The Player (Rockliffe Book 3) (2 page)

When his silence had lasted long enough to become
awkward, her ladyship said brusquely, ‘This is foolish.
 
I have no wish to argue with you when there
are more important matters to discuss – so you had better sit down and I’ll
ring for tea.’

He didn’t want to sit down and he hated tea. Given
the choice, he’d have preferred to be elsewhere.
 
But, since that wasn’t an option, he took the
chair she indicated, crossed one booted leg over the other and said, ‘Tell me
about Ben.
 
I was told it was a riding
accident.
 
Is that true?’

She nodded, staring down on her fingers as they
smoothed the impeccable folds of her black moir
é
gown.
 
‘His
mare stepped in a rabbit-hole or some such thing and Benedict was thrown.
 
It would have been all right … it would have
been
nothing
… except that he hit his
head on a rock.
 
He was dead before they
brought him home.’
 
She looked up, her
gaze angry. ‘He was to have been married next week.
 
I would have had a daughter-in-law and, in
time, grand-children.
 
Instead of which I
have a hatchment on the door and a new grave to visit.
 
One would think that, under the
circumstances, God might recognise that I already have enough to endure – but
apparently not.’

Well done,
Mother.
 
Just another cross to bear, am
I?

‘I’d hoped my reappearance might be more of a
blessing than a curse.
 
If it isn’t, you
have only to say.
 
No one of any
consequence knows I’m in England so returning whence I came won’t be very
difficult.’

‘Since your intonation sounds French, I needn’t
ask from whence you
have
come.’

French
intonation?
 
I’d better mend that.

‘Quite.’
 
He
looked at her, his pale grey gaze unreadable. ‘Is it completely beyond you to
admit that my arrival is fortuitous?
 
That you’d rather I stay than go?’

‘It’s necessary for me to state the obvious?’
 

‘No.
 
But it
would be nice, just this once, to hear you admit that you need me.’

‘The
earldom
needs you.
 
As for myself … I don’t know
you.’

‘True.’
 
His
smile was slow and not particularly pleasant.
 
‘But whose fault is that?’

‘Not mine, Eastry.
 
It was --’

‘I believe I asked you to call me either Sarre or Adrian.
 
Perhaps you might strive to remember it.’

Her ladyship’s expression grew positively arctic.

‘Why Adrian?
 
Your first given name is Francis.’

‘Since you never used it, I’m surprised you
remember.’
 
Only one person ever called me that and the last time she did so was
when she was falling to her death
.
 
‘I prefer Adrian.
 
That or my
correct title.’

‘Adrian, then.
 
To me, Sarre is still your father.’

‘Doubtless his lordship would find that wholly
appropriate,’ he murmured sardonically.

His mother surged to her feet and then sat back
down in a hurry as the butler arrived with a laden tea-tray.
 
‘Thank you, Seldon.
 
Set it down over there and then leave us.’

Seldon bowed and left the room as silently as he’d
entered it.
 
The second the door closed
behind him, her ladyship said, ‘You will speak of your father with respect.’

‘I see little need to speak of him at all,
Madam.
 
But let us be clear on one
thing.
 
The current financial status of
this family is attributable to my grandfather’s love of the gaming table and my
father’s inability to recognise good investments from bad.
 
It would be comforting to think that, during
his brief tenure, Benedict managed rather better – but, since he had little to
work with, I don’t hold out much hope for it.’

‘Now I see.’
 
His mother finished pouring tea and held the cup out to him.
 
‘You want money.’

Sarre accepted the cup and immediately set it to one
side.

‘A very banal assumption – and, as it happens, incorrect.
 
Also, you appear to have forgotten that all
the resources of the earldom, such as they are, are at my disposal.’
 
He waited and, when she said nothing,
continued smoothly, ‘It may surprise you to learn that I have money.
 
Not a fortune, perhaps – but a substantial
sum, coupled with business interests which provide regular revenue.
 
In addition to this – and entirely separate
from it – every penny of the allowance I’ve received for the last decade, including
the money Father shoved in my hand when he told me to get out of England, is
sitting, untouched, in the account into which it was paid.’

Ask why
.
It’s a natural enough question – or it
ought to be.
 
So unlock your jaws and ask
me why I wouldn’t touch it
.
 

She didn’t, of course.
 
She continued to sit ramrod straight and
look, not so much
at
, but
through
him. His mouth curled slightly
and he said, ‘I don’t need the earldom, Madam. I don’t even want it.
 
I have a life in France to which I could
return tomorrow and receive a warmer welcome than will ever be found in this
house.’
 
He paused and, with an elegant
shrug, added, ‘As I said … I don’t need the earldom.
 
But if it is to survive, it most assuredly
needs me.’

He watched her weighing his words and waited to
hear what her initial response would be.

Predictably, she said, ‘You’ve made money?
 
How?’

Just for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine
her face if he told her of nights spent at various gaming-houses, disguised as
the Austrian or the Russian or the Scot … or described the fight for seats at
the Com
é
die Fran
ç
aise on the days when
the actor known to Paris as L’Inconnu was playing Moli
è
re.
 

Resisting the temptation, he said, ‘Legally and by
my own efforts.
 
For the rest … do you
really want to know?’

‘I suspect not,’ she said dryly. ‘Are you offering
to put this house and the estate to rights?’

‘When I have a clear picture of how matters stand,
I’m prepared to consider it,’ agreed Sarre evasively.
 
Then, seeing how the rest of this
conversation would go if he didn’t take control of it, he said, ‘Tell me … why
didn’t Father have me declared dead?
 
He
could have done.
 
And I’m sure he
realised how much easier it would make things for Benedict.’

‘He did.
 
But there were always rumours.
 
Never
anything definite, of course … just people who thought they’d seen you in this
place or that.
 
Enough to make any move
on our part towards …’

‘Obliterating me?’
 
he supplied helpfully.
 
‘Yes.
 
How disappointing for you.’

‘Stop it!’
 
Suddenly his mother was flushed with indignation and much less
composed.
 
‘You speak as if none of what
happened was your fault.
 
As if we cast
you adrift without so much as a backward glance.
 
But --’

‘Didn’t you?’

‘No.
 
We
didn’t.
 
If you hadn’t been set on
marrying that dreadful girl --’

‘That dreadful indecently
rich
girl.
 
Let’s not forget
that.
 
You may not have liked Evie but by
God
you wanted her money.’

‘Her money,’ snapped the Dowager, ‘was the only
thing that made her remotely acceptable. She was spoilt, atrociously behaved
and wild to a fault.
 
As to what came to
light later, you’d never have been sure in
whose
bed your children were conceived.’

At last
.
Now we finally come to it
.

‘I told you what Evie said to me that
morning.
 
I very much doubt …’ He
stopped, aware that saying the name would probably choke him. ‘I doubt that her
lover confirmed it.
 
He was too busy
announcing to you, the household staff – and later, to the world – that I’d
pushed her off the roof because she was about to jilt me in his favour.’

Her ladyship made a gesture of impatience.

‘It was enough, wasn’t it?
 
Enough to get you charged with murder.’

‘But not – since there wasn’t a shred of evidence
to support it – to get me convicted.’

‘You couldn’t prove you didn’t do it.’

‘And no one could prove that I did.’
 
Sarre paused, determined to stick to the
point and trying to keep a grip on his patience.
 
‘I’ll say this for the last time.
 
I did not kill Evie.
 
She was flirting with danger as usual and she
fell.
 
I tried to catch her but I
couldn’t.
 
It would be … helpful … if
you’d accept my word.
 
It would have been
even
more
helpful if you had accepted
it ten years ago.’

The Dowager made a small impatient gesture.

‘We never said we didn’t believe you.’

‘And, equally, you never said that you did,’ he
returned, as lightly as he was able.
 
‘But to resume … no one witnessed what happened on the roof that day.
 
So although there’s no one to vouch for me,
equally no one is in a position to make any kind of credible accusation.’

 
‘That was
never the point.
 
Once you’d been hauled
into court like a felon, the fact that you walked out a free man wouldn’t have
mattered in the slightest.’

He’d known it was true.
 
He just couldn’t believe she’d actually said
it.

‘Not to you, perhaps – but it would have mattered
a great deal to me,’ he retorted. ‘You and Father, of course, were more
concerned with the family name.
 
You
couldn’t possibly allow your son and heir to face an enquiry which could result
in him clearing his name. Perish the thought!
 
You
decided the family honour would be best served by what amounted to sweeping the
mess under the carpet.’
 
He leaned back
and surveyed her over folded arms.
 
‘Ten
years on … how well would you say that has worked out?’

‘Well enough.’

‘Really?’
 
This
time she didn’t answer so he said, ‘I believe we are agreed that it’s necessary
for me to assume the title.
 
Unfortunately, this cloud of suspicion – that was none of my making – is
still hanging over me.
 
Ten years ago, if
you and my father had listened to a word I said … if you’d thought beyond the
immediate moment and the family’s thrice-blasted reputation in society … if
you’d stood behind me, the scandal would, by now, be a distant memory.
 
As it is, as soon as I stick my head above
the parapet, someone’s likely to raise a question in the Lords.
 
They won’t charge me, of course.
 
They’re not about to attack one of their own
and risk the Sarre earldom ending up in escheat.
 
But the fact that the whole business has
lingered on like a bad smell isn’t going to make my resurrection any
easier.
 
And for that, I have you to
thank.’

‘Judging from what I’ve seen so far,’ said his
mother tartly, ‘I’m sure you’re more than capable of dealing with it.
 
And since you’re hardly going to be brazen
enough to show your face in London, it’s --’

It was the last straw.
 
Sarre cut off her words with a harsh laugh.

‘Not show myself in London?
 
Is that what you think?
 
That I’ll skulk here in Kent like some
gibbering relative, fit only to be hidden away?
 
Oh no, Madam.
 
That’s not the plan
at all.
 
If I’m going to be the seventh
Earl, I intend to fulfil all the requirements to the letter – including the
dynastic ones.
 
In short, I’m going to
find a bride.’

‘How?
 
Every
door that matters is going to be slammed in your face.’

‘Perhaps.’ He rose from his chair to loom over
her. ‘Fortunately, there are plenty of others to choose from and it doesn’t
matter who I marry so long as she’s fertile.
 
The daughter of any shopkeeper or lawyer or craftsman will do.
 
After all, with my unfortunate reputation, I
can’t afford to be choosy, can I?
 
And in
the meantime, I suggest you make sure the dower house is habitable.
 
Because however many doors may be slammed in
my
face, I guarantee that from the day I
marry
this
one will be closed in
yours.’

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