Chapter Eleven
‘Y ou seem mightily distracted this evening, old fellow,’ Ross Marney said, ushering his friend Richard Kestrel into his study and closing the door firmly behind them. ‘Never seen you lose so badly at whist. Lucky the ladies only play for pennies or you’d be in River Tick by now.’ He gave Richard a searching look. ‘Is there anything that I can help with? Anything that a glass of brandy could improve?’
Richard laughed and accepted the invitation, taking one of the wing chairs set before the fire and waiting whilst his friend poured for both of them. He had attended Olivia Marney’s card party that evening more in the hope of seeing Deb than in anything else, but in the event she had not been there and Richard had found himself bored and inattentive. He had lost badly, to the great pleasure of all the ladies, who had fleeced him mercilessly.
He had also known that he had to talk to Ross. His friend had been more generous than he had deserved earlier in the day, when Richard had turned up at the Customs House under the guise of Lord Scandal. Had it not been for the long history between them, Ross might well have called him to account. The least he deserved was an explanation.
Richard looked up with a smile of thanks as Ross passed him the drink before settling himself in the other chair. For a while there was the companionable silence that often existed between old friends. Richard and Ross had served together on the Valiant and had shared more mess room debates than either cared to remember, both in and out of their cups. When Richard had come to Midwinter, the slight formality remaining from their professional relationship had deepened into friendship. Never before, however, had Richard proposed to marry Ross’s sister-in- law, and whilst he hesitated on how to broach the topic, Ross looked at him directly and said, ‘It is to do with Deborah, I suppose. Can it be that you wish to marry her?’
Richard jumped and spilled his brandy. ‘Devil take it, Ross, can you not give me due warning before you pull such a trick? This brandy is too good to waste.’
Ross laughed. ‘Sorry, old chap. Thought I’d move the conversation along a bit as you seemed lost for words. Do I take it that my wild stab in the dark was somewhere near the mark?’
Richard did not answer immediately. He turned the brandy glass round in his palm. ‘Pretty close,’ he said. ‘Mrs Stratton and I pledged our troth today.’
Now it was Ross’s turn to choke. When he had recovered his breath he said mildly, ‘Didn’t think you’d be able to persuade her. Nor did I think you were the marrying kind, Richard. Thought that you proved that when the betrothal to Lady Diana Elliot went awry?’
Richard pulled a face. In his long and frequently reprehensible history as a rake there was no episode more discreditable than the engagement to a duke’s daughter that had ended almost as soon as it had begun, when she had discovered him pleasuring a Cyprian on the terrace at their betrothal party. It was many years ago, but Richard could not remember the episode without a wince of shame because he could see, with the benefit of hindsight, that it had been an act that had shown contempt towards a lady who had done him no wrong. Lady Diana had given him his conge in arctic terms:
‘You are clearly unsuited to the state of matrimony and I am not so desperate for a husband that I would bind myself to a man who shows me so little respect…’
God help him, at the time he had thought it amusing. The incident had confirmed his outrageous reputation and he had played on it to the full. Yet after a couple of years the empty life of a rake about town had become too barren to sustain him and he had chosen to join the Navy, to his father’s utter fury. He had enjoyed life at sea and had acquitted himself with valour, but when he had been invalided out, his old way of life had beckoned him as surely as a devil tempting him from the path of virtue. Until he had come to Midwinter and seen Deborah Stratton, and felt his heart seize in his chest. In one second she had achieved what the French had failed to do, and shot him down. It was rich retribution for a rake.
He did not intend to make any further mistakes. Deb had given him the advantage now and he would not let her escape him. It was marriage-or naught.
Richard stretched his long legs out to the warmth of the fire. He had already decided to tell Ross the whole truth, for he could see no way that he and Deb could sustain a masquerade beneath the noses of his friend and her sister. He rested his chin on his hand and sighed.
‘I shall tell you the whole matter, Ross, and then you may have me horsewhipped from the house if you please.’
Ross paused. ‘Is that a likely outcome?’
Richard sighed again. ‘I cannot be certain. Suffice it to say that your sister-in-law recently advertised for a gentleman of honour to come to her assistance.’ He saw the arrested look in Ross’s eyes and added hastily, ‘I need hardly tell you, Ross, that I am relating this in confidence. I have no wish to make further difficulties for Mrs Stratton. She was in urgent need of a fiance and I offered my services.’
There was a very long silence.
‘What form did this advertisement take?’ Ross said, after a while.
‘It was a notice placed in the Suffolk Chronicle.’ Richard looked at him. ‘Under a pseudonym, of course.’
‘And you answered it,’ Ross said.
‘I did.’
‘And you also paid to suppress all the other replies?’
Richard grinned at that. ‘I did. How well you know me.’
‘Hmm,’ Ross said. ‘Did you know from the start that it was Deb who had placed the notice?’
Richard hesitated. ‘I…guessed.’
‘Extraordinary,’ Ross opined.
Richard smiled ruefully. ‘I do have rather a strong instinct where your sister-in-law is concerned, Ross.’
‘My dear fellow, we have all observed it,’ Ross said. He reached for the decanter and topped up Richard’s glass. ‘I suppose it is the nature of your impulses towards Deb that have always concerned me. I have to admit that I had not expected chivalry to be one of them.’
Richard’s mouth twisted wryly. ‘Thank you, Ross.’
‘I beg your pardon.’ Ross laughed. ‘I do not mean to imply that you would seduce Deb, merely that you might want to.’
‘You give me too much credit.’ Richard’s conscience stirred. ‘Until recently I would have seduced Deborah with the greatest of pleasure had she encouraged me to do so.’
Ross’s eyes narrowed. He looked torn between amusement and disapproval. In the end he merely said, ‘And now?’
Richard shifted. He was thinking of the incident the previous year when he had asked Deb to be his mistress. He had mistaken her then. Misled by her widowed status and also by her vivacious nature, he had assumed her to be a high-flyer like Lily Benedict, or, if not that, at least an experienced woman of the world such as Lady Sally Saltire. He had also assumed that once he had made love to her, her power over him would wane. Now he could see that both assumptions were groundless, for Deb was an innocent in matters of love and that very innocence captured and held him as surely as if he were bound with silken ties. He could ignore what was on offer from a practised flirt like Lady Benedict and prefer the infinitely more difficult prospect of wooing Deborah Stratton.
And that wooing would lead to marriage. If he wished to keep the friendship and respect of Ross Marney he could not simply take Deb to his bed. He did not even want to. He wanted Deb, but he did not wish to make her his mistress. Somehow that had become insufficient. He wanted to protect Deb and gain her trust. He was acting on an instinct that had never previously stirred in his relationships with women. He wanted more. He wanted everything. Once she was his, he would never let her go.
He spoke slowly. ‘Now I want to marry her. Genuinely marry her, I mean. Not connive at a pretence.’
Ross nodded and moved on to another difficult question. ‘What was it that prompted you to assist Deborah in this matter, Richard?’
Richard smiled. ‘I felt that she had presented me with a perfect opportunity to woo her.’
Ross looked thoughtful. ‘That is true, of course. She has played into your hands. But what of your other, more altruistic motives?’
Richard shifted a little uncomfortably again. Ross could never accept things at face value and he was usually correct.
