Fated Folly (12 page)

‘
Rupert,' she said, biting her lip, ‘there is something I want—I must tell you.'

Rupert evidently read the apprehension in her face, for he came around the desk. ‘Is it so dreadful?' He took her hand and kissed it, retaining his hold on her fingers as he perched on the desk behind him. ‘You look scared to death, minx. Are you afraid you are going to turn me into an ogre?'

‘
Yes,' Clare said frankly, her fingers curling gratefully about his hand, ‘but not on my own account. This concerns Pippa.'

Just as she had feared, the thundercloud descended rapidly onto his face as she relayed her sister-in-law's news. Count? He had drawn his conclusions within seconds. He had very soon disengaged his hand from hers, and retired to stand by the window, looking out at the terraced lawns that led down to the forest abutting his land.

Clare remained by the desk, waiting in silence for the explosion that did not come. She wished now that she had merely stated the bare fact of Pippa's interesting situation. But Blanche Dearham had advised complete honesty.

‘
If you allow him to suppose there is nothing amiss, my dear, when the babe is born he is bound to question its timing. Then must he be angry indeed, and not only with Pippa.'

‘
What do you mean?' Clare had asked, startled, her heart beating fast with sudden fear.

Mrs Dearham had taken her hand and squeezed it. ‘Easier to bear Rupert's anger now, which must be wholly directed against the guilty parties, than for him to suppose later that you, who must know the truth, had deliberately deceived him.'

‘
Oh no. He could not suppose—'

‘
Give him no reason to suppose it. If I know Rupert, he would be both angry and hurt by what you might regard as sparing his feelings, whereas he would regard it as a betrayal.'

It hurt Clare deeply, in spite of the near allaying of her suspicions, that Blanche Dearham had so intimate a knowledge of Rupert as to be so certain of his probable reaction. But to risk her being wrong was too dangerous. She resolved to tell Rupert the whole.

Now, however, she was not so certain that she had done the right thing.

‘
Are you very angry?'

He turned, and the look on his face made her recoil. ‘I am not merely angry, Clare. I am livid.' The words were grated, almost through his teeth. ‘How she could—how she dared! And he! My God, he may count himself fortunate that I did not know. I'd have followed them all the way to Gretna and thrashed him. I may still do so.'

Clare began to feel sick. She had never in her sheltered—even pampered—life faced anyone so enraged. Sir Rupert Wolverley was white to the lips, his eyes glittering, his voice molten fury.

‘
My God, but I would not have dreamed... Lost to all sense of shame! My own niece!' He began to stride to and fro before the windows, evidently oblivious to any other presence in the room. ‘If I had caught them, what then? Used that circumstance to force my hand, I suppose. The damned little fool. No better than a strumpet!'

Involuntarily, Clare flinched, as if she was the recipient of that dreadful insult. She felt her knees almost give way beneath her, and nausea threatened to overcome her. She was trembling, her arms shaking as she pushed down hard on the wood surface of the desk, swallowing painfully as she watched him, rage spitting in uncouth curses from his lips.

Heavens, was this the same man? Could this—yes, this
ogre
—be her own gentle, teasing Rupert? But an innate knowledge made her see that it was, for had it not simmered below the surface that day—the day that had so dramatically altered her life—the power in him that had drawn her like a magnet? The power that had now exploded in so menacing a fashion. But not, thank God, directed at her.

Was this why Justin had been so afraid? Why Pippa had trembled? And poor Berinthia Flimwell, who had been so crushed, was this what she had faced? Heavens, why should it affect him so? Out of all proportion to the event. To what dreadful scene of retribution had she condemned her brother and his wife? They had been wrong, yes, but they did not deserve this. She could not let it happen. She must deflect the white heat of Rupert's rage. Somehow make him see that it was misplaced.

Drawing a deep breath, she fought down the sickness and pushed herself away from the desk. Hardly able to stand, never mind walk, she yet forced her unwilling feet to cross some of the space that separated them. But she could not approach too closely.

‘
Rupert,' she said quietly.

He stopped in mid-stride, his gaze jerking to meet hers. He truly had forgotten she was there!

‘
Rupert,' she said again, before she could lose her nerve, ‘they did not elope for that reason. It—it was not as bad as that.'

The eyes were still glaring, the green so intensified as to drown out the hazel, and he was breathing hard. ‘Don't try to mitigate it, Clare,' he said in a low, vibrant voice.

‘
But I must,' she uttered desperately. ‘Pippa swore to me that it was only on the way to Gretna.'

‘
And you believed her? Don't be such a fool!'

‘
I do believe her,' Clare insisted. ‘And you might give her the benefit of the doubt, even if you don't.'

‘
What does it matter when it was?'

‘
Well, but—'

‘
On the way to Gretna,' he repeated, adding with blighting sarcasm, ‘And they gave in to their overwhelming passion. My God, had they so little control?'

Clare's lip trembled, and her body was still shaking, but she stammered bravely, ‘Anger is—is also a passion, Rupert. And—and you have at this moment very little control.'

For an instant his eyes flared and Clare's heart missed a beat. But she stood her ground, meeting the heat of his fierce gaze without flinching.

Then, so abruptly that it made her jump, he let out a short bark of laughter, followed by a long, shuddering sigh. His eyes dropped from hers, and he strode away to one of the windows again. One hand slammed hard against the panelled wall to one side, and he stood rigid, his back to her.

The anxious pumping of Clare's heart began to subside. She watched Rupert for a moment, undecided. She had succeeded, she knew. He was over the worst of it. But perhaps he wanted—needed—to be alone now. Only she did not want to go with this Rupert—this odious stranger—left as the image in her mind.

She waited a moment, but he did not speak or move. Oh, God, but it was unbearable to be in the same room with him! Clare's eyes pricked and tears began to well. Turning, she made for the door.

‘
Clare!
'

His voice ripped across the space between them. Hasty footsteps came after her, and she stopped as he reached her, seizing her shoulders and turning her about.

Clare looked up at him, and his face softened as he lifted a hand and teased away a tear from her cheek.

‘
Oh, Clare,' he uttered in a voice of deep regret, and pulled her to him, enfolding her close, one hand cradling her head against his shoulder.

‘
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,' he murmured into her hair.

It was unprecedented to be in his arms, but Clare did not think of that. Instinct took over and drawing a sobbing breath, she cuddled into him, her own arms creeping up about his back. She felt him hug her tighter in response, and her heart began to race.

But in a moment, he loosened his hold and drew back a little, disengaging one of his arms so that he might tip her face up with his hand. He drew his thumb gently across the remaining wetness under her eyes.

‘
After I tried so hard not to be an ogre with you,' he said in mournful tones. ‘All ruined in one fateful instant.'

A watery chuckle escaped Clare, and the mischief leapt up. ‘You are quite blown, sir. I shall never believe you again.'

‘
I don't blame you,' he returned, his smile awry. Then he found her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, closing his eyes as he kissed them, hard. In a voice of near anguish, he said, ‘Thank God! I thought I had extinguished that adorable mischievous look in your eyes forever.'

Clare met his glance, hardly aware any longer of a time when they had not been this close. She was able to say quite naturally, ‘You did frighten me.'

‘
I know. And you were right.' He released her then, and Clare felt instantly bereft. ‘I—don't know,' he went on with evident difficulty, ‘why I became so angry. It was not—justified. You do know, don't you, that it was none of it directed at you?'

Clare grimaced. ‘I would not have been able to say anything at all had it been directed at me.' She added, on a note of foreboding, ‘I hope to God I never do anything to make you as angry as that.'

‘
I don't think you could, Clare.' He grinned. ‘And if ever I treat you to another such display, there will be nothing for it but to put a gun to my head.'

‘
There will be no need for that,' Clare retorted. ‘I shall shoot you myself.'

He laughed, and reached out to stroke her face. ‘Remind me to show you where I keep my pistols.' Then he sighed a little. ‘I suppose I had better go and find Pippa.'

‘
Yes, I think you should—great-uncle!'

His eye kindled with mock menace. ‘Now that, minx, is an epithet I never want to hear on your lips.'

‘
Oh, but I was just beginning to think of you as middle-aged,' Clare said naughtily, quizzing him.

‘
Clare,' he said bodingly.

‘
And then, you know,' she went on, retiring strategically to the other side of the desk, ‘I may readily cajole you into doing what you may not wish to do.'

His lips twitched. ‘You know perfectly well you have no need of cajolery for that.' He began to follow her around the desk. ‘But if you imagine you may in future address me as “great-uncle” with impunity, you very much mistake the matter.'

Clare giggled, backing away towards the windows. ‘We shall see.'

‘
You shall see, madam minx, and I guarantee—'

He broke off as a knock at the door interrupted them.

‘
I am saved!'

‘
A reprieve merely,' said Rupert, and called out, ‘Come in!'

Brookland entered, bringing news of dubious acceptance. ‘Lord Ashendon has called, sir. Mr Christian is with him.'

***

 

Christian Wolverley, true to family tradition, was a tall young man, but too thin, Clare decided. Moreoever, he had a sulky mouth and his brown hair was a trifle lank. He was dressed with care, however, she conceded, very neat in a slightly foreign-looking frogged purple coat over buckskins and boots with tassels. He was almost of an age with his cousin Ashendon, and they appeared to be on good terms. Rupert said he had run tame at the Manor for years, which suggested the cousins must be well acquainted.

From Rupert's perspective they were not particular friends, and Ashendon's motives were, to him, automatically suspect. There had been an uneasy truce—after he had given the boy the trimming of his life—until the wedding. But this was the first they had seen of him since.

‘
You should have sent me word that you had leave, Christian,' he said, pouring wine for them all. ‘Pippa and her husband are staying. But there is plenty of room. Is there not, my love?'

Clare forced a smile as he glanced across at her. She wished he would not use that endearment. It was a mockery. Obviously he wished her to play a part for Christian's sake.

‘
Oh, certainly. We could house an army.'

‘
It is very good of you, Lady Wolverley,' Christian said stiffly, ‘but—'

‘
My dear Lady Wolverley,' interrupted Ashendon smoothly, coming to stand by her chair, ‘how could you suppose Christian would wish to intrude upon you at such a time? Why, you are barely beyond the honeymoon stage.'

Clare flashed him a killing look, but before she could retort, Rupert intervened, casting her a glance of warning.

‘
Very considerate, Christian. We are indebted to you.'

Oh well, if he wanted her to play out this farce, so be it. Readily could she strangle Ashendon!

‘
Are you staying at the Grange then, Mr Wolverley?' she enquired politely.

Christian nodded. ‘Ash invited me. We—er—met in Brighton. I have only a short holiday, you see.'

‘
Oh yes, you are in the diplomatic service, are you not?'

‘
Family tradition,' put in Rupert, handing him a glass. ‘It was either that or the Army. And with this war with France, that was scarcely an option we could contemplate.'

‘
No, indeed,' Ashendon agreed, taking snuff with all his usual air of calm, but Clare noted his eyes challenge Rupert. ‘Far too dangerous an occupation for your heir.'

‘
Precisely,' Rupert agreed, to all appearances quite unruffled, but meeting the other's gaze.

Clare looked at both with some misgiving. For heaven's sake! All this veiled hostility. That day she had been so occupied it had passed her by. But it had been there. What was it all about? She summoned the sparkling charm that served her well and addressed Christian.