsatisfactory conversation with her daughter.

"Lydia and I were saying just now how very ill the dowager d.u.c.h.ess is looking tonight," Faye said. She leaned forward to engage her daughter, obliterating Dexter's view of the room. "Were we not saying that, Lyddy? Did we not comment that Laura looks every one of her four and thirty years tonight and then several more?"

"You were saying so, Mama," Lydia said, looking up briefly. "I thought she looked very well and very pretty, as she always does."

"The dowager d.u.c.h.ess?" Dexter said. "Is she here tonight?"

Faye leaned back and he was at last afforded an un.o.bstructed view of the recital room. Sure enough, Laura was opposite, taking a seat next to Alice Lister and Lady Elizabeth Scarlet. She was wearing a silk gown in dowager purple, but if that was supposed to be her concession to her status Dexter thought that she had failed spectacularly to look like a respectable widow. To his eyes the gown looked far too rich a hue and far too tightly wrapped about her slender curves to be remotely frumpish. A matching purple silk shawl was draped around her shoulders, dipping down to a diamond clasp between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She looked like a present that he wanted to unwrap there and then, sumptuous, provocative and gloriously tempting.

Desire and outrage fought a brief battle within Dexter. Surely Laura was still far too weak to be out of her bed let alone attending a public concert. She might look very well indeed-Lydia was quite right-but she had evidently paid no attention whatsoever to the warning he had given her to take no risks and stay away from danger, for she had ventured out alone and unprotected except for Alice and Elizabeth, which was just about the most foolhardy and stupid thing she could possibly have done. The protective fury stirred in Dexter as he thought about it. He had hoped that she had taken heed of his words to her the previous day, yet here she was, defiant, determined and independent, all the qualities that he deplored in the woman he would want as his future bride and yet found strangely attractive in Laura....

Their eyes met. Laura acknowledged him with the barest of nods, as though he was a mere acquaintance, and turned back to her conversation with Alice. Dexter seethed with frustration. She looked so cool, as though their reckless, inflammatory and thoroughly outrageous lovemaking in the wine cellar had never occurred and he had not spent the rest of the night in intimate circ.u.mstances with her.

It infuriated him that she was so composed.

He wanted to take her in his arms there and then and smash her self-possession to smithereens. He wanted to shake her and ask her what she thought she was doing to willfully ignore his instructions. He wanted to kiss her until she was breathless.

Faye was still talking. "She never had the looks to carry off the role of d.u.c.h.ess, poor ungainly creature. d.u.c.h.esses should have style and poise...."

Dexter got up and walked across to where Laura was sitting, ignoring Faye's outraged gasp and the ill-concealed curiosity of the other concertgoers.

"A word, if you please, your grace," he said through his teeth. He took her elbow in his hand, remembering at the last minute not to hurt her injured arm, and pulled her to her feet.

"What on earth do you think you are doing?" Laura uttered, as he drew her a little distance away from the others behind the spa.r.s.e concealment of a nodding fern.