His Countess for a Week Read online

  * * *

  Arabella could not resist a glance over her shoulder as she went back into the ballroom, but Randolph was already out of sight.

  ‘Are you well acquainted with the new Earl, Mrs Roffey?’ asked Mr Teddington.

  She managed a light, dismissive laugh. ‘Well acquainted? No more than with any of the other gentlemen here tonight. This is my first visit to town.’

  ‘Perhaps you have not read his history,’ he remarked. ‘It is rather unsavoury.’

  ‘His history does not concern me,’ she replied. ‘I am in town only to discover what I can about my husband. That is the reason I came here tonight,’ she reminded him. ‘You said you would tell me what you know.’

  He laughed softly. ‘I did indeed.’ He signalled to a passing waiter and scooped two glasses of wine from his tray. ‘Shall we find somewhere quiet, a little sitting room, perhaps, where we can talk?’

  Arabella had no intention of slipping off alone with him. She said, ‘I know the very place.’

  She led the way back into the salon where she had first seen Randolph. Mrs Darby, Sir Kenelm and the Haverfords had returned from supper and she gave them a faint smile as she passed them, heading towards a window embrasure with a cushioned window seat. It was not quite as well-lit as the rest of the room, but although no one could overhear their conversation, they were still in full view of the other guests.

  She sat down with her back against one of the shutters, making it impossible for him to sit too close.

  ‘This will suffice,’ she said.

  If Mr Teddington was dismayed at her choice, he gave no sign, but sat down facing her.

  ‘What is it you wish to know, Mrs Roffey?’

  ‘You were with George in Devonshire last summer.’ She paused, frowning slightly as if trying to recall some unfamiliar name. ‘Meon House, I believe?’

  ‘Ah, yes. My widowed sister’s house. What a pity you were not there with George.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I begged him to invite you.’

  ‘You did?’ She was surprised.

  ‘Of course. But he would not be moved. Poor George was always so protective of you.’

  ‘What would he be protecting me from, Mr Teddington?’

  He spread his hands. ‘Why, nothing that bad, ma’am, I assure you. My sister is a most considerate hostess. For those who do not like cards or dice there is always the library, or the gardens where one might walk on fine days. We rode out often and even played charades.’

  Arabella sipped at her wine and let him continue, listening closely to his reminiscences. It all seemed very harmless.

  He ended with a rueful smile. ‘The wine and spirits flowed a little freely, perhaps.’

  ‘Are you telling me my husband drank too much, sir?’

  He gave a nervous laugh. ‘We all drank too much, ma’am, but poor George seemed to feel it more than the rest of us.’

  Poor George.

  His frequent use of the epithet grated, but she was determined not to do anything that might discourage him from talking.

  ‘Who else was present, Mr Teddington?’

  ‘Oh, I cannot recall...’

  ‘Come now, sir. A month in a house and you cannot remember the other guests?’

  He rubbed his brow. ‘It is getting late and I fear I am more fatigued than I thought. Perhaps another night.’

  But Arabella did not want to spend another night in his company. Something about Charles Teddington disturbed her. She thought she would not have trusted him, even if he had not been Lady Meon’s brother.

  ‘Please try to remember, Mr Teddington.’ She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. ‘I do so want to know.’

  He glanced about the room. ‘Some of the guests are leaving. It is gone midnight.’

  She waved a hand. ‘The ball will go on for hours yet, sir.’

  ‘My dear Mrs Roffey, it would give me great pleasure to sit here talking with you until dawn,’ he said smoothly. ‘However, there is no one else in this room now and I am acutely aware of your situation. I would not compromise you for the world.’

  Colour rushed to her face. ‘Really, sir, there can be no question of that!’

  ‘A single gentleman, alone with a beautiful woman?’ He shook his head. ‘Alas, dear lady, tongues will always wag. No, I think we must continue our talk another time. But I can see how impatient you are for news of your beloved, so, shall we meet in the park tomorrow morning at, say, eleven o’clock?’

  Curbing her exasperation, Arabella agreed and they parted. She went home feeling dissatisfied with the whole evening. Charles Teddington had told her almost nothing of any relevance and her meeting with the Earl had brought back all the wickedly disturbing feelings she had tried so hard to forget since leaving Devon.

  Chapter Eight

  It did not take Randolph long to discover that the Roffeys’ townhouse was one of the more substantial houses on Park Street.

  ‘Mrs Roffey keeps her own carriage, too,’ Joseph informed him, after a productive visit to a local tavern a couple of days later. ‘Although word is that the coachman is in the pay of her father-in-law.’

  ‘Thank heavens you did not attempt to bribe him, then,’ muttered Ran.

  Joseph grinned. ‘I got talking to one of the footmen,’ he explained. ‘He became quite expansive after a drink or two. Told me he and some of his fellows had been sent from Revesby Hall to look after Mrs Roffey. Sir Adam and his lady have cared for their daughter-in-law since she was orphaned as a child and they love her like their own, he told me. They didn’t like it above half when she wanted to come to London. He said they’d been anxious enough when she went to stay with friends at the end of last year.’

  ‘When she was in Devon.’ Ran nodded, bittersweet memories swirling in his head.

  ‘Aye, sir, we know that, but it seems she fooled everyone else. But she did go straight to Revesby Hall when she left Beaumount. The footman told me she was back in good time for Christmas, when they held a special church service in memory of her husband.’

  So she had not been lying about that, thought Ran, momentarily relieved.

  ‘Do the servants know why Mrs Roffey has come to town?’

  ‘Only that she has come looking for her husband’s friends. They think it’s quite natural that she should want to talk to them about her husband.’ Joseph paused. ‘If the footman’s to be believed, young George was a bad lot, although his parents wouldn’t see it.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Ran scowled. ‘If the servants know it, why the devil didn’t Arabella’s maid say something to her? Why did she let her take off into the wilds of Devon and now to come here?’

  ‘It appears Master George had all the ladies wrapped around his little finger. Mrs Arabella wouldn’t hear a word against her sainted husband and Lady Roffey had forbidden anyone to talk about it below stairs. Ruth Sawyer might have had her suspicions, but from what I gleaned when we were at Beaumount, she is more than prepared to give the young master the benefit of the doubt.’ Joseph shrugged. ‘Strange creatures, women. Very loyal.’

  ‘And now the widow is cultivating a friendship with Charles Teddington.’

  The thought disturbed Randolph, but he had given his word that he would not pass on what Chislett had told him about Teddington. All he could do was to keep an eye on Arabella, as much as was possible without arousing comment.

  * * *

  Thus, a few days later, he followed her to an Italian concert given by Mrs Beausale. Fortune favoured him and he walked into the drawing room to find Arabella and her companion taking their seats in an otherwise empty row.

  Arabella was wearing a gown of black lace over a white slip, perfectly suited to a grieving widow, although the matching lace cap only enhanced the glory of her golden hair and Ran observed that she had already attracted the notice of several gentlemen. He knew he woul
d have to move quickly. With controlled haste but great aplomb, he dodged between the incoming guests, a word here, an apology there, until he had reached his quarry.

  Arabella was studying the programme and did not see his approach until it was too late to move away. She greeted him coolly and introduced the frail-looking woman next to her as her companion, Mrs Hatcliffe. Ran nodded affably and settled himself on the empty seat beside Arabella.

  ‘Teddington not escorting you this evening, Mrs Roffey?’ She hunched one white shoulder and twisted away, clearly determined to ignore him. He murmured, ‘Could not even your charms lure him here tonight? The fellow is a philistine.’

  He heard a choke of laughter at that. She turned back in her seat, although she kept her eyes fixed on the programme.

  ‘It is one of the reasons I came,’ she murmured. ‘He let slip that nothing on earth would persuade him to sit through an evening of Italian songs.’

  ‘Indeed?’ His spirits lifted slightly. ‘Then he is not worthy of your attention.’

  ‘I wish I could cut the acquaintance.’

  ‘Why don’t you?’

  ‘Because he was with George. In Devon.’

  Ran bit back his impatience. ‘We know that. In fact, you were as suspicious of him as I when you learned of it.’

  ‘I know. But he is, was, George’s friend.’

  He leaned closer, pretending to look at the programme with her. ‘Tell me how you met him.’

  ‘I did what I said I would. I wrote and asked him outright what he knew.’

  ‘You did what?’ Ran muttered a curse. ‘For heaven’s sake, Bella, do you not know the risks you are taking?’

  ‘I do. Of course I do. One of the greatest dangers is to be seen talking to you! And you have no right to call me anything other than Mrs Roffey.’

  ‘What, may I not call you Bella?’ He smiled, momentarily distracted. ‘I beg your pardon, but it comes readily to my tongue.’

  ‘Well, it should not,’ she hissed at him. ‘No one calls me that.’

  ‘They should. It suits you.’

  He watched the colour steal into her face. She said stiffly, ‘We are digressing. I was about to say I do not need your assistance.’

  ‘As you have told me. More than once.’

  He straightened, fixing his frowning gaze upon the musicians who were taking their places on a small raised dais in front of the rows of chairs. Damnation, why did he bother with the woman when she was determined to keep him at a distance?

  She touched his arm. ‘Now I have offended you.’

  He was immediately disarmed. She sounded so contrite he wanted to pull her close and kiss her, in full view of everyone. He folded his arms to prevent himself doing anything so outrageous.

  She gave a little sigh. ‘I am aware of the dangers, my lord. I did not come to town with the intention of talking directly to any of George’s acquaintances. I asked the Roffey family lawyer to help, to make enquiries, but he was not at all forthcoming. Indeed, he was positively unhelpful. I think he has had instruction from Sir Adam to keep me from learning anything new.’

  His heart went out to her. ‘The Roffeys may be afraid you will discover things about your husband that will upset you.’

  ‘And is it better that I should remain in ignorance?’

  ‘Perhaps it is.’

  ‘No. I do not believe it. I knew George better than anyone. He was the kindest man in the world. Honest, too. He would never lie to me. Why should he accuse anyone of killing him if it was not true?’

  ‘And what has Teddington told you about him?’

  ‘He confirmed what I know,’ she replied defiantly. ‘He says George was the best of men. Although...’ her shoulders drooped a little ‘...he admitted George drank a little too much and was overly fond of gambling.’

  ‘I am sure that is no more than you already knew.’

  He watched her wrestling with herself.

  ‘He tells me so little each time,’ she said at last. ‘He replied to my letter and suggested we meet at Lady Aldenham’s ball. The night I saw you.’ She blushed a little as she said that. ‘Then we arranged to meet in the park the next day, and the next. This morning we met in the circulating library.’

  The musicians were tuning up and anyone observing Ran might well think his frown was due to their discordant notes.

  ‘And each time he feeds you snippets,’ he said. ‘Little morsels to whet your appetite.’

  One dainty hand fluttered. ‘He is right, of course. To be seen together for too long at any one time could be injurious to my good name and yet we must make sure our conversations are not overheard.’ She lifted the programme a little higher and turned it towards the light, as if puzzling over a particular entry. ‘Sometimes I think I should invite him to call upon me, but I know that would not answer. The servants are under instruction from my father-in-law, you see. Nothing in the house goes unreported. Ruth is the only one I can trust.’ She sighed. ‘I know the Roffeys have my best interests at heart, but if they learned I had been meeting a gentleman alone, even a friend of George’s, I fear Sir Adam might use the excuse to take me back to Lincolnshire.’

  ‘With some reason,’ said Randolph grimly. ‘I do not believe Teddington is quite the good friend he pretends to be.’

  A hush fell over the room as Mr Beausale moved to the front to introduce the singers and the orchestra. Under cover of the polite applause that followed, Randolph leaned closer to Arabella and pretended to point at something in the programme.

  ‘You are wise not to meet Teddington privately.’

  She put up her chin and gave her attention to the performance. Ran had no idea if she agreed with him, but the stubborn tilt of her chin made him doubt it. It was some small comfort that, at the interval, she continued the conversation.

  ‘Mr Teddington said George was very protective of me. That is why he did not take me to Meon House with him. He thought I would find it tedious.’

  ‘Arabella, do you not think, if he loved you, he would have taken you with him, however boring the company? More to the point, he would never have gone!’

  * * *

  His words caught Arabella on the raw and she scolded herself for not keeping Randolph at a distance, but it was impossible not to respond when he was near. He called to something inside her, as if they were kindred spirits. She knew he meant well, but he was wrong about her husband. He had not known George, not as she had done.

  ‘He did love me,’ she muttered fiercely. ‘And I loved him. I will have justice for my husband, and if that means being friends with Charles Teddington, then so be it!’

  She turned to speak to Mrs Hatcliffe and resolutely ignored his presence for the rest of the evening, even though it was like cutting off a limb.

  * * *

  She is playing with fire.

  The words echoed around in Ran’s head more than once as the gloomy days of February turned into an equally dark and drear March and London remained thin of company. It was not difficult for him to guess which of the social events a young widow was likely to attend and, with Joseph’s help and a readiness to grease palms, he was able to follow her every movement.

  Those who observed that the new Earl of Westray preferred musical evenings and poetry recitals to balls put it down to the fact that he had been away from England—indeed, from civilised society!—for so many years. The poor fellow was clearly starved of the arts. He only hoped they would not notice his appearances coincided with those of the golden widow. Much as he wanted to talk to her, he kept his distance, a few words at most, and if she was escorted by Charles Teddington then he gave them no more than a nod in passing. Nothing that could arouse suspicion.

  * * *

  An insipid evening of bad poetry at the house of Sir Kenelm and Lady Prees proved too much for him and broke his resolve not to speak to Arabella. At the
interval he begged to be allowed to fetch her a cup of tea. She looked surprised and somewhat suspicious and he spread his hands.

  ‘I have no ulterior motive, madam. I would merely like us to be friends.’

  Something flared in her eyes, too quick for him to understand it, but she said quietly, ‘I should like that, too. So, yes, my lord, tea would be very welcome.’

  With a smile, he headed off to perform this small service for her.

  ‘How can you bear it?’ he asked when he returned and handed her a cup. ‘I have never heard such bad verse.’

  She chuckled. ‘The last young man was particularly bad, was he not? I believe Lady Prees considers herself something of a connoisseur. She is hoping one of her young protégés will turn out to be the next Southey or Wordsworth.’

  ‘Not with poetry like that, they won’t.’ His vehemence made her giggle and he grinned, enjoying the rare moment of understanding.

  ‘What did you do for entertainment, when you were abroad?’ she asked him.

  He appreciated her delicacy in mentioning his previous life.

  ‘Nothing like this,’ he told her. ‘In Airds, where I was granted my one hundred acres, it was mostly settlers, sheep farmers, too busy securing their livelihoods for poetry.’

  ‘That must have been very arduous.’

  ‘It was, but the rewards were good, for those prepared to work. I was fortunate—being an educated man, I was useful to the authorities in Sydney Cove and eventually I became overseer of the Government brickworks.’

  ‘That was after you had saved those poor passengers from the sinking ship.’ She chuckled as he stifled a curse. ‘You wonder how I know? Joseph Miller told Ruth about you, when we were in Devon. She passed it on to me.’

  ‘The devil she did!’

  ‘Mr Miller’s account made it sound very heroic.’