Caught in Scandal's Storm. Helen DicksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
think she wants to see you now.’
Alice threw Roberta an exasperated look. ‘Really, Roberta, unlike you I do not feel that I always have to do your aunt’s bidding. If I were you, I’d stand up for myself. No one would blame you.’
Roberta smiled tolerantly. She did not possess a strong will of her own and often allowed herself to be browbeaten into compliance by her Aunt Margaret. It was easier that way. ‘Aunt Margaret has been very good to me—to both of us, Alice. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have been sent to live with strangers. I could not have borne that. Aunt Margaret has done a lot for me.’
Roberta had the misfortune to be an orphan, but it was fortunate for her that she possessed as her sole relative and guardian the Countess of Marchington, Lady Margaret Hislop, a widow these ten years past and without offspring. Roberta had long ago become submerged in the strong waters of her aunt’s personality, for Lady Marchington was an autocratic, domineering woman who employed outspokenness to the point of rudeness as a form of social power and was feared and deferred to in consequence.
She had an eye that could bore holes through granite and a tongue that could flay the hide off a rhinoceros. It was pretty unnerving to those who found themselves in close proximity to the formidable lady. Roberta submitted herself to Lady Marchington’s authority without complaint. Strong men withered before her and women ran for cover. She was a highly colourful character, tall and slender with iron-grey hair and a face wrinkled with age, but it was said she used to be a raving beauty when she was a girl.
Alice was not afraid of her, but then she always took care to avoid her. ‘Oh, well,’ she said, heading for the stairs with Roberta following on behind her, ‘as long as you feel like that about it. What do you suppose the party will be like tonight? The whole of London is anticipating the announcement of your betrothal. Indeed, they can talk of little else. I doubt the bad weather will prevent those invited from attending.’
‘I sincerely hope not, but we will just have to wait and see.’
‘I am certain the evening will be a tremendous success.’ Alice cast Roberta an amused, knowing glance. ‘Knowing how enamoured he is of you, Roberta, you can be assured of Hugh’s company all night. The manner in which you become quite flustered when you are with him tells me that his attentions are not unwelcome. Come, do not deny it. It is forever Hugh this and Hugh that,’ she gently teased her friend, who had turned as red as a poppy when Alice pointed out this slowly growing obsession.
Roberta’s china-blue eyes never left Alice’s face, the soft brown ringlets demurely hiding her rosy dimpled cheeks. She was quite tall and slender and cast in a gentler mould than Alice. It was not just that, Alice mused bitterly. What she lacked and what Roberta had in abundance was a tender innocence to add to her sweet beauty.
‘You’re quite right, Alice,’ Roberta said, warming to her subject despite her strongest wish to be sensible. ‘It’s an exciting feeling. When I see Hugh I always feel so happy. I—I do love him, Alice.’
Alice smiled at her. She did not begrudge Roberta her happiness, but she did envy her and wished with all her heart that she could have found the same kind of happiness in her betrothal to Philippe. ‘That you cannot deny and very soon you will be his wife.’ When Roberta and Hugh were together, mostly they talked. Occasionally they touched each other’s hands, tentatively, the lightest of movements before making a shy retreat. Marriage would be a steady arrangement which Roberta would be content with and Hugh would have an absolute single-minded devotion for her. How Alice envied her friend these feelings. Let her not be disappointed as she had been.
‘I confess that I cannot wait,’ Roberta softly replied.
‘Although what will happen when Hugh discovers you were once betrothed to another—may still be betrothed to him since the engagement was never broken—is anyone’s guess.’
The light vanished from Roberta’s eyes at Alice’s mention of Ewen Tremain. ‘Aunt Margaret says Lord Tremain no longer counts. He pledged his troth to me in Paris. But where is he now? He left over a year ago after being summoned to his brother’s home in Bordeaux on a family matter and there has been no word from him since. Living close to Paris, did you never meet Lord Tremain?’
Alice shook her head. ‘I know of him. His brother Simon fought alongside my father and brothers at Culloden.’
‘I recall you telling me that your brothers did not survive the battle.’
‘Sadly, no. Two of them were killed. William was too young to fight. I have no memories of my older brothers. I was just a baby at the time. My mother died soon after we went to live in France. Now there is just William—and me, of course.’
‘Aunt Margaret has written to Lord Tremain on numerous occasions, without the slightest result. He could not have done more to earn her displeasure. He is deserving of her contempt, and mine. It would seem I’ve been fortunate to escape marriage with a man who is unworthy. In fact, I think Lord Tremain is the only man who has ever snubbed Aunt Margaret firmly—and, she says, with intention. I have to say that it’s a salutary experience for her. Which is why she has relegated Lord Tremain to the past.’
And which was why, Alice mused, Lady Marchington was giving a ball tonight to display Roberta like a costly gem to be admired, a diamond to be destined for a coronet, no less. Lady Marchington was the matchmaker, the woman who would marry her niece to the most eligible bachelor in London. She had thought of nothing else since Lord Tremain had left Roberta in Paris. Lady Marchington was fearfully strong willed and quite ruthless about getting her own way.
‘I do recall you saying how relieved you were when he left Paris. You had an aversion to him, I believe.’
‘Not an aversion exactly,’ Roberta answered, raising her skirts and having to hurry to keep up with Alice as she climbed the stairs.
‘Does he still trouble you?’
‘On occasion. We were not well acquainted, but on the few times we met he was always polite and considerate towards me. He was a man to stir a female’s heart—quite dashing—handsome, too. But he was a mysterious man—secretive—sinister even, I often thought.’
Alice had become very fond of Roberta. She was angry at the treatment her friend had received from Lord Tremain and was persuaded that he was unworthy of Roberta’s devotion. She was determined to remain just as sensitive to Lady Marchington’s motives of ridding Roberta of that erstwhile suitor, yet if Lord Tremain was as handsome as Roberta would have her believe, then one would assume he had made quite an impression on her. The loss of such a magnificent suitor would have made any woman resentful of an aunt who was determined on his removal from her life. Alice was of the opinion that, if for no other purpose than to make Roberta happy, Lady Marchington had been justified.
‘But what of you?’ Roberta asked. ‘I would not ask, Alice, but I fear I must. I’m so glad your brother sent you to live with my aunt and me, but you must miss Paris.’
Alice drew up her slender shoulders in a small, distressed shrug, not wishing to recall the events that had made her leave her brother’s house, the shame she had brought on William’s good name. Now that she was in England, she was keenly aware that her memory of those weeks was best put behind her for the sake of her own peace and well-being. ‘It wasn’t Paris I had an aversion to, Roberta, only the man I was supposed to marry.’
‘You jilted him. But if you did not love him, then you have nothing to reproach yourself for.’
Despite Roberta’s charitable words, Alice realised she was still feeling the effects of the nightmare of what she had done. A fleeting frown touched her smooth visage as a memory stirred in her mind of the self-satisfied smirk Philippe had worn that first time he had taken her to bed. It was almost as if she had become a possession he could flaunt to lord it over others. The day had come when she had told him she would not marry him and walked away. She had never loved him and had soon come to despise him, so she knew he could not break her heart.
William’s wrath had been terrible