A Matter of Duty (19 page)

Geoffrey shrugged.

Rowe got up, wincing as a searing pain lanced through his arm. God damn Cherington! Going to the stern window, he gazed through the mist toward the island. Was Thea lying in Highclare’s arms right now? A nerve twitched at his temple. His glance was drawn toward a shadowy shape that was just visible through the gray haze. It was another yacht, and from her outline he knew her to be Lord Grantham’s
Eleanor
, the cutter that would be taking on the
Spindrift
later that very day. Rowe stared at the other vessel, his cold eyes narrowing as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Slowly he smiled.

Geoffrey saw. ‘What are you smiling about?’

‘I believe I’ve just thought of a way of trapping Highclare into the very corner I seek.’

‘Corner?’

Rowe gave a low, chilling laugh. ‘I trust the governess has brought her funeral weeds with her, for she’s very shortly going to be a widow. Very shortly indeed.’

T
he sun broke through after daybreak, dispersing the mist and giving the promise of yet another beautiful day. Louisa slept late, weary after the previous day’s travel, and weary too after crying herself to sleep in the small hours; but before falling asleep, she’d come to a very important decision: she was going to fight for Kit and not surrender to Thea.

The Venetian apartments at Highclare were aptly named, for everything in them had once adorned a
palazzo
on the Grand Canal itself. The doors were inlaid with ebony and ivory, and the columns were made of jasper. There was rich decoration everywhere, not a single surface left plain, and the walls sported subtle rococo designs of long twining stems and flowers in aquamarine and beige. The ceilings were gorgeously painted, and from them hung elaborate chandeliers fashioned from wood and gilded copper, their stems curling into little rosettes, their candleholders fashioned like crowns. The furniture was all of the distinctive Venetian style, lacquered and delicate, but in oddly bulging shapes. The chairs, cupboards and tables were finished in mock-Chinese work in deep-green and gold, and the bed where Louisa lay was particularly rich and ornate, with complicated hangings of the finest damask.

Kit sat on the window seat. The window was slightly open, allowing in the sounds of the sea gulls screeching over the private beach a short way off. He wore a maroon dressing gown over a shirt and beige trousers, and he looked for all the world as if he’d spent the night with his new bride and had risen a short while before without disturbing her. He leaned his head back against the window embrasure, gazing not at the sunlit park outside, but at his wife as she slept. He wished he had spent the night with her; he wished so much where she was concerned, but it was not to be. She was so very lovely as she lay there, and in slumber looked so innocent. But she wasn’t innocent at all.

The sea gulls screeched again and she began to stir, turning her head so that her dark-red hair caught against the lace on her pillow. Her gray eyes flickered and opened, widening suddenly as she saw him in the window. She sat up quickly, her hair tumbling down over the shoulders of her nightgown.

‘Don’t look so alarmed,’ he said dryly. ‘I’m not about to demand my conjugal rights, I’m merely placing myself where a bridegroom would be expected to be at this hour. When Pattie brings the morning tea shortly, she’ll find what she should find: the happy couple enjoying each other’s company.’

‘I admire your attention to detail.’

‘I said that you could safely leave such matters to me.’ He rose from the window and went closer to the bed. He couldn’t help thinking how attractive she was, her mane of dark-red hair falling unchecked, the flush of sleep warm on her cheeks. ‘I trust you slept well?’

‘Better than you, I’ll warrant,’ she replied.

‘Facetiousness isn’t very becoming at any time, but least of all at this ungodly hour.’

‘I was merely drawing a natural conclusion.’

‘Really?’ He studied her for a moment, remembering the manner in which she’d suddenly entered his thoughts the night before. The memory made him even cooler. ‘Draw what conclusion you wish, it’s immaterial to me. I only hope you’ll continue to remember your promise concerning my grandfather, for I intend to leave for Cowes within the hour because of the race, and I still have no intention of taking you with me. I trust, too, that you’ll be able to amuse yourself during my absence.’

‘I’m sure I will, sir, for thankfully I’ve yet to become reliant on your company.’ She didn’t want it to be like this, but somehow there didn’t seem to be anything she could do to change things. Each time they came face to face, the sparks flew. Why, oh, why couldn’t they go back to the way it was before the locket had spoiled everything? She lowered her eyes. Last night she’d sworn to fight to win him, but how could she when things were always like this? Maybe it was hopeless, but she had to try.

He came to the bedside, leaning a hand on one of the posts to look down at her. ‘Louisa, I really don’t want us to quarrel like this….’

Neither of them had heard Pattie’s discreet knock at the door, so when she came in, she saw Kit leaning over his wife in what appeared to be a very fond manner.

The moment he realized the maid was there, his reaction was swift. Mindful of the need to give the right impression, especially with Pattie, who’d witnessed so many arguments and so could be relied upon to relate to the rest of the servants the glad tidings of the newlyweds’ reunion, he bent quickly to kiss a startled Louisa full on the lips, putting his hand to the nape of her neck, his fingers curling in her warm hair. It felt so right to kiss her, and yet everything about her had been wrong from the very beginning.

Following so swiftly on her resolution to fight for him if she could, she was for once equal to the moment, startling him in turn by slipping her arms around his neck and returning the kiss. She gave herself to the embrace, her lips moving warmly and luxuriously beneath his as she took full advantage of the situation. It was sweet to hold him, and in spite of her actions being calculated, she was still aware of her responding senses. As she eventually drew back, she didn’t have to try to make her voice sound husky, for it was anyway.

‘I – I shall miss being with you today, my darling,’ she said softly, tracing the outline of his lips with her fingertip, ‘but I do understand that a yacht race isn’t suitable for a lady and that my presence would only distract.’

He’d been caught so off guard that for a moment he was rendered speechless. Surprise lingered in his blue eyes at first as he straightened, but then it was replaced by suspicion. Where had she learned such amatory skills if not in Lawrence’s knowing arms?

She sensed his reaction and was filled with hurt dismay, but still she smiled. ‘Good luck in the race. I’m sure you’ll win.’

‘I’m sure I will too, especially with your blessing behind me,’ he murmured.

‘You have more than my blessing; you have my love.’ Oh, how true, if only he knew.

He glanced at Pattie, who’d put the tray down and was preparing to pour the tea. ‘Not for me, if you please. I’m about to get ready to go to Cowes.’

‘Very well, my lord.’ The maid bobbed a curtsy.

He turned toward Louisa again, lowering his voice so that the maid couldn’t possibly hear. ‘I’m sorry to leave you like this, but you really give me no choice.’

She met his gaze. ‘And you give me none, Kit.’

For a moment he continued to look into her eyes, then suddenly he took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘I will see you tonight,’ he said.

Her fingers tightened momentarily over his. ‘I meant it about the race. I wish you all the luck in the world.’

He smiled. ‘Thank you.’ Then he was gone, closing the door softly behind him.

She lowered her eyes. Her lips were still tingling from the pleasure of kissing him. Had she played her cards wisely? It was said that a wife held all the trumps when it came to fighting off a challenge from another woman. Well, if that was so, then Lady Highclare was going to have to become a very canny cardplayer, for Thea, Lady Rowe, wasn’t just any other woman, she was
the
other woman, the great love of Kit’s life.

Pattie brought her a cup of tea. ‘What clothes would you like me to set out for you, my lady?’

‘The yellow-and-white-checkered lawn, I think.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ The maid hesitated, smiling shyly. ‘My lady… ?’

‘Yes?’

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I’m so very glad that you and his lordship have made it up. I’m so happy for you.’

Louisa managed a weak smile.

Kit had left for Cowes when she went down to take breakfast with the earl in the small east-facing breakfast room on the ground floor. There was gray-and-white floral paper on the walls, an oval table covered with a crisp white cloth, elegant chairs with gray velvet seats, and a sideboard laden with the earl’s surprisingly robust choice of breakfast dishes, from beefsteak pie and York ham, to deviled kidneys, scrambled eggs, and one of the Stilton cheeses brought by the Southampton packet. The smell of fresh-baked bread hung in the air from the dish of warm rolls in the center of the table.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, and Hengist and Horsa were sprawled sleepily in a patch of brightness on the carpet. They stirred and got up, tails wagging, as she entered, her primrose-and-whitecheckered morning gown bright in the sun.

The earl had been reading his newspaper, but he immediately set it aside, getting to his feet and coming toward her. He wore a floor-length powder-blue dressing gown, and there was a tasseled cap on his head. He kissed her on the cheek and then drew out a chair for her. ‘Good morning, my dear. I’m so glad you’ve decided to stay here today, for I’ll have you to myself.’

‘Good morning, sir.’

‘Louisa, you’re part of the family now, so I wish you would call me grandfather. Shall we begin again? Good morning, my dear.’

She smiled, liking him more each time she was with him. ‘Good morning, Grandfather.’

‘That’s better. Now, then, what would you like to eat? Some beefsteak pie? It’s very good.’

‘I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly manage pie for breakfast, but a little scrambled egg would be very nice.’ She felt uncomfortable as he went to the sideboard to serve her. ‘I’m sure it’s not right that you should be waiting on me.’

‘Nonsense. I’ve dreamed for so long about having Kit’s wife to dance attendance upon that I’m positively wallowing.’ He spooned a very large helping of the eggs onto a plate and put it before her. Then he poured her some coffee from the extremely elegant silver pot before resuming his seat. ‘Kit was very sorry to leave you behind this morning.’

‘I – I’m sure he’ll feel free to concentrate more on the race if I’m not there.’

‘No doubt you’re right. I wish he wasn’t quite so keen on racing the
Spindrift
, for it can be a very dangerous activity, as the loss of the
Mercury
bears full testimony.’ He was silent for a moment, glancing at her. ‘My dear, are you really sure you wish to forgo the grand ball?’

She couldn’t help the slightly guilty color that entered her cheeks. ‘Yes, quite sure.’ The reply lacked all conviction, and she knew it.

‘I know how possessive new bridegrooms can be, especially if their brides are as pretty as you, and I doubt if Kit is any different. He wants to keep you all to himself and thus deny others the opportunity of dancing with you, but understandable as his attitude may be, it’s still no reason for making you stay away if you really wish to go.’

She felt very awkward and gave him a weak smile. ‘I – I really don’t want to go.’

‘Well, if you change your mind and feel you’d really like to go, after all, just let me know. I’ll tell Kit that
I
insist on you both going, and then he can grumble at me but will not blame you.’ He smiled. ‘Now, then, what would you like to do this morning?’

‘I thought I might take a ride, if that’s all right.’

‘All right? My dear, this house is your house, you’re at liberty to do as you please. Of course you may ride. I’d come with you were it not that my riding days are long since over. But you shall not go entirely alone, I’ll send Hengist and Horsa with you, they’ll protect you.’

Hearing their names, the dogs padded over to him, resting their heads on his lap while he stroked them.

An hour later, accompanied by the hounds and with the sun high in the sky, she rode down through the park, her mustard-yellow riding habit – once destined for the Countess of Effingham – a bright splash of color against the fresh green all around her.

She rode toward the cliffs above the private beach, reining in for a moment to look down at the waves breaking on the rocks and shingle. The taste of salt was on her lips, and the breeze fluttered the little plumes springing from her beaver hat. Hengist and Horsa waited beside her.

Something, she didn’t know what, made her look toward the wooded river valley to the south of the park. For the briefest of seconds she thought she saw a man on a large chestnut horse but then he’d gone, melting so quickly back into the trees that she thought she must have imagined him.

She didn’t give him any more thought, remaining on the cliffs for a little longer before turning her horse southward and cantering toward the woods, Hengist and Horsa loping beside her. She little realized the danger that lay ahead as she rode innocently into the cool shade of the trees.

A
s Louisa rode slowly through the woods at Highclare, the Rowe landau was driving smartly out of the villa gates and down the lane toward Cowes, conveying Lord and Lady Rowe to watch the race.

Thea wore a matching pelisse and gown of salmon-pink sprigged muslin, but although the color was cheerful, her face was pale and anxious behind the veil attached to her little hat. A gaily fringed pagoda parasol was held stiffly above her head, and her whole figure was tense. On his return, Rowe had immediately made it plain that he knew all about her infidelity with Kit and was going to punish her severely. Without warning, her position was as precarious as Louisa’s had so recently been, and the specter of ruin was staring her in the face.

Rowe had threatened her with divorce, but for the moment it was a suspended sentence, held over her like the sword of Damocles. Immediately after the regatta she was to be banished to his remote estate in Scotland, a place far removed from any social life, and she was to remain there for an unspecified time to dwell upon the awfulness of her fate should he finally decide to publicly cast her off. It was a dreadful prospect for one who’d always reveled in the luxury and excitement of high society, and for Thea it was a particularly ironic sentence, for too late she was conscious of what she’d willfully thrown away when she turned Kit down. Now the scandal and downfall she’d dreaded so much then were looming ominously before her anyway, and without the prospect of riding out the storm with Kit at her side, for Louisa Cherington was his wife now, a fact upon which Rowe did not hesitate to cruelly play. It gave him savage satisfaction to see how afraid she was of his vengeance, and how bitter at her lover’s unexpected marriage. It also gave him pleasure to see how desperate she’d been when first he’d faced her with her unfaithfulness. She’d wept and begged him to forgive her, promising him eternal fidelity from now on, but he’d laughed coldly in her face, telling her that her fate would remain in the balance until he saw fit to decide.

The first houses of the town appeared ahead, and Thea gazed blindly at them, the parasol now twisting with a bravado she didn’t feel. Fleetingly her thoughts turned from herself to Kit. She knew that Rowe had something dreadful planned for the man who’d dared to make love to her, and that whatever it was was timed to take place very soon, but that was all she knew. She trembled inside, but already Kit had faded from her mind as she thought anew of her new future.

Rowe sat beside her, his face cold and set. His dark-green coat had been placed carefully around his shoulders, because his arm now hurt too much to put it on properly. His legs, encased in cream cord trousers, were stretched out on the seat opposite, and the tassels on his Hessian boots swung to and fro to the motion of the carriage. He’d pulled his top hat forward on his head, so that his face was in shadow, but the thin line of his mouth and the grim set of his jaw were only too plain to see. A pale light shone in his eyes as he contemplated the imminent extinction of Christopher, Lord Highclare; if all went as planned, within twenty-four hours his hated rival would be no more. It had to be twenty-four hours, his own weak physical condition dictated the timing. He needed a day to recover his strength after the rigors of sailing from London. A plague on Tom Cherington’s soul, for it was his fault that Highclare’s consignment to perdition must be put off for another day. The
Spindrift
and her accursed master had to be allowed a stay of execution before they met the same end as the
Mercury
and the
Eleanor
. He smiled as he thought of the
Eleanor
, for Grantham’s prized yacht was now at the bottom of Cowes Roads, having met with a strange accident in the misty dawn, and so the long-anticipated race would have to be abandoned. But the racing fraternity wouldn’t be denied a race, for the
Spindrift
was about to acquire a new challenger, one much more lethal than the
Eleanor
– the
Cyclops
.

The landau rattled down through the streets of Cowes, emerging at last onto the quay. The cobbled area was crowded, for every fashionable soul on the island had gathered for the race preparations. The Duke of Gloucester and Princess Sophia had deigned to put in an appearance before being taken out to their corvette, and were seated in an open carriage outside the Mermaid Inn, sipping the hostelry’s very finest coffee, brought deferentially out to them by the landlord himself.

Thea looked at the crowd and then glanced to where the two yachts should have been moored. The
Spindrift
was in her accustomed place, but of the
Eleanor
there wasn’t a sign. Thea’s brows drew together in puzzlement.

Rowe’s coachman had instructions to drive as close to the
Spindrift
as possible, and as he slowly maneuvered the restive team through the crowd, snatches of very strange conversation carried to Thea.

‘Damned peculiar show, eh?’ one gentleman was saying. ‘The whole damned Solent to choose from, and the damned wherryman has to barge into the
Eleanor
!’

‘She went down without a murmur, just her buoy left to show where she’d been.’

‘Grantham’s in a fine old stew; she cost him a small fortune.’

‘Sank like a stone, dear boy, but then those in the Highclare camp claim she sailed like one.’

‘The wherry’s master looks sick, as well he might; he’s just managed to dispatch one of England’s best yachts to Davy Jones’ locker! The fellow swears he doesn’t know how it happened; he says his vessel was made fast and couldn’t have slipped her moorings like that. But it happened, we’ve the
Eleanor
’s empty place to prove it.’

Thea listened with growing unease, for one glance at her husband’s face had been enough to tell her that he knew rather more about the mysterious loss of the
Eleanor
than anyone else on the quay. Her disquiet increased as the landau halted by the
Spindrift
and Rowe’s icy gaze was directed at Kit, who was on deck talking to Charles Pelham and a very agitated Lord Grantham.

The landau had come to a halt beside the Grantham barouche and Lady Grantham leaned across immediately to speak to Thea above the general buzz of excited conversation. ‘My dear, isn’t it all a terrible tragedy?’

‘What’s happened? Is the
Eleanor
… ?’

‘Sunk, my dear. Apparently she went down in less than a minute. A wretched wherry came adrift and collided with her.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Thea lamely, ‘how dreadful.’

Lady Grantham nodded, glancing at her husband. ‘Poor Thomas is quite cut up about it. He treasured that yacht, and he was so looking forward to taking Kit Highclare on.
Mais, c’est la vie, n’est-ce pas?
’

Thea gave a weak smile, glad of her veil. Her glance slid again to study her husband. He was lounging back on his seat, his good hand resting protectively over the wrist of his wounded arm, and in that split second she knew beyond a doubt that he was directly responsible for the loss of the
Eleanor
. But why had he done it? What possible purpose could such an act serve?

At that moment Charles Pelham became aware of the Rowe landau. He removed his hat and sketched a bow. Kit turned quickly, his shrewd glance taking in Thea’s veil before coming to rest on Rowe’s cold visage. He inclined his head briefly before returning his attention to the disconsolate Lord Grantham, who stood with his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

Rowe sat slowly forward, raising his voice so that he could be heard above the crowd. ‘Grantham, I gather the race is off.’

‘It is.’

‘An idiot with a wherry, I believe.’

‘Damn his eyes.’

Rowe tilted his hat back so that the glitter in his eyes was suddenly clearly visible as he looked at Kit. ‘Highclare, I don’t think these good people should be denied their race, so I’ve an interesting proposition to put to you.’

The words caused an immediate hush, and Kit turned, his glance suddenly much more guarded.

Rowe gave a chill smile. ‘I challenge you, Highclare. I’ll take you on tomorrow, when my arm has had a chance to recover a little. A race around the island, just as we did before.’

‘Correction, Rowe, just as
you
did before. I wasn’t racing you when you managed to put the
Mercury
on those rocks, you did it all by yourself.’

Rowe’s eyes flickered with intense dislike. ‘That’s your version. I prefer the truth. However, we digress. I’ve issued a challenge, Hichclare. Do you accept or not? I don’t think you can refuse, can you? We have so much to settle.’

Everyone assumed he was still referring to the
Mercury
, and perhaps to Tom Cherington’s untimely death, but Kit knew better. Suddenly he understood why Thea was wearing a veil; Rowe knew about their affair.

Rowe was looking inquiringly at him. ‘What do you say, Highclare? Do we have a race? Or are you too craven to take me on?’

Some gasps and a quiver of anticipation rippled through the crowd, and even the duke and princess sat forward eagerly.

Faced with such a challenge, there was little Kit could do but accept. His honor was at stake. He nodded. ‘We have a race, sir.’

A great cheer went up, for suddenly there was the certain prospect of a race much more exciting and hazardous than the one lost forever with the
Eleanor
.

Amid the noise, Kit stepped ashore and came over to the landau. ‘What are you up to, Rowe?’ he asked, his voice carrying to those in the carriage, but inaudible to everyone else because of the general hubbub.

Rowe was smoothly sure of himself. ‘Up to? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Highclare. I’ve merely done the spirited thing and challenged you to a race. Don’t tell me that after accepting so very publicly, you’ve had second thoughts and have turned coward.’

‘I haven’t had second thoughts, but I suggest that you do if you’ve any notion of trying anything underhand tomorrow.’

Rowe sat back, a taut smile curving his thin lips. ‘Tell me, where is your charming bride?’

‘I’m sure you don’t really want to know.’

‘On the contrary, I’m very interested. You see, if she’s out at Highclare, she’ll be receiving a visitor. Lawrence has ridden there just to see her, and I’m sure she’ll be delighted. But, then, you know all about that, don’t you?’ Rowe rapped his cane on the floor of the landau. ‘Drive on.’

The landau pulled away, and Thea didn’t dare look back at Kit, although she longed to. She wanted him, but she wanted her high-society life of luxury and plenty still more, and she’d do all that was necessary to keep her place at Rowe’s side.

Kit remained where he was on the quay. His eyes were dark and angry. If he returned to Highclare now, would he find Louisa in Lawrence’s arms?