Mesalliance (20 page)

‘Point taken,’
said Jack, his smile broadening. And then, ‘You understand him
rather well, don’t you?’

‘I’m learning,’
came the candid reply. ‘But I can always use help.’

Something in
her tone touched him and she had his allegiance from that moment.
In token of it, he kissed her hand and said, ‘Then – as an old
family friend – do you think you might get used to calling me
Jack?’

Never so far
away that he could not intervene should the need arise, Rockliffe
had kept a proprietorial eye on his wife all evening. He had seen
her dance with Harry, Jack, Philip and countless others; he’d
watched her laugh at something Charles Fox said, blush at something
Lord March said and enjoy quite a long conversation with Isabel
Vernon. And at around midnight, seeing her about to bestow her hand
on Lord Harry for the second time, he decided that enough was
enough.

Emerging beside
them and looking down into Adeline’s eyes, he said, ‘My dance, I
think.’

‘Your mistake,
then,’ said Harry promptly. ‘Her Grace is promised to me.’

Rockliffe
recognised the provocation and responded to it.

‘Perhaps. But I
have a husband’s prerogative. You’ll forgive me, I’m sure.’

‘And if I
won’t?’

‘In that case …
I might have no choice but to call out that pretty small-sword of
yours.’

Harry laughed.
‘Not a chance! If you challenge me, it’ll be pistols at dawn.
Amberley says you’re a lousy shot.’

‘Dominic,’
sighed the Duke, ‘thinks virtually
everyone
a lousy shot.’
He paused, smiling faintly, ‘Well, Harry? The music is starting,
you know.’

His lordship
grinned and then made Adeline a flourishing bow, ‘He’s a pirate, of
course. But my mother always told me to defer to my elders – so I
concede.’ And stepped smartly away before Rockliffe could
respond.

Her eyes
brilliant and brimming with laughter, Adeline let his Grace take
her hand and lead her into the dance. She said, ‘Your friends have
all been so kind.’

‘Yes. I’ve
noticed. What did March say to you?’

‘Lord March?’
she asked, surprised. ‘I’ve talked with so many people, it’s hard
to recall. Why?’

‘No particular
reason.’ His gaze, no longer smiling and curiously intent,
travelled to her mouth and stayed there.

A wave of heat
washed through her and she felt her colour rise.

‘Ah,’ said
Rockliffe. And then, obscurely, ‘That’s comforting.’

Watching from
the edge of the floor, Dolly Cavendish drew a long breath.

‘Well,’ she
said, in satisfied tones. ‘At last.’

Gently plying
his fan, Mr Fox raised languid brows. ‘What is?’

‘Nothing.’ She
smiled. ‘I think I must pay the new Duchess a morning-call.’

It was not
until after three in the morning that the last of the carriages
rolled away and Rockliffe was left alone with his wife and sister.
He looked at Nell, collapsed in a state of happy exhaustion … and
smiled at Adeline, whose first instinct had been to take off her
shoes. Then, pouring two glasses of wine, he handed her one of them
and said, ‘A very successful evening, I think. Did you enjoy
it?’

Adeline gazed
speechlessly back at him. She had been put on show like a prize
heifer and forced to frame tactful answers to impertinent
questions. Her nerves, through much of the evening, had been
stretched like violin strings and her husband – who had, from time
to time, been at his most provoking – was now calmly asking if she
had enjoyed it.

‘Yes,’ she
heard herself say. ‘Yes. I did.’

‘Surprising,
isn’t it?’ He smiled. ‘But no surprise at all, I hope, to learn
that I was extraordinarily proud of you.’

‘Were you?’
asked Adeline, flushing a little. ‘Thank you.’

Rockliffe shook
his head very slightly and continued to look at her with an
expression she could not interpret. Then, turning his gaze to his
sister, he said, ‘If you are going to sleep, Nell, I suggest you do
it in bed.’

‘Mm.’ She
yawned, swung her feet to the floor and sat up. ‘I’m trying to
summon up the energy to move.’

‘I’m not
surprised,’ remarked Adeline. ‘You weren’t exactly lacking in
partners, were you?’

‘No.’ Nell
beamed. ‘And you wouldn’t
believe
how many gentlemen I had
to refuse.’

‘Really?’
queried her brother. ‘Then it is a great pity that Jasper Brierley
couldn’t have been one of them.’

‘Why?’ Nell was
suddenly wide awake. ‘He’s vastly elegant and very amusing.’

‘He is also
twice your age, a hardened gamester and something of a rake,’
replied Rockliffe dryly. ‘I should prefer, therefore, that you did
not encourage him.’

For a moment,
Nell’s expression grew mutinous. Then her face cleared again and,
laughing, she rose to plant a kiss on his cheek.

‘Dear Rock. Are
you worried I’ll fall victim to Sir Jasper’s fatal charm? You
needn’t be, you know. Cassie Delahaye says he’s hanging out for a
rich wife and I think it’s very likely true so I wouldn’t dream of
taking him seriously.’

‘I rejoice to
hear it.’

‘But, on the
other hand, he
is
very distinguished and it will improve my
consequence no end if he is seen to admire me. So, if you don’t
mind, I shan’t discourage him just yet because I think one has to
make the most of one’s opportunities.’ Nell’s smile became a yawn
and she moved towards the door. ‘I’m going to bed. It was a lovely
evening – and you were splendid, Adeline. Cassie says you’re the
most elegant creature she’s ever seen and she wishes she were only
half
as graceful. Isn’t that nice? Goodnight, darlings.’ And
she was gone.

‘Cassie says,’
remarked Rockliffe lazily. ‘The new
leitmotif
, do you
think?’

‘Probably. The
question is, which one was Cassie?’

‘The
brown-haired child in apple-green satin. Her father is a friend of
mine and her mother has both humour and a good deal of sense.’ He
smiled. ‘I think we may safely approve of Cassie. Her influence
should not be a problem.’

‘Speaking of
which,’ said Adeline obliquely, ‘what happens when my aunt brings
dear Diana to town?’

His brows
rose.

‘Why, nothing.
Your aunt will not gossip for fear that I may retaliate in kind and
thus ruin Diana. It is really very simple, you see – and need in no
way concern you.’

‘That’s nice.
And what about Cecily Garfield?’

‘Ah. Now she,
of course, is less easy to silence. But without corroboration, who
is going to believe her?’

‘I see,’ said
Adeline, acidly-admiring, ‘that you’ve got it all worked out.’

‘Naturally.
Confident to the last. Would you expect anything less?’

*

Later, when he
could not go to sleep, he wished the words had been true. But a
sense of unease nagged ominously at the back of his mind and would
not be ignored.

The root of it
was contained in a handful of apparently random facts. Amberley had
been plagued by a feeling of having seen Adeline before; Adeline
herself, amid an inexplicable wall of silence, had been told only
that she was the image of her dead mother; and Charles Fox had been
struck by the remarkable likeness Adeline bore to a woman he’d met
years ago in Paris. If one was inclined towards a belief in
coincidence, one would simply dismiss it. If not, it pointed
towards a suspicion so bizarre that one would have to investigate
it further.

‘And I,’
thought Rockliffe, with a sigh, ‘am of a suspicious turn of mind.
Damn.’

But what if he
made enquiries and found himself proved right? It might, he
reflected, be better not to know; except that it was generally the
things you didn’t know about that tended to drop on you from a
great height. And if that happened, it was not he who would be
crushed by it – but Adeline.

Adeline. He had
begun their marriage simply wanting to make love to her – and that
was still true. Since the day at the lake, however, he had become
increasingly aware that that, in itself, was no longer enough …
that what he wanted now was a good deal more complex and difficult
to attain. Recalling, all too vividly, her response to his proposal
of marriage, baring his soul to her wasn’t a risk he was prepared
to take just yet. Consequently, it seemed that his only viable
course was to set aside the fact that she was his wife and court
her as he had never courted a woman in his life. Unfortunately,
however, after his conversation with Charles Fox, it also appeared
that his first and most important task was going to be finding out
if her mother wasn’t dead after all.

‘Hell,’ he
enunciated delicately, ‘and damnation. I hope … I really hope I’m
wrong and the whole thing
is
just a coincidence. Because, if
it’s not, I’m going to have to do something about it. And the
obvious question is – what?’

The polite
world accepted Adeline with mixed feelings whilst marvelling at
Rockliffe’s sustained attentiveness. Some maintained that this was
obviously due to a desire to see his bride securely established in
society; others said, with amusement, that he had lost his heart at
last. The gentlemen argued lightly over the precise nature of the
indefinable quality so many of them found attractive in the new
duchess; the ladies, by and large, voted her insipid.

Having paid her
promised morning-call and found herself in the company of Mr Fox,
Lord March and Serena Delahaye, Dolly Cavendish did not get a
chance to speak to her Grace of Rockliffe privately until the
evening of Lady Hervey’s
soirée
. Then, finding herself
temporarily alone with Adeline, she said pleasantly, ‘Do you mind
if I give you a word of advice?’

‘Not at all,’
came the equally pleasant reply. ‘As long as you won’t mind if I
choose not to take it.’

‘There! That’s
exactly the point I was about to make.’

‘I don’t think
I follow.’

Her ladyship
sighed. ‘My dear, you just answered me like the person of character
I suspected you to be. I merely wanted to suggest that you do it
more often.’

The aquamarine
eyes remained perfectly expressionless.

‘Meaning that,
at present, I’m hiding my teeth?’

‘Aren’t you?
Why else – after ample provocation – haven’t you put the likes of
Maria Fitzroy firmly in their places?’

‘Perhaps
because I’m reluctant to sink to their level.’

‘Or perhaps
because you’ve an over-developed awareness of the vulnerability of
your position,’ returned Dolly calmly. ‘It’s up to you, of course.
I know a soft answer is supposed to turn away wrath – but, in my
experience, you can’t beat a clever one for quelling patronising
impertinence. And if it’s Rock you’re worrying about rather than
yourself – don’t. He’d flatten them with a look if he heard how
they speak to you. Think about it.’ And she drifted away to claim
the attention of Lord Carlisle.

Thoughtfully,
Adeline watched her go. There was no need, with Dolly, to ponder
the question of possible malice … and therefore the only thing
worth considering was whether her advice was sound.

‘You look,’
said a voice beside her, ‘as though you’re addressing deeply moral
questions. You must’ve been listening to Horry Walpole’s
essays.’

‘And what have
you been listening to?’ she retorted. ‘The tenor with a posy of
violets or Mistress Lichfield’s harp?’

Harry Caversham
winced, laughter crinkling his eyes.

‘Is it
likely?’

‘No. So perhaps
you’ve come for the poetry. Never say that you’re consumed of an
ode!’

‘You’d look
no-how if I said I was, wouldn’t you?’

‘Less so than
you by the time you’ve been asked to read it.’

‘Fiend!’ said
Harry amicably. ‘All right. I’ll admit I don’t usually attend
soirées
and that I’d have given this one the go-by too,
except that I – I hadn’t an invitation I liked better. And, of
course, I counted on seeing you here.’

Adeline
surveyed him clinically.

‘If I were the
credulous type, I daresay I’d be flattered. As it is, I’ll simply
tell you that Nell’s gone to the Pantheon in Lady Delahaye’s
party.’

There was a
short silence. Then Harry said, ‘Do you do that to everyone?’

‘No – but I
think I’m about to start. And then we’ll see, won’t we, if I’m
still considered insipid?’

‘Ah.’ He
nodded. ‘And you won’t be. Not before time, either. Your Uncle
Richard has written announcing his imminent arrival in town – along
with your aunt and cousins.’

Adeline’s mouth
curled and her tone grew noticeably mellow.

‘A family
reunion, in fact. How delightful. All we need is Lewis and dear
Cecily and it will be just like old times.’

‘Quite. Is Rock
worried?’

‘
Worried
? Don’t be silly. He’s looking forward to it.’

‘God,’ grinned
Harry. ‘Now that really
is
all we need.’

‘We?’

‘Well, of
course. It’s my secret too, you know.’

An acidulous
glint lit Adeline’s eyes but, before she could reply, Isabel Vernon
joined them looking radiant with pleasure.

‘Just the
people I’ve been looking for. I have wonderful news. I am an
aunt!’

‘Rosalind?’
asked Harry.

‘Yes. A little
boy, born the day before yesterday – and both doing well. Isn’t
that splendid?’

‘Absolutely
splendid,’ he agreed. And then, diffidently, ‘And the baby is …
healthy?’

‘Perfectly. Oh
– you mean can he see?’ said Isabel, light dawning. ‘Well, of
course it’s rather too early to tell – but there’s no reason why he
should not. After all, Rosalind wasn’t born blind, was she? Ah -
there’s Jack. Do excuse me.’

When she had
left them, Adeline looked with careful restraint into his
lordship’s blue eyes.