The Conqueror's Dilemma (28 page)

‘We all know that, Will,’ came
impatiently from his companion. ‘But it don’t tell me what’s eating you.
Haven’t seen you look like this since school. Wretched little runt you were
then. Couldn’t help but feel sorry for you.’

As if this reminder served to
pierce a barrier, there came a sound from Will somewhere between a laugh and a
groan. A wild sound, both frightening and poignant, which effectively held
Tiffany rooted where she stood, all thought of self dissipating.

‘Ah, Hector, don’t. You touch
upon the very fabric of my agonies. Yes, I was as wretched then as I am now.
You don’t know—I’ve never told you—how my mother died.’

‘Your
mother
? Is that what
this is about?’

‘Indirectly.’

Tiffany began to wish she had not
ventured out. She felt her position acutely. If the Conqueror said any more,
she must undoubtedly be unwittingly privy to matters intensely personal. She
ought not to eavesdrop further.

But how to escape without making
her presence known? The two men had stopped in the middle of the drive, not ten
paces from where she was hidden. How to justify her conduct if she revealed
herself now? And in doing so, she must of necessity put a stopper on Will’s
tongue.

Would it be worse in her to
listen, or to keep mum and allow Lord Kilbride to draw the secrets from his
friend’s overburdened heart? Torn, she prevaricated, guiltily aware of an
urgent desire to hear more.

‘Go on, old fellow.’

Tiffany drew a silent breath. She
dared not intervene, and she must, should she try to leave. They would hear her
without doubt, and her presence must inevitably be discovered.

‘It’s not an edifying story.’

Will’s tone had dulled. The words
came out flat and hard, revealing more to Tiffany than if he had shouted them.

‘My mother was driven from our
home by my father’s intolerable jealousy. He would not leave her be. He hounded
her with questions. He made her do penance for every transgression he took into
his head—whether she was guilty or not. He was accuser, judge and jury all
rolled into one. She could not walk into the village without raising suspicion.
If she took me with her, he would suppose it was done to cover her tracks. Every
man for miles around was looked at askance—and this from a man of God, mark
you.’

Tiffany’s breast went cold. The
catalogue of jealous suspicion set up a train of images in her mind. She wished
her imagination was not of an order to create them, but it was not difficult to
picture the horrors the late Mrs Westerham must have undergone.

‘I hated him.’ It was said
without emphasis, but she could hear the underlying venom. ‘I watched her
suffer and I hated him.’

‘What happened?’ Kilbride’s low
tone startled Tiffany, so lost in the tale she had forgotten he was there.
‘Must have been bad to make her leave your father’s protection.’

A hush fell on the night. Tiffany
could hear the uneven beating of her own heart, and she had to breathe
carefully for fear of giving herself away. For what felt like an aeon, she
thought Will was not going to answer. Then it came, and the anguish was no
longer held down.

‘He tried to strangle her. I
believe he would have succeeded had I not come into the room. I flew at him. I
jumped on his back and beat him with my fists as hard as I could. I remember
screaming. At him to desist. At my mother to escape. I don’t remember much of
what happened after that. I know he threw me off. He must have been chastened
when he came to his senses, for he shut himself up in his library for hours.’

‘That’s when your mother went?’

‘Yes, while he was out of the
way. I helped her pack. She wouldn’t let me come with her, and I didn’t know where
she went. She said she would send for me, but she never did. When I was old
enough to leave home, I looked for her. By the time I found her, it was too
late. She had died in penury, and alone. I don’t know how she lived during
those years, but I can guess. How much choice is there for a woman who abandons
her legitimate husband?’

He fell silent, and Tiffany
tasted salt tears as they ran unbidden down her cheeks. Her heart ached for
Will’s sufferings, but a sliver of disconnected question seeped into her
consciousness.
Indirectly
. Was that not what he had said? What had led
him to that? What, in connection with herself?

‘This was going on while you were
at school?’ There was shock in Lord Kilbride’s tone. ‘How old were you when she
left?’

‘Thirteen. I used to wish she had
not waited as long.’

From her hidden vantage point,
Tiffany saw the shorter man reach out to Will’s shoulder. ‘Not surprised you
chose never to return to your home once you could stand on your own two feet.
Wish I’d known before, old fellow. Don’t know what I could have done, but…’

Will was seen to turn and grip
his friend’s hand. ‘You’ve done more than enough, dear boy. I had no wish to
burden you further. Nor Ariadne, if it comes to that.’

‘No such thing,’ protested Lord
Kilbride, his tone gruff. ‘But tell me this, for I’m puzzled, Will. Why do you
feel it now so particularly?’

A swarm of butterflies leaped
into action in Tiffany’s stomach, and her heart beat loudly enough to make her
fearful of her presence being betrayed. For the life of her she could not avoid
peering more closely around her protective pillar. She saw Will’s silhouette
shifting away, his hand lifting to thrust through the dark locks as if in
agitation.

‘Can’t you see my dilemma?’ The
anguished note was back. ‘From the first, I have fought this entanglement,
Hector. I am too like my father. Time and again I have been obliged to
recognise a similarity I would do anything to avoid. Love breeds jealousy, and
jealousy is a luxury I cannot afford.’

‘Damn it, man, how do you know
you’re like him?’ Tiffany read exasperation in his friend’s reaction. ‘Can’t
see you strangling anyone, Will, however jealous you became.’

‘You would have said the same of
my father. He had all the charm in the world—on a good day. None outside our immediate
household would have guessed at it. No, Hector. I have felt the glimmerings of
it in myself and that is enough. I dare not give my heart to another. I cannot
take the risk.’

Tiffany was beyond thought. The
light of understanding flooded her mind, but in the numbness of utter despair
she knew what dying felt like. She had not known there was a point past pain
when the last shred of hope had gone. There was relief in it, she discovered,
as if she might lay down the burden of loving Will.

A sudden access of brightness
came from behind her, and she turned quickly. Blinking a little in the glare of
the candelabra held high, she saw behind it the features of Ariadne Membury.
For a petrified instant, she froze, certain she had been seen.

‘Will, is that you? Hector? What
in the world are you doing?’

Under her thudding heartbeat,
Tiffany heard Will speak in low-voiced urgency.

‘Say nothing of this to Ariadne,
I charge you, my friend.’

‘You
have my word,’ came murmuring back. ‘I’d not repeat such a tale for a fortune.’
Then louder to his sister. ‘Too stuffy by half in that room. Came out for a
breath of air.’

Ariadne and the candle flames
moved through the portico and onto the drive. ‘That’s all very well, but you
might at least have waited until after Tiffany’s recital,’ she was grumbling.
‘You missed a rare treat, Will, and—’

‘Leave the fellow be, Ariadne. I
won’t have you scolding him.’

Tiffany waited for no more.
Seizing her chance to escape, she slipped quietly along the lee of the wall and
in through the front door. But any thought she’d had of escaping upstairs to
her allotted bedchamber was foiled by Jeremy Brundish, who came out of the open
door to the withdrawing-room just in time to waylay her.

Returning from an early solitary ride a couple of days later,
William was chagrined to catch a glimpse of Tiffany walking in the shrubbery in
company with Jeremy Brundish. Had the fellow not been assiduous enough
yesterday, when most of the party had attended Church? William had ventured out
alone this morning in hopes of blowing away the seemingly permanent unrest
playing havoc with his temper, and had returned little better for the intended
remedy. The sight of Brundish dancing attendance on the Felton wench did
nothing to improve matters. Why the deuce must the wretched fellow turn his
attention on Tiffany, when it had been concentrated exclusively upon Melinda
for weeks?

Not that he could acquit Tiffany
of encouraging the fellow. The child was picking up a host of feminine tricks
that would undoubtedly get her into all sorts of trouble if she did not take
care. Child? No, she was no longer a child—if she had ever been one. She had
refuted being called so at the outset.

William was instantly plagued by
another of those unwelcome memories that had taken to slipping into his mind.
He tried unavailingly to shake it off as he rode into the stables and
dismounted. Even as he passed a coin to the lad who came to take the bridle,
the image assailed him of Tiffany peeping through the window at the Post
Office. He could see her startled face when he had hailed her, and those
devilish little demons leaping into her eyes. How he missed that look of hers.

Recollecting himself, he cursed
inwardly and hastened his step towards the house. Of what use to dwell upon
what could not be mended? The breach was total. As he had intended. He had not
meant to wound her by walking out on her recital, but it had been a relief when
he realised Tiffany must have taken umbrage. It provided a useful excuse not to
attempt to cross the divide. Speaking of his mother’s sufferings to Hector
could not have been more timely a lesson. He had strayed much too far along a
path too dangerous to travel.

Whether
it was the stirring of old memories, or the irksome necessity to watch Jeremy
Brundish making a cake of himself over Tiffany that worked the most against his
patience, William did not know. But that he was finding it increasingly
difficult to maintain his air of sangfroid was undeniable. Had he not a
reputation to maintain, he would have left this infernal house party in an
instant. He was obliged to remain, outwardly the insouciant Conqueror, but
inwardly—

William
balked at a description of his state of mind. He flattered himself he was too
good an actor to have betrayed it to any but his closest friends. Hector was
all too aware of it. The subject had not again been touched on between them,
but there had been a few silent looks and a more than usually assiduous
tendency to ply his best friend with liquor.

But for
one aspect, William would have been relieved Kilbride was otherwise occupied.
Melinda was rarely to be seen out of his company, which left Brundish free to
pursue Tiffany. A source of so much annoyance to William as to give him even
more cause to keep his distance from the chit, for it smacked too keenly of
jealousy for his palate.

As he
took the stairs to his allotted chamber, the picture crashed back into his mind
of the couple walking in the shrubbery. As luck would have it, he came slap
upon Ariadne in the corridor just as a muttered oath escaped his lips.

‘Dear
me, Will, did you get out of bed on the wrong side this morning?’

William
paused beside her, not troubling to conceal his irritation. ‘I was
extraordinarily at ease, I thank you, until I saw that insufferable young cub
squiring Tiffany all over the gardens. I thought you were supposed to be acting
as chaperon? If you don’t take care, he will end by compromising her.’

Ariadne’s
wide-eyed look was bent upon him, much to his discomfiture. ‘I hardly think so,
Will. There is no impropriety in Tiffany walking with a young man at a private
event such as this. Unless you mean to imply there was anything clandestine
about their meeting?’

The
lilt at the corners of her mouth was enough to convince William the dig was
intentional, and he felt warmth stain his cheeks. He was provoked into
defending himself.

‘The
circumstances were different in London. I was forced to meet the girl in
secret.’

Her
brows lifted. ‘I thought we were talking about Brundish.’

The
innocence of her tone infuriated him, but William refused the bait. ‘Don’t try
me too far, Ariadne.’

She
laughed. ‘No, you are far too sensitive to be teased these days, are you not,
my poor Will? Never mind. As for Jeremy, you may make yourself easy. There are
eyes enough about to act as a deterrent to any untoward conduct. Besides, I am
sure neither of them has a serious interest in the other.’

William
grunted, by no means reassured. ‘I hope you will say the same when Tiffany ends
up engaged to the fellow.’

Ariadne
treated him to one of her straight looks. ‘Well, if she does, where is the
objection? Brundish is an agreeable young man, reasonably handsome, and
eligible enough to satisfy Tiffany’s guardians, I am persuaded. I for one would
not be displeased.’

Seething,
William eyed her narrowly. ‘What new fetch is this? I am not quite a fool,
Ariadne. Your objective, if I don’t miss my guess, is for Tiffany to distract
Brundish so you may promote Hector’s desire to marry Melinda.’

‘You
are perfectly correct. But if in so doing, Tiffany finds herself a husband in
that boy, it will be no bad thing.’

‘Over
my dead body!’

To his
chagrin, Ariadne looked amused. ‘Dear Will, you must not be a dog in the
manger. Merely because you cannot have Tiffany yourself is no reason to put a
bar in the way of her marrying another.’

‘I
have no desire to put any bar in her way, but I won’t countenance her throwing
herself away on that peacocking young halfwit. She’s worth ten of him.’

He was
past all pretence. The notion was intolerable. Granted, he had no intentions as
far as Tiffany was concerned, but he had regard enough for her welfare to be at
pains to ensure she made a match with a man with intelligence at least
comparable to her own. Besides, what qualification had Brundish to be guiding
her through the social shoals? It was likely well beyond his capability to
recognise her naïveté. When it was borne in upon him he would doubtless be
shocked, and not even think to help her out of a potential jam.