Double Deceit (17 page)

Last night had been a disaster. He had done everything he could to convey his interest – touching her, whispering compliments in her ear whenever he turned a page, suggesting the most romantic songs he knew. She had reacted, displaying what he first thought was nervous anticipation. Not until she refused his escort to the drawing room had he realized that she was afraid rather than titillated.

Why? He’d mulled the question all night. Yet every possibility raised more questions.

He shook his head, then wished he had been more careful.

Perhaps fresh air would clear his mind. Shrugging into his work clothes, he headed into the Park.

The autumn air had a decided bite to it this morning, but he did not mind. Emptying his head of Miss Vale, Miss Merideth, and even the villa they were excavating, he concentrated on dawn’s play across bronze and gold trees, on a flock of waterfowl arrowing south for the winter, on the musical flow of the stream bubbling along its rocky bed…

The pain gradually eased behind his eyes. By the time he turned back, it was gone. He could finally think.

Miss Vale was sheltered, an innocent with little experience of the world. Yet he could not believe that his courtship had scared her. The time period he had originally envisioned might have, but he had been here for nearly a fortnight. And he had hardly pressed.

Had she realized that Jon was going to keep Miss Merideth in the music room, so they would be alone? Some girls panicked at such a situation, but only if they expected either unwanted advances or an unwanted proposal. Neither applied to Miss Vale. She believed he was a vicar. After spending so much time with a supposed rakehell, attended only by a lady’s maid, she would hardly cavil about him. He was an innocuous character, his only oddity an interest in antiquity. Since she’d encouraged her companion to follow the same pursuit, she would not object to him. And unless she knew his true identity, she would hardly expect an offer.

Miss Merideth.

He swore. Surely Miss Vale wasn’t playing matchmaker for her companion! He would have to set her straight on that score. Miss Merideth had made her own disinterest abundantly clear. And he had no choice in the matter.

Appalled … she has no power to change the agreement…

“Devil take it!” he swore, suddenly recalling Miss Merideth’s words. He’d hardly heeded them at the time and hadn’t thought of them since.

The answer had been staring him in the face from the beginning, but he had been too stupid to see it. She had been appalled at what her father had done to his. Perhaps she even suspected chicanery about the game, but investigating the trust had proved that she could not even allow his parents to remain in residence. So she had realized that wedding him was the only way to soften the blow, even if she must accept his reputation in the process.

But she didn’t know that he was the one she must wed.

Cursing himself for every stupidity known to man, he shook his head. Hiding his identity had been the worst possible approach. Yet how could he have known that her sense of justice would override even his abominable reputation? It hinted at depths of character he had not suspected.

No wonder she willingly spent time with Jon. And this explained those odd looks she had given him – and her efforts to avoid him last night. Whatever her personal feelings, she had decided to accept Tony Linden. She was probably confused because Tony Linden had made no offer. In the meantime, she was suppressing any attraction to Torwell.

He briefly toyed with negotiating a proxy marriage that would postpone revealing the truth until they had both irrevocably taken the step they had already planned. But that would add yet another layer of deceit, making the ultimate denouement even worse.

So he had to reveal his identity, beg her forgiveness, and hope she would not respond by washing her hands of the entire Linden family. And he could not postpone his confession. For good or ill, he must see her as soon as possible. Since she rarely arose until noon, he could do no digging today.

So he would avoid breakfast. Miss Merideth was astute enough to recognize that something was wrong. He could not risk others learning the truth until he had confessed to his hostess.

If only he had not started this!

“Mornin’, Mr. Torwell,” called the head groom as he passed the stable. “You’re up and about even earlier than usual. Shall I saddle Orpheus?”

“Not just yet. I must deal with other business before riding out.”

“Lord Bushnell, I suppose. Miss Vale will be upset when he arrives.”

“She has said nothing about a new guest,” said Tony cautiously, but his mind was racing. Meeting an acquaintance was a risk he’d ignored in recent days. Not that Bushnell was a friend. Far from it. What would so debauched a man be doing at Vale House?

“You’ve been out a good long time, then. The innkeeper’s lad brought the letter an hour ago. Lord Bushnell always stops here on his way to London, as do most of Sir Winton’s friends.”

“Even when he is not in residence?”

The groom shrugged. “They are always welcomed.”

The implication was obvious. “Do you mean that Sir Winton invites his rackety friends to make use of his house, even when no one is here but his innocent daughter?”

“It isn’t my place to judge, though I can understand why a vicar might object.” Shifting his eyes to scan the stable yard, he lowered his voice. “But between the two of us, I expect Sir Winton would be right pleased if someone compromised the girl badly enough to get her off his hands. She has sworn for years that she would never wed, and he’s found no one willing to take on a barely dowered harridan. Making her an heiress is his final try.”

Harridan? Tony bit back a sharp retort. Miss Vale must put on quite an act if her father considered her so. Maybe the groom hoped a nice vicar would take her on to protect her from worse. He must know that nothing would keep her single much longer, and he could like Linden’s reputation no better than anyone else did.

This gave a new urgency to his confession. He must see Miss Vale the moment she arose. Simms could send word via her maid to meet him before breakfast. Everything must be settled before Bushnell arrived.

Head again pounding, he started for the house. The more he considered this new problem, the worse it seemed.

Bushnell was poison. Though not the most revolting of Sir Winton’s friends, he was not an appropriate visitor to an innocent maiden. Miss Merideth was hardly old enough to be a suitable chaperon, especially when confronted by lecherous rogues. What the devil had Sir Winton been thinking?

Of course, his own stay at Vale House was just as irregular, particularly with Jon away for so long. But he had every intention of wedding her.

No wonder so many area gentlemen considered her ineligible. Entertaining Sir Winton’s friends had to have tarnished her image.

Keep your mind on business.

Sighing, he glared at a busy squirrel. Jon must wed them before Bushnell arrived, so the man would find nothing even marginally disreputable. He was a consummate gossip, who put the worst interpretation on every story he told.

She has sworn for years that she would never wed…
He shuddered. Was that why she was being so cautious? Perhaps she was waging a mental war between rectifying an injustice and reneging on a long-standing vow. After all, her reasons for considering this match were far weaker than his.

Why she eschewed marriage was harder to grasp. If it had been Miss Merideth, he could understand, for marriage would make pursuing her interests even more difficult. Never mind that she was more competent than most of those who would laugh in her face.

But Miss Vale had much to gain. She was under the thumb of a father who disdained her. She would never be unconventional enough to set up her own establishment, so why avoid marriage? Had she suffered some insult at the hands of her father’s rackety friends?

Don’t invent trouble.
The day would be difficult enough without setting new obstacles in his path.

“A word, sir,” said Murch when he reached the house.

Tony nodded.

“One of Sir Winton’s friends will be arriving today,” the butler began. “I must ask that you not mention the excavation. Sir Winton would never approve of his dau— the work. Since his friends always report everything they see or hear, it is best to remain discreet.”

“I understand. When may we expect him?”

“Within the hour, if he follows his usual habit.”

Tony must have let shock show on his face, for Murch continued. “Sir Winton encourages friends to call without warning. Their courtesy notices often arrive after they do.”

Damn!
That explained why the innkeeper had sent the letter to Vale House at dawn instead of waiting for the footman to collect it.

But his own plans were now futile. He could hardly barge into her room, awaken her, confess, propose, and wed her within an hour. Yet he could not allow Bushnell to expose him.

“How long will this friend remain?”

“One night, as a rule.”

“There will be no problem, then,” he said. “One of my school friends will pass through Gloucester this evening. Under normal circumstances, it would be rude to leave at a moment’s notice, but Miss Vale might prefer that we retire during this call.”

“Perhaps, though Lord Bushnell will learn of your visit.” His voice was unusually dry. “I presume that Mr. Linden will accompany you?”

“He will be pleased to renew an old acquaintance. We will return in two days.”

“Excellent.”

Tony wrote notes to Miss Merideth and Miss Vale, then woke Jon. “We are leaving immediately,” he said, tossing a valise onto the bed.

“Did she turn you down?”

“No. Bushnell will be here shortly. I can’t let him expose me.”

“Christ on a crutch! Why don’t you just tell her the truth? Running away will only make it worse.”

“Damnation! I am not running away.” He fought his temper under control. “Sometimes a strategic retreat is necessary if one is to win the war. Bushnell has vices even my reputation does not embrace. Unless you wish to force Miss Vale into wedding me right now – rousting her out of bed to do so – we must leave.”

“I don’t understand.” But he was dressing.

“If he finds me under this roof, unwed, he will destroy Miss Vale’s reputation. Society will consider her a whore within the week. Nothing will deter him, for he loves inflicting pain on anyone weaker than he is.” Especially Tony Linden. They’d been enemies since the night he’d responded to terrified screams at Madame LaFleur’s, rescuing one of the girls from Bushnell’s beating. Bushnell had been banned from the premises, taking revenge by spreading new rumors that accused him of vicious brutality.

“Dear Lord!”

“Exactly, so make haste. His carriage is coming up the drive.”

He returned to his room, changing his plans yet again as he tossed items into his own valise. Adding a postscript to Miss Vale’s note, he sent a footman to request that two horses meet them outside the kitchen, then led Jon down the servants’ stairs. Murch might assume he was protecting his hostess, but he was also saving himself. Bushnell’s malicious twist on this debacle would make it impossible to redeem his reputation.

* * * *

Alex picked at her breakfast, furious at herself for not settling with Linden last night. Now she would be exposed, and in a way that would humiliate him.

Bushnell’s letter lay by her plate. She hated him even more than her father’s other friends. He was sneaky, with a sanctimonious facade that belied his own rackety behavior. And he treated her like an ignorant child. His lectures on manners made her so angry that she often behaved rudely just to annoy him.

Was it possible to confront Linden before Bushnell arrived? Maybe she should crawl into his bed, then summon Torwell to wed them where they lay.

She blushed.

Torwell would never accept her as a serious antiquarian after that. Where was he this morning? He should have arrived for breakfast by now.

Murch appeared in the doorway, his grave expression proving that it was too late. She had lost all control of the situation.

“Lord Bushnell has arrived, Miss Alex. I have put in him the drawing room.”

“What am I to tell Linden, Murch?” She bit her lip.

“You will tell him the entire truth the moment he returns.”

“Returns?” Hope nearly choked her.

Murch adopted his remotest pose. “I spoke with Mr. Torwell a short time ago, reminding him that Sir Winton is unaware of your endeavors. He immediately recalled that a friend is passing through Gloucester today. He and Mr. Linden wish to meet him.”

“He is gone?”

“Nearly.” Murch nodded toward the window, which overlooked the back lawn and kitchen garden. Torwell and Linden were cantering toward the trees. “He left these.”

Dazed, Alex accepted two notes, one directed to Miss Merideth, the other to Miss Vale. They were formal and nearly identical.

…leaving for two days as I would not wish to embarrass you. Those disposed to gossip – such as Lord Bushnell – would not ask whether our presence threatens your modesty. He rarely looks beyond his own impressions and gleefully spreads malice about those he disapproves. Linden knows all too well how damaging false tales can be. We will do everything possible to protect you from scurrilous innuendo.

A postscript to Miss Merideth’s letter said that he would use this opportunity to visit a colleague whose extensive collection of manuscripts included a book of legends compiled by a tenth-century monk. While most were clearly myths, some provided clues to ancient sites and practices. Perhaps he could find information related to her excavation.

Miss Vale’s postscript thanked her for the loan of two horses.

She grinned. Cheeky devil. Loan of her horses, indeed. But she was too delighted at this unexpected reprieve to take umbrage.

Two days. She would write out a confession and practice it. The moment Linden returned, she would see him. In the meantime, she must deal with Bushnell.

Obviously Torwell knew him. Just as obviously, he despised him – she had to admire his taste. Thus she would do well to keep both gentlemen out of the discussion.