The Conqueror's Dilemma (35 page)

Juliana
let out a conscious laugh. ‘That was only because the wretched Drumbeg woman
had forced her way into Loscombe Manor. I was out of reason cross, though you
were scarcely to blame for it.’

‘I
thank you.’

She
tutted at him. ‘There is no necessity for that sarcastic tone, Will. I am on
your side, you know.’

He
turned to look at her. ‘Are you?’

Coldness
entered her face. It had been wont to trouble him in the past. It failed to
move him now.

‘I
have always been at pains to look after your welfare, Will.’

William’s
lip curled. ‘At a price.’

Her
eyes flashed. ‘Which you were willing enough to pay.’

He did
not flinch. ‘True.’

She
was silent for a moment, eyeing him. With doubt? Had he shaken her? Then came
the practised smile with its hint of sensuality. William felt only revulsion
where he had before been beguiled.

‘Don’t
let us quarrel, Will. Have I not made myself clear enough? Do you wish for
plain words? For my part, you are free to marry her. There, it is said.’

William
felt a lurch at his chest. Through the rise of annoyance, he preserved his
sangfroid, although he was conscious of an edge to his voice.

‘I
have your permission, have I, Ju?’

She
laughed, but it was too high. False? Yes, for he knew her all too well. ‘If you
need it.’

‘Here’s
a change of tune.’

‘Oh,
come, Will,’ said Juliana, recovering a little of her usual manner. ‘You are
fully aware I had never any objection to your marrying. I was only afraid of
allowing you to throw yourself away. But if it is true the Felton female is
well endowed—for which we have no proper proof as yet—’

‘It’s
true, I can vouch for that,’ William cut in, steel in his tone as the memory of
his interview with Matthew Felton surfaced.

Juliana
failed to notice. ‘All the better. It is the perfect solution to your problems,
Will. And you need not fear I will be backward in support, for I am well placed
to secure Tiffany’s position in society.’

‘And
you may continue to rule me in despite of my marriage, is that it?’

It had
not been his intention to alienate her, and he knew a second’s remorse as the
flush soaked her skin. Had there been hurt in her eyes, he might have softened.
But he read only discomfort, and hardened himself.

After
a moment, she spoke again, her tone stiff. With anger, he must suppose.

‘Is
that how you see it, Will? You make no allowance for my fondness for you. Or do
you mistake my feelings for jealousy?’ A smile wavered on her lips. ‘My poor
Will, I have never been in love with you. Nor you with me.’

He met
her gaze, and his cultivated hardness faltered. ‘If there is meaning behind
that, I do not take it, Juliana.’

‘I had
no intention of being cryptic,’ she said on a near snap. ‘I meant precisely
what I said. I am inordinately fond of you, but you are presently trying my
patience to its limit. Perhaps it would suit you better if I remained aloof
from the two of you?’

‘There
is no two,’ he threw at her, goaded. ‘I am sorry to disappoint you, Ju, but I
am not going to marry Tiffany Felton.’

Astonishment
flooded her face. ‘Why in the world not? Fie, Will, have you taken leave of
your senses?’

He
sighed out a breath. ‘I’ve come to my senses rather.’

For a
moment, she merely stared at him as at a rare scientific specimen. And then she
flung up her hands.

‘I’ve
a very good mind to wash my hands of you.’

‘Do
so,’ he returned dully. ‘I thought it must come sooner or later. It makes no
odds to me.’

Juliana’s
irritation rang in her voice. ‘On the contrary, it could make a considerable
difference to you, as you know full well. If I drop you—’

‘I am
aware of the danger, I thank you. Do your worst, Juliana.’ An atrocious thought
entered his mind. Abruptly and without preamble, he turned to her and caught
her hands in his. ‘I don’t care what happens to me, Ju. But I beg you not to
visit your wrath upon Tiffany. None of this is her fault. You don’t know—I have
been at pains to keep it from you—but the blame lies at my door. I sought her
out. If she has erred, it was through my machinations. Help her, or let her be.
Don’t do anything to turn Society against her.’

She
did not speak at once, but her eyes were changing, annoyance giving way to
something far more disturbing. She did not pull her hands out of his, but
instead gripped his fingers. Her tone was soft and caressing.

‘My poor
Will, I had no idea you were so badly hit. Will she not have you? Upon my soul,
I never thought to see the Conqueror crossed in love.’

The Soho
Square house was in uproar. Tiffany knew herself to be the cause of it, and felt
almost sorry for Eva. Lady Drumbeg had declared herself to be in danger of
suffering a spasm and retired to her bedchamber, deputising Mrs Gosbeck to
bring Tiffany to reason.

‘It’s
of no use,’ she told that lady at once, ‘for my mind is made up.’

Mrs Gosbeck’s
chins wobbled in distress. ‘Oh, Miss Felton, dearie, must you indeed go? I do
wish you wouldn’t. I’m that worried about Eva, and it does seem a shame she
should be thwarted just when all looked to be in train for her dream to come
true.’

But
Tiffany had never the intention of furthering Lady Drumbeg’s ambition. Her
refusal to take up even one of the invitations she had received, a source of
much complaint from Eva, had a small part of its origin in reluctance to carry
her duenna where Tiffany knew she was not welcome. And now she had lost all
vestige of hope, there was no point in going to social events.

She
might find strength to face her immediate circle with a spurious veneer of
calm, although it had cracked a little when she had run to her aunt and uncle
yesterday, begging to be taken home to Bridlington Key. But to go into company
and not break down? How, when she must inevitably do so at the very sight of
William the Conqueror?

‘But
Miss Felton,’ pursued Mrs Gosbeck, ‘why won’t you stay? I thought as how you’d
a beau all set up when we was at Vauxhall. You ain’t going to tell me it’s gone
off?’

Tiffany
was hard put to it not to burst into floods at the reminder of that far-off
assignation, but she took an instant decision to trust Mrs Gosbeck with the
truth—or some of it. At least it might induce her to give up all argument.

‘It
has indeed gone off, Mrs Gosbeck. Which is why I must beg you not to persist
with your persuasions. I am in the deepest affliction, and I truly cannot bear
to stay.’

Sympathy
was writ large across Mrs Gosbeck’s plump features. ‘But—but is there no hope,
dearie?’

‘None
at all.’

‘Bother
the man. I’m so sorry, Miss Felton, dearie.’

‘Yes,
so am I.’

The
creature fluttered over and caught at Tiffany’s hands. ‘Never fret, dearie.
I’ll see all’s right with Eva. You go on home with your uncle and aunt. I’ll
warrant you’ll feel better once you’re back among those who care for you.’

Tiffany
managed to smile. ‘Thank you, I’m sure you are right.’

Knocking
sounded on the front door, a welcome interruption.

‘That
will be my aunt and uncle, I believe. Excuse me, Mrs Gosbeck.’

‘Yes,
yes, you go off, dearie. I’ll go up to Eva and see if I can’t calm her a
little.’

Tiffany
opened the saloon door and gestured to Mrs Gosbeck to precede her into the
hall. The butler had just set the door wide to allow those without to enter.
But it was not the Feltons who stepped into the house. Tiffany started forward.

‘Ariadne!
I thought you were in Yorkshire.’

Mrs
Membury twinkled at her from under a bonnet of green velvet. ‘I was, but I’m
back. And none too soon, from what I’m hearing. Dear Tiffany, what
have
you done to Will?’

In
spite of all, Tiffany fired up. ‘What have I done? Should you not rather ask
what he has done?’

‘Not
when I’ve just been told what he is about to do,’ returned Ariadne.

Baffled,
Tiffany stared at her. ‘I have not the remotest idea what you mean, Ariadne.’

‘No?
Then I will tell you. According to Hector, the Conqueror is planning to walk
out of all our lives, never to return.’

Ensconced
in a comfortable chair in a cosy little parlour in the Brook Street house,
Tiffany felt as if she had been engulfed by a tornado. A tortuous mix of fear
and guilt buffeted one against the other within her breast, along with
afflicting pangs of yearning, and a wholly unfounded explosion of hope she
tried in vain to ignore.

‘I
wish you had not told me,’ she uttered, shivering so that she was obliged to
set down the cup of tea that had been pressed upon her.

‘I
can’t believe you mean that.’

Ariadne’s
matter-of-fact tone appeared to Tiffany wholly inappropriate. ‘You do not seem
in the least apprehensive.’

A
lilting smile was beamed upon her. ‘Of course not. You don’t imagine I am going
to permit Will to indulge this fetch, do you?’

Tiffany
wanted to scream. ‘How can you stop him?’

‘I’m
not going to make the attempt. I have every confidence he will change his
mind.’

‘Why
should he?’

But
Ariadne, resplendent in her Pomona-green gown, only looked mischievous and
shook her head. Unable to be still, Tiffany got up and shifted restlessly about
the confined spaces in the parlour, her mind roving.

What
should she do? Ought she to send for Will? Was this what he had refused to
speak of in the Park? But could it have been the cause of that look he had
given her? She could no longer recall what she had said immediately before it,
for the hurtful manner of their parting had superseded everything. He must have
intended this departure when he intimated she should forget him. As if that
were possible.

‘Do
sit down and finish your tea, Tiffany.’

She
turned to look at Ariadne. ‘I don’t want it.’

‘Well,
at least sit down. We have much to discuss, you know. For one thing, I am
anxious to know just what has occurred in my absence. Apart from your suddenly
proving to be an heiress in disguise.’

Tiffany’s
anxieties threw her into immediate dudgeon. ‘It was as much a surprise to me as
anyone, I’ll have you know. Uncle Matt never said a word about it.’

‘Yes,
that has me in a puzzle.’ Ariadne tipped her head on one side. ‘Why should your
uncle suddenly decide to tell you in the middle of the Season? And what should
take him to chase up to London to do it?’

‘He
didn’t come up for that purpose,’ Tiffany said, her voice sounding decidedly
grumpy even in her own ears. ‘He came because Aunt Peggy had got it into her
head that I—that—’

‘That
you had fallen in love with Will?’

‘No!
At least—’

Acutely
assailable, Tiffany began to pace again, feeling much like a caged animal. No
protest came from Ariadne, and she began to feel a little less at bay.

‘Aunt
Peggy said the Conqueror had disappeared between one letter and the next,’ she
confessed grudgingly. ‘I remember I did not know how to speak of him after the
first occasion, because by then there had been a change and—and later things
became so complicated, it was impossible to speak of Will at all. It did not
occur to me how it might appear at the other end. And my letters, she said,
became disjointed.’

‘Which
is not to be wondered at,’ interpolated Ariadne, nodding judiciously. ‘I think
I might well have reached the same conclusion in her place. And so she
persuaded your uncle to come to the rescue?’

Tiffany
paused, turning to glance at her hostess. ‘He did not take much persuading.
Uncle Matt has always been protective of me.’ An exasperated sigh escaped her.
‘I wish it had not led him so far.’

‘So
far as what?’

Starting
a little, Tiffany realised she had spoken unguardedly. ‘I didn’t mean to
mention that.’

Ariadne
made an impatient gesture. ‘Do let us dispense with all this secrecy, Tiffany.
You may as well tell me the whole at once, for I shall have the story from you
in any event.’

Which
was all too probable, Tiffany reflected. Giving in, she sat down again, unquiet
hands smoothing at her muslin petticoats as she gave an unvarnished account of
what had transpired over the past few days. Ariadne made all the right noises,
but she appeared preoccupied. At length, Tiffany rebelled.

‘Ariadne,
you look as if you listen to me, but with your mind elsewhere. Are you planning
anything? What is it? I tell you now, if you mean to spring something more on
me, I shall go into strong hysterics.’

Her
characteristic peal of laughter came from Ariadne. ‘Of course I am planning
something, silly child. Just as I am planning for my brother’s future.’ Her
eyes lit with mischief. ‘Don’t you know it is the role of matrons such as I?’

Tiffany
was on tenterhooks, but at mention of Lord Kilbride, an inconsequent notion
flew into her head.

‘You need
have no fear for your brother, for it is my belief Melinda is discovering in
herself a preference for him. She was wild with him for going away to Yorkshire
instead of pursuing her driving lessons.’

‘That
is excellent news,’ said Ariadne, laughing. ‘All we need is for Will to
discover his own heart and—’

‘Pray
don’t try to fill me with false hopes,’ Tiffany begged, fighting the urge to
encourage this theme. ‘I wish you will confine your plans to Lord Kilbride,
Ariadne.’

‘Certainly
not, child. I am determined to see you wed to Will, for it is just what he
needs, and I have believed for weeks past he is besotted with you.’

Tiffany
nearly dissolved into tears. ‘He is not! He is not! I wish you will not say
such things, for it is nonsense. He would not choose to go away if that was
so.’