Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception Read online

  She struggled to remember what he had said that might have been a cue to a revelation, and could think of not one thing that mattered more than any other. ‘I did not tell you because I did not want what we were doing to end. It had not yet been as it was last night.’

  ‘But now that I have planted my seed in you, you have nothing to fear. You know there is no chance I will cast you off, now that you might carry my heir.’

  ‘Adrian,’ she said, disappointed, ‘that is not what I meant at all.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should explain again. For I fail to see any other logical explanation for your behaviour.’

  There was a commotion from the hall. The sound of Hendricks’s voice raised in protest, and the curt dismissal of someone who had no intention of listening to him. Parker’s voice was raised as well, so that he could be heard over the din and making his usual offers of assistance and announcement.

  ‘Emily.’ Her brother burst into the room, staring at the two of them together. ‘It is about time that you have come to your senses. When I heard that you were invited here tonight, I was afraid I would have to drag you to the meeting. Or do you think that this is the result of your plans to sort your affairs?’

  ‘David. What are you doing here?’

  Adrian said, more to the fireplace than to them, ‘I invited him because I feared that the shock of discovering my condition might unsettle your delicate nerves.’

  ‘Your condition?’ David strode across the room to her husband and seized him by the shoulder, passing a hand in front of his face. ‘Adrian, what is this I hear about you from Anneslea? It is a joke, is it not, for I saw you just last week.’

  ‘But I did not see you,’ Adrian responded, laughing bitterly, and slapped his hand away. ‘I have enough sight left to know that you are waggling your fingers in front of my eyes, trying to catch me in a trick. I can see the shadow of them. But that is all. Now stop it, or I will find sight enough to thrash you for the impudence of it.’

  ‘And you let me stand here yammering at you the other day and said nothing about a problem. You let me think you were drunk. Or were you drunk? I no longer know what to believe out of you.’ She could see the anger and confusion clouding David’s face, and held up a warning hand, hoping that he would not muddy the situation any more than it already was.

  ‘You can safely believe that I did not tell you, because it was none of your damned business. Any of it,’ her husband snapped. Then he pushed David away and walked back to her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to his side. A hand came up to her face, and his head cocked to the side as he traced the lines of her, as though trying to replace this image with the one he held in his mind. His other hand released her, reaching for the miniature, as though there were some way left to compare the two.

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have invited me into the middle of things tonight,’ David shouted at the back of his head. ‘And you.’ Her brother stared at her, almost shaking with rage. ‘It was him, all along, wasn’t it? I do not know which is worse—that you do not admit to the world that you are together again, or that you could not at least admit it to me.’

  Adrian smiled at her. And his expression was so cold and heartless that she was glad he could not see her fear. ‘Oh, I think there is much more that needs to be confessed, if you wish to know the whole of the story, isn’t there, Emily?’

  ‘Certainly not.’ Surely he did not expect her to tell her own brother the most intimate details of the last few days.

  ‘You could at least assure David that he was right in his assumptions about your entertaining another gentleman under our very noses.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Where had he gotten such ideas?

  Adrian looked at her brother. ‘Your little sister has led me a merry dance, David. She tricked me into thinking she was another woman, rather than admitting from the first that she was my wife. She would not even give me a name, because she said I would know her in an instant, should she give me the smallest clue to her identity.’ He laughed. ‘And I have been dangling after her for days like a lovesick idiot, racked with guilt at my betrayal of my wife and the depths of feeling I had developed for this supposed stranger.’

  David was staring at her, his anger stifled by bafflement. ‘Why would you do such a foolish thing, Emily? Would not the truth have been simpler?’

  ‘Oh, I think the answer is obvious,’ Adrian announced. ‘She came to London to trick me into bed, hoping that she could hide the evidence of her infidelity. And when she realised that I could not see, she found it good sport to trick me with lies. I hope that you have gotten sufficient amusement from our time together. For I certainly have.’

  She gasped in fury at the thought that he might refer to the things they had done together, even in such an oblique way. ‘Of course, Adrian. Because why would I not find it amusing that my husband had been so long away from me that he did not even know me? Or to have evidence of your frequent infidelity thrust in my face?’

  ‘My infidelity?’ he shouted back. ‘At least you did not have to drink endless toasts to celebrate the results of it, as I did for you at White’s.’

  ‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ she said, angry, but still confused.

  ‘When, exactly, am I to expect the heir you seem to have got for me? Or is the date of delivery to be as much of a surprise as the parentage?’

  ‘I say …’ David sputtered, ready, once again, to come to her defence. ‘Emily, are you …?’

  ‘Oh, hush,’ she said, glaring at him. ‘If you have nothing constructive to add, then please refrain from speaking.’ She turned to Adrian and said, ‘I did not tell you the truth because it was apparent, almost from the first day we married, that you wished no part of me.’

  ‘If my treatment bothered you, then you could have spared yourself the trip to London and written me on the matter. If you had explained your dissatisfaction, we might have discussed the matter like adults.’

  She could feel him growing distant again, as though it were possible at this late date to go back to the way they had been. ‘If you had bothered to answer my letters at all. Or told me the whole truth when you did. I had to come to London to see you, to learn about the loss of your sight.’

  ‘And when you did, you thought it would be easy to trick a blind fool into thinking he’d got you with child so that you would not have to explain yourself.’

  ‘I have done nothing that needs an explanation. But if you wish to think of yourself as a fool,’ she said, ‘then far be it from me to change your mind. It is clear enough to me that you are little hampered by your condition, when you want something. It is only when you do not get your way that you insist on reminding people of it. If I turned to childish subterfuge, it was in response to my adversary.’

  ‘I am your adversary now, am I?’ He smiled again, as though satisfied that he understood the situation at last. ‘On second thought, it is well that you came to see me, so that I could know the way of things. It seems that my idealised view of my little country wife was quite naïve. You run the estate because I allow it, and now you have arranged for my successor. And in all the recent foolishness, I have forgotten how well the arrangement suits me. I will return to my diversions, and you may return to Derbyshire with your bastard, secure in the knowledge that I will offer no objections.’ He turned to go into his bedroom and her brother made to go after him.

  She placed a hand on David’s arm and pushed him firmly out of the way. ‘I am dismissed again, am I? And I suppose I should not be the least bit surprised by it. It is just as I suspected, from the first. Once you knew who I was, you would want nothing to do with me.’

  He turned back to her. ‘I do not want anything to do with a woman who would use my blindness to her own advantage against me.’

  ‘To my advantage?’ She laughed. ‘And what advantage did I gain that I was not entitled to? In exchange for having you treat me as one might normally treat a wife, I have made every attempt to improve
your character. I dare say the man I found was a drunken, suicidal wreck, too steeped in self-pity to be worthy of his estate, his title or the woman he’d married. And now, after the fine promises you made in the last day, you plan a return to that state. By all means, if it pleases you, make yourself as miserable as you do your wife and friends.’

  His blank eyes glittered; for a moment, he looked as disappointed by the idea as she was. But then he regained control and stared through her, speaking as though he did not know or care if she was still in the room. ‘This interview is at an end. I find further communication between us to be both unnecessary and unwelcome. If it is absolutely required, we will communicate through an intermediary.’ He turned to walk back into his room. Then he turned back suddenly and said, ‘And for the love of God, woman, choose someone other than Hendricks to carry your messages. Allow me that, at least.’ Then he turned again and disappeared behind the slammed door.

  Emily reached for her brother’s arm before the trembling began, for the outpouring of emotion had made her almost physically weak. ‘Take me home, David. I wish to go home.’

  She did not have the heart to tell him that his obvious rage at her husband was totally lost on the man, who had not seen the dark scowls he was receiving from his own friend. He was helping her through the front door now, to his carriage.

  And for a moment she thought she heard the sound she longed for. A call from the open door behind her, the sound of contrite footsteps hurrying down the tiles of the entry hall. A sign that her husband wanted her, now that he knew who she was.

  But there was nothing. Only Hendricks, standing framed in the open doorway.

  She turned away from him, far too confused to seek his comfort. Instead, she leaned upon her brother’s arm with her whole weight, letting him lead her the rest of the way to her seat. When they were safely inside the carriage, she thought about allowing herself the luxury of tears. But they would only reveal what she suspected her brother already knew: how deeply Adrian’s latest rejection had hurt her.

  David was staring out of the back window in the direction of Adrian’s flat, as though he could not quite believe how suddenly and totally wrong the evening had been. Then, he turned to her, accusing her with his eyes. ‘You could at least have told me about the child.’

  ‘There is no child,’ she snapped.

  ‘Then why did he think there was?’

  ‘Possibly because my own brother came to warn him about my affair.’ She hoped he did not expect some sort of absolution for all the trouble his meddling had caused her.

  ‘I am sorry. I did not know.’

  She said, ‘You could not be expected to. The circumstances were … unusual. But in future, when I request you not to intervene, I would appreciate your co-operation.’ Then she remembered the comment about his afternoon at his club. ‘And I think it was Rupert who misled him about my supposed pregnancy. You only added fuel to the fire.’

  Her brother fell silent for a time, and then said, ‘Perhaps, once he has had time to think, he will relent and come to you.’

  ‘Or perhaps not. He is a very proud man. And I have hurt him.’

  ‘He is afraid of exposure.’

  ‘He is no coward,’ she argued.

  ‘Of course not,’ her brother said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘He merely hid a problem from us, for our own good. He feared the family would remove the title from him.’ And then he added more thoughtfully, ‘There is a chance we could do it, you know. He has been behaving little better than a madman, shirking his responsibilities, risking life and limb. Perhaps we could arrange an annulment, if this is a family condition. If you had been together, then the children—’

  ‘No,’ she snapped back. ‘There is nothing wrong with his mind. It is only his eyes.’ She glared at her brother, daring him to oppose her. ‘You were quick enough to marry me off to him when he was your friend. And still content when he left me. You cannot just grab me back, three years down the road, because you fear that he is likely to leave me childless and lose the entail.’

  ‘It is not that at all, Emily.’ David groaned in frustration. ‘Why must everyone expect the worst from me? Can you truly be happy with him, in his condition? He will be helpless, and you will need to care for him, just as you would a child.’

  ‘You know nothing of him, and what he can do,’ she said hotly. ‘He is quite capable, when he has a mind to be. As sharp as he ever was. And if he needs my help?’ She lifted her chin. ‘I have been waiting for the chance to be his helpmeet for some time. And if there is to be a baby, there can be no question of it being anyone’s but his.’

  Her brother raised his hands in front of him, in a gesture of helplessness, as though afraid to ask for further explanation. ‘I swear, it all grows more confusing, the longer you explain it to me.’

  ‘It is very simple. All that I have done, I’ve done out of love for Adrian. And I think, given the time, he will realise that he feels the same for me.’

  David looked at her doubtfully. ‘Very well. If a reconciliation with him is what you wish, then I hope you succeed in it. But after today’s interview, it appears that Adrian is just as stubborn as he ever was at avoiding his marriage to you.’

  And remembering what she had told herself on coming to London, she should be satisfied with the results of the visit. She had been with him, in the way a wife should be with a husband. She had assured herself that he was indeed alive, and Rupert had been assured of his well-being. She had ascertained the reason for his absence. If he continued to remain apart from her, she would at least know why. And in the end she had managed to speak clearly to him and to make him well aware of her displeasure at the separation.

  She had succeeded in all the things she’d set out to do.

  And done the one thing she had never meant to. She had fallen truly in love with her husband.

  Chapter Twenty

  When his guests had left him, Adrian stormed back to his sitting room, still furious with the way he had been tricked. Emily had known him from the first moment. And had taunted him with the knowledge the whole time they had been together. How she must have laughed, to hold that from him, just out of reach.

  The servants had known as well, for they had known her when she’d brought him home from the tavern. And Hendricks had been complicit in the elaborate scheme, for she could not have managed it without his help. Everyone surrounding him had kept mum on the truth, smirking as he mooned over his own wife, pitying him for the poor blind fool he was.

  If they had the time to laugh, then perhaps they did not have enough to occupy their time. He swept a hand across his desk in the corner, sending pen, inkwell and writing frame all to the floor in a heap. He pulled down the books on the shelves as well, useless things that they were now that he could not see them. He upended the piano stool, and wishing he had discovered enough about the instrument to destroy the thing so that it would never trouble him with memories again. He slammed the lid down over the keys, and his fingers touched the decanter of brandy that had been set on top of it. To a man who did not play, such a thing was little better than a makeshift table.

  His fingers closed around the neck of the bottle and he imagined the sound of shattering crystal, and the sight of the brandy, running in fine rivulets down the wall, or dripping amongst the piano strings, and the pungent scent of the spilled liquor …

  Then he stopped. It would be better to drink the stuff than to waste a chance at oblivion. No need for a glass …

  His arm froze with the bottle halfway to his mouth, and he held it there. How much of the last year had he spent just that way? Blundering about, breaking things and drinking. Time drifting by, and him neither knowing nor caring how it passed. How long had it been since he had given up even trying to care?

  His Emily had been waiting at home for him, doing her best. She had said as much, hadn’t she, when she’d told him about her marriage? How she worried that it had been her fault he’d left. And how frightened she h
ad been at first that he would reject her again. She had been sure that if he ever really knew her, it would be all over between them. He had made it his mission to prove otherwise.

  In the end, she had been right. The moment he had learned her identity, he’d sent her away.

  She had been quite accepting of his truth when she had learnt it. He had assured her that there was nothing on earth his wife could do to lose his trust, for the fault of their parting had been his, and his alone.

  Still holding the brandy, he stooped to the floor, fumbling to pick up the books around his feet. How much damage had he done in his rush to destroy what he could not appreciate? The wreckage around him was the result of another selfish act on his part. Just one of many in the last few years.

  But when had he ever learned to be otherwise? He thought of how angry he had been with his father’s foolish disregard for the future of the family. And how angry his father had been, when talking of Grandfather. All of them angry at fate for the hand that they had been dealt.

  But while Emily might be cross with him for his treatment of her, she worked to change the things that made her unhappy and made the best of the rest.

  She accepted him.

  He took a deep breath and walked through the debris to the door, opening it suddenly on the shadow waiting in the hall.

  ‘Hendricks.’

  ‘Yes, milord.’ It was not the usual calm tone of his old friend, but the clipped words of a man simmering with rage.

  Adrian cleared his throat, wishing he could call back any of the last fifteen minutes. ‘It seems I have had an embarrassing display of temper.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘It will not happen again.’

  ‘Not to me, at least. I am giving my notice.’

  For a moment, he felt the same as he had when his eyes started to fail him. As though everything he’d taken for granted had slipped away. ‘You can’t be serious.’