She sat passively whilst Mary dressed her hair and then went down to the drawing room. Ross was pacing the rug before the mantelpiece, a deep frown on his forehead. Olivia was sitting upright on a straight-backed chair, her hands locked together, a look of deep distress on her normally serene countenance. Deb forgot her own preoccupations and hurried forward.
‘Liv?’ she said. ‘Has something happened?’
Olivia looked at her with a familiar expression of rueful affection and complete exasperation. ‘Sit down, Deborah,’ she said. ‘I have something to tell you.’
‘I did not know about the smugglers being out or about the muster,’ Deb said, white-faced. ‘I had not intended to worry anyone-’ She broke off as Ross gave an irritable sigh. She knew what he wanted to say-that she never thought through the consequences of her actions and, if she had, they would not now be sitting here contemplating the ruin of her reputation.
‘I cannot understand how you could be so indiscreet,’ he said.
Deb felt miserable. Looking back, she could see exactly how she had been so indiscreet, for she had given no thought to anything except Richard and her feelings for him from the moment that they had gone into the hunting lodge until they had returned that morning.
‘It is clear that you have never tried to arrange a romantic liaison, Ross,’ she snapped, angry at his condemnation and her own miserable feelings. ‘It amazes me that anyone ever manages to be indiscreet when they have a whole host of interfering relatives-’
‘Well, despite our interference, you have succeeded finely!’ Ross thrust his hand through his hair with all the pent-up impatience he could not express in words. ‘Really, Deb-’
‘Ross,’ Olivia intervened gently. ‘It is not so bad. Mrs Aintree has put out the tale that Deb was staying with us last night and if we back her up-’
‘Deb did not attend Lady Sally’s dinner with us and everyone knows it.’ Ross said bluntly. He shook his head. ‘My dear Olivia, that story will not hold water for two minutes.’
‘Then there is the fact that Deb is betrothed to Lord Richard,’ Olivia continued. ‘Yes, she has been reckless, but it could be a great deal worse-’
‘I broke the engagement two nights ago,’ Deb said.
Both Olivia and Ross swung round to look at her with identical expressions of horror.
‘You broke the engagement,’ Ross said carefully, after a moment, ‘yet you spent the night with the man? Will I ever understand you, Deborah?’
‘Oh, Deb!’ Olivia wailed. ‘Please tell me that no one knows you broke it off!’
‘I have not told anyone,’ Deb said, ‘but I intend to. With Guy’s wedding cancelled there can be no reason for the engagement to continue-’
‘No reason!’ Ross exploded. ‘Never mind the betrothal, there is every reason for a marriage to take place!’
Deb tried not to cry. ‘I will not marry Richard Kestrel!’ she said. ‘Why should he be compromised into marriage with me when the whole matter was my idea? I was the one who instigated this! I asked him to be my lover!’
‘Deb!’ Ross and Olivia’s outraged cries mingled with the sound of the door opening.
‘Lord Richard Kestrel,’ the maid announced.
Deb froze. She had wanted to finish her discussion with Olivia and Ross before she faced the equally difficult task of speaking to Richard, but, since she had given the maid no instructions to refuse him-and since he would probably have ignored them anyway-she was not going to have that chance.
She knew that she had to dismiss him. Their betrothal was at an end and that one perfect night of passion was over. Yet now when she saw him all she wanted to do was run to him and throw herself into his arms. She loved him hopelessly.
‘Richard!’ she said, and heard her voice break on the word.
Richard heard it too. He came across and took her hand and Deb could feel the warmth and reassurance flowing from his body to hers.
‘Sweetheart-’ His lips pressed her hair. His arm went about her. Deb leaned against his strength and fought against the feeling of coming home. She could not permit herself to depend on him.
Olivia was looking almost as relieved as Deb felt. Ross was looking murderous.
‘What the hell were you thinking of, Kestrel?’ he said to Richard. He paced across to the window. ‘No, don’t answer that. On reflection it’s easy to see exactly what you were thinking of! When you asked my permission to woo Deborah, I did not appreciate what it was that you had in mind! Why the devil you could not have waited until you were married-?’
‘Ross,’ Olivia said again, putting a hand on her husband’s arm, ‘since Deb and Richard are to be married, I think we could put aside our differences.’
But Deb was not listening. She was looking from Ross’s face to Richard’s as the coldness clutched at her heart and seeped from there to every corner of her being. She freed herself of Richard’s protective arm and took two steps backward.
‘You asked Ross’s permission to court me?’ she said to Richard, her voice a whisper. ‘You discussed marrying me? You hatched some plan with him and never spoke of it to me?’
She saw Richard’s gaze snap back to her, saw his eyes narrow on her face. ‘Deborah,’ he began carefully, ‘it was not in the least like that.’
Deb had started to shake. ‘No? How was it, then?’
Richard drove his hands into his pockets. ‘Can we talk about this alone?’ he asked, with restraint.
‘No!’ Deb’s chin came up. ‘Since you discussed my future with reference to everyone else before, it seems appropriate that they can be party to the discussions now! After all, they already know far more about it than I do. Apparently I am to be married off without my knowledge!’
‘It was not like that,’ Richard said again, quietly but inexorably. ‘Deb, I love you! I have loved you for months! I want to marry you.’
Deb felt hot, humiliated and hurt. All the time that she had been making plans for her temporary betrothal, Richard had been talking to Ross of quite a different scheme. He had fallen in with her proposal whilst planning something else entirely. And he had not told her.
She felt foolish and manipulated. Richard had told her that he had explained the situation to Ross, and yet that had not been true. He must have told Ross everything-that she had advertised for a temporary fiance, that he was playing along with her until he could persuade her into a real betrothal. She had confided in Richard that her marriage to Neil Stratton had been unhappy and that she had no desire to wed ever again, and yet he had paid her scant heed. And last night…She covered her face briefly with her hands. Last night she had given herself to him body and soul. She had finally realised that she loved him with all her heart and that, although to overcome her scruples about marriage would require a leap of faith, she might even have been able to have had the courage. Under other circumstances…
‘And when were you going to tell me of your plans for me?’ Deb asked, her voice shaking. ‘After you had told Ross and Olivia and everyone else, and conspired to make me accept you?’ Her voice rose. ‘No doubt I should be grateful to be offered marriage, with my tarnished reputation!’ She swung round on them all, the pain lodged in a hot ball in her chest. ‘But do you know-I am not grateful in the least! You are just like my father-’ she turned on Richard ‘-planning to marry me off regardless of my wishes. You, and Ross, and everyone else who has made arrangements for me of which I was totally unaware! You cannot allow me to make my own choices, nor give me the freedom to do as I choose! That was all I wanted! To be allowed the choice!’
Richard put out a hand to her. There was something that looked like pain in his eyes and Deb could not allow herself to look on it because it moved her unbearably. She turned away but still she could not block out his words.
‘I love you, Deb. I did not tell you or propose to you before because I was afraid. I knew of your doubts about marriage and I was afraid of losing the one thing that was becoming more precious to me as every day passed-’
Deb put her hands over her ears. ‘I trusted you,’ she said, and as she spoke she realised that it was true. ‘I never thought that I would trust anyone again, but I trusted you.’
She whirled around and made for the door, pausing when she reached it. ‘Let me be quite clear,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘I do not wish to marry you, Lord Richard. I do not wish to see you again.’
