Dear Deceiver Read online

  Emma was forced to admit that she was beautiful, but was thankful that there seemed to be no family resemblance. She knew she ought to bob a curtsy but she could not bring herself to do it. Instead she busied herself returning the invitation cards to the sofa-table.

  ‘Oh, Sophie is only bamming,’ Lucy explained. ‘It is because Dominic trades with India and she does not at all approve.’ She smiled at Emma. ‘This, as I am sure you have guessed, is Miss Sophie Mountforest.’

  ‘Lucilla, dear, I am sure you must know that it is not done to introduce servants,’ Sophie said, looking down at Emma with an air of disdain which set her hackles rising.

  Emma did not wait for Lucy’s usual protest that Miss Woodhill was her friend, but excused herself and left the room. If she had stayed another minute she would have burst. She stood for a moment in the hall, leaning against the door, breathing heavily. So that was her cousin!

  She had been telling herself, ever since she had heard about her, that Sophie could not be blamed for the sins of her father; believing she must be a warm, agreeable sort of person if Lord Besthorpe loved her, she would do her best to like her. But she did not. She could not. That sneer of superiority and the put-down she had given poor Lucy were enough to convince Emma that she was far from agreeable and warm. She was a cold fish. How could Dominic, who was gentle and caring, love such a one?

  ‘Lucilla, wherever did Dominic find that dowd?’ Sophie’s voice came clearly through the closed door. ‘I never saw such a little brown mouse. India, you say. I suppose she must be Eurasian with that dark skin. She will have to go. We cannot have you chaperoned about town by such a one. We shall be the laughing stock of the ton.’

  ‘She is my companion, not yours,’ Lucy retorted valiantly. ‘And if Dominic finds her suitable, it is not for you to disparage her.’

  ‘We shall see. I shall speak to Dominic as soon as he decides to put in an appearance.’

  ‘Lucilla, have you forgot your manners?’ This from her ladyship. ‘Are you not going to offer us refreshment?’

  ‘Oh, I am so sorry. Of course.’

  Emma heard the bell jangling and decided to make her escape before she was discovered and heard any more unpleasant comments. She went up to her bedroom and sat on the bed to think.

  How frequently would Sophie and her mama come calling? The Mountforests’ town house was in Park Lane, which was not so very far away and no doubt there would be a great deal of to-ing and fro-ing, with a wedding to arrange. Could she possibly avoid coming face to face with them again?

  Would his lordship take any notice of Sophie? He had certainly disliked Lady Clarence’s advice; she had seen the set of his jaw and the glint in his eye which told her that he would not be pushed, but his bride’s wishes might carry more weight. What about Lucy’s wishes? Poor man, it would put him in a dreadful quandary. Perhaps she ought to make it easy for him and disappear.

  Heaving a huge sigh of regret, she stood up, fetched her portmanteau out of the cupboard and began stuffing her clothes into it, though where to go she did not know. She left the garments she had bought with the advance on her wages; they did not belong to her. The trunk containing a few precious possessions she had brought with her from India, including the tiger skin, would have to be sent for later.

  She had almost finished and was picking up her burnous to throw over her shoulders, wondering how she could creep from the house without being seen when Lucy stormed into her room and flung herself on Emma’s bed.

  ‘Sophie’s Turkish treatment of you is the outside of enough, Emma. Oh, I know she is to marry Dominic, but I truly cannot think it will make him happy. She is so domineering. I do hope I find a husband before the Season is finished, for I declare I could never live with them.’ Suddenly becoming aware of Emma’s bulging portmanteau, she stopped. ’emma, whatever are you doing?’

  ‘Leaving. It is clear I am an embarrassment to you and to his lordship. I do not want to be the cause of dissent.’

  ‘Fustian! I will not let you go. I need you. I…Oh, Emma, never have I had a friend before, not a proper friend, not one who is all my own. If you leave me, I shall be at the mercy of that termagant.’

  ‘Do not be silly, Lucy. She can’t be that bad.’

  ‘Oh, she is! I do not know what Dominic sees in her, except, of course, she is all sweetness and light when he is about. I am sure that they won’t have been married five minutes before he sees her in her true colours.’

  ‘Oh, I do so hope you are wrong. I should hate to think he was made unhappy.’ Which was nothing less than the truth, though she wished she had not spoken; Lucy would only repeat her assertion that she had developed a tendre for her brother.

  Strangely, she did not find anything out of the ordinary in, Emma’s remark. ‘I am not wrong. She is downstairs now, scolding him for not being here to greet her and wheedling him into a good humour at the same time. It is sickening.’

  ‘You have had your brother to yourself for so long,’ Emma said, realising his lordship must have returned while she had been packing and she would not now be able to leave without confronting him. It was going to be a very painful interview, made worse by her very strong desire to stay. ‘Do you not think you might be just a twinge jealous?’

  ‘No, for if he were going to marry you, I should be as pleased as ninepence.’

  ‘You flatter me, Lucy, but it is nothing to the point.’

  ‘He won’t let you go. I know him. Once he digs in his heels, nothing will shift him.’

  ‘I rather fancy it is a family trait,’ she said, with a weary smile.

  ‘There you are, then! Now unpack that bag and change your dress for dinner. Dominic has invited the ladies to dine with us and though they have gone home to change, they will be back directly. I shall need your support.’

  ‘Oh, Lucy, it will only cause more trouble…’

  ‘I had not thought you such a pudding heart, Emma. Where’s your pride?’

  Where was it indeed? Was running away the answer? She was Sophie Mountforest’s equal, wasn’t she? She had a sudden vision of her papa, pulling her on to his lap and telling her the tale of the injustice done to him and her childhood anger suddenly reasserted itself. She laughed. ‘Do you know, I had almost forgotten I had any. You have made me remember it.’

  Dinner was an uncomfortable meal, during which Sophie and her mother conversed almost exclusively with Dominic, addressed a polite word or two to Lucy, but ignored Emma as if she did not exist. Emma, who had put on her new amber crepe and allowed Lucy to dress her hair, was content with that arrangement. She did not feel like joining in and it gave her ample opportunity to observe.

  The ladies were lavishly dressed in shimmering gauze over silk, her ladyship’s a vibrant red, Sophie’s pale aquamarine, while Lucy’s was white muslin, as befitted a young lady not yet come out. Dominic was splendid in an evening coat of dark mulberry velvet, matching pantaloon trousers, a pink brocade, waistcoat draped with a watchchain, a fob and a quizzing glass, and a starched cravat which must have taken his man hours to tie.

  They were going to the theatre after the meal, all except Emma, whose presence would not be required, there being ample people to chaperon Lucy. Emma would have liked to have gone. She had never been to the theatre in London, though she had enjoyed going to theatrical entertainments in India, which were usually of Indian origin, ancient mythical stories told in dance. She had never seen a Shakespearean play in her life.

  She sat, picking at her food, allowing the conversation to ebb and flow around her, dreaming of being taken to a play by Lord Besthorpe. Both would be lavishly dressed in the latest mode, they would have a box almost on top of the stage, and he would be attentive, entertaining and knowledgeable. He would take her hand and gaze into her eyes with so much love…

  She was jolted out of her fantasy by the sound of her name, being uttered by the man of her dreams. ‘Miss Woodhill, you are very quiet and a trifle pale. Are you well?’

  ‘Perfect
ly, my lord.’

  ‘Would you care for some of this Rhenish cream? It has a very delicate flavour.’ Rose, who had been reinstated, had just served him and hovered with the dish. ‘Serve Miss Woodhill, Rose.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She didn’t look well, or happy, he decided. What was making her so sad? What had clouded those lovely eyes? Guilt, perhaps? If it were, she had shown no signs of it before. She had always sparkled, defending herself vigorously when censured and offering firmly held opinions on a great many subjects when they had dinner table discussions. Tonight she was silent. Was it Sophie’s presence?

  He looked from one to the other. Sophie knew nothing of the letter of reference Emma had given him. He had intended to show it to her, ask her about Miss Emma Mountforest, but when she and her mother arrived this afternoon, she had no sooner greeted him, than she began complaining about Lucy’s companion. Highly unsuitable, she had said, half-Indian, no doubt. He must have been off his head.

  She had softened it by saying he was a man only lately come to his inheritance and was not used to taking on female staff. He must leave it all to her.

  It was the first time they had quarrelled and though they had made it up, he had decided to say nothing of that letter. Sophie had no liking for India or anything Indian and she would not be fair to Miss Woodhill.

  On the other hand, Miss Woodhill must realise it was likely that there was a connection between his bride-to-be and her previous employer. If she had been telling him the truth, she would surely have remarked on it. But if she had been lying, it would account for her looking so melancholy; she knew she was about to be exposed. Why, then, did he feel this surge of compassion for her?

  ‘It must be hard for you to accustom yourself to life in England,’ Sophie said, addressing Emma for the first time. ‘I am persuaded it is not at all what you are used to.’

  ‘No, for the climate is very different.’

  ‘Oh, I meant other than the climate. We all know that India is very uncomfortable and dangerous to one’s health. I would not for the world risk going there. I was speaking of Society.’

  ‘British Society is the same the world over,’ Emma said, recovering some of her poise. ‘Wherever English people gather, they make a little England for themselves. It is a great shame they are so insular because they miss learning about other cultures. India is full of interest. Its people are by no means uncivilised, you know.’

  Sophie laughed. ‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you, being one of them.’

  ‘Sophie!’ Dominic exclaimed.

  ‘It is all right, my lord,’ Emma put in quietly. ‘If I were half-Indian, Miss Mountforest, I would not be ashamed to admit it. Some of my best friends are Indian. In fact, my maternal grandfather’s second wife was a Bengali. I loved her.’

  ‘Then I wonder you made the journey if you found them so much more congenial.’

  ‘I had my reasons,’ she said softly. ‘But they are private.’ She stopped, realising she had given the young lady a set-down, which was a very unwise thing to have done. She looked at Dominic, wondering what his reaction might be, and was surprised to see a twinkle in his eyes and twitch of amusement on his lips. For some reason she could not fathom it made her angry.

  He sensed the danger and quickly interposed. ‘I think if we are not to miss the curtain going up, we ought to go. I will order round the carriage while you ladies fetch your cloaks. Miss Woodhill, you need not wait up for Lucy, I am sure she can manage.’

  ‘I should hope so!’ Lucy said, rising. ‘If we are going to supper afterwards, we shall be very late. Come, Emma, you can help me on with my cloak.’ She left the room with Emma on her heels. Behind them, Emma could hear Dominic remonstrating with Sophie and it gave her a frisson of impish pleasure.

  By the time they reached Lucy’s room, that young lady was convulsed with giggles. ‘Oh, Emma! Did you see Sophie’s face! She was furious.’

  ‘I am sorry I spoke in that fashion,’ Emma said, fetching Lucy’s velvet cloak from the wardrobe. ‘I did not wish to embarrass you or his lordship.’

  ‘I wasn’t embarrassed and neither was Dominic. And it just goes to show, you are not without courage. I don’t think I could have stood up to her like that.’

  ‘I wish I hadn’t. It was very stupid of me.’

  ‘Was your grandmother really Indian?’

  ‘She wasn’t really my grandmother. Grandpa married her after his first wife died. He was lonely, you see…’

  ‘One day, you must tell us all about her and the rest of your family. And India. The proper India, I mean, not the British Society. Now, I must go. I wish you were coming with us. Will you be bored on your own?’

  ‘No, for I intend to answer my brother’s letter, and do some mending. Now, off you go, I can hear the carriage coming to the door.’

  Teddy’s letter had arrived the previous day and filled her with a great longing to see him again, to drop this dreadful pretence just for a few hours and be herself. She wondered if he felt the same, but he had given no indication that he did. His letter was full of his new life: stories of the horses, which he enthused were prime beasts, and of Mr Cosgrove’s offer to let him ride Nelson in a race at Newmarket, which was only five miles away.

  Being a jockey was not at all like being a humble syce, he told her; you were looked up to and praised and, if you won a race, you were given a percentage of the prize money. He had made friends with some of the other lads and she was not to worry about him. It was not until the end that he mentioned what he chose to call ‘their crusade’.

  ‘I have discovered that the Mountforest country seat is a dozen miles away and that Mr Cosgrove’s father and the Viscount were great friends, though I have not yet seen him. Is it not a small world?’

  It was smaller than he realised, she thought, as she sat down to reply. Mountforests, Cosgroves and Besthorpes, all connected, all friends. Exposing Viscount Mountforest would have repercussions all round and suddenly she was not sure if she wanted to do it, even if they could. The last thing she wanted to do was make enemies of Lord Besthorpe and his delightful sister.

  The visit to the theatre had been a great success, Lucy told, her the following morning. The play was a farce and the audience had been every bit as entertaining as the players. ‘And would you believe it,’ she said, ‘Captain O’Connor was there with some friends.’

  ‘You spoke to him?’

  ‘Oh, no, he was in the stalls, but he looked up and saw me and winked.’

  ‘Good gracious, did his lordship see him?’

  ‘No, Dominic was too busy trying to placate Sophie.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I don’t know, they were whispering. He was probably still giving her a jobation over the way she spoke to you.’

  ‘Oh, no, surely not. I’m not worth quarrelling over.’

  ‘You’d best let him be the judge of that. He hates injustice and rudeness, even to a servant. Why, you saw how he brought Rose back. He will not let you go on Sophie’s say-so.’

  Oh, what had she done? She should have kept her mouth firmly closed and refused to rise to the bait. She had always managed to do it in the past when people had shown their ignorance. Why not now, when it was doubly important to remember who she was supposed to be?

  ‘I don’t want to talk about them,’ Lucy went on. ‘I have been thinking about my come-out ball. I mean to invite Captain O’Connor. I want Dominic to make his acquaintance without knowing how things stand.’

  ‘And how do they stand?’ Emma asked sharply.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ she said vaguely. ‘I would like to know him better and how am I to do that, if we move in different circles? The ball will be just the opportunity.’

  ‘But Lucy, you have not been properly introduced. Dominic would never allow it.’ It was the first time she had used his lordship’s Christian name. It had slipped out so easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and now she was blushing to the roots of h
er hair. Strangely Lucy did not even notice.

  ‘I shall tell him the Captain is your friend.’

  ‘Mine? How will that serve? I shall not be there.’

  ‘Of course you will. It is not fair that you should miss all the fun. I want you to come, and not as my chaperon either…’

  ‘Your brother would never agree to that. Goodness, I am already a source of annoyance to him. I am sure he wishes he had never hired me.’

  ‘That I know is not the case. And we needn’t tell him. It is to be a costume ball with everyone in masks, so we will disguise you.’

  ‘No, Lucy, it is out of the question. You know chaperons are not supposed to dance.’

  ‘But you would enjoy it, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, but I have made so many mistakes over protocol, I wonder why I am still here. There was that walk in the park and I am truly thankful Lady Clarence did not see us at the cricket match or she would have made it impossible for me to stay. And I allowed you to ride astride and nearly had you killed.’

  ‘Dominic doesn’t know about that.’

  ‘I hope you are right. And then last night I made matters a hundred times worse by putting Miss Mountforest to the blush. I wonder he has not given me notice long ago.’

  ‘He likes you, that’s why.’

  Emma looked up startled. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He said you were brave and spirited and independent and he’d be dashed if he was going to let a gaggle of gabble grinders tell him how to run his household.’ She paused, smiling mischievously. ‘And I’ll tell you something else…’