His Countess for a Week Read online

  But was he in love with you?

  Randolph could not be sure if it was that question or the small cloud passing in front of the sun that made the air suddenly colder. Its shadow also appeared to sober Arabella and the look she cast up at him was more than a little defiant.

  ‘Perhaps you think George did not share my feelings, but you are wrong. He told me often and often how much he loved me. That was the reason we continued to live with his parents, you see. He did not wish to use my fortune to buy a property, even though I had made it all over to him to do with as he wished.’

  * * *

  Arabella stopped. She was chattering on as if she had known Lord Westray for years, telling him details he did not need to know. That he most likely did not want to hear. After all, he did not know George, did not love him as she did. Hot tears stung her eyes. She turned away, hunting for her handkerchief.

  ‘I beg your pardon.’ Her voice caught on a sob. ‘I did not mean to b-bore you.’

  He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Arabella.’ His voice was low, quiet. ‘You could never bore me.’

  She had been struggling alone with her grief for months and it was such a comfort to have him there, strong, protective. Somehow, it lessened the pain of her bereavement.

  A footman was hurrying towards them and Arabella quickly pulled away from Randolph, flapping one hand at him.

  ‘I shall be well, my lord, if you give me a moment. I pray you, go and see what your servant wants.’

  He walked away and she wiped her eyes. A few deep breaths were all that was required to banish her tears, which surprised her, until she remembered how she had wept when George died. The time for such displays of grief was over. She had set herself a task and must concentrate on that. She gave her eyes a final wipe, blew her nose, and when she heard the Earl’s firm step approaching her again, she was ready to turn and look at him. He was smiling.

  ‘There is no need to worry that our sudden departure last night offended Lady Meon. She is even now in the drawing room!’

  ‘Excellent news, my lord.’

  She managed an answering smile and he held out his arm. As they turned to make their way back to the house, Arabella noticed a figure on the upper terrace.

  She was surprised into a little laugh. ‘I believe Lady Meon is coming to find us.’

  Even as she uttered the words the lady waved and ran lightly down the stone steps.

  ‘I hope you do not mind my coming outside,’ she called to them as she reached the next set of steps. ‘I should very much like to see the gardens, if I may join you?’

  ‘To see the gardens, at this season?’

  Randolph’s muttered response made Arabella want to giggle, but she stifled it.

  She waved to their visitor and called out politely, ‘Of course, madam. We should be delighted to have your company.’

  The lady approached, her fur-lined tippet bouncing around her shoulders as she descended the last flight of steps.

  ‘I came to ask after your health, Lady Westray. How relieved I am to see that you have fully recovered from last night’s little shock.’

  ‘Thank you. I am perfectly well now.’

  It was the first time Arabella had seen the lady out of doors without the face veil she invariably wore when riding. At all their other encounters during daylight hours, Lady Meon had been indoors and at pains to sit with her back to the window. Arabella thought now that candlelight was much kinder to a countenance well past the first bloom of youth. It concealed the lines and faint sagging of the skin that were all too apparent in the pale sunlight.

  She caught herself up. Really, she was being most uncharitable! Lady Meon was still a very handsome woman and her excellent figure was shown to advantage in the tawny walking dress trimmed with fur. She was regarding Arabella now with a little frown of concern.

  ‘Are you sure you would not rather go indoors, out of the cold, Lady Westray?’

  Arabella batted away the suspicion that the widow would prefer to have Randolph to herself. She said, ‘Not at all, I assure you. I am very happy to take another turn around the gardens with you before we go in for refreshments.’

  ‘Thank you. That is very kind.’ Lady Meon was all smiles. ‘And the path is sufficiently wide that you may give escort to two ladies at once, my lord. How convenient.’

  She fell in beside the Earl, laughing up at him as she took his arm and he, Arabella could not help noticing, was giving the lady the full benefit of his charm. She ground her teeth.

  ‘I regret the gardens are not very amusing at this time of year,’ she remarked. ‘Mostly lawns and bare branches.’

  ‘But look to the distance,’ replied Lady Meon. ‘The views are breathtaking.’

  ‘Indeed they are.’

  Something in the Earl’s tone made Arabella look up. He was smiling at her and the glint in his blue eyes made her cheeks flame. She quickly dragged her eyes away, staring determinedly ahead. He was trying to flirt with her, in all likelihood for their guest’s benefit. How dare he?

  They proceeded along the path, but although the sun was still shining, Arabella thought the gardens had lost much of their charm. Lady Meon engaged the Earl in conversation, hanging on his sleeve and listening attentively whenever he spoke.

  ‘Your grounds will be beautiful in the warmer months, my lord. I think you will wish to stay here often.’

  ‘Quite possibly,’ he murmured.

  ‘The sloping nature of the ground makes it very exposed to the cold winds,’ put in Arabella.

  ‘But Devon has very fine weather most of the year,’ said Lady Meon.

  ‘I wonder you do not go to town for the winter, madam,’ remarked the Earl.

  She laughed gently. ‘London holds no charms for me, my lord. I go there but rarely. I prefer to have my friends come here.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he murmured. ‘Your legendary house parties.’

  Lady Meon shook her head. ‘Not legendary, sir. I am much more discreet than that! In general, I do not encourage my neighbours to visit, when I have guests, but you would be most welcome to call, my lord. Should you be in residence.’ She cast a roguish smile up at the Earl. ‘I would make sure you did not want for entertainment.’

  ‘That is very kind of you, ma’am.’

  He was smiling at the widow and there was a caressing note in his voice. Arabella fought down a wave of irritation. She did not know whether she was most angry with the lady for flirting with Randolph, or with the Earl for responding. She tried to laugh at herself for her foolishness. He was only doing what they had agreed, putting the lady at her ease in order to discover more about her. Only she wished he did not look to be enjoying himself quite so much!

  ‘I do not doubt you are an excellent hostess, Lady Meon.’

  Randolph’s murmured reply was so low Arabella thought he had not intended her to hear it. Her chin went up and she pinched his arm.

  ‘My dear, it is growing colder,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we should go indoors and take a glass of wine together.’

  * * *

  Neither Randolph nor Lady Meon made any sign that they noticed Arabella’s ill humour. They turned as one and strolled back to the drawing room, where a cheerful fire was burning.

  ‘Ah, Meavy has anticipated us,’ remarked the Earl, indicating the refreshments set out on a side table.

  Arabella concentrated on handing out the wine and cakes, leaving Ran to respond to Lady Meon’s thinly disguised interrogation. After all, the widow clearly preferred his company, so he could make up the details of their marriage!

  ‘But, forgive me!’ Lady Meon looked from one to the other, a faint crease on her lightly powdered brow. ‘You cannot have been married very long at all, my lord, if you have so recently returned to England. And yet I thought Her Ladyship said it was a matter of months.’

  ‘Did she not
tell you? It was a shipboard romance, madam. My lady joined the ship at...er...Rio de Janeiro and the Captain married us.’

  Arabella’s anger faded as she sipped her wine and listened to the Earl embroidering the tale. It was important she remember the details, in case she needed to repeat them. He caught her eyes once, his own brimming with laughter, and she felt a little bubble of merriment fizz inside her. There was a stab of gratitude, too, knowing he was doing this for her sake.

  She could not be sorry when Lady Meon declined a second glass of wine and rose to take her leave, thanking them for their hospitality.

  ‘How pleasant this has been,’ she declared. ‘I think we are all going to be very good friends. I do hope you will be at Beaumount in May, when I hold my next house party. I invite only a few select guests, the most charming people, I assure you. Our evenings are full of fun and gaiety. We have cards, of course, and dice. Several of my friends enjoy a game of hazard. Do you play, Lady Westray?’

  ‘I play cards, a little.’ She added, trying to appear eager, ‘I should very much like to become more proficient.’

  ‘That comes with practice, ma’am, but I am sure you would learn very quickly.’ Lady Meon leaned forward to touch her hand and Arabella was sorely tempted to snatch it away. Then the lady turned to address the Earl, saying playfully, ‘No need to fear we will fleece your lady, Lord Westray. We can play for buttons or penny points and enjoy ourselves just as much as if we were playing for a fortune, I assure you.’

  ‘Oh, I am not worried about my wife losing,’ he said cheerfully. ‘She has her own fortune and may wager as much as she wants.’ He smiled. ‘I am not her keeper, nor she mine.’

  ‘I am very glad to hear that, my lord.’

  There was a purr in Lady Meon’s voice that set the hairs rising on the back of Arabella’s neck, and when the widow gave Randolph her hand and he raised it to his lips, she felt again that sharp stab of irritation.

  * * *

  ‘That went very well,’ remarked Randolph, when Lady Meon had been shown out. ‘You are frowning. Did you not think so?’

  ‘The lady can be in no doubt that you wish to be friends with her!’

  Arabella gathered up the glasses to carry them across to the side table, noting that Randolph had not touched his wine.

  ‘What, because I kissed her fingers?’ said Ran, coming up behind her. ‘Why, Arabella, I do believe you are jealous.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said quickly. ‘But it is more usual to shake hands these days.’

  She busied herself straightening the decanters on the table. He was standing so close behind her she was sure she could feel the heat of him. It sent a trickle of excitement skittering down her spine.

  ‘Ah, then we must blame it on the fact that I have been away from England for six years.’ He reached for her hand and she was obliged to turn and face him. ‘Do you tell me I should not do this, even to my wife?’

  As he spoke he lifted her fingers to his mouth. It was the merest brush of his lips but the effect was shocking. Little darts of fire shot through her and her knees felt weak. She put her free hand on the table to steady herself. She had a sudden urge to throw herself into his arms, but she fought against it.

  ‘I suppose I should be thankful you have any manners at all!’ she said crossly. She pulled her hand free and hurried towards the door.

  He called after her, ‘You are not going?’

  ‘I am.’ With half the room separating them she was in control of herself again. ‘I promised Mrs Meavy I would discuss the menus with her. It is market day tomorrow and she needs to plan. Which reminds me—is there anything you particularly dislike to eat?’

  ‘No, except perhaps gruel. And thin, watery broth. I like plenty of meat and fish on the table.’

  ‘A typical diet for a lusty male!’

  Arabella had made the retort without thinking, but even as the words left her mouth she blushed furiously. Randolph was laughing and she hurriedly whisked herself out of the room. Good heavens, how could she have been so provocative? It was bad enough that she was in this man’s house, masquerading as his wife!

  A laugh bubbled up. Perhaps she had shown Randolph that Lady Meon was not the only one capable of flirting.

  Chapter Five

  Arabella busied herself with household duties for the rest of the day and when she met up with Randolph at dinner she expected to feel some awkwardness, but he made no mention of their earlier conversation and treated her with a friendly consideration that soon put her at her ease.

  The dining table had been set with the Earl seated at its head and her own place at his right hand, within the glow of the candles burning in the candelabra. At first she suspected the arrangement had been Randolph’s idea, but from the fatherly smile Meavy bestowed upon her as she took her seat, she thought perhaps she had misjudged him. She was further reassured when the Earl asked Meavy to bring a jug of water and glasses to the table. Clearly, he did not intend to ply her with drink.

  Somehow, they found innocuous subjects for conversation that they could both enjoy—she told him of the little domestic details that had filled her day and he expanded on his plans for the future. Only later, when the covers had been removed, did she remember her reason for being in Devon, and when Randolph made her laugh, she stopped guiltily.

  ‘Oh, dear! How can I sit here and...and be happy, when I have yet to avenge my poor husband?’ She gave a little huff. ‘I should be doing something.’

  ‘At this time of night?’

  ‘No, of course not at this minute.’ She waved a hand impatiently. ‘But it feels wrong to be enjoying myself.’

  ‘Are you? Enjoying yourself, that is.’ He smiled at her. ‘I am glad of it and I do not think your husband would object. Surely he would not want you to be unhappy.’

  ‘But we are no nearer finding out the truth!’

  ‘Patience,’ he told her. ‘I have asked Joseph Miller to go into Tavistock tomorrow, to see what he can discover there, and we will call upon Lady Meon. We need to find out who else was present at that last house party. Once we know their names, we can make enquiries.’

  She nodded. ‘True, but I cannot stay here much longer. Every day brings the chance of discovery a little closer.’

  * * *

  Ran knew she was right. For himself it mattered little. No one would blink an eye at an earl bringing his mistress to Beaumount, but for Arabella it could mean ruin if her identity was discovered. He sipped at his water glass, wondering what madness had induced him to take part in this charade. This was no business of his. He should have sent the woman packing, but her distress had awoken in him some chivalrous impulse to help her. The very idea of it made his mouth twist in self-mockery.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ she muttered. ‘You are being very good, when none of this is your concern. Perhaps I should return to Lincolnshire and make my enquiries from there. I might hire someone from Bow Street, perhaps.’

  This coincided almost exactly with Ran’s thoughts, so he was more than a little surprised to find himself trying to dissuade her.

  ‘You might,’ he said slowly, ‘but you have come so far, we should at least see if we can learn something. It would be a shame to waste all the effort you have so far expended, would it not?’

  He quashed the warning voice in his head that told him he was a fool to become involved in this madcap adventure and watched as she blew her nose and tucked her handkerchief away. She gave him a watery smile.

  ‘Yes, it would. Thank you, my lord.’

  Too late to go back now, he thought, and felt a sudden surge of wry amusement. He might as well enjoy himself.

  ‘Randolph,’ he reminded her. ‘Or Ran, which is what my close friends call me.’

  ‘Thank you, Ran.’

  He smiled. ‘That’s better. Now, it is still early. What say you we play at backgammon, or car
ds? You did tell Lady Meon you wished to improve your game.’

  She chuckled at that. ‘May we play backgammon? I fear my skill at cards would sorely test your goodwill, my—Ran!’

  They retired to the drawing room, where a small table was soon set up before the fire and they passed a pleasant hour in light-hearted play. The first game was closely fought with Randolph winning by a whisker, and when he suggested another game, Arabella readily agreed.

  Together they reset the board, but as Ran put the last of the counters in place, he glanced up and found Arabella watching him.

  ‘Something is puzzling you.’ He smiled. ‘Well, will you tell me?’

  She hesitated. ‘You did not drink your wine when Lady Meon was here and you hardly touched it at dinner. It is unusual, I think. Most gentlemen I know—’ There was a hint of mischief in her smile this time. ‘Not that I am acquainted with so very many! My husband would never drink less than three bottles at a sitting. I wonder, perhaps, if your abstinence is for my benefit?’

  ‘Yes, it is, in a way.’ He had been expecting the question, in some form or another, and he had his answer ready. ‘Too much wine dulls the wits and I shall need them all if I am to beat you again at this next game.’

  She seemed satisfied and he breathed a sigh of relief as he made the first throw of the dice. Arabella would not be here for ever. She did not need to know his secrets.

  * * *

  Two days of torrential rain followed, making it impossible to go out without good reason, and while Arabella fretted at being confined to the house, she knew it would only cause comment to risk overturning the carriage at a flooded ford for the sake of a social call to Meon House. Joseph, too, had to postpone his trip to Tavistock.