Double Deceit (24 page)

Miss Vale stared. “Of all the possible reactions we considered, laughter didn’t even make the list.”

Jon tried to catch his breath. “You d-don’t know the h-half of it,” he managed before another fit convulsed him.

“Are you all right, sir?”

He couldn’t breathe. She knelt beside him, looking anxious. He grinned up at her. “Miss Va— May I call you Sarah. This is too much.”

“Of course.” She helped him sit up.

“Sarah. My dear Sarah. I know absolutely nothing about society, for I’ve never entered it.” Tony had had his chance. Now he could live with the consequences. “You are not the only one put off by Tony’s reputation – which is totally false, by the way. He knew Miss Vale would never look twice at him—”

“
He?
” She recoiled. “Who are you?”

He laughed. “Mr. L-Linden. Mr. J-Jonathan Linden, vicar to Linden P-Park.” Flopping back to the floor, he gave up any hope of control.

Sarah stared, her eyes like saucers. “Then Mr. Tor—”

“Is T-Tony Linden, heir to Lord Linden, who p-precipitated this entire mess.”

She shook her head. “But why would he pretend to be an antiquarian?”

Pulling himself together, Jon softened his tone. “That was not pretense, Sarah. His full name is Anthony Torwell Linden. The history of his reputation is a very long story, much of which I cannot reveal without his permission, but the rumors are totally false. Yet society is unwilling to admit the truth. To pursue his interest in antiquity, he was forced to use another name.” He saw the same understanding burst through her eyes.

“Heavens! No wonder he looked so green in the churchyard yesterday. I thought he was ill, but he must have been trying to confess.” She laughed. “For t-two weeks we have all been w-walking around in the wr-wrong roles.” She collapsed.

“P-pretending—”

“You were a r-rake.”

“T-Tony shuns churches.”

Laugher convulsed both of them, blinding them, choking them with hilarity. By the time Jon recovered enough to think, Sarah was in his arms. It seemed natural to kiss her.

She froze, and for a moment he feared he had pushed her too far. Then she returned the kiss – fervently.

His arms tightened, sending sensations knifing through his body that he had never known. Rolling her beneath him, he trailed kisses over her face, groaning when her hands lifted to his head, pulling him back to her mouth.

“Sarah…” One hand fumbled upward, colliding with her breast. She moaned.

He recoiled. “Forgive me, Sarah. I’m forgetting myself.”

“You are Jonathan Linden, vicar to Linden Park.” She laughed as her hand traced the line of his cheek. “Maybe I should pin a tag to your jacket so you can remember.”

His breath whooshed out with that touch. It was a miracle. “Thank God you are you, Sarah.” He stared into her eyes. “I love you. I’ve been denying it for days, ignoring it, cursing it, berating myself for letting it happen when I knew you would have to accept Tony. Now we are free. Marry me, my love. Make me the happiest man in the world.”

“Jonathan—”

“Tony calls me Jon. It’s a name only very special people use.”

“Jon.” She smiled. “Am I dreaming?”

“Never. I love you.”

“Yes.” She grinned. “Yes, I love you. Yes, I will marry you.” The grin faltered. “But are you sure you won’t mind—”

“Your foot? Never. The body is but a shell that houses us during our sojourn through life. It is easily marred, but that does not affect the person inside. I love
you
, Sarah – mind, spirit, soul, however you wish to define it. And I will always love you.”

“And I, you.” She kissed him again, held him close for another minute, then sighed. “Much as I would love to stay here, we’ve already strained propriety to its limits. Shall we find breakfast?”

“Calm and practical, as always. I do love you. You bring comfort to everyone around you – and peace.” He helped himself to one last kiss, then scrambled up, pulling her to her feet.

She smiled. “I want to shout our betrothal from the rooftops, but springing it on the others without warning is not a good idea. Alex has an explosive temper.”

“I am tempted, though. This entire imbroglio was their idea, but you are right. I will tell Tony in private.”

“And I will tell Alex that you know my identity. I want you at my side when they learn the rest. So we have one more imposture to carry off. They will undoubtedly be at breakfast. This seems to be their usual time.”

He nodded. “Excellent. Once we’ve eaten, I will inform Tony that the imposture is over. I will give him one hour to inform Miss Merideth – heavens, she pulled the same ruse he did with the names. Why didn’t I notice earlier?”

“Why would you?”

“Because I looked up her full name.” He bit off mention of the special license, but couldn’t help grinning. It might be used yet. “We can retire to the drawing room after delivering our ultimatum. Once they confess their own sins, we can announce our betrothal.”

“I wonder how they will get on.”

“That is out of our hands, though I have rarely met two people so well suited.”

Chapter Thirteen

Alex pulled her hair into her companion style, then shook her head. She was through hiding. From now on, she would wear her own style, assume her own identity, and confess to whichever man she saw first.

Murch had treated her to a rare scold last night. And he was right. Leaving without warning had been inconsiderate, placing Sarah in the questionable position of entertaining two gentlemen alone. And it was unconscionable to remain away so late that Murch had been forming a search party when she’d finally returned. But his complaints hadn’t stopped there. He’d laid all her sins before her – her behavior for weeks had been arrogantly selfish; Sarah deserved better, as did her guests; it was unfair to expect the staff to perpetuate this fraud a moment longer.

She agreed, having reached the same conclusion during a day of hard thought. She might not enjoy being a woman, but that did not excuse poor manners. So she would confess. No more procrastinating as she devised dubious schemes to catch Linden alone, or sought one more day of working with Torwell. That was finished anyway.

Poking the last pin into Alex Vale’s hair, she headed for the dining room.

It was empty.

She nearly screamed in frustration. After bracing for an unpleasant encounter with Torwell, it was a shock to find it postponed yet again. Might he be avoiding her?

It was far too likely, she concluded. Murch had mentioned that he’d taken Sarah out yesterday. He’d probably decided to press his courtship. Or Linden may have suggested the excursion, though Murch had described him as half dead from his illness.

But no matter. She would speak to both gentlemen as soon as possible.

She jumped as the door opened. But it was only Murch.

“This just arrived.”

As he proffered his tray, she recognized her father’s hand on the letter. Her hand trembled, but she quickly stifled any fear. Even if Bushnell had gone straight to his bedside the moment he arrived in London, his response could not arrive before tomorrow.

“Did he write to anyone else?”

“Only you.”

Not a demand that they raise rents, then. Perhaps he had further orders about her Season. Or Richard might be in trouble at school. Or he could be announcing the imminent arrival of yet another friend.

Waving Murch away, she pushed her plate aside and broke the seal.

I cannot believe my eyes, he wrote. Had the letter come from anyone but Bushnell, I would question whether even you could be so criminally stupid. Speaking to Linden was bad enough, but inviting his bird of paradise into my home is beyond—– Words fail me.

“Damn,” she muttered. Bushnell had not waited to reach London. Either he hadn’t believed that Linden would travel with a vicar, or he’d sent a letter immediately after their initial conversation.

“Does he think I have no intelligence at all?” she muttered. “He should know Bushnell always exaggerates.”

Obviously not.

You need not bother considering fortune hunters, he continued. I would never place the burden of screening suitors on your shoulders. Sir Alfred Mabury called yesterday, seeking permission to pay his addresses. He is a kind and gentle man who would cause you no grief. Or you might prefer Mr. Patrick, who has visited daily since my fall, anxious to ease my suffering. He, too, has expressed his fervent desire to make your acquaintance.

She cursed. Regret was already eating at him. Did he think her too stupid to recognize his ploy? She nearly tossed the missive aside in disgust, but stopped herself. Neither of his supposed paragons was remotely interesting, but he might already have dispatched them to Vale House. She must be prepared.

He urged her to carefully consider these suits, and warned against the stratagems men like Linden might employ, then finished by describing Linden’s reputation in greater detail than she had ever heard.

Phrases jumped from the page – seducer of innocents, like the Pauley girl, whom he refused to wed … will wager on anything … prankster decried by every decent man … carried home most nights too drunk to walk…

“They must be exaggerations,” she murmured, though that last was an uncomfortable reminder of the night he’d arrived. But the rest did not fit the oddly soft-spoken man occupying the best guest chamber.

-disappears for long periods of time, indulging in the most scandalous orgies…

“And how would you know, unless you accompanied him?” she scoffed.

His vicious attacks on women have earned him the moniker the Green-eyed Monster. Items of value disappear whenever he visits a respectable house.

“The pot calling—”

She gasped, staring at the recrossed page. Surely she had misread it.

But the damning words remained.
Green-eyed Monster.

Mr. Linden was tall, with dark curly hair that framed his brown eyes. Not a trace of green shimmered in their depths. But she had seen green eyes often. Her own closed, remembering the way Torwell’s had laughed as he spun her around the mosaic.

“The bastard!”

Why had no rumor mentioned his penchant for pranks? If she’d known, she would have suspected deceit. Instead, she’d trusted him, shown him her most precious treasures, shared her site. And all the time, he’d been plotting against her, even using her awe of another man to seduce her. How could he warn her against looters and thieves, when he was one himself?

Nausea doubled her over. Dear God! Had he already hacked out that mosaic? Selling something that fine might negate the need to take on an unwanted wife.

The door opened again, revealing the man himself.

“Bastard!” she hissed, rising to lean on the table. “Impostor! How dare you make a mockery of everything decent?”

“Wha—” He paled. “You know.”

“Of course I know. Did you think you could gull us forever?”

“Let me explain.”

“Explain what? How you plotted against us? How you schemed to win back the fortune that supports your revolting debauchery? I care nothing for excuses.”

“You care nothing for truth, either.” His eyes flashed.

“Hah!” Her hands fisted, crumpling the letter. “You lied from the moment you arrived. Pretending to be a man I respected, so I would welcome you. My God! How could even you stoop so low?”

“What did your welcome have to do with anything?” he demanded harshly. “I didn’t even know you existed before arriving. Yes, I hid my identity – for this very reason. That reputation is false from beginning to end, but I’ve been saddled with it for most of my life. Can you blame me for avoiding that handicap when I came to meet the woman who was throwing my parents out on the road? Not that it matters anymore. I had already abandoned—”

“No, it doesn’t matter.” Her fury rose as he twisted even his own dishonor to avoid blame. “I’m not the one who turned them off – in fact, I tried to allow them to stay. But I won’t allow a hypocritical Judas to betray everything I’ve worked for. I despise deceit.”

Those betraying eyes narrowed. “I’m not fond of it myself, but there are times—”

“Never! I should have known you were too good to be true. You are no different than any other man – and worse than most. An arrogant, posturing liar who will say anything to gain an advantage. I can’t believe you took me in.”

“I didn’t,” he protested, turning those faithless eyes to the window. “I’ve told only one falsehood—”

She hardened her heart against the pain in his voice, cutting him off lest he talk her round. What an actor he was! “Enough, Linden. Get out of my house! Get out of my life! And if I find even one trinket missing, I’ll have every magistrate in the country on your trail. Your father may be a lord, but you are only a treacherous commoner. I’ll see you hang!”

“You?” He blanched, whipping his head around to stare at her. “My God! How dare you criticize me when you are just as devious, Miss Vale.”

“As if you didn’t know. Why else would you impersonate Torwell?”

“I
am
Torwell,” he shouted, lunging around the table to shake her shoulders. “Will you listen to me?”

“Never!” She slapped him. “I’m through being cozened by a liar.”

“The pot calling the kettle black. You can’t have it both ways.”

“I had to protect myself!” she protested, then cursed him for putting her on the defensive.

“How? By tossing your innocent companion into a situation you dared not face yourself? Coward! Your father must have meant your character when he called you a deformed freak. I wish I’d known that earlier. It would have saved me some trouble.” He dropped his hands as if touching her contaminated him, his scornful stare raking her from head to toe.

“You insult Sarah by calling her deformed.”

“Don’t twist my words. She’s the sweetest girl I’ve met in years. And she has more integrity in a single finger than you’ve demonstrated in weeks. I could forgive you for fearing the rumors. I expected that. But I’ll never forgive you for hiding behind her skirts. That is worse than the blackest deeds a disapproving world has imputed to me. You are unworthy to wash her feet.” He turned to leave.