Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (50 page)

Flushing deeply, he cleared his throat harshly and said, “There was such a letter, certainly. Upon the death of the late Earl of St. Merryn, I required to know my brother’s whereabouts, but I regret to say that I have never received an answer.”

Wellington said evenly, “That letter was forwarded to me for reasons that need not concern you, sir, but as you must have deduced by now, I was unable then to provide you with accurate details of your brother’s whereabouts. You must have been delighted to learn for yourself, however, that he is very much alive.”

Alfred’s start of astonishment and the amazed look he shot at Antony were, in Charley’s opinion, much too contrived to have been genuine, and his voice sounded strained when he said, “Good God, sir, are you telling me this fellow really is who he says he is? I must tell you that, receiving no reply from the War Office, I assumed my brother was unknown to them and had left no record. As to this man’s claim that he was heir to Tuscombe Park, when I realized just moments ago that he has been acting as your agent, I’m afraid I assumed that claim was a mere pretense to create an identity that would allow him to remain in Cornwall without drawing suspicion.”

The Duke did not hide his disbelief. “Good God, sir, would you pretend you never recognized your own brother?”

“I-I’ve not seen him since I was a child,” Alfred stammered.

“Surely you knew of his service to England,” Harry Livingston snapped.

“How could I?”

“Because,” the Duke said, glancing now at Mr. Livingston, “I made it a point to write to your father when Tony was granted his baronetcy, to tell him of the services your brother had performed. I was circumspect—had to be, of course. At least, I thought I had been,” he added with a more piercing look at Harry, who avoided that sharp gaze this time. “Nonetheless, I did make certain he knew that Tony had served England magnificently, hoping he might see his way clear to forgiving him.”

“D-did you, sir?”

“I did, and I tell you to your face, young man, I don’t believe for a moment that your father would have thrown my letter away. I believe you read it.”

When Alfred did not reply, Harry Livingston said acidly, “I can prove that he did. I shall say no more at present, because it is not necessary to make a gift of the details to the world. However, in light of the use to which he put his information, he certainly deserves to hear
much
more. If Tony hasn’t figured out your part in this for himself, Mr. Tarrant, you may be sure that I shall explain it to him before I depart.”

Alfred looked sick, and Charley saw that Mr. Livingston still avoided Wellington’s shrewd gaze. No one said a word. As she glanced toward Antony, Medrose said with his usual stately calm, “Shall I serve the pudding now, madam?”

Edythe opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, Antony said, “Bring our port now instead, Medrose. The ladies can take their pudding in the drawing room if they like, but His Grace must leave within the hour if he is to catch the tide.”

“Very good, my lord. Jago, her ladyship’s chair, if you please.”

Lady St. Merryn gave a little cry of joy and clapped her hands together, for once having no recourse to her vinaigrette. “Oh, how delightful! Ethelinda, did you hear?”

Not until Jago stepped up to hold Charley’s chair did the full meaning of what had just happened strike her. But when the footman moved to assist her, she realized that not only was Antony the rightful Earl of St. Merryn but she was his rightful countess.

A
N OVERALL FEELING OF
constraint kept even Lady Ophelia silent when the women retired to the drawing room. In the face of Edythe’s bleak expression, and Elizabeth’s evident distress, the next half hour passed with agonizing slowness in monosyllabic attempts at conversation. The gentlemen made a brief appearance then, but only to take their leave and announce that Rockland and Antony would ride to Fowey to see the Duke off. Briefly fearing that Antony had changed his mind and would return to London with Wellington, Charley nearly leapt to her feet to stop him before he caught her gaze and smiled reassuringly. Edythe had looked up swiftly when the gentlemen entered, but Alfred was not with them.

When the men had gone, Miss Davies began to gather Lady St. Merryn’s belongings, and Lady Ophelia said, “I believe I will go upstairs with you. This room is too drafty for my old bones tonight.”

At once, Charley moved to help her grandmother rise from her sofa, saying, “Letty, dear, we should go upstairs, too, I think.”

Neither Elizabeth nor Edythe objected to the mass departure.

“Poor things,” Miss Davies said sympathetically when the doors were safely shut behind them.

“Don’t be a ninnyhammer, Ethelinda,” Lady Ophelia snapped. “Edythe Tarrant and that detestable husband of hers tried to steal young Antony’s inheritance.”

“I did think that’s what it all meant,” Letty said thoughtfully, reminding the others of her presence. “Sir Antony is just who he said he was all along, is he not? When no one said exactly that in the drawing room, I didn’t quite like to inquire.”

“Sensible of you,” Lady Ophelia said bluntly.

Lady St. Merryn said in a stronger voice than anyone had heard her use in a long time, “I should call the child’s behavior tactful, myself, but one really cannot blame Edythe, you know. She never knew Antony Tarrant at all. And poor Elizabeth was only a baby when he went away to school. You should be pleased, ma’am,” she added, smiling at the old lady. “The villains of this extraordinary play are all men.”

“Not quite all of them, Grandmama,” Charley said quietly as Lady Ophelia snorted. “Angelique Peryllys is no angel. If she did not contribute to Annie Gabriel’s death, she certainly knew the manner of it and did nothing to prevent or report it, and she never did a thing to protect the other girls who worked in her shop.”

“I never thought her gowns became you as well as your London ones, dear,” Lady St. Merryn said complacently, adding in a matter-of-fact way, “I collect that you are not going back to Seacourt Head tonight.”

“No, ma’am. I must wait to see what Antony means to do next, but in any case, we had planned to stay tonight, so Mrs. Medrose prepared my old room for me. I am going to put Letty to bed now, but then I will come to your sitting room, if you like.”

“Yes, do,” Lady St. Merryn said cordially. “Such an extraordinary business, and we still have much to talk about. You do mean to come, too, don’t you, Aunt Ophelia?”

“Certainly,” the old lady said, using her cane to steady herself on the stairs. “Nothing like a bout of tearing other people’s characters to shreds to provide one with an amusing evening.”

Charley left them at the landing, but by the time she got Letty settled and joined them in Lady St. Merryn’s sitting room, she found that her grandmother had changed her mind. A smiling Jago was setting up a card table, apparently for whist. Amazed, Charley glanced at Lady Ophelia.

The old lady shrugged. “I don’t mind. I daresay you won’t.”

“Of course, she won’t mind,” Lady St. Merryn said tartly. “Don’t put my salts bottle there on the table, Ethelinda. I shan’t need it, and it will only get in my way.”

They played one rubber, but then Lady Ophelia declared herself too old to stay up so late playing for mere chicken stakes, and announced her intention to retire.

Charley said, “I’d better go, too, I expect. Antony will be home soon.”

“Not if I know men,” Lady Ophelia said. “Even if they got there in an hour and the boat sailed at once, which I doubt, your Antony and that Rockland will have stopped at an inn for something to wet their whistles before returning.”

“Antony said they would come straight back,” Charley said, smiling.

“Well,” Lady Ophelia said, picking up her stick, “I’ve always said the only man a woman can trust is a dead one, but I’ll have to admit your Antony shows more promise than most. You may walk with me, my dear.”

Bidding the others good-night, they strolled slowly along the corridor toward Lady Ophelia’s bedchamber. Abruptly, the old woman said, “Rockland did you a greater service than he knew, did he not?”

“How much, exactly, do you know about what happened, ma’am?” Charley asked, not certain how else to reply to such a statement.

“Rockland told me, when he collected me, that he had played you a trick but that everything would come right in the end, and I know he meant to marry you properly once he’d taught you a lesson. Had to tell me that much, of course, but then you stayed married to Sir Antony.”

“It seemed the best thing to do at the time,” Charley said.

“Good gracious, child, I’ve known you all your life and been closer to you than most. I must suppose you knew what you were doing.”

“I agreed to stay married to him only because of his duty to Wellington and his need for a plausible reason to remain in Cornwall. And I only agreed under certain … certain conditions.” She avoided the old lady’s eye, reaching past her to open the door to the bedchamber for her.

Lady Ophelia paused on the threshold. “I won’t ask what those conditions were or if he met them,” she said mildly. “I don’t think those things matter now. He had his excuse to remain in Cornwall all along, did he not?”

“He means to get the marriage annulled now,” Charley said, barely able to get the words out. “I insisted upon it, you see. Now, even if I say I have changed my mind, he’s given me no cause to think he has changed his. In any case, he will think—” She broke off, unable to finish.

“He will think you want to stay married now because it is the only way you can remain Countess of St. Merryn. Is that it?”

Her throat aching, Charley nodded. Tears welled into her eyes.

“You’re a fool, child, and if he don’t see that, he’s a fool as well.” Lady Ophelia stepped into her room. “Go to bed,” she said. “I won’t tell you what to do. I shall leave that to your husband.”

Walking slowly to her bedchamber, Charley knew that she had told at least one untruth to the old lady. She did have some cause to believe Antony cared for her. She had known that much since the night before when he had shaken her. A man who rarely allowed others to touch his emotions did not react violently simply because he believed a woman had put herself in danger. Antony did care, but whether he knew that himself, or cared enough, was more than she could guess.

Kerra was waiting for her.

“Has Sir Antony returned?” Charley asked.

“No, my lady, but he told Hodson to make up a bed for him in that little chamber at the end of the corridor by the servants’ stair, so he won’t disturb you when he does.”

Tempted though she was to await his return, Charley knew that he and Rockland might well be several hours yet, so she went to bed. And although she expected to lie awake, plagued by thoughts and memories, she soon fell asleep.

When Antony and Rockland returned an hour later to find that but for a few servants the rest of the house had retired, Rockland suggested a drink in the library.

“Thanks all the same,” Antony said, “but I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Had a surfeit of my company, have you?”

“I’m glad you went with me,” Antony replied honestly. “I could not let Wellington go without discussing with him what I mean to do next, and it has been a long day. Without your company, I’m likely to have fallen asleep in the saddle. Yet again I owe you my gratitude, Rockland.”

“Again, eh? I take it that you have seen the light then, and wish you luck. You will need it.”

“I’m not certain we’re speaking of the same thing,” Antony said, “but I don’t deny that I can use some of that luck. Good night.”

Upstairs, he looked into Charley’s room and when the light from his candle fell across her face, he saw that she was asleep. He longed to climb into bed with her, but he dared not do so, for he had done much thinking, despite Rockland’s cheerful chatter, and had come to a difficult decision. He loved her too much to insist that she stay married to him. If it meant lying to the bishop, he would do it to set her free. He was glad she was asleep, but decided to settle the business first thing in the morning.

Since he neglected to tell Hodson to wake him at his usual time, he overslept, and by the time he scrambled into his clothes and got to Charley’s room, she was nearly dressed. His first view was her reflection in the looking glass, and he thought her eyes lighted up when she saw him, but when she turned around, she raised her eyebrows at the sight of his shirtsleeves and wool breeches.

“Forgive my appearance,” he said from the threshold. “I didn’t wait for Hodson but grabbed the first thing that came to hand, in order to catch you before you went downstairs. You may leave us, Kerra.”

“Just a moment, Kerra,” Charley said. “She has not finished doing my hair, sir.”

“Wear it down, or she can come back later. I want to talk to you.”

A flush tinged her cheeks, but she did not look angry. Turning back to her dressing table, and watching him in the mirror again, she said provocatively, “I don’t want to wear it down. Do it up the usual way, Kerra. Kerra!”

But the maid, (wisely, in Antony’s opinion) bobbed a curtsy and fled.

Glaring, Charley said, “I don’t like it when you give orders to
my
maid.”

“Do you think you can put your displeasure aside for just one moment and attend to me?”

“What is it?” She looked at him with sudden concern. “Did something else happen? Letty! Has she—”

“Letty is fine. Jeremiah is fine. As far as I know, everyone is fine.” A glance showed him that the door had not latched behind Kerra. He shut it, watching Charley. She had turned to face him, but the flush in her cheeks was gone. She seemed pale. He said gently, “In fact, angel, the time has come to conclude our bargain.”

“So you really mean to have it annulled?”

Dared he think she was dismayed by the thought of parting? He hoped she was. He did not think he could bear it if she were not. He said bleakly, “I cannot ask you to remain married to a man whom all society shuns.”

“That’s just as well,” she said, glaring at him again, “because I would be most uncomfortable being married to such a man.”