Mesalliance (18 page)

Nell clamped
her fingers over her mouth. Adeline merely stared, torn between
amusement and sheer vexation. Then, before she could answer,
Rockliffe’s voice said smoothly, ‘No, Lucilla, she is not. And I
would be obliged if you refrained from repeating that suggestion …
otherwise I am very much afraid that we shall fall out.’

Lucilla came to
her feet, slightly discomposed but with enough presence of mind to
say tartly, ‘Outside these walls, I am not likely to say it. I
think you can’t deny that
I
, at least, have a care for the
reputation of our family.’

‘No,’ sighed
the Duke. He closed the door and crossed to Adeline’s side. ‘I
don’t deny it. I could wish, however, that you were a trifle less
rigid. You might also, just occasionally, look on the bright side.
You wanted me to marry and I’ve done so. You ought to be
pleased.’

‘
Pleased
? That you – who could have had Salisbury’s girl for
the asking – have instead made what can only be considered a
mésalliance
? You must be mad. You make yourself a target for
speculation of the most sordid kind; you elevate a person of
neither breeding nor consequence into the place our dear mother
occupied with such distinction -- ’

‘
What
?’
gasped Nell. ‘You always used to say that mama was the most
tactless and unpredictable woman in the world and the greatest
mortification to you. Even
I
remember that!’

The ribbons on
Lucilla’s hat quivered with affront.

‘I will not,’
she said, ignoring Nell, ‘be deflected. I am still waiting for an
explanation.’

‘But I never
explain myself,’ Rockliffe replied gently. ‘Surely you know
that.’

‘But what am I
going to say to people?’

‘Why should you
need to say anything?’

‘Oh – don’t be
so provoking! It’s obvious, isn’t it? Everyone will want to know
who she is and they’ll ask me. It will look every bit as peculiar
as it
is
if I’m forced to admit that I don’t know.’

Rockliffe
contemplated her for a moment and then shrugged.

‘Very well. You
may say that the Kendricks are an old and respected Northumbrian
family and that, on the distaff side, Adeline is related to Sir
Roland Franklin – in whose house we met. Will that do?’

‘Her parents
are dead?’

‘Quite.’

‘Well, I
suppose that’s something.’ She paused, frowning. ‘Do you expect to
get away with this without becoming the subject of gossip?’

‘I really don’t
care whether I do or not,’ he drawled. ‘And now, if you please, we
will end this entirely pointless discussion. Adeline is my wife.
There is nothing you can do to change it … and, indeed, if I am
satisfied, who are you to cavil?’ He paused, allowing his words and
tone to have their effect. Then, ‘The only question remaining,
therefore, is how long we are to enjoy your company?’

‘Only until
tomorrow,’ responded Lucilla waspishly. ‘You may be sure I’ve
better uses for my time than to be trailing about after you, trying
to find sense where there plainly is none.’

The heavy lids
rose and his Grace inspected her with mocking interest.

‘Really? Then
it’s a pity you didn’t think of that before you came, isn’t
it?’

*

Lucilla took
her leave without in any sense coming to terms with her brother’s
marriage – a fact which disturbed Rockliffe not at all but which
sent Adeline to the solitude of the lakeside for the purpose of
examining a few vital implications.

Since the day
her grandfather had died, she had never had to consider anyone but
herself. The knowledge that this was no longer so, therefore, was
simultaneously both alarming and sweet. One grew used to being
alone and, in some ways, it made life simpler. One could say what
one wished, for example, and hang the consequences. But all that
was changed now – for, in allying himself with her, Tracy had
placed his name where mud could be thrown at it. And the more
people she antagonised, the more mud would be thrown.

Stooping, she
cast a stone into the water and watched the ripples spreading. He
had given her a life beyond anything she had ever dreamed … and had
still not expected her to come to him for that alone. If gratitude
were all, she thought … but it wasn’t. Far from it. And, for him,
she would learn the new skills that were the only means she had of
minimising the damage and protecting him from any hurt that might
touch him because of her.

His approach
behind her made no sound and yet, even before he spoke, she knew he
was there. It came to her suddenly that she would always know.

He said, ‘Your
concern is needless, you know. Lucilla was bound to disapprove of
you on principle … but it really isn’t anything to worry about. I
should know. She’s disapproved of me for years.’

Adeline rose
slowly and turned, laughter stirring in her eyes.

‘I see,’ she
said, ‘that you have no difficulty in living with it.’

‘No. These
things tend to be mutual, don’t you find? If I dislike you, can you
like me? I doubt it. And Lucilla, unfortunately, disapproves of
almost everyone. Also, her taste is poor.’

‘Obviously.’

‘Yes.’ His
smile was inviting. His words caught her unprepared. ‘Tell me about
your parents.’

‘I can’t.’ She
made the required effort and kept her voice level. ‘I don’t
remember them. My mother died when I was just over two months old
and my father, three years later. Aside from that, I know virtually
nothing.’

‘Did you never
ask?’

‘Oh yes,’ she
replied bitterly. ‘I asked. Repeatedly. And then learned not to do
so. Grandfather would tell me nothing, you see. It was from the
servants I found out that my mother had succumbed to a fever and my
father to brandy.’ She paused and lifted her chin. ‘He was killed,
I believe, in a drunken brawl.’

Strangely, his
Grace did not appear in the least discomposed.

‘At Hexham,’ he
nodded. ‘Yes.’

Adeline stared
at him. ‘You
knew
?’

‘I was told.
Eight years ago, in fact. I had no way of knowing if it were
true.’

‘Well, now you
do.’

‘You sound
defensive.’

‘Is that so
surprising?’ she asked. ‘How did
your
father die?’

‘In bed.’

‘Exactly!’

‘Not quite,’
said Rockliffe, unexpected hilarity sweeping across his face. ‘He
was
in bed … but what killed him was the exertion involved
in pleasing a young and particularly demanding actress. His
mistress, at the time.’

There was a
long silence. Then she said uncertainly, ‘You
are
joking?’

‘Ask Lucilla.
You may find you’ve something in common after all.’

‘Oh God!’
Having been lured into laughter, Adeline found it quite difficult
to stop. ‘So much for respectability.’

He waited for
her to recover herself and then said, ‘Respectability is all about
sweeping the dust under the carpet and keeping the skeletons
securely in the closet – something that families with titles or
money or both are extremely good at. So … having established that
point, may we now talk about your mother?’

‘If you wish.
But it’s the same story over again,’ she shrugged. ‘It always
seemed to me that there was no love lost between my aunt and my
mother. At any rate, Aunt Miriam would say little beyond the fact
that my mother was dead and buried – and, she intimated, best
forgotten.’ Plucking a spray of leaves from the branch drooping
beside her, she twirled it thoughtfully in her fingers. ‘I remember
once asking if I might be taken to visit my mother’s grave. A
reasonable enough request, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Eminently so.
And?’

‘She refused
point blank. And when I persisted, she … lost her temper. I never
asked again.’

‘I see.’ A
faint frown touched Rockliffe’s eyes. ‘And what of Sir Roland … and
your estimable uncle?’

‘Richard?’ She
smiled derisively. ‘He told me nothing – for no better reason than
that I wanted to know. It is his way. It is also his way to drop
little innuendos. For example, I tried to run away once and … and
was stopped. “
Like mother, like daughter
,” said Uncle
Richard. I didn’t ask what he meant. It wasn’t worth it. I wouldn’t
have believed anything that he said anyway.’ She drew a long breath
and concentrated on the leaves between her hands. ‘Sir Roland was a
different matter. I had the feeling he’d have liked to talk to me
but didn’t dare cross my aunt. As it was, he only ever said two
things that mattered. He said that my mother had loved me; and
that, if I wanted to know how she looked, I should consult my
mirror. “
You are her image
,” he said.’ The aquamarine eyes
rose expressionlessly to meet his. ‘And that, I suppose, explains
more or less everything.’

*

The
conversation lingered in Rockliffe’s mind … more, he decided, on
account of the things she had left unsaid than anything else. His
opinion of Lady Miriam, never very high, plummeted to several
points below zero and he wondered what it was about Richard Horton
that Adeline was not telling him.

I tried to
run away once
…

With nowhere to
go, that had been brave. Brave or desperate. Had it been worse for
her, then, than he could guess?

…
and was
stopped
.

So much and no
more. Just three short words to cover – what? Something, he felt
sure. She had schooled her voice but not, for a brief, telling
second, her eyes. And what he had seen in them was enough to stop
him enquiring further.

He pondered it
for several days before he finally began to realise where his care
of her was leading him; and still, when he had the answer, could
not quite believe it.

‘Well,’ said
Adeline, turning slowly from the mirror, ‘it seems I’m as ready as
I’ll ever be. What do you think?’

During the six
weeks they had spent in the country before returning to St James’
Square, Jeanne had come to know her mistress quite well and to like
her. In her opinion, the duchess was easy to serve and – though she
demanded no great formality – a born lady. She was also,
thankfully, a pleasure to dress.

It was
therefore with no small degree of satisfaction that Jeanne now took
in the dark, loosely-piled curls scattered with diamonds, the
aquamarine necklace encircling the alabaster throat and, finally,
the arresting gown of pale blue silk and silver tissue – the
significance of which she was completely unaware. Then she said
hopefully, ‘A hint of rouge, perhaps? And just one small
patch?’

‘Neither. I’ve
told you. I’ll hide behind cosmetics when I have to and not before.
In the meantime, you’ll just have to possess your soul in
patience.’

‘It’s not my
soul that bothers me, my lady,’ sighed the maid, unsuccessfully
smothering a grin. ‘But if you really want to know, you look a
treat.’

And, of course,
she did.

Rockliffe had
chosen the gown – just as he had elected to present his bride to
the Polite World by holding a vast, extravagant ball at Wynstanton
House. Adeline, contemplating the first of these decisions, hoped
that the second would prove equally felicitous.

She descended
the great, curved staircase with care, aware of nothing save the
fact that he was waiting for her below. Since their return to town,
he had taken to wearing his hair powdered again – but not tonight.
Tonight, save that it was fastened with a jewelled buckle rather
than ribbon, it was innocent of anything except the elusive blue
sheen provided by the candlelight. His coat was of sapphire velvet
extravagantly laced with gold, over a gold embroidered vest and
sapphires winked in his cravat. More than any of that, his gaze
turned her bones to water. She hesitated on the last step and said
lightly, ‘Well? Is the effect all you’d hoped?’

The strange
smile in his eyes deepened and he continued to look at her for what
seemed a very long time. Then, taking her hands, he drew her
towards him and, in one smooth unhurried movement, dropped a brief
kiss in each palm – followed with a third on her lips.

‘All and more,
my dear. You are beautiful.’

Fire licked her
skin and she stopped breathing for a second. His face was only
inches from her own and his mouth beckoned. Re-inflating her lungs,
she reached one tentative hand up to touch his hair and said shyly,
‘Thank you.’

‘If you are
pleased, that is thanks enough.’ Her other hand was still in his
and his fingers tangled seductively with hers. ‘It also has the
advantage of giving the dowagers something else to whisper about
behind their fans.’

‘And the young
ladies something to sigh over behind theirs,’ she replied without
stopping to think.

The dark eyes
widened and held hers with sudden intensity for a moment, before
travelling to her mouth. She thought, for one dizzying instant,
that he was going to kiss her. Then, for good or ill, the mood was
shattered as Nell came skimming down the stairs.

‘Good heavens –
there’s no time for that sort of thing! They’re starting to arrive.
I heard a carriage. How do I look?’

With apparently
unimpaired urbanity, Rockliffe released Adeline and stepped back.
There was a hint of rare colour along his cheekbones but
fortunately, Nell was too preoccupied to notice it.

‘Well?’ she
demanded, executing a neat pirouette. ‘Will I break hearts, do you
think?’

The Duke raised
his glass and scrutinised her at length. Her hair was dressed
à
la capricieuse
, a tiny black silk patch adorned one corner of
her mouth and the rose satin gown sported ribbons
à
l’attention
.

‘Quite
possibly,’ he drawled. ‘At any event, you certainly take the
eye.’