A Scandalous Secret (6 page)

‘But how is it possible?’ Miss Trottson shook her head, apparently unwilling to concede the facts. ‘Could the late earl have wed his first wife’s maid?’

‘So I supposed for a moment myself,’ Dominick admitted, moving to stand before the intricately carved mantelpiece. ‘I knew from Lady Barrowe that her sister had been the earl’s second wife. But I also remember that she was married quite young - before the Peninsular Campaign, in fact. Besides, she has a son - the present earl - who is seven years old!’

Then how came you to mistake the countess for her maid?’

‘Do you not understand, Aunt Winnie?’ he returned, sitting down beside her and staring gloomily ahead at nothing in particular. ‘She
meant
for me to think she was a servant. She dressed like a maid and pretended to
be
a maid.’

Aunt Winifred appeared more puzzled than ever. ‘Whyever should she do such a thing?’ she demanded.

‘Who knows why the nobility do anything?’ he retorted. ‘For a jest, perhaps. You have been right all along, Aunt. It does no good for our kind to become involved with them.’

‘Aye,’ she nodded emphatically. ‘So I’ve told you often enough. But that’s no cause for them to be playing such tricks on trusting strangers. To carry on so - and her a married woman all the time! Not that it would have been very much better if she were not. She must be the most impudent hussy.’

‘Quite,’ her nephew said shortly. ‘And now I think we had both best forget the wretched woman and get to bed.’

Miss Trottson rose at once, shooting him a penetrating glance. ‘I’ll wager neither one of us will do
that
so easily! And I would like to know why you are so upset by this - and why this countess should swoon at the sight of a man she had only spoken with eight years ago at a common inn! It seems to me,’ she said, with characteristic bluntness, ‘that what you did
not
tell me tonight is far more to the point than what you
did
say!’

* * * *

Dominick had ample time to contemplate his position later that night as he lay in bed. Sleep was impossible. His mind was too busily employed in sifting through a variety of images and sensations which were aggravating and disturbing enough to banish any hope of repose before daylight.

His first considered response was to curse himself for being a simple-minded romantic fool. All these years he had cherished an image of Bess in his heart which had made it impossible for him to involve himself with any other female, except for the briefest and most superficial affairs. At the back of his mind there had always been the faint though persistent hope that he would one day find her again. That had been the main reason he looked for a house in this part of the country, because she had told him that her mistress had been visiting relatives near here.

His grand house had been furnished with Bess in mind as its mistress. He had imagined himself in the role of King Cophetua, bestowing not only his hand and heart, but also his wealth and position, on the poor but beautiful maiden he had chosen. But the maiden had turned out to be a lady whose wealth was at least as great as his own, and whose rank was as far above his as the roof of the White Tower was above the Thames. In one instant his schoolboy dreams had been shattered for ever. Now he could feel nothing but shame and regret for his childish fancies.

How she must have laughed after duping him so thoroughly at that inn! It must have been amusing for her to dally with someone so far beneath her - to discover what it was like to be bedded by a common clerk. Or perhaps it was the kind of thing she did regularly. She might have slept with ostlers and footmen by the score for all that he knew.

Looking back now, he wondered that he had not perceived at once that she was no common maid. She was certainly unlike any other woman he had ever met, but he had seen only her beauty and her gentleness, and been swept away on a tide of passion greater than anything he had ever known.

He could still recall the pain he had felt when awoke to find her gone the next morning, leaving not even a note behind. He thought she must have been ashamed of what she had done and had run off rather than face him. How frantic he had been - eager to assure her that he loved her and would marry her at once, whatever the consequences! He would have followed her, had the innkeeper been able to supply any information regarding the direction or title of the countess. But the man either could not or would not answer his questions, and in fact had berated him for his impertinence and almost driven him from the inn.

Now he understood her hasty flight. He had meant no more to her than a brief diversion. But all this time, she had been his ideal; and, as far as appearances went, she could not be faulted. With her golden hair, fair skin and large violet eyes, she seemed to be a vision of pure beauty. It was certainly a cruel trick of nature that such outward loveliness should conceal the heart of a huntress. He recalled vividly how she had looked tonight in the glow of the candles as she sang:

Love, to thee my thoughts are turning ...

All through the night.

All for thee my heart is yearning ...

All through the night.

Though sad fate our lives may sever,

Parting will not last forever!

There’s a hope that leaves me never ...

All through the night.

Watching her in silence, Dominick had been aware of a powerful urge to put his hands around that delicate white throat and choke the life out of her. How dare she be so lovely!

No one had ever wounded him as this woman had with her calculated treachery. His pride had suffered a blow from which it would not easily recover. From his pain and regret had grown bitter anger, and - inevitably - from anger, hatred.

Yes, he hated her now, and the intensity of that hatred was in direct proportion to the devotion he had once felt for her. He hated her, and he hated himself because he could not deny the feelings which she could even now arouse in him. For years he had dreamed of holding her again in his arms, and his heart could not abandon its old habits so easily. To his disgust, he found that he could despise her and desire her at the same time. But he was determined to throttle that betraying passion, even if he could not throttle the object of it.

‘Damn her!’ he muttered defiantly into the shadowy night air. ‘Damn her lying, deceitful soul to Hell!’

Chapter 4

The following day it rained - the steady, stubborn drizzle that only an English summer can provide. Dorinda was fully occupied in poor Selina’s sickroom, while Elizabeth divided her time between Nicky and Lord Maples. By the end of the day, she was not sure which of them was more trying, or more childish.

Nicky was bored and restless. Without Selina’s company, he was deprived of a playmate for his adventures. Naturally he sought a substitute, and his indulgent mama was conveniently at hand. She played at spillikins with him for a time, allowed herself to be bested at cards, and finally was inveigled into a game of hide-and-seek.

It was at this point that Lord Maples made his bid for his share of Elizabeth’s attentions. Encountering Nicky in the hall, and being asked by the boy whether he had seen the countess, Oswald soon discovered what was afoot. It was, of course, far beneath his dignity to enter into the spirit of such juvenile amusements. Instead, he chose to read the young earl a lecture on the subject of selfishness, and to take him to task for imposing upon the good nature of his apparently idiotic doting mother.

Elizabeth happened to be just within earshot, having wedged herself behind the open door to the library, by which the other two were standing. She allowed herself - and Nicky - to endure only a brief portion of Oswald’s homily before revealing herself and putting an end to it.

‘My dear Oswald,’ she said, stepping out from her hiding-place and halting him in mid-bombast, ‘do be a little less censorious, I beg. My son has not coerced me into this against my will, I assure you.’

Rather put out by her sudden and unexpected appearance on the scene, Oswald nevertheless recovered quickly. ‘You indulge him far too much, my dear Elizabeth. It is not good for the child.’

She pursed her lips, but replied calmly, ‘I would appreciate it, sir, if you would allow me to be the judge of how my son shall or shall not be brought up.’

‘I beg your pardon if I have offended you, ma’am.’ He reddened noticeably. ‘Apparently you do not share my opinion in these matters.’

‘No doubt,’ she said, ‘we view the situation through very different spectacles.’

Oswald bowed stiffly. ‘I had hoped that you could spare a moment or two for some quiet conversation. But it seems that you are otherwise employed.’

It was plain that he was much chagrined at this course of events. She suspected that Oswald considered Nicky to be a rival for her affections - something which his vanity could not tolerate. In spite of his selfishness, she took pity on him. It must be sadly flat here with no company to speak of: Alastair run off, Dorinda attempting to amuse a querulous Selina, and herself hiding behind library doors.

‘Perhaps a little later, sir,’ she said, attempting to smooth his ruffled feathers.

The gentleman brightened at once and expressed his thanks so earnestly that she was hard pressed not to laugh. She pretended not to notice, either, when Nicky extended his tongue in the direction of Oswald’s retreating form as he marched down the hallway.

She did indeed gratify Oswald with a private chat about an hour later, having first persuaded her son to take an afternoon rest. Her would-be suitor found her almost dozing on an ornate sofa in the newly decorated salon. He quickly established himself in a matching chair, which he drew as near to her as was decently allowed, and began to discourse upon their various acquaintances in town. He had a certain viperish wit, and could be quite an amusing companion when he chose; but his bold looks, and the air of intimacy in his voice when he addressed her, put Elizabeth’s teeth on edge. He presumed far too much, acting as if they were a betrothed couple.

After less than an hour, she professed that the gloomy weather was making her feel very tired and that she really must lie own. Naturally, Oswald was less than pleased but was far too well bred to raise more than two or three objections before allowing her to retire to her room.

* * * *

All this time, Elizabeth had not forgotten her encounter with Dominick Markham. How could she? In fact, she was rather grateful for the inclement weather, as it meant that there was little likelihood of his calling on them. She even felt a certain degree of gratitude for Oswald’s presence. As long as he was nearby, there was little chance that Mr Markham would find her alone. Just what there was to fear in such a confrontation, she did not know; but she did fear it nevertheless.

As to what the gentleman’s feelings might be, she was still far from sure. They did not appear to be cordial, but perhaps he had merely been surprised or possibly even embarrassed by the situation in which he found himself. If so, it was no wonder. It was hardly the most comfortable position for either of them.

It was remarkable, really, how little his appearance had changed in these eight years. He had put on a few pounds, to be sure. But that was a natural result of his increased prosperity, and rather added to his attraction. He had been very thin before, and seemed only to have gained in muscle rather than flesh. He was as fine a figure of a man as any woman could imagine.

It was absurd, of course, but she could not deny that the flutter in her stomach when she thought of him was more than mere nerves. What was it about the man that could set her pulses racing even now? No other man had ever had such an effect upon her. It was most alarming. Why should he have this power over her? It was not his looks, though he was exceptionally handsome. But so was Lord Maples, who could raise no higher emotion in her breast than mild irritation. In any case, there could never be anything between herself and the merchant now ... could there?

* * * *

The evening passed slowly. Dorinda joined them for supper with no good news to convey. Selina still had a touch of fever, and her anxious mama must return to the sickroom. Elizabeth, however, convinced her to rest awhile, and offered to take her place at the little girl’s bedside. Since Dorinda was quite fatigued from nursing her daughter, she agreed reluctantly for her sister to sit with Selina for an hour or two.

Elizabeth excused herself as soon as possible after their meal. She felt rather guilty that her niece’s illness should prove so useful for escaping Oswald’s attentions.

Selina was pale and weak, her golden hair - so like Elizabeth’s own - clinging in limp tendrils around her shadowed face. She managed a wispy smile for her aunt, and listened while Elizabeth told her a story and sang softly to her. Finally, the child fell into an uneasy slumber, squirming about beneath the covers and giving small whimpering sounds as if her fevered dreams were far from pleasant.

Later she awakened again, complaining that she was thirsty. She swallowed a little lemonade and, after Elizabeth had adjusted her blanket and pillows, was soon fast asleep once more. Not long after, Dorinda returned to continue the vigil, greatly refreshed by her own much-needed rest.

It was almost midnight, so Elizabeth went immediately to her own bed. The next morning she slept late. Coming down to breakfast, she learned from Dorinda that Selina’s fever had broken just before dawn.

‘She is still very weak, poor darling,’ the exhausted mother said, ‘and it may be some time before she can leave her room. But I am confident that she will be much more the thing now.’

Elizabeth pressed her sister’s hand. ‘I am so thankful. It is very hard to watch a child suffer. And with Alastair away—’

‘
I
am thankful that you were here with me.’ Dorinda returned Elizabeth’s clasp. ‘It was good of you to stay with her last night.’

‘Nonsense,’ Elizabeth disclaimed, shaking her head. ‘I only did what any sister - or indeed, any mother - would have done. You need not paint my gesture in quite such heroic colours.’