The Lady Forfeits (16 page)

‘You have done absolutely nothing for which you need to apologise,’ he assured her.

Maybe not, but she was not enjoying saying any of these things to him. Especially as it had resulted in a return of that cold, emotionally closed-off man from their first meeting.

‘If ensuring that your mother remained asleep truly was Mrs Prescott’s intention earlier, then I knew from experience that another dose of laudanum would need to be administered some time this evening to maintain that unconscious state,’ she continued gently. ‘I placed
my maid in here, with the door firmly locked, in order to prevent such an occurrence.’

Gabriel drew in a ragged breath. ‘Jennifer cannot have seriously believed she could keep my mother asleep for the whole of my visit here.’

‘Surely it needed only to succeed until such time as your uncle returned from London?’ she suggested. ‘At which time Mrs Prescott no doubt intended to pass the responsibility for the delicacy of this situation on to him.’

He snorted. ‘Charles is no match for me, I assure you.’

She could well believe that. Just as she knew Gabriel would have succeeded in seeing the danger of the unusual situation that existed at Faulkner Manor for himself if he were not so emotionally close to it all. If his displeasure at seeing Jennifer Prescott again had not clouded his powers of deduction…

She gave a rueful smile. ‘I doubt it matters either way now.’

His gaze sharpened. ‘How so?’

She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘If my suspicions are correct, and the lack of further medication succeeds in reviving your mother, then Mrs Prescott must know that we will quickly learn all about your mother’s life these past six years.’

His expression was suddenly anguished. ‘You seriously believe it is possible my mother has been lied to and deceived all that time? That she may have been kept as a virtual prisoner in her own home these past four months?’

‘I think it is a possibility, yes,’ Diana answered carefully.

‘With what purpose in mind?’ Gabriel shifted restlessly. ‘What happened four months ago to bring about such a sudden change?’

‘That is something only your uncle and his wife can answer…’

‘Do you not have some other “theory” about that, too?’

She flinched as she heard the bitterness in his tone. ‘I do, yes.’

‘I thought that you might,’ he sighed heavily.

‘Obviously Charles and Jennifer have become accustomed to living here as your mother’s guests for six years, a comfortable and privileged existence that I am sure they greatly enjoy. You have also mentioned to me that your uncle is a man who likes to gamble and that he lost his own home because of it.’

‘He did, yes.’

‘So perhaps the answer lies there? Even larger gambling debts than in the past would mean they needed a tighter control of the estate? I really do not know the reasons why things changed four months ago, Gabriel.’ She spread her hands in apology. ‘I can only say what I suspect. If I am wrong, then I shall apologise to all concerned.’

‘You are not wrong.’ He spoke with flat finality, the bleakness of his expression now absolute.

‘We cannot be
sure
—’

‘Damn it, I can!’ His expression was savage. ‘And the worst of it is that none of this would have occurred
at all if I had persevered in visiting my mother after my father died.’

‘Self-recrimination serves no purpose now, Gabriel—’

‘It serves the purpose of easing some of my frustration with this situation.’ He began to pace the parlour. ‘If all of this is true, and I have every reason to believe that it is, then I will strangle the Prescotts with my own bare hands.’

‘Having her only son consigned to prison for the murder of his uncle and aunt will not aid in your mother’s recovery one little bit,’ she murmured.

Gabriel’s eyes glittered vengefully. ‘It would be worth it.’

She crossed the room to lay her hand gently upon his arm. ‘You know it would not.’ She smiled up at him gently. ‘You love your mother very much, do you not?’

He tensed. ‘Always.’ His chin rose as if to challenge anyone who might dare him to make such a claim after the heartache his family had suffered on his behalf eight years ago.

But it was a heartache Diana believed had never been of his making. ‘I think, when you next speak to Mrs Prescott—’

‘I do not intend doing anything so banal as
speaking
to her—’

‘When you next speak to her,’ she repeated firmly, ‘you might also like to ask her who the father of her babe really was.’

Gabriel became very still as he stared down at her, his expression changing from puzzlement, to shock, to total disbelief in the matter of only a few seconds.
‘You cannot be suggesting—? You do not suppose it was
Charles
?’

She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘It is a thought, is it not? I am aware that it is not unusual for an arranged marriage such as the Prescotts’ was to find a measure of success, a mutual respect between them, at least.’ As Diana hoped that her own marriage to Gabriel would one day achieve. ‘But I believe your uncle’s wife talks of her husband with more than just respect; I think that she is deeply in love with him. And she claimed earlier, very convincingly, that their marriage was a happy one.’

‘I have every reason to believe that it is,’ he said thoughtfully.

She gave a slight inclination of her head. ‘My Aunt Humphries—who incidentally met both your mother and your Uncle Charles during her London Season almost thirty years ago—told me that he was then something of a charming rogue. Nowhere near the class of his disreputable nephew, of course,’ she teased. ‘But a rogue, none the less.’

Gabriel’s expression lightened only slightly. ‘I can see that it is past time your aunt and I made each other’s acquaintance.’

She laughed briefly. ‘I doubt that would reassure her in the slightest!’

‘Possibly not,’ he accepted drily, and just as quickly sobered. ‘Do you really think it possible that Charles and Jennifer were intimately involved eight years ago and that the babe she carried was his all the time? Even worse, that they planned my disgrace together, knowing I would refuse to take responsibility for a child that categorically was not mine and so end up being
disinherited by my father whilst Charles was paid handsomely to marry Jennifer?’

Diana looked sad. ‘I cannot answer those questions with any finality. But I do think all these matters are worth investigating further.’

‘I really
will
strangle the pair of them if it should turn out to be the truth of it—’

‘Gabriel…? Gabriel, is that you, my dearest boy?’

He froze as if struck at the first sound of that soft and quavery voice calling from the adjoining room, his eyes widening with disbelief and his face becoming even paler as he registered his mother’s endearment.

‘Go to her, Gabriel,’ Diana urged huskily, squeezing his arm briefly in encouragement before she stepped away from him.

‘Come with me,’ he pleaded.

She shook her head. ‘I shall be waiting for you in my bedchamber when you and your mother have had a chance to talk together.’ She smiled up at him. ‘No matter what time it is.’ Diana knew she would be unable to go to bed, let alone sleep, until she had heard whether or not he and his mother had managed to resolve their lengthy and, she suspected, completely unnecessary estrangement. Although the love she had heard in Felicity Faulkner’s voice as she spoke her son’s name certainly gave Diana hope that this would indeed be the case…

‘I
am sure you will not be at all surprised to learn that Jennifer has availed herself of one of the carriages and fled Faulkner Manor as if the devil himself were at her heels!’ Gabriel stormed into Diana’s bedchamber completely without warning some two hours later, still dressed in only his loosened shirt, pantaloons and boots, his hair in even more disarray, as if he had been running troubled fingers through it for some time.

Diana had tried to occupy herself profitably in Gabriel’s absence, as her aunt had taught her to do during moments of idleness. First by reading a book. Then by taking out her embroidery when none of the favourite books she had brought with her succeeded in holding her attention or her interest. After unpicking the untidiness of her stitches for the fourth time, she had laid her embroidery aside too, her thoughts and emotions in too much turmoil for her to be able to settle to any worthwhile occupation.

So she had begun to pace instead. And when she
tired of that she simply sat down in the chair by the fire, staring into the flames. Wondering. Hoping. So very much hoping that Gabriel’s relationship with the mother he so dearly loved would once again be the loving one it had been. For his sake. For his widowed mother’s sake.

Yet at the same time, she could not help but wonder how that reconciliation with his mother would affect her own betrothal to him. Gabriel had been completely honest with her from the first. He was now the Earl of Westbourne, and as such he felt he was in need of a wife, primarily as mistress of his homes, and eventually to bear his children. Diana was the daughter of the previous earl, therefore she, or one of her sisters, had been an obvious choice for the role of the new earl’s wife. But if Gabriel truly had become reconciled with his mother, and the ice about his emotions melted, he might no longer be of the same cynical frame of mind. He could even decide that he no longer required a wife at all at this moment; his widowed mother could run his homes for him and, at only eight and twenty, there was no rush for him to produce his heirs.

Diana stood up slowly, keeping her expression deliberately calm and composed, even though her doubts as to her own future as Gabriel’s wife meant she inwardly felt neither of those things. ‘No, I cannot claim to be in the least surprised.’

In truth, if his visit with his mother had proven her theories concerning Jennifer Prescott to be true, then she had been able to see no other solution to the other woman’s dilemma; Jennifer would need to leave Faulkner Manor immediately, no doubt with the intention of joining her husband in London, or risk facing
Gabriel’s considerable wrath on her own. The devil himself, indeed—and Jennifer, whilst defensive and shrill, did not give the appearance of being quite that brave!

‘I trust your mother is feeling more herself now?’ she enquired.

His expression instantly became less fierce, the lines beside his nose and mouth smoothing out, his eyes a deep and compassionate blue. ‘She fell asleep a few minutes ago as we were still talking,’ he revealed huskily.

Diana nodded. ‘It will take several days for the complete effects of the laudanum to wear off. I—did the two of you manage to untangle some of your differences?’

‘We did,’ he said.

‘I am so glad.’

Gabriel suddenly looked murderous. ‘You might also be pleased to know that it would seem most of your theories might well prove to be correct.’

‘I’m not exactly
pleased
to hear that, Gabriel,’ she protested.

He gave an impatient shake of his head before crossing the bedchamber restlessly to stand beside the fireplace looking down at the flames. ‘At Charles’s request, my mother apparently put her brother in charge of the estate accounts after my father died. She did it, she says, because at the time she felt quite unable to cope with the intricacies of managing the estate and fortune herself, and in the hopes that the responsibility would sober Charles somewhat.’

‘It did not?’

‘No.’ Gabriel frowned darkly. ‘Oh, he was very
clever about his machinations for several years, the amounts that he took for himself apparently quite negligible within the grand scheme of things. Then, four months ago, my mother had to bring him to task when she discovered that a very large sum of money indeed was missing from the estate account.’ His face hardened. ‘My mother has absolutely no recollection of things since then. She has been kept asleep for so much of that time she was not even aware that Alice Britton had been dismissed.’

Diana drew in a sharp breath. ‘That is truly
monstrous
.’

‘Nor did she receive my letter following my father’s death, when I requested that I might visit her and my father’s graveside. And I did not receive any of the letters she wrote to me during the last six years, when she asked if I would visit her. Letters she apparently entrusted to
Charles
for safe delivery.’ The loathing in Gabriel’s expression promised retribution for that alone, let alone any of the other crimes his uncle might have committed in that time.

‘I am sorry—’

‘Do not pity me, Diana.’ His face was savage in the firelight as he turned to glare at her. ‘Pity is for the weak. And I assure you, at this moment my emotions towards my uncle and his wife are very strong indeed!’

She had no doubts that they were. Just as there could no longer be any doubt that Jennifer fleeing into the night was tantamount to an admission of the Prescotts’ guilt. ‘Then I will reserve my compassion for your mother. For what she has suffered.’

He drew in a steadying breath before making her
a formal bow, a gesture that lost none of its sincerity because of his lack of formal attire. ‘I should be down on my knees to you in gratitude, not taking my temper out on you.’

In a similar situation she knew she might feel equally as violent in her emotions. ‘What will you do now?’

‘Despite Jennifer’s flight, I feel it best if I remain at my mother’s side for tonight at least.’

It was obvious from this statement that Gabriel did not intend to spend the rest of the night in Diana’s own bed—but had she really expected that he might? The horror of the Prescotts’ treatment of his mother must be very disturbing for him; although she might still be quivering with remembered pleasure at the depth of their earlier intimacy, it had been far from the first time that he had known such physical satisfaction and it could not possibly have had the same impact upon his own emotions. In fact, it seemed to have had so little effect that he gave no indication of remembering it at all.

She gave a slight smile. ‘I was not referring to your immediate plans, Gabriel…’

‘As soon as my mother is well enough to travel we will do as you suggested at dinner and travel to London. Once my mother is safely and comfortably settled at Westbourne House I have every intention of seeking out my uncle and his wife, of chasing them down to the ends of the earth if necessary, and ensuring that they pay for what has been done here,’ he vowed.

Perhaps it was selfish of Diana, but she could not help but notice that neither she, nor their betrothal, was mentioned in his plans, either with regard to his immediate or his long-term future.

Gabriel had still been reeling, both emotionally and mentally, when he entered Diana’s bedchamber a few minutes ago. He could never have imagined the depths to which Charles and his wife had succumbed since moving to Faulkner Manor to live with his newly widowed mother. Beginning, it would seem, with the appropriation of the letters sent between mother and son over the years…

No doubt once Gabriel had chance to check the estate accounts for himself he would find that Charles had been supplementing his gambling habit from those funds for most, if not all, of the past six years. He believed the large sum his mother had brought Charles to task over some four months ago, and which, with his renowned lack of luck at the gaming tables, he would have no hopes of repaying, would indeed prove to be the reason for the dismissal of all the people close to his mother and for the use of heavy doses of laudanum to ensure that she had remained in a haze of sleep for most of the time since.

As for the true events of that supposed scandal eight years ago…

If Gabriel had thought at all about the real identity of the father of Jennifer Lindsay’s baby, then he had assumed it must be one of the men from the village. It had never even occurred to him, until Diana had made the suggestion earlier, that it might have been his roguish and disreputable Uncle Charles all the time.

Perhaps it should have done. Even then Charles had been more often than not down on his luck from gambling, and often spent months at a time at Faulkner
Manor, sponging on the generosity of Gabriel’s father, as much as avoiding his creditors. And no doubt enjoying the favours of the local women as often as possible, too.

Yes, the more Gabriel considered the possibility of Charles being the father of Jennifer’s baby, the more inclined he was to believe that the whole course of events had been contrived in order to disinherit Gabriel, and at the same time provide Charles with a generous amount of money to marry the woman who was already his mistress.

It had taken Diana, with her cool detachment, to stand back and see the possible true course of events. Gabriel felt foolish, even ridiculous, for not having seen those things for himself at the time. Not only that, but through his own pride and arrogance in refusing to visit Faulkner Manor, he had subjected his mother to months of hell.

What must Diana think of him now? For not having seen the happenings here for what they were eight years ago? For allowing his prideful arrogance to leave his mother to suffer for years at the hands of the Prescotts? He knew that Diana, with her no-nonsense attitude, and her very definite views on what was right and what was wrong, would never have allowed that to happen to a member of her own family.

Gabriel looked across at her now between narrowed lids, but was unable to read anything of her thoughts or emotions from the calm composure with which she gazed back at him. Was that deliberate?

No doubt she would need some time in which to digest and accept all they had discovered here. To decide
how she felt about those discoveries. And perhaps how, or if, those things affected their betrothal and the regard that had been tentatively growing between the two of them. He would not want her to go through with their marriage if he had given her a disgust of him. Yes, in the circumstances, he accepted that time to think those things over was the least that he could give her.

He drew himself up to his full height, his expression deliberately lacking all emotion. ‘Between being with my mother and looking into estate business, I will no doubt find myself very busy during the next few days as we wait for her health to strengthen enough to travel.’

Her eyes were suddenly very blue in the pallor of her face as she steadily returned his gaze. ‘Of course.’

‘Thank you.’ He bowed elegantly. ‘You are, as ever, unfailingly generous in your understanding.’

Was she? At this moment she felt an uncharacteristic inclination to scream and wail at the cold remoteness of his expression and manner, when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his strong arms and have him make love to her; she felt in dire need of that evidence of his unchanged desire for her, at least.

She would do none of those things, of course. She had learnt long ago never to ask for, or to expect, the consideration of others in regard to her own emotions, but to keep her own needs to herself and her emotions firmly under her control. Except when she and Gabriel made love…

‘I shall endeavour to help in any way that I can to see that your mother’s return to full health is a smooth and untroubled one.’ Her demeanour was as cool as his own.

He inclined his head. ‘I am most appreciative of any kindness you might show her.’

That urge inside her to wail and cry became almost overwhelming as he continued to speak to her with the politeness of a stranger. They had been so wonderfully intimate earlier, which still made her blush to think of it, and yet he was now treating her as if she were nothing more than a kind and considerate friend!

Whereas she now thought of Gabriel as—as what?

Diana frowned, knowing now was not the time to search her own emotions for answers to how she felt towards him. ‘Of course. Please do not delay here any longer,’ she said. ‘Your mother may have reawakened in your absence and wondered if you being there at all was nothing but a dream.’

‘Indeed.’ Gabriel’s jaw was rigidly set as he continued to look down at her for several long seconds. Seconds when he could still read nothing from the calmness of her expression, when he wished for nothing more than to once again take her in his arms and—

‘I will wish you a good night, then, my lord,’ she added, her tone and demeanour obviously a dismissal.

Gabriel drew himself up proudly. He had felt so close to her when they’d made love earlier, had felt as if they were on the brink of—of what? Feeling real affection for each other, perhaps? An affection that might have deepened over the years, thereby making their marriage of convenience more bearable for them both.

There was no affection in Diana’s manner now. None of that earlier warmth and teasing. Instead it seemed as if there was a wall standing between them.

An insurmountable wall?

‘I cannot recall the last time I visited London…’ Mrs Felicity Faulkner’s expression was rapt as she gazed out of the carriage window at the rush and bustle, the noise, the smells, that was the capital of England; the streets were crowded with other carriages, with children dodging in between the horses, dogs barking, voices raised as women sold flowers on street corners, and men stood behind stands with hot pies and ale for sale.

None of which succeeded in impressing itself upon Diana’s inner misery in the slightest.

It had taken two further days at Faulkner Manor for Felicity to recover her wits and to have strength enough to be able to make this slow, three-day journey to London. The two days lingering at the Manor had been excruciating ones for Diana, as she saw little or nothing of Gabriel, and was treated with cool politeness by him whenever they did chance to meet over the breakfast or dinner table. He had been, as he had predicted, excessively busy with estate business, his expression becoming grimmer by the hour, it seemed, as he obviously found further discrepancies in his mother’s account books.