Anne O'Brien (26 page)

‘I did not know that you would see me like that.’

‘I married you. Of course I see you like that. It is an insult to me that you should suggest that I am not aware of your every asset, every gift, every superb quality. I would not marry a woman worth less.’
And I have not spoken the most important. The most earth-shattering. Which I have only just come to appreciate myself, fool that I am! You are totally lovable. And I adore you!
What more could he say to her when his own thoughts were in such turmoil? He released her so quickly she might have stumbled.

‘Don’t deny me the right to make you happy!’ It was all he could manage, but delivered in a tone quite as harsh as before.

‘Very well.’ She still faced him in the mirror, could do no other, could find no other words. What was wrong? What on earth had happened to disturb his equanimity in his dealings with her?

He saw her trepidation. But was beyond softening either his words or his expression. What a moment to realise that he was in love with his wife! When besieged by secrets and rumours and those who might wish them ill. When events in Paris might erupt to engulf and harm them both.

He took a breath, riding the edge of control. And managed admirably.

‘Forgive me. I did not mean to disturb you or shout at you. The fault is not yours, but mine—and I should not have treated you with so little respect. I have no excuses.’

He took possession of her hand and lifted it with a terrible formality to his lips. Then bowed with equal chill formality, before turning to stalk from the room.

To stand outside, his back to a disaster of his own creating. How could Sarah possibly hold any tender feelings towards him after such a cruel and unworthy attack? He raked vicious fingers through his hair. It seemed to him that he lurched from one confrontation to the next—and the blame was undeniably his.

Whilst Sarah, on the other side, was left to press her cold fingers against her lips, to wonder what one earth she had done to deserve such a devastating dissection of her character, even as her innate honesty demanded that she recognise the truth behind the words. Well, she would take those words to heart, accepting that it became her to exert her independence and more confidence in her relationship with her husband. She would acknowledge her own worth. She would forget the past, the guilt and the pain, the debts to be paid. She would accept her position as Lady Joshua Faringdon with all the grace that he said she possessed. She would fritter away his money—if that is what he wished! And she would continue to love him with every drop of blood in her body! Since he would never know, he would not be able to complain about that!

With which comforting thought, she left the room in his wake with a flounce of her silk skirts.

With remarkable and amazingly sly diplomacy she contacted Thea and arranged that they should attend the ball to be given by the Prussian Ambassador with Nicholas as escort. It had not been her intention to attend, but attend she would, in a new gown delivered only the day before. She would delight in delivering the receipt with the astounding figure at the bottom to her lord. If Joshua was to dine at home tonight, it would be alone. He could frown and snarl at the fricassee of lamb in his own company. If he had other engagements arranged, then it would be without her!

Her smile might be a little forced, but her mind was set.

A
s fate would again have it, both Lord Joshua Faringdon and his lady attended the Prussian Ambassador’s ball, if separately and unaware of the other’s intention. Joshua out of necessity to meet some prearranged contacts, Sarah, as she had planned, in a fit of defiance.

Joshua found it in his way to speak discreetly to a number of individuals, all of whom claimed to know nothing of subversive groups acting within the city and certainly not of any plan of assassination, but all warned that something unpleasant was in the wind.

Sarah found it in her way to dance every dance and gossip brightly with her sister and other ladies of her acquaintance in between. She agreed to go in to supper with a titled French gentleman who found the English lady both charming and elegant and willing to flirt as well as to converse at length and in a spirited manner on a range of topics.

Both Lord and Lady Faringdon, with remarkable ease, found it possible at so large an event to ignore each other and pretend that they were not aware of each other’s existence. Joshua out of a frozen horror at what he could possibly say to this woman—his
wife
—whom he had just discovered was the only woman he could ever love and whom he had insulted beyond
bearing. Sarah because…well, she did not quite know exactly why, but she had no wish to even recognise this infuriating man who had the power to engulf her body in flame and equally sear her soul with his harsh words. Even if she deserved them. Which, in retrospect, she was sure she did not!

‘Your wife is here tonight, Sher, if you had not noticed,’ Nicholas informed his sombre cousin with an expression that Joshua could only describe as a smirk.

‘I am aware.’ He would not rise to the bait. Of course he had seen her, in a glory of deep blue satin. Diamonds glinted on her breast and around her slender wrists, but no more than the fierce glow in her eyes. She looked quite beautiful.

‘Have you spoken with her?’

‘No.’

‘She might grant you a dance, if you ask her. But she seems to be much in demand.’ Nicholas watched Sarah execute the waltz in the embrace of a handsome dark-coated individual with assured steps.

Joshua turned his back on the sight of her in another man’s arms. It was far too tempting to stalk across the floor and claim her for himself with a few well-chosen words for the man who dared hold her so close. And what a scandal that would make. ‘
You
dance with her, Nick. I think tonight she would prefer it.’

‘I would have to agree.’ Nicholas grinned at Joshua, refusing to show him any sympathy in this situation that he privately considered to be of his cousin’s own making. ‘You are not exactly good company.’

‘No. I am not.’ Joshua’s lips curled in an expression not unlike a snarl.

‘And, Sher, you are a fool. Go and talk to your wife!’

Joshua merely glared at his cousin, who punched him lightly on the arm, and abandoned him to take up a hand of whist with a group of like-minded gentlemen.

And then Joshua’s evening disintegrated further into deep depression as a consequence of his setting eyes on the dark lady of the carriage. She was present, once again in the company of the little group of friends. Despite the very public occasion, given their previous history Joshua knew that he must speak with her, so made his way through the crowded ballroom to where she was a lively participant in a conversation, wielding a large ostrich-feathered fan with flamboyant agility. As he recalled, she had always had a leaning to the flamboyant. She turned at his approach, clearly, from her expression, waiting for him, expecting him to single her out.

‘Madame?’ Joshua inclined his head, his greeting posing the merest question.

The lady smiled her quick understanding. ‘Lord Joshua. It is some years since we had the pleasure of meeting, is it not? Perhaps I might introduce you—this is my husband, the Marquis de Villeroi. Charles, allow me to present Lord Joshua Faringdon, from London—he is, as you would say, a family friend.’

The elderly gentleman bowed. As did Lord Joshua.

‘Lord Joshua and I have a connection going back many years, have we not, my lord.’ There was a pronounced glint—perhaps of mischief—in those dark eyes. Her voice was delightfully husky with its French intonation.

‘We have.’ There was no amusement in Lord Faringdon’s face. ‘I trust you are well, Madame la Marquise.’

‘As you see.’ She waved the fan languidly. It was clear that this conversation would be conducted in the collective eye of the
beau monde
, but the lady placed a hand on his lordship’s arm to lead him a little distance for her group.

‘I did not expect to meet you here.’

‘No. I have not been to Paris for some years, my dearest Sher.’ She kept her voice low, intimate even. ‘But now my husband, who has some business interests here, wishes me to accompany him. I am not unwilling to reacquaint myself with the city.’ Dark lashes swept her cheeks. ‘Or with yourself.’

‘I imagine not.’ The lines engraved beside his lordship’s mouth softened a little. ‘I regret the manner of our parting, my lady.’

The lady sighed. ‘And I.’

‘It was not what I would have wished.’

‘Nor I—but it had to be so—in the circumstances. As we both realised. We were not free to pursue our own desires, were we?’

Lord Joshua shook his head, unwilling to continue that line of conversation. ‘Will you remain in Paris long?’

‘It is my intention. Perhaps we shall meet again.’ She laughed, a low seductive chuckle. ‘But perhaps, my dear Sher, it will be best if you do not make it a formal call. It would not please everyone, if you take my meaning.’

‘No, it would not.’

‘Discretion is not always easy, is it?’ she replied enigmatically. ‘I hear that you have married recently.’

‘Yes.’

‘She is a fortunate woman.’

‘I think the fortune is all on my side. May I say that you are as attractive as ever?’ His smile a little wry.

‘But a little older and wiser, perhaps.’

‘Wiser, perhaps,’ he agreed. ‘Older I cannot accept.’

The lady turned her head as her husband approached. The brief encounter was at an end, and indeed there was nothing else for them to say to each other.

‘Thank you for your compliment, Sher. It is good to see you.’

‘And for me too, my lady.’

He kissed the fingers she offered him, and then, driven by impulse and strong memories of the past, which still had the power to move him, he kissed her cheek in a gallant gesture.

At which point Sarah, encouraged by some unhappy pricking of her conscience to search the crowd for a glimpse of her errant husband, watched the little tableau unfold.

And stared in horror at what she saw.

How could he! And not even in private! It was a very public
salute on the lady’s cheek. And it was, unless she was very much mistaken, the dark lady from the Tuileries. The dark lady…

Sarah’s memory instantly cleared, as if a candle had been lit to cast a bright image. Of course she had seen the face before. And not merely in the Tuileries Gardens. It was the face that looked out so confidently from one of the portraits in Joshua’s attic in Hanover Square. So who was she—apart from being shockingly intimate with Joshua in the middle of a Parisian ball? A mistress? Highly likely! Well, if that were so, it would certainly clarify one recent development. If he was intent on taking up a liaison with this Unknown again—presumably a liaison of long standing—it would explain why the Countess of Wexford had been slighted. And that felicitous event, equally clearly, had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he now had a wife. No such thing! He simply had another mistress. Sarah hissed out a breath, causing Theodora to glance at her in some concern, but Sarah pinned a smile to her lips.

How dare he flaunt Another Woman before her in such a manner! With this thought in mind, Sarah lost no time and no sensible thought on the content of the looming conversation, in waylaying her husband.

‘My lord.’

‘My lady.’

He was immediately wary of the frigid look on her face. Now what? He truly did not need another challenging conversation today.

‘I would have a brief word.’

‘Can it not wait until we are private at home?’

‘No!’

‘Very well.’ He led her to one of the little anterooms, much in demand by those who might pursue a secret liaison, away from prying eyes.

‘Well?’

‘Why did you bring me here to Paris?’

He waited with raised brows for further explanation. Flushed
cheeks and a martial light in her eyes did not bode well. Sarah did not keep him waiting long.

‘Why did you insist that I accompany you, when you obviously have no need of me? More often than not you have absented yourself, giving me no idea where you might be.’ She conveniently, deliberately, overlooked his considerate presence before Thea’s arrival. ‘You appear to be surrounded by mistresses—’ with cavalier and deliberate exaggeration ‘—more than willing to entertain you, so you have no need of me. I am amazed that you find the time or the energy to come to my bed at all. And I remember that I asked, quite specifically, that I need not have to acknowledge them. And you agreed.’

All delivered in a low, clipped voice, quite unlike Sarah’s usual dulcet tones.

If the matter had not been so serious, Joshua thought that he might have laughed aloud at the picture painted by an irate and intolerant Sarah. His wife appeared to have amazing faith in his stamina. But there was no place for humour here. The evidence against him was growing daily, building stone upon stone, to create an insurmountable obstacle between them. But what to do would still seem to be out of his hands. He sighed a little against his own hurt, knowing that he was causing Sarah undeserved pain, and tried for words to placate.

‘You asked, quite specifically, that I should not introduce you to any mistresses I might have or bring them into our house. I have done neither.’
And will not. I do not have a mistress. I love you, if you did but know it.

‘You do not have to introduce them.’ Sarah looked down her nose, which Joshua recognised to be very much in the style of Lady Beatrice. ‘It is clear to me by the way you look at them. It is an insult to me that you should flaunt them in this way!’

‘Sarah—just who are these mythical creatures?’ There was a heavy weariness in his voice.

‘The Countess of Wexford, for one.’

‘She is nothing to me. Neither then, despite all appearances. Nor now.’

‘And the dark lady, tonight, in this very room—you kissed her cheek!’

‘So I did.’ What point in denying it? He was aware of nothing but the bleak chill creeping though his veins as the web of deceit pulled more tightly around him, binding his limbs, his choice of words. Ice cold, numbing, whilst his unbelieving wife burned with anger and humiliation. And it was his fault. Even if by omission, a failure to push for the truth so many years ago.

‘And I know that you have her portrait hidden away in the attics of Hanover Square.’

Ah! So that is it.
What could he possibly say to explain that away? In the end he did not even try. ‘That also is true. But she is not my mistress.’

‘Oh? So what is she?’ Sarah was aware of nothing but the bleak cold in the silver eyes that held her gaze when he delivered that statement. And she would have given all she had to believe it. But how could she, with the evidence of her own eyes?

He stepped back, a clear sign of retreat, perhaps even of defeat. Such a little gesture, but it well-nigh broke Sarah’s heart. She had heard nothing from her lord that might reassure her or tear holes in the weight of evidence against him. Instead he acted to put distance between them once more

‘I will not answer such accusations, Sarah. Forgive me.’ The sense of betrayal was as if a forged band of metal tightened around his heart and he could not stop the bitter words. ‘I did not realise when I married you, my lady, that you were so suspicious, so given to unfair judgements, without true evidence. I hoped that you might trust me. It seems that I was wrong in my judgement of you.’

‘Whereas I,’ she retaliated, quick as the deathly strike of a viper, ‘knew of
your
reputation from the very beginning, my lord. I should have taken heed of it, should I not, and should never have married you.’

After which, there was no more to be said from either side.

They left the anteroom with a black cloud of mutual suspicion and condemnation between them. And, on both sides, a terrible premonition of blighted love.

Sarah returned to Theodora’s side with a swish of her satin skirts, to take a healthy gulp of champagne, cheeks becomingly flushed, but with a demeanour far from composed.

‘What is it?’ Thea had already caught sight of Joshua’s furious figure across the room, where he stood to watch his wife with compressed lips.

‘Not a thing!’ She took another drink and spluttered a little against the bubbles.

‘So why are you drinking that champagne as if it might save your life? And why is Joshua glaring at you across the dance floor as if he could happily wring your neck.’

‘Joshua and I have had a…a disagreement.’

Theodora paused in sipping her own champagne at what was obviously a bald understatement. ‘What? Only one? Nicholas and I thrive on them, at least one a week!’

That forced Sarah to choke on what might have been a laugh, which was Thea’s intent as the glassy expression and the suspicion of tears in her sister’s eyes were a matter for some concern.

‘I think—I know!—that Joshua has just renewed his liaison with one of his mistresses.’

‘And why should you think that?’

So Sarah finished the champagne in the glass and told her. A somewhat garbled tale of public kisses and pictures in attics.

‘It does not sound likely to me,’ Thea advised with deliberate calm and lively curiosity. ‘Why keep her picture in the attic if she is his mistress, where he cannot see it? Are you sure it is the same lady?’

‘Yes. Perhaps it was to hide it from me!’

‘Mmm. But he did not hide the Countess of Wexford, did
he?’ Thea cast an eye around the ballroom. ‘And you say that the lady is still here at this incredibly tedious event?’