Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow. Anne O'Brien

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      Nicholas placed his glass carefully on the desk before raising keen eyes to pin his cousin down. ‘Sher—you can tell me to go to the devil, of course, but—are you involved in government work—something conspiratorial, perhaps—which necessitates your silence? Something which is not without its dangers?’

      ‘Why do you say that?’ The silver eyes narrowed with suspicion, but did not waver.

      ‘No reason. It is just that—’

      ‘You have a fertile imagination.’ Joshua was increasingly aware of a compulsion to unburden himself to his cousin. To lay before him the whole intricate web of plots and devious scheming that could undermine the peace achieved after Waterloo. To admit to the identity of The Chameleon. And knew he must not. He closed his eyes momentarily against it.

      ‘Perhaps I have. So you have no intention of unburdening yourself.’ It was as if Nicholas had sensed the internal battle, impulse waging war against necessity.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Very well. If that is what you truly wish.’ Nicholas pushed himself to his feet. ‘I cannot force you. But remember, if you ever need a sympathetic ear… ‘

      ‘Forgive me, Nick.’ Joshua also stood forcing his muscles to relax, managing a wry smile. ‘It is not my intention to appear churlish.’

      ‘But you do!’

      ‘All I can say is that the decision to unburden myself—as you put it so aptly—is not mine to make.’

      Nicholas began to make his way to the door. Then, on a thought, looked back. ‘Do I surmise that your…er…colourful reputation is not as dire as you would have us believe? That it has all been a disguise for some undercover project?’

      ‘Surmise what you will.’ Nicholas could read nothing in Joshua’s expression. ‘But don’t discuss such an idea with Thea. Because she will surely talk to Sarah. And then where shall we all be!’

      ‘What an interesting life you lead, Sher!’ Now Nicholas laughed. ‘I never could accept that you were such a black sheep in the family as you would have us believe.’

      ‘Ha! I fear that my interesting life, as you put it, is about to call in its debts.’ For a moment Joshua hesitated, wondering if he were about to make a mistake, but was encouraged by the understanding smile on his cousin’s face. ‘You could do one thing for me.’

      ‘And that is?’

      ‘Come to Paris with me. I have the strangest feeling that I might just need your support.’

      ‘Will the Countess of Wexford be there?’

      ‘Highly likely. Now that she has done all the damage she can in London.’

      ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Thea will love it. She is not unacquainted with the city. Sir Hector was ambassador there for some months.’

      ‘I did not mean that Thea should… But of course she would accompany you.’ Joshua looked dubious at the prospect.

      ‘What—me go Paris with you—and leave Thea at home?’ Nicholas laughed aloud. ‘Have your wits entirely gone begging, man? When did any fashionable woman refuse a chance to go to Paris?’

      ‘Forgive me, Nick—I seem to have said that more than once this afternoon!’ Joshua bared his teeth in a passable smile and now, for the first time, there was some warmth there. ‘How crass of me! Perhaps both you and your formidable wife can give my fast-disintegrating reputation some much-needed support.’

      That same night Joshua had intended to dine early at home before escorting Sarah to the theatre at Covent Garden. To hell with the gossips! And the devil take Wycliffe with his insinuations concerning Sarah’s loyalties! He would not turn and run from public gaze. Had they not flung down a challenge at the Exhibition and survived the ordeal? But at the eleventh hour he could not face running the gauntlet of the tiers of boxes with their avid eyes and raised lorgnettes, pretending ignorance of the knowing looks and speculation on his relationship with Marianne. The discussion of his sins both in general and in wicked particular. His respect for Eleanor and Henry, who had done exactly that, multiplied. But he guessed, rightly, that Sarah would find no enjoyment in the performance if they were providing the audience with more entertainment than the actors on the stage.

      Wycliffe’s lack of sympathy and insistence that it was Joshua’s duty to return to Paris had seriously ruffled the Faringdon feathers.

      So Lord and Lady Faringdon dined à deux at home with a reasonable show of unity, finding enough food for conversation to carry them through the various dishes in the first and second courses. Perhaps with no real appetite, but with no serious conflict, or even a need to discuss the little matter of murder. Sarah was perfectly willing to follow her lord’s lead. What would be the value in their discussing so contentious an issue when there was nothing further to be said, when Joshua was as tight-lipped as one of the oysters on her plate? Until, that is, they reached the dessert, a marvellous confection of peaches in heavy syrup and spun sugar.

      Lord Joshua found that he had no appetite; he did not pick up his spoon.

      ‘Sarah—I find a need to go to Paris.’

      ‘Oh.’ Her eyes immediately flew from her plate to his face, her enjoyment of the sweetness effectively destroyed by that one short statement. ‘When?’

      ‘In two days.’

      If he saw a flicker of disappointment, a deepening of the little lines of concern that marked the fair skin beside her eyes when she was troubled, he thought he might have been mistaken. Or perhaps not. He was now intimately acquainted with Sarah’s ability to hide her thoughts.

      ‘Some business that has come up.’ I know it is a lame excuse, but it is the best I can do.

      ‘Of course.’ What business? Has the Countess of Wexford gone back to Paris? Surely he has not arranged an assignation! But I asked that I should not be required to meet and acknowledge his mistress. This would be an ideal solution to the problem. To continue the affair in Paris when I am far away! Her heart fell to the level of her satin shoes. She too put down her spoon.

      ‘Will it be a short visit?’ She kept her voice admirably calm, tried for a smile, which was not as successful, so skilfully raised her napkin to her lips to cover it.

      ‘I do not know. A week or two, perhaps longer.’

      ‘Very well.’ Even worse! Some would say that he is also going to ensure that there is no evidence to be discovered of the murder of poor Marianne. Many would say that. But I cannot—I will not—accept that. The possibilities rushed into her mind, rendering her almost light-headed.

      Joshua watched his wife as she licked the sugar from one finger, her skin suddenly very pale. She would never ask him what he intended to do in Paris. Of course she would not. As a partner in a marriage of convenience he knew that she would be very careful of her status, ask nothing of him other than he was prepared to give on his own initiative. The thought touched his heart with compassion. And as at Richmond when she had so desperately wanted to ride with him, a desire to give her more than she was prepared to ask. So he made his decision in the blink of an eye. What was there to decide, after all? He knew what he СКАЧАТЬ