Regency Innocents (54 page)

‘I?' Deborah had been startled when he had asked for her input. She had assumed he would just do as he pleased, and ride roughshod over any objections she might raise.

‘Yes, you. It will be your home too. And don't forget, money is no longer an object. Miss Lampton left me an enormous fortune.' Then he frowned, remembering they had still not discussed anything that really mattered. Whenever they had been alone, talking had been the last thing on either of their minds. He had no more idea of what went on behind those languorous brown eyes than he had on their wedding day. She had fascinated him,
dazzled and distracted him with her eagerness to participate in lovemaking. Physically, yes, they were as intimate as it was possible for two people to be.

But he did not really know her.

‘My wealth exists in the form of shares in various enterprises. You may reside at as fashionable an address as you wish.'

‘I … I had not given it any thought,' she admitted.

Robert had scowled at her, as though her remark displeased him. But all he had said was, ‘Perhaps we should get an agent to scout about for us and let us know what is on the market before making any decisions.'

‘Very well.'

‘And in the meantime, you will open accounts at dressmakers, milliners and so forth. Lady Walton will be only too pleased to guide you, I dare say. She always looks bang up to the knocker.'

And I do not
, she thought, battling yet another wave of hurt. He had told her once before that he wanted her to look fashionable. Like Lady Walton. His dear friend, she thought, her lips compressing in irritation. The woman he had confided so much in, when he did not trust her as far as he could throw her. He did not even trust her enough to purchase her own clothes. He wanted another woman to watch over her, and make sure she did not go about looking like a provincial dowdy any more.

An impressive-looking footman, in blue-and-silver livery, bowed them into the house when Linney knocked on the door. Robert just stalked across the hall, opened an inner door, and said, over his shoulder, ‘If you have any complaints about the accommodations, I don't want
to hear them. We will only be here until you choose our new address.' With that, he just disappeared through the doorway, leaving her floundering in the hall.

To her surprise, it was Linney who came to her rescue.

‘Don't pay no attention, madam. He's always like this when his leg's giving him pain. And long journeys in a carriage near always jolt him up. I hope one of the first things you will persuade him to buy, now he's got so much money, is a really well-sprung coach. So he won't go hiring no more of them bone-rattlers no more.'

‘Thank you, Linney,' she said, though she did not know why on earth he would think she might have any influence over her irascible spouse.

She trailed across the hall, pausing on the threshold to her husband's domain to see why he should think she might not like the rooms.

She was looking at a sitting room. A very masculine room, she had to admit, with large, leather sofas and chairs dotted about a floor that had not seen polish for some time. Robert was sprawled upon one of the sofas that flanked an empty fireplace, a crystal tumbler of spirits already clutched in his hand, leading her to suppose that Linney's assumption had been correct.

‘Through here is the bedroom, madam,' Linney said, opening a door to the right of the fireplace. She peeped inside. Again, it was a very masculine room, with a solid-looking oak bed, heavy furniture and bare floorboards throughout. The washstand, she noted with some misgiving, was placed beside the wardrobe. She would have no privacy, unless she evicted her husband from his own bed every morning. The logistics, as Robert had
once put it, would be somewhat tricky. There was a truckle bed just protruding from under the main bed, upon which she guessed Linney had used to sleep. Eyeing it, he leaned towards her, murmuring, ‘I will move to rooms along with the rest of the staff here, madam. He won't be needing me the same, not now he's got you. And if he gets into any difficulties, you will only have to ring, and I can be down here in a trice.

‘This here is the door that leads to the mews,' he continued, in a louder voice, indicating a door tucked into a far corner of the sitting room.

‘My wife will use the front door of Walton House, not skulk in at the back as though she were some kind of miscreant,' Robert growled from the sofa.

‘Do many miscreants come in at the back, then?' she asked, taking a seat on the sofa opposite her husband and pulling off her gloves. If she did not manage to lighten the atmosphere, she was afraid she might burst into tears.

‘One or two,' he growled, draining the glass and letting his head fall against the sofa back, though he kept his eyes fixed on her.

‘What a very interesting life you must have led before you married me. I hope I am not cramping your style?'

‘We had best keep that door locked, now you are in residence,' he said, ignoring her attempt at humour. ‘All the miscreants I know must come in through the front door, from now on. See to it, Linney, would you?'

She untied her bonnet, and laid it upon the cushion beside her.

‘May I fetch you some refreshment?' said Linney.

While Linney played the host, her husband simply lay there glaring at her.

‘Thank you. What is there?'

‘Only strong liquor or ale down here. But I dare say that, if I was to ask, Lord Walton's staff could rustle you up some tea and such.'

‘Thank you, Linney. That would be welcome.'

With a nod, and an affable smile, the manservant left the room.

She fiddled with the ribbons of her bonnet, wondering if there was any topic she might safely broach without getting her head bitten off.

‘Well?' he snapped. ‘Can you live in two rooms that have been set up for the purpose of making life easy for a cripple?'

And then it hit her why the floorboards were bare, and unpolished. No rugs, or slippery surfaces to trip him while he had been learning to walk first with a crutch, and, later, his false leg. No need to climb the front steps, should he wish to go out. The way to the mews was probably all on a level. No little tables, that he might bump into in here, either, she noticed for the first time. Only a sturdy desk, under the window, with two upright chairs beside it that informed her it doubled as a dining table. She remembered the handrail beside the bed, where she would have expected a night table to stand. The extra-broad steps placed to make it easy to get into, and out of, that bed. Nothing in itself had been remarkable enough to draw notice, but, put together, they clearly spoke of his disability. And he hated her seeing it.

‘It looks like any other set of bachelor's rooms, I
would imagine,' she said, with a slight shrug. ‘Why should I object to any of it? After all …' she shot him a look from under her lashes ‘… I never heard you complain about all those feminine frills that dominated the decorations at The Dovecote.'

‘Hmm,' he said, looking at her through narrowed eyes. ‘You have a knack of making the best of things, haven't you?' His lips twisted into a sneer. ‘You would no doubt have resorted to quoting some uplifting portion of scripture to get you through the days if you had become a teacher.'

She flinched at the bitterness in his tone. And felt heartily relieved when Linney returned, saving her the necessity of having to make any reply.

‘Lady Walton has heard you have returned, and wonders if you would like to take refreshments in her sitting room? She wants to discuss the ball.'

‘Ball?' said Deborah.

‘Hell and damnation!' said Robert. ‘I had forgotten all about the wretched ball.' Sitting up, he wearily rubbed his hand across his face. How could he have forgotten the ball he had arranged to hold here, in Walton House? It had all been part of his plan to flaunt his victory in Percy Lampton's face. And his brother had been equally as keen to do his part.

‘It will be a public demonstration of our family solidarity,' Charles had said. A way of silencing the disgraceful rumours regarding your birth once and for all. Though how they got away with it for so long beats me. Anyone who has ever been in the portrait gallery at Wycke would see at once you are more of a Fawley than I am!'

‘I suspect the circumstances surrounding my marriage will cause far more gossip than will be silenced by one ball,' he had countered.

The Earl had smiled coldly. ‘But it will serve to separate the sheep from the goats.'

Society would be polarised between those who wished to retain the Earl's good graces, and those who supported the Lamptons. Lord Lensborough would stand buff, he was sure, and he was not without influence. His presence would assure his and his wife's acceptance amongst his own coterie. His true friends, comrades from his regiment, would stick by him no matter what. And as for what the rest of society thought, well, he did not give a rap! The Lamptons would no doubt spread tales of him being a usurper, who had gained his fortune by deceit and trickery. But he was used to their malice. So far as they were concerned, he had always been the cuckoo in the nest.

He had been looking forward to launching himself into the polite society that had always excluded him, thanks to the Lamptons' lies. Yet one night in Deborah's bed had put all thought of it clean out of his head.

He glared at her. ‘The ball to celebrate our marriage is to be held two weeks' Friday. You had better go and find out what arrangements Lady Walton has made. And offer what belated help you can. She should not have to do all the work, not in her condition.'

She felt a peculiar shrinking sensation in her stomach. He was chastising her for not organising a ball she'd had no idea was being held.

‘Well, get on with it!' Robert barked, when she had
sat frozen on the sofa staring at him in silence for several seconds. ‘But don't expect tea up there. Heloise won't touch the stuff.'

‘Are you not coming?'

‘Absolutely not!' What did he know about arranging a ball? It was women's business. They would enjoy it, no doubt—women seemed to. And it would be a good opportunity for Deborah to get to know Heloise better. The countess had few close friends, but she had already taken to his wife, for some reason that eluded him.

‘All I want is my bed. And some peace.' He needed to remove his false leg. He had been wearing it for longer and longer periods, and it was chafing almost unbearably. This was the price he had to pay for indulging in vanity. He had not wanted his wife to see him hobbling about the place on his crutches. And he had left off having Linney in each night, to rub on the ointment that might have soothed the stump, because Deborah did not like having a servant intrude in their bedroom.

Rather stiffly, Deborah got to her feet and stumbled to the door. He wanted some peace. In other words, she was irritating him. This was why he had suddenly decided to come back to London. Not only was he was tired of the dalliance, but he wanted his life to go back to the way it had been. He could not have told her more clearly that, if it had not been for the inheritance, he would as soon have not married her at all.

S
usannah had been quite right. The Countess of Walton was a useful person to know. Modistes, milliners, haberdashers—they all fell over themselves to serve such an exalted personage. Even with the Season being in full swing, and all the best dressmakers working flat out to meet the demands of their fashionable customers, they assured the Countess that her friend would have a fabulous creation ready in time for her ball.

The Countess picked out an underskirt of pink. Since it suited Deborah's dark colouring, she saw no sense in raising any objections, especially since she was sure that, had she come alone, this particular modiste would have shown her the door. She did demur over the level of the neckline, but both the modiste and the Countess insisted she would not look fashionable if she had an extra inch of lace added to preserve her modesty. Since Robert had stipulated he wanted her to look fashionable, she ended up agreeing to purchase a garment that she felt was little more than a strip of ribbon bound round
her nipples, from which quantities of spangled gauze cascaded as insubstantially as a waterfall.

While the seamstresses set to work on it, Robert accepted an invitation to an informal card party at the house of one Captain Samuels, and an evening at the opera with the Earl and Countess.

‘My friends won't care what you look like,' he bluntly informed her. ‘So it won't matter if none of your new gowns are ready. And I thought that sparkly thing you had on at Lensborough's ball would do nicely for the opera. Just be sure to get a cloak to wear over it. That should not be too difficult, should it?'

‘Not at all,' she had replied, baring her teeth in a polite smile. Not even a clueless, provincial vicar's daughter could fail to get her hands on an opera cloak with two full days' warning. She could borrow Susannah's, at a pinch.