His Countess for a Week Read online

  Feeling quite wretched, she huddled in the bed while he threw on his clothes. If he was not angry with her, then he must be disappointed. Suddenly his good opinion mattered to her. Very much.

  She heard him walk out of the room, returning a few minutes later with her gown over his arm.

  ‘Here.’ He laid it carefully across the chair by the fire. ‘Joseph has mended it well enough to pass all but the closest inspection. When you are dressed, I will escort you home.’ He turned his head to look at her and his tone softened. ‘It is not so very late. Certainly not late enough to cause comment.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He walked across to the bed and sat down, reaching for her hand.

  ‘Do not despair, Arabella. We have made a mull of this, but we will resolve it, I promise you.’

  His grasp was warm, comforting, but she shook her head at him. ‘It is not for you to resolve anything.’

  ‘Oh, I think it is.’

  ‘No,’ she whispered, her cheeks burning. ‘I wanted you to take me to bed.’

  She must tell him the truth, shameful as it was. Arabella kept her eyes fixed resolutely on their clasped hands, drawing strength from the connection.

  ‘My husband n-never did so. We n-never shared a bed. He always had some excuse why he would not c-consummate the marriage. That is why I know that man was telling the truth tonight, when he said George did not love me.’

  ‘There may be other reasons why Roffey acted as he did,’ Ran suggested, but Arabella shook her head.

  ‘His parents were eager for our marriage. There was no reason why we could not have been wed much earlier, if George had wanted it. If he had wanted me. You said yourself, if he had loved me, he would not have gone to Meon House alone. No, I must face the truth. George married me for my money, then left me at Revesby Hall while he continued his life very much as he had done as a single man.’

  Ran’s silence only added to the pain. She bowed her head, a little tremor of sadness running through her. His grip on her hand tightened.

  ‘Oh, Bella, I am so sorry.’

  His voice was full of compassion, full of sympathy, and for a moment she wished he would take her in his arms again. He would do it, out of kindness, but that would only make the inevitable parting even harder. She gently pulled her hand away. It was time to be strong, to show that she had learned something from her time away from Lincolnshire. She did not want any man to pity her. Especially Randolph.

  She said, ‘George did not love me enough to—to show me the pleasures of the marriage bed, but you have done that now, Ran.’ She wanted to smile at him, but could not bring herself to meet his eyes. Thankfully, her voice was under control and she continued without a tremor. ‘I shall always be grateful to you for that, but be assured I shall not ask any more of you. I understand that tonight was...a singular occurrence.’

  There, she had said it. She had been calm, composed. A woman of the world.

  ‘I am glad I could be of service, madam.’ There was something about his tone that made her think she had angered him, but before she could find the courage to look into his face he said lightly, ‘We should not tarry any longer. We must get you back to Park Street.’

  I was wrong, she thought. He is not angry. He is relieved that I am being so reasonable.

  The idea made her feel even more miserable.

  He rose to his feet. ‘Now, in the absence of your maid, I had best help you to dress!’

  He was teasing her, trying to ease her embarrassment. The time for intimacy was over and once again he was Randolph, her friend. That was some small comfort. She replied in the same light manner.

  ‘It is fortunate for me that you are so familiar with the intricacies of female dress, my lord.’

  ‘Not that familiar,’ he muttered, picking up her corset and turning it this way and that. ‘Which way up does this dashed thing go?’

  Arabella laughed and the last shreds of awkwardness between them disappeared.

  ‘Here,’ she said, slipping out of bed. ‘Let me show you!’

  * * *

  Once Ran had fastened her stays, he left Arabella to finish dressing and returned to the sitting room. She did not tarry, and when she joined him, he cast a critical eye over her. She was pale, but composed. The hectic flush had died from her cheeks. There was no outward sign that she had enjoyed a most satisfying bout of lovemaking and he felt a stab of disappointment. What a conceited dog he was to expect that!

  He said, ‘Hmm, you will do. I think you might well convince your companion you had been attending a sad crush where you were jostled by the crowd.’

  ‘That is what I shall tell her.’ Her hand went up to her shoulder. ‘Joseph’s repair of my gown is unnoticeable, unless one looks closely, and the only person to do that will be Ruth, my maid.’

  ‘And she is in your confidence,’ said Ran, putting her cloak about her shoulders. ‘I am glad you have at least one person in your household you can trust.’

  ‘Sir Adam is paying the servants well to look after me,’ she replied with a sigh. ‘I know I should be grateful for their care, but I feel...stifled by it. Despite what—what happened at Lady Sweigne’s tonight, I do not need anyone to look after me!’

  ‘That’s as may be, but I am still going to escort you back,’ declared Ran, shrugging himself into his greatcoat.

  ‘But there is no need, truly,’ she assured him. ‘Joseph could escort me.’

  ‘Joseph has gone to bed and I will not let you ride alone at this time of night,’ came the decisive response. ‘Come along now. I sent a runner to fetch a cab and it should be waiting for us at the door.’

  They slipped quietly through the dark, empty passages of the hotel and emerged into the icy night. The wind had dropped, and above the black line of the housetops, the moon was shining brightly from the clear sky. Arabella would dearly have liked to walk all the way to Park Street, to spend as long as possible with Ran, because it would be the last time they would meet. But she knew how it would look if she arrived at the door with the Earl as her escort.

  Randolph hurried her towards the cab standing a few yards along the street and handed her in. A word to the driver and he jumped in beside her.

  ‘What will you do now?’ he asked as they rumbled through the moon-washed streets.

  ‘I do not think there is anything to gain from looking further for George’s murderer. He was living wildly and paid the ultimate price for it. Much as I do not wish to believe anything I heard tonight about my husband, I am forced to conclude it must be so. There is nothing for me now but to return to Lincolnshire.’

  ‘I see. When will you go?’

  ‘In a few weeks. Lady Roffey wrote to tell me she has ordered a new lilac gown and wishes me to collect it, and buy her gloves and so on to match. The least I can do, after all her kindness to me, is to carry out the commission and take it all back with me.’

  ‘But what will you do there?’ he pressed her. ‘How will you live?’

  ‘I shall finish my mourning for George, which is what I should have done from the beginning, only I was so sure there was a case to be answered.’

  ‘And if there are...consequences from what we did tonight?’

  She did not pretend to misunderstand him.

  ‘You may be sure I shall inform you, my lord.’

  He reached out and caught her hand.

  ‘Promise me you will do so, Arabella. If I am no longer in town, a note to Chislett and Partners in Burlington Street will find me. If there is a child then it shall be my heir. We must wed, for the child’s sake.’

  For the child’s sake.

  ‘Of course.’

  She withdrew her hand and turned to look out of the window. An iron band had tightened itself around her heart. Ran did not love her, any more than George had done, but he would marry her. For the sake of the
child. What a cruel trick that would be, she thought bitterly, for fate to rescue him from exile, raise him to a peerage, then consign him to life tied to a woman he did not love.

  * * *

  The hired carriage drew up at the house in Park Street, the golden glow from the fanlight above the door indicating that lamps were still burning. Her return would not go unnoticed. Arabella gathered her cloak about her and prepared to alight.

  ‘I hope we do not need to meet again, my lord, but I thank you—sincerely—for all you have done for me. Goodbye. God bless you.’

  * * *

  Ran would have liked to hand her out of the carriage, to kiss her fingers one last time, but all he could do was to watch from the shadowed interior as she was admitted into the house. He waited until the door closed again behind her before ordering the driver to take him back to Brook Street.

  I hope we do not meet again.

  Could she have made it any clearer? Of course she did not care for him. Tonight had been no more than a distraction for her. A brief moment of comfort, something to assuage her loneliness and grief at the loss of a most beloved husband. She was wearing the willow for Roffey, even though the fellow had treated her abominably.

  From all she had said, Ran suspected Sir Adam had always had an eye to her fortune. It was not uncommon for neighbouring families to use marriage to unite their lands. Arabella had been put into their care when she became an orphan and the Roffeys had kept her in that damned isolated place. She had not been given a Season, either in Lincoln or London, so was it any wonder she had fallen in love with the only young man within her orbit?

  He hunched himself further into the corner. She had said goodbye to him, but he would remain in town until she had left for Lincolnshire, just to ensure Teddington made no further attempts to seduce her. Then he would return to Westray Priors and forget all about Arabella Roffey.

  Unless, of course, their lovemaking resulted in a child. Then he would do the honourable thing and marry her.

  Ran had to admit the idea was not repugnant. Not repugnant at all.

  * * *

  For the next two weeks, Randolph busied himself with his own affairs. When he met with his man of business, it was inevitable that Chislett would ask him about Charles Teddington, and Ran gave him a brief outline of their meeting at Sweigne House.

  ‘The more I learn about the fellow, the less he deserves to be called a gentleman,’ remarked Mr Chislett, looking very grave. ‘My, ah, sources tell me he is very low on funds. Very low indeed. Deep play,’ he said darkly. ‘Apparently he is running on tick, as they say.’

  ‘Thank heaven I have put a spoke in his wheel where Mrs Roffey is concerned,’ said Ran. ‘She is no longer blind to his faults and, after our little contretemps, his reputation in town has taken a further knock. I hope it may save other young women from succumbing to his charms.’

  ‘I wish it might be so, my lord, but such fellows have a way of bouncing back. How is Mrs Roffey?’

  Ran pushed back his chair and got up. ‘She returns to Lincolnshire soon, I believe. I do not expect us to meet again.’

  Not after the note he had received that morning, a short missive written in a sloping hand as feminine and elegant as the lady herself.

  You will be as relieved as I am, my lord, to know there are no consequences following Lady Sweigne’s rout.

  He had not known what he hoped for when he had opened the note, but its contents had winded him. The tiny seed of hope he had been germinating inside was killed off.

  Completely.

  * * *

  Charles Teddington was smarting. His public humiliation at Sweigne House had led to him receiving the cut direct from several high sticklers in town and he had noticed that parents of eligible young ladies kept their offspring well out of his way. That would not have worried him unduly—the ton was notoriously fickle and, once the gossip died down, his charming manners and elegant address would ensure he was soon welcomed back into society.

  However, he had recently been told, politely, and with deep regret, that he was no longer welcome at more than one well-established gentlemen’s club. He was not turned away from the hells, of course, where no one questioned his appearance, as long as he paid his dues, but his livelihood depended upon making friends with young gentlemen of means, and that required a certain aura of respectability.

  Damn Westray for showing him up like that and then refusing to meet him. And damn Arabella Roffey for being the cause of it all! He would not deny he lusted after her, which had made the prospect of marriage all the more alluring. And with her money he could have lived very comfortably. But now doors were closing against him, and if his fortunes did not turn around soon, he would be obliged to leave town and try his luck in one of the smaller cities, as he had done before. The only bright spot on his horizon was a letter from his sister. She was making a rare visit to London and had asked him to secure rooms for her at Grillon’s Hotel.

  * * *

  Mr Teddington was zealous in his arrangements for Lady Meon’s comfort and was on hand to greet her when she eventually arrived at the hotel in Albemarle Street. He was anxious not to miss her and kicked his heels in the elegant public sitting room overlooking the street for the whole morning. A few coins pressed into the hands of one of the lackeys paid dividends. When the lady finally walked into the hotel shortly after noon, he was just emerging from the sitting room and gave a start of surprise.

  ‘Ursula, what a pleasure. I had just come to assure myself that everything is in readiness for you.’

  She gave him her hand and a smile.

  ‘How thoughtful, Charles. Pray, come upstairs with me. We will enjoy a glass of something while my bags are unpacked.’

  She took his arm and allowed him to escort her to her rooms. He enquired after her health, her journey, and discussed the state of the roads until they were seated on each side of a cheerful fire in her drawing room with a glass of sherry. Outside the door the servants bustled about, but they were undisturbed.

  ‘What brings you to town, my dear, if I might enquire? Your letter did not tell me.’

  Lady Meon waved one languid hand. ‘I was in desperate need of amusement, Charles. Devon is so quiet at this time of year. The isolation is ideal for our little parties, but I have felt an unusual degree of ennui this winter. I toyed with the idea of Bath, or Tonbridge, for the waters, but decided a little town shopping would revive me better. I shall buy new gowns for our first party in May, I think.’

  ‘An excellent idea. The modistes will be delighted to have your custom so early in the Season, I am sure. I am very happy to escort you, if you wish.’

  ‘That is what I like about you, Charles. You are so very obliging.’ She held out her glass for him to fill up again. ‘If you are not too busy, I should be delighted to have your company.’

  ‘Not busy at all, actually.’ He was unable to keep the bitter note from his laugh. ‘I have had, shall we say, a little setback.’ He could not help noticing that his sister’s manner cooled somewhat and he hurried to continue, ‘Oh, ’tis nothing I cannot manage and London is very empty of company, so the damage is not irreparable, but still. It is annoying.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘George Roffey’s widow.’

  ‘What of her?’ Lady Meon’s eyes were wary.

  ‘She approached me in town, wanted me to tell her anything I knew of his death.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I fobbed her off, of course, but I was hoping I might secure her for myself. She is quite a beauty.’ He savoured his wine, his eyes narrowing in pleasure as he thought of the golden widow. ‘Not only that, but the fortune she brought to the marriage reverted to her, and her alone, upon Roffey’s death. Even after his lavish spending in Devonshire there must still be twenty thousand pounds invested in the funds and no damned trusts to worry about.’

 
; ‘You tried to woo her.’ She sat back, regarding him with a slight, cynical smile. ‘She turned you down, is that it, Charles?’

  ‘No. I swear she was responding, only she was determined to know more about her husband’s death, so I was obliged to tell her something of it. Oh, nothing very much, merely about his liking for laudanum.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  ‘She insisted on having more information. I ended by telling her he had killed himself with his excesses.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I should have left it there, given her time to come to terms with the thought, but I rushed my fences.’

  ‘Good heavens, Charles, that is not like you.’

  ‘I know, but I could not help myself. She is such a beauty, Ursula. Golden hair, eyes a man could drown in. And a delectable body, too! I had managed to get her alone and determined I would have her before the night was out.’ He scowled. ‘I would have succeeded, too, if we had not been interrupted.’

  ‘Unfortunate.’

  ‘Aye. What was even more unfortunate was that it turned into a damned brawl, in front of a dozen or more guests.’

  ‘Then word will have spread around the town almost before the night was done,’ she remarked. ‘Foolish, Charles.’

  ‘I know it.’ He added, trying to sound more confident than he felt, ‘But my standing will recover.’

  ‘I hope it does,’ she said coldly. ‘You are no use to me if you cannot supply me with the right sort of guests for my parties.’

  ‘No need to worry, Ursula. We have more than enough time for that. Town will be filling up soon and this little slip will be forgotten. What irks me most is that the Earl refused my challenge. ’Fore Gad, madam, you’d think even a convicted felon would know that’s not the way to behave in polite society.’

  Lady Meon sat up in her chair. ‘Do you mean the new Lord Westray?’