Read The Conqueror's Dilemma Online

Authors: Elizabeth Bailey

The Conqueror's Dilemma (24 page)

‘I have thought
of everything,’ William said heavily. ‘No, Tiffany won’t fall into that trap, I
am almost certain of it. If it is a trap. I don’t think Lady Drumbeg has any
notion of my being a potential suitor either. She has no knowledge of my
meetings with Tiffany, I will stake my reputation on that.’

‘Then why say
it? And to Hector. She must have intended him to repeat it to you.’

‘Undoubtedly,
for she has been assiduous in her attempts to gain my attention. I imagine it
was the only ploy she could find for a half legitimate reason to seek my
advice. Or perhaps she intended me to understand that if I would not act to
bring Tiffany into fashion, she had another plan to fall back upon.’ He strode
away again. ‘I don’t know, and the problem is not one in which I am
particularly interested at this present.’

Ariadne did not
follow him, for which he was glad, but took a chair near to one of the two
small desks placed strategically for the use of any who chose to seek a quiet moment
of reading or contemplation.

‘You said I had
made the gravest mistake. Do you care to tell me why?’

He did not turn.
The ghost that daily haunted him was up and dancing in his head. Tiffany’s hurt
white face in the half-light, her features strained, as she damned him to the
purgatory he had set up for himself. He spoke in a flat tone that effectively
concealed, he hoped, the riot of feeling beneath.

‘We are wholly
estranged, and there is no way back. It is better I find none, even did I wish
to.’ He shifted his shoulders in discomfort. ‘Well, let us be honest. If I
followed my desires, I would wish to. But that path is closed and must remain
so.’

At last he
turned, and knew by Ariadne’s face that the bleakness showed in his eyes.

‘Unfortunately,
you have chosen to force it open, Ariadne. You think I am in love with her,
don’t you? You think by bringing us together, we may come about and all will
end happily.’

She was eyeing
him with the glimmerings of sadness. ‘Am I wrong, Will? Do you deny what you feel
for her?’

William could
have groaned aloud. ‘What I feel for her is good old-fashioned desire, Ariadne.
She may take it for a warmer emotion, but it is not that. I told you once, I
think, that I am incapable of love—at least in the sense you mean it. I have
made myself incapable, forced myself to learn to deflect such feelings. That I
am jealous of Chicheley demonstrates the rightness of that. I am not to be
trusted with such feelings, just as my father was not to be trusted. If you
will have it, I care enough for Tiffany not to wish that upon her.’

Ariadne’s gaze
had turned steely. ‘And then there is the money, is there not?’

His own voice
hardened. ‘Yes, there is the money. There is always a price for the pursuit of
ambition, and that is mine.’

For a moment she
said nothing, only continued to look at him with a gaze that bore deep into his
senses. He withstood it, but he felt raw and exposed nevertheless.

‘I wonder if you
believe what you say, Will. Not that it matters. I did not bring the child here
merely for your amusement. I had another purpose in mind, which I am sure
Tiffany will tell you herself if you care to question her.’

William’s lip
curled. ‘Well, I don’t, for I don’t believe you.’

‘That is your
privilege.’

With which,
Ariadne turned for the door. Before she had gone half a dozen steps, it opened
to admit Juliana. William groaned aloud.

‘Not you, Ju,
for the Lord’s sake!’

Ariadne went so
far as to laugh. ‘If you’ve come to ring a peal over him, Juliana, you are wide
of the mark. I brought Tiffany here. Will has just been threatening me with
dire consequences.’

Juliana glided
between them, and William met her sceptical eye. ‘Indeed? Well, you are bound
to support him, aren’t you? You may have brought her, Ariadne, but I find it
hard to believe Will knew nothing of your intentions.’

‘It’s true, for
all that,’ William growled. ‘I don’t want her here.’

‘Well, you’ve
got her, whether you want her or not,’ said Ariadne coolly from the doorway.
‘And it might not have occurred to you, Will, but Tiffany may be as little
desirous of your presence as you are of hers.’

Which was only
too likely, William reflected, as Ariadne left the room. After their last
meeting, it was exactly what he ought to expect. But an insistent inner voice
denied him. Tiffany might be dismayed by his arrival; she might even refuse to
speak to him. But he was sure his presence in her vicinity could serve only to
resurrect her affections, even had she managed to bury them.

‘It appears we
are confronted with a fait accompli.’

He had almost
forgotten Juliana’s presence. A feeling of exasperation gripped him. What was
it to her? She had no longer any hold over him. Why could she not mind her own
business?

‘We?’

She recoiled as
if she had been slapped, and William felt a riffle of compunction for the hard
note. Her voice became ice.

‘I take it you
don’t wish for my assistance then?’

William dragged
his eyes away from her face. What was he doing? Making an enemy of the one
person who mattered? Who could, if she chose, condemn him to obscurity. He
forced himself to smile as he turned.

‘I beg your
pardon, Ju. I am sorely out of temper.’

‘So I perceive.’

She was still
cold. He must make more of an effort.

‘I had no
business taking it out on you. Of course I want and need your help. There is no
one whose advice I value more, you know that.’

A slight curve
twitched at the corners of her mouth, as if she was deciding whether or not to
thaw. William moved to her and took her hands. He bent his head and kissed one
set of fingers, and then the other.

‘You must
forgive me.’

‘Must I, Will?’

He was glad of
the softer note, and pressed home his advantage, drawing her a little closer.

‘You must, my
lovely. I have allowed that wretched child to unsettle my mind, and all for
nothing. Tiffany is utterly unimportant to me, if the truth be told. A
dangerous diversion. You said it at the outset, and you were right. Now see
what has come of it.’

A slight noise
outside the intimate circle they made captured his attention. He turned his
head quickly, and caught a wisp of a white face before it vanished beyond the
open door. Its identity did not escape him.

CHAPTER
NINE

 

 

Taking flight, Tiffany hurried away and up the stairs,
anxious to be hidden from view before the sobs choking her throat could emerge.
If instinct had made her look into that room just at the wrong moment, then
instinct was a curse and a crime. Had she not been crossing the hall precisely
then, she would not have heard the Conqueror’s voice and been led by her
traitorous feet into disaster.

Melinda could not have been more
wrong. Had Tiffany not known it deep inside? A sorry state she was in to allow
the idle gossip of that feather-headed creature to twist her from the truth.

Reaching the corridor where her
room was situated, Tiffany sped down it, trying to remember which of several
doors was hers. She realised with despair that she had forgotten to count when
she came downstairs with Ariadne.

And where was Ariadne? She had
vanished as suddenly as had Will—or rather,
William
Westerham. Let her
never be tempted to call him by that intimate name again. Had Ariadne betrayed
her to him? But she was not there with him—in the library, was it? No,
she
was there. The Queen of Society, and queen of the Conqueror’s heart—always
supposing he had one.

What had he said?
Tiffany is
utterly unimportant to me
. Well, she had known it, had she not? Only to
hear him say it had been as a spear entering her chest.

She dashed her fingers over her
eyes. She would not weep. He did not deserve her tears. Would she might instead
rake his cheek with her nails.

‘Tiffany, there you are.’

Melinda! She must not see her
guest like this. How in the world could she explain her distress? But the young
lady of the house was already upon her. Tiffany had perforce to meet her
enquiring gaze.

‘I wondered where you had escaped
to. I am sorry I left you alone, but— Why, whatever is the matter? Gracious,
you are crying! Dearest Tiffany, pray tell me what it is? Has something
happened to grieve you? Oh, dear, ought I to fetch Ariadne to you?’

Tiffany struggled to find a
voice, sniffing back the giveaway tears. ‘No, it is nothing. I am all
right—truly. It is only that—only that—’

Melinda suddenly looked back down
the corridor. ‘Someone is coming. Here, come into my room quickly.’

A door opened and Tiffany was
whisked inside. She found herself in a bright bedchamber, done out in a
quantity of pink, with pastel on the walls, crimson hangings and chairs
upholstered in a hue marginally less virulent.

‘I was looking for my own chamber,’
she told her hostess, ‘only I could not remember which door it was.’

‘I will take you there in a
moment. Sit down, your poor thing.’

She thrust Tiffany into one of
the chairs and plonked down upon her haunches before her, seizing her two hands
and looking up into Tiffany’s face with a gentler expression than she could
have expected from one so clearly empty-headed.

‘Pray don’t look so downhearted,
dear Tiffany. Tell me what has happened to upset you so. I vow and declare I
have never seen anyone so dashed down! What is it, dearest?’

The endearment could have no
basis in any true affection, for Melinda hardly knew her, but it caught in
Tiffany’s bosom and she found herself saying far more than she ought.

‘I heard him speak so brutally of
me. I should not have listened, only I heard his voice and could not help
myself. I went to the door and—and—
she
was with him. He was holding her
hands, Melinda. I saw him kiss her fingers. You were wrong, you see. He does
care for her still.’

Bewilderment was writ large upon
Melinda’s lovely features. ‘Who in the world are you talking of? Who can it be?
Oh, but you love him, whoever he is, don’t you? Don’t trouble to deny it,
dearest Tiffany, for it is written all over you. And he has made you so
unhappy.’

‘If that were all,’ uttered
Tiffany unguardedly. ‘I could bear that, for I never had any hope of him. If it
weren’t for
her
. I never knew I had it in me to be so madly jealous, but
I am. I would like to strangle her, Melinda, indeed I would.’

A giggle escaped the other girl,
and was hastily choked. ‘Oh, poor Tiffany, I beg your pardon. I don’t mean to
laugh, only you sound so fierce. Yet I am in the dark. Who is this man? And
this she—do I know her? Of course I must, for she is in the house. And you
said—’

She broke off, and the enormity
of her confession came home to Tiffany as she saw the truth dawn in Melinda’s
eyes.

‘Gracious, can you mean Juliana?
Don’t tell me you are in love with Will Westerham. Oh, Tiffany,
no
.’

No, indeed. She might have said
it herself, except Tiffany was quick to wonder why Melinda should express
herself thus vehemently.

‘What do you mean? Why do you say
it like that?’

‘You cannot possibly be in love
with Will. Why, he is the last man in the world to be counted eligible, you know.
He has nothing except his position. Truly, nothing at all. Mama has said often
and often how glad she is I have no very significant fortune, for she is sure
Will would have been after me. My poor Tiffany, it is common knowledge that the
Conqueror, if he marries at all, must marry money.’

In spite of all, Tiffany felt
herself bridle in defence of Will. ‘Well, that is not his fault. I am sure he
is not the first man to be so placed.’

‘True enough. And any number of
young ladies would be happy enough to oblige him, had they the requisite funds
at their disposal.’ Melinda’s pretty features were marred by a sudden frown.
‘But if you knew it already, what possessed you to fall in love with him?’

A breathless
laugh escaped Tiffany. ‘I did not choose to do so. It came upon me without
assistance.’

‘But, why? I grant you, Will is
charming, and handsome enough. He is witty, I suppose, for he always makes me
laugh. But I cannot imagine what else there could be to inspire you with so
much affection.’

Tiffany stared at her, an odd
blank feeling pervading her mind. Was Melinda blind? Could she not see the
kindness, the playful manner, and the tenderness? She might not see the inner
fire, the passion lurking under William Westerham’s insouciant outer shell. And
it was unlikely, seeing how she was placed in society, that she would
understand the kinship existing between them. Without realising it, she echoed
Will.

‘We are two of a kind. I have
encountered a side of him that you may not have seen. It is a side fatally
attractive, and—if you want the irony of it—one that must forever hold us
apart.’

It was clear Melinda had not the
faintest understanding of what she was saying. Her puzzlement was delineated in
the frowning silence with which she greeted the explanation, sitting back on
her heels on the floor. Tiffany summoned a smile.

‘Thank you for being so kind. It
really doesn’t matter, because the whole affair is hopeless.’ She reached for
Melinda’s hands and squeezed them. ‘We would do far better to see what we may
accomplish in the way of your romance.’

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