Intriguing Lady Page 8

  “And instead I have the rest of my life to regret my hasty marriage to Anita.”

  He sounded bitter now, and Roberta looked at him in surprise. For the first time she saw the lines of discontent and dissipation on his face. Was she responsible for this dreadful change in him? she wondered bleakly.

  “You don’t know what it’s like, Roberta,” he continued, seemingly unaware of her troubled expression. “Anita keeps me on such a tight rein. She treats me like a halfling, rather than a man. She uses the fact that she has a fortune to make me toe the line. It’s—it’s insufferable!”

  “She doesn’t appear to me to be such a harridan,” Roberta exclaimed involuntarily. “I received the impression last night that she was a warm, soft person.”

  He ground his fist into the palm of his other hand impatiently. “Appearances can sometimes be deceptive. She’s hard and demanding when we are alone.” He broke off. “But I didn’t come here to speak of her, Roberta. I want to talk about us.” He caught her unresisting hands in his. “I want to hear you say that you still care for me as I care for you. That you want to recapture those halcyon days we used to enjoy. I want you to agree to see me alone, as often as you can.”

  Roberta stared up at him uncomprehendingly before disengaging her hands. “I don’t think you know what you are suggesting,” she said in a low voice.

  “My little innocent darling,” he murmured in a voice that was meant to caress her. “I need you so desperately, in a way that only a man who loves a woman with all his heart could. I want you to be my mistress.”

  Roberta’s hands fluttered to her face, but even they couldn’t hide her shocked expression.

  “I’ve upset you, haven’t I?” he said. “My suggestion is too bold. You need time to consider it?”

  “No, Stephen. Please don’t say anything more. I could never agree to such a thing. It goes against every value I’ve ever believed in. I can’t pretend that I’ve not imagined what it would be like to be in your arms. But I suppose I have come to realize it can never be.”

  “Then why did you wear my orchids last night? You must have known what you were implying, surely?”

  Roberta shook her head. “I didn’t. I just knew I wanted to see you again. I didn’t think beyond that.”

  “Well, you’ve seen me again. Now what?” he demanded belligerently.

  “Nothing,” she countered helplessly. “I mean, I don’t know.”

  “You’re disappointed in me, aren’t you?” he answered, the angry note back in his voice. “Because I spoke like a man and expressed my need for you, you take offense. Fool that I was. I expected you to be different. I had convinced myself you would understand. But the reality is that you’re no different, no more understanding, than any other woman of my acquaintance. Like all other females, you put out lures to snare a man and then recoil as the trap is sprung.”

  Roberta stared at him, aghast. Suddenly all the hints that Mrs. Ashley had dropped about Stephen’s character came pouring back. She stiffened.

  “Are you any better, Stephen?” she asked. “You use your wife’s wealth to pursue your own pleasure, but you’re not loyal to her. You demand loyalty and perfection in others, but you seem incapable of living up to those standards yourself.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I’m referring to a particular game of cards you had with Sir George Beattie, when you lost a considerable sum of money. You had some very unkind words to say about your wife on that occasion.”

  “Oh, that!” he retorted. “I spoke no less than the truth. Anita is very tight when it comes to parting with money. But that will change in a few years, when the control of her fortune passes to me. If that damned father of hers hadn’t tied up the bulk of it until she had reached the age of thirty, I would be in control of it now.”

  “In the circumstances, it would appear to have been a wise move,” she murmured.

  “So George thought I was offensive, did he?” Stephen continued. “Well, your friend didn’t. He was most sympathetic when the game was over. He even offered to lend me the ready himself.”

  “My friend?” Roberta queried, genuinely bewildered by the turn the conversation had taken.

  “The Frenchman who was fawning over you last night.”

  “The comte?” she said in astonishment. “Why, I hardly know the man. And from what I do know of him, I’m surprised to hear of his generosity.”

  Stephen laughed. “Everything has its price, my darling,” he remarked. “His was an introduction to various members of my club. Influential people, I hasten to add.”

  “Whom did he mention?” Roberta asked, the shock she had felt at Stephen’s outrageous proposal momentarily suppressed by curiosity.

  “Mr. Lambert, for one, God rest his soul,” Stephen replied, happy to see Roberta returning to her normal self again. “And Edmund Truscott.”

  “The Defense Minister’s secretary?”

  Stephen nodded. “Then there was Lacey Sigmore. And an up-and-coming politician. Wilfred Barns. Oh, I don’t know! There were several more—not that it matters—but as far as I can recall, they were all connected to politics in one way or another. He’s an ambitious man, the comte. Although why I’m wasting my time speaking of such things baffles me completely.” He moved toward her again, his confidence returning. “Do you let me live in hope, Roberta?” he asked abruptly. “Will the day ever come when you will finally accept the inevitable?”

  Roberta, dumbfounded by his insensitivity, was suddenly forced to wonder why she had spent so many months believing she was deeply in love with him. He simply wasn’t the same person she remembered.

  “Don’t touch me, Stephen,” she said with a calmness that stopped him cold. “I will forget that we ever had this conversation, and I hope that you will do likewise. Now, if you will excuse me, there are a few chores that command my attention.”

  “You hypocritical little fool,” he blustered. “You know you want me more than anything else in the world. Why do you deny yourself?”

  Roberta surveyed him for a moment and then picked her way daintily to the door and turned to face him for the last time. “Until an hour ago, I would have agreed with your statement, Stephen. But now…the truth is that I no longer want you. By refusing your invitation to become your mistress, I’m not denying myself anything I want.”

  “You talk in riddles, Roberta,” he fumed. “What has happened to make you change your mind?”

  “Your attitude toward your wife,” she responded quietly. “I think it reflects your general attitude toward all women, and I find it horrifying. Women, Stephen, are not creatures to be used. They are human beings with emotions and feelings every bit as complicated as those of men.”

  “Good heavens, Roberta, I’m not that insensitive. I have probably, in the heat of the moment, overstated my resentment toward my wife. But you must understand that in my joy at seeing you, I cast all caution to the winds.”

  “I don’t think I misunderstood you at all, Stephen. How long would it be before you found me an encumbrance? And then what would you do? Discard me like a lame horse and continue with your life as though nothing had happened?”

  “It wouldn’t be like that, Roberta. I would never tire of you. Never.”

  “Really, Stephen? I don’t believe that for one moment, and neither do you.”

  Before he could reply, she left the room and asked the hovering footman to see Stephen out. As she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, she couldn’t quite believe she had been able to leave him so easily, with so little sorrow. Yet, for the first time since she had broken off her engagement, she felt free of the bonds holding her to him.

  Perhaps when the mystery surrounding Sir Nicholas was cleared up, and she had time to ponder exactly what it was that had triggered her final disgust of Stephen, she wouldn’t feel quite so free.

  But for the moment, she had no time for such reflections. Something Stephen had said had given her an idea as to how she could brea
k the code of the list, and with single-minded determination, she hurried upstairs to study it.

  Chapter 9

  The morning after Lady Sefton’s gathering, a frustrated frown creased Sir Nicholas’s brow, and with uncharacteristic sharpness, he cursed Davids roundly for neglecting to have sufficient hot water on hand for his bath.

  His temper had been aroused by the comte’s presence in London, and he knew that unless he was able to make sense very soon of the lists he had stolen, his bad mood would continue. Every day that passed without a solution meant the comte could continue to ingratiate himself into Society. And Sir Nicholas’s temper had not been helped by Roberta’s attitude. She had been far too pleasant toward the comte and now, on reflection, he suspected her behavior had been a deliberate ploy to encourage the dratted Frenchman’s suit. She was playing a very dangerous game, and as yet, he couldn’t fathom what she hoped to gain. Add to that the incident of the paper she had taken from his cabin. What did she want? Another mystery…and a disturbing one.

  “Drat the girl,” he murmured. “All this nonsense could have been avoided if Lord Bromley had been home when we arrived back from France.”

  “Sir Nicholas?” Davids ventured tentatively, wondering what on earth had caused Sir Nicholas to vent his spleen so early in the day. It made him uneasy to see his master so obviously out of sorts. “Sir Nicholas?” he repeated when he realized his master hadn’t heard his first remark.

  “Don’t stand there looking at me as if I had just descended in a hot-air balloon,” Sir Nicholas said irritably. “I was merely commenting to myself that Lord Bromley’s absence from London was ill-timed.”

  “As was Mr. Lambert’s death,” Davids said solemnly. “Such a shock. So totally unexpected. To think he was here for dinner three weeks ago.”

  “Quite so,” Sir Nicholas replied, and threw another crumpled stock onto the already large pile on the floor.

  “Perhaps you would like me to fashion your necktie?” Davids asked. “Your shoulder must be tiring you by now.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself, Davids. Oh, very well!” he added as his servant allowed an injured expression to cross his face. “Do what you can with this.”

  Davids deftly folded a clean stock and wrapped it about Sir Nicholas’s neck. With a few expert moves, he produced a Windfall knot and stood back to admire his handiwork. “That should do it, Sir Nicholas,” he commented in satisfaction. “Now, if you will just let me ease your arms into your jacket, your toilet will be complete.”

  “Damn your unfailing good humor,” Sir Nicholas said with a smile. “You make it impossible for one to have the dods with any degree of enjoyment.”

  David’s face brightened considerably at this, for it was a sure indication that Sir Nicholas’s ill-disposition was coming to an end. “Will you be needing me again this morning?” he inquired.

  “No, and I’ll be dining out tonight. Take the rest of the day off and enjoy yourself. By the way, how is the young lady you were pursuing before I left for France?”

  Davids looked down at the carpet and shuffled his large feet in embarrassment. “That would be Polly, Sir Nicholas. She can be quite contrary when she wants.”

  “Hanging out for a wedding band, is she?” Sir Nicholas chuckled, knowing his servant fancied himself a ladies’ man.

  David’s embarrassment became acute. “She’s indicated that is what she wants.”

  “Is that what you want?” Sir Nicholas asked.

  “I’m not in a position even to consider such a state,” Davids replied with a shake of his head. “And so I’ve told her several times already.”

  “Afraid I wouldn’t countenance such a move, are you?”

  “It wouldn’t be right,” Davids said stubbornly. “We never know from one day to the next where we’ll be, do we? I could never ask anyone to share that sort of life.”

  Sir Nicholas looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “You know, there would always be a permanent position for you at Stanway, Davids, if you decided you could not live without this Polly.”

  “And who would look after you, Sir Nicholas? I wouldn’t trust anyone but myself or Jenkins.”

  “It wouldn’t be easy to replace you, but it could be done. Don’t, I beg you, allow a lifetime of happiness to elude you on my account. You will live to regret it and one day might place the blame for your unhappiness at my doorstep. Who knows,” he added in an effort to erase David’s doleful expression, “I might even retire when this assignment is over and done with. I fancy I’m getting a little too old for all this melodramatic work.”

  “If that happens, Sir Nicholas, then I might reconsider my situation.” Davids smiled wanly and headed for the door.

  “Tell Jenkins to bring my phaeton round in an hour. I’ll be in my study.”

  He watched Davids leave, and his mood of discontent deepened. He suddenly wished he had never met Lord Bromley, never embroiled himself in the comte’s nefarious affairs or left Stanway in the first place. If he had stayed in the country, how different his life would be.

  *

  The excitement Roberta felt when she realized she might have found the key to deciphering the list bubbled over. She threw down her pen and stretched her aching back. She had been bent over for an hour or more and now felt very stiff. She pushed back her chair, stood up and danced about the room.

  “I’ve done it!” she sang. “I do believe I have done it!” And how easy it had been once she had discovered that QFRGJWY actually spelled LAMBERT.

  She hugged the knowledge to herself and prayed that Lord Bromley’s return was imminent.

  Her good humor was still with her when she joined Mrs. Ashley for dinner, greeting her companion with more animation than she had shown in a long while.

  “My, my,” Mrs. Ashley remarked between mouthfuls of her lobster-stuffed sole. “You are in high spirits tonight.”

  “Indeed I am, Ashley,” she responded gaily.

  “I can’t imagine what has occurred to make you feel that way. As far as I am aware, you haven’t been anywhere or seen anyone. It must be the change in the weather.”

  Mrs. Ashley studied Roberta skeptically until her attention was claimed by the butler and the tantalizing tray he held. She nodded her acceptance of the varied array of food, and only when her plate was filled did she turn her attention back to the younger woman.

  “Perkins informs me we can expect to see Lord Bromley on the morrow,” she remarked.

  “Tomorrow?” Roberta exclaimed, quickly declining everything the butler offered, except the smallest slice of veal. “What time?”

  “Midmorning, I think. I expect you will be pleased to see him.”

  “Very much so,” Roberta remarked. “Do you think he will be pleasantly surprised by the improvement in my health?”

  “He will, indeed, although what he will have to say when he hears of our involvement with the comte is another matter entirely. I forgot whether I told you what Sally Jersey had to say of him.”

  “She knows the comte?”

  “Quite intimately, I would say. I asked her about him when she visited with us yesterday. She is very taken by his charm and thinks him a delightful addition to her circle of friends.”

  “He certainly knows how to charm the elderly,” Roberta observed cynically. “Although, even if I had met him under different circumstances, I doubt I would have been taken in. Did Sally Jersey know anything of the affair Sir Nicholas was conducting with the comte’s sister?”

  “She didn’t make mention of it, so I don’t think she does. You know how she likes to suppose she’s up on every on-dit in town. Anyway, I’m just thankful I’m not an intimate member of her circle and that I don’t have to acknowledge him.”

  “You may, dear Ashley, you may. He has promised to pay us a social call in the near future.”

  “Then I can only pray we are out.”

  Mrs. Ashley’s worst fears were realized the next morning. The butler, without fanfare,
announced the comte was downstairs waiting to be received.

  “You didn’t tell him we were in?” she asked in great agitation.

  “No, Mrs. Ashley, but as the hour is still early, I think he assumes you can’t have stepped out.”

  “Oh, dear! Would it be terribly rude of us to deny him, Roberta?”

  “Unforgivable,” Roberta replied firmly. “We have to face him sometime, Ashley. However, if you really feel unequal to the task, I will receive him alone.”

  “Never!” Mrs. Ashley retorted with unaccustomed spirit. She stood up quickly and nervously smoothed the creases from her taffeta gown. “For your sake, I will brave this meeting, and I can only hope he realizes that good form dictates it shouldn’t last more than twenty minutes.”

  Roberta turned to the butler. “We will receive him in ten minutes.” The servant bowed and withdrew. Roberta pushed the lace curtain back slightly and looked out across the square, where she noticed a man standing beneath the oak tree. She frowned and let the curtain fall back into place. Had he not been there yesterday? And the day before? Could it be that Sir Nicholas had engaged someone to watch the house? She shook her head in bewilderment and then chided herself for being too fanciful. Still, she would mention it to her uncle.

  At that moment the comte entered. He paused dramatically on the threshold and, ignoring Mrs. Ashley, smiled at Roberta and strode across the room.

  “Mademoiselle Rushforth. I hope you forgive the earliness of my visit. I was afraid you wouldn’t be in if I called later in the day.”

  Roberta inclined her head and forced herself to smile. “We seldom brave the brisk winds before noon,” she said, “so we are grateful for any company that will break the tedium of the morning.”

  His eyes hardened at her veiled snub. “I came to pay my respects to you and your father. How is he?”

  “As well as can be expected for a man of his advanced years,” she replied, a slight tremor breaking her voice. “He has retired to the country for a while.”