“I have called upon Roker to attend at your convenience.” The dowager sounded as if she was addressing a public meeting. “He will instruct you on your duties.”
She spoke as if he had no idea what the duties involved. He’d endured summers at the country house so they could give him the basic instructions in How To Be An Earl, or to be more precise, how to be an earl’s steward. Something he’d run from with huge relief, not least because of the constant humiliations handed out by the existing steward’s son, David Carlisle. He could have been playing cricket, or fishing, or any other damned thing. But no, he’d spent days, weeks, in the damp muniments room with the rent table in the middle studying books and ancient documents.
Opportunities for Carlisle to sneer at and belittle him.
They’d been sitting here for about an hour, as far as he could tell.
The withdrawing room clock was one of those delicate, feminine affairs without a chime, impossible to read if he stood more than three feet away. His watch ticked happily in his pocket, but he could hardly press the repeater button in company. Frustrating, with so many timepieces around, that he could only assess what the time was and how soon he could get away.
“If my wife is agreeable we will meet Roker together.” He gave the countess a regal nod, then turned to Faith. “Are you content with that, my dear?” He bestowed a positively honeyed smile on Faith.
Here came that blush again. He found the pink tinge enchanting, and a welcome change from the haunted glances she kept shooting him when she thought he wasn’t watching.
Before she could speak, the dowager jumped in. “Women have no part in such discussions.”
He begged to differ. “If there’s no law against it, I’d prefer my wife present. If she can bear it, of course.”
Faith blinked. “I didn’t think you’d want me at a business meeting.”
“Then you thought wrong. It’s your life too.” If she were his wife in truth, then he would want that. Besides, he wanted her nearby.
Less likely to bolt. And he wanted her to know what she’d come close to possessing before he denounced her. Oh, he’d use her, maybe even bed her, and she’d make a convenient shield for the next month or two, while he found his feet in this new life, but then he’d find a way of ridding himself of her. He wanted no part of her deception.
He was perfectly aware anger fuelled his decision, but he didn’t care. That this brave, beautiful woman he’d wasted years admiring from afar deceive his family in this way infuriated him. Had she taken him in too?
Her mouth opened, closed, then she said, “If you wish.”
What would she have said had they been alone? Probably the same. “I do. It’s better if you understand the ramifications of this shift in our lives. All of them, for that matter.”
“I’m still coping with the effects of not being a widow,” she snapped. Her eyes widened. Expressive eyes that revealed everything she was thinking.
“You would rather return to your sad state?” He didn’t wait for a reply. He didn’t want to hear her answer; since he feared it might not be one he desired. “I can sympathise with your confusion, my dear. I’ve had time to come to terms with the news. Two weeks since the storm that took both the previous earl and his brother.”
He caught the gaze of the woman opposite him—Charlotte, the oldest of the dowager’s daughters. For once, she’d lost the little-girl appearance and he saw the woman. Not for long, because the vapid expression returned. But he knew what she would have said. “What about me?”
At least she had money and a family. She didn’t have to rely on her wits alone to find a place in life. Or her body. Camp followers made themselves acceptable with bed privileges and by cooking and cleaning. He’d known them to take their man’s job when he’d been killed in battle to provide for the children, if another man didn’t offer them protection. Officers generally turned a blind eye to the practice, especially if they fell short of fighting men. He couldn’t imagine either Charlotte or Louisa thriving in those circumstances.
Faith, though. Ah, she was entirely different. He would discover why a woman he’d last known as the wife of another man had claimed to be his widow. For the money, perhaps, but she didn’t know exactly how much he was worth. Few people did. She’d have had access to his officer’s salary, a small annuity and a modest manor house in the country. And, it appeared, a house in Red Lion Square. He’d abandoned them all when he’d turned his back on Europe, but it seemed, someone else had not.
Her actions pointed at her taking advantage of opportunities that came her way in order to better her situation in life. On the other hand, she might well have taken the step from desperation.
Time to find out.
He got to his feet. “Come, my dear. We should retire. Events have exhausted you; do not attempt to deny it.” He could question her more effectively in private.
“I will have a meal conveyed to your chamber.” The dowager stood too, her bearing stiff, but then it always was. So far she’d shown little emotion when he’d given her the news he dreaded conveying, but God knew, as a serving soldier he’d had the experience in doing so. If she held off from that, then she’d hardly demonstrate any when given a setback. “However, I fear the earl’s chambers will not be ready for you until tomorrow.”
“Anywhere will do. We cannot turn you out of your own apartments.”
The dowager sent him a cold stare. “I moved out when my husband died. I have not occupied them for some years and they will need airing. I’m sure we may find a room for you tonight.”
“Thank you,” he said. Would Faith have the nerve to accompany him upstairs? After all, he hadn’t admitted to regaining his full memory. For all she knew, he believed they were married in truth.
Which gave him the benefits of a husband. Reconciliation had its physical implications.
Desire roared through him. He’d held off from her for years, but now she claimed to be his wife. He could claim his conjugal rights and who would stop him? If he continued to pretend he’d lost his recollection of events immediately before Waterloo, nobody would blame him for using this impostor any way he wanted to. Would she go along with it, or would she confess? Either way he would come out the winner. Finally bed the woman who had haunted him for years, or hear her confession.
He didn’t care which because he decided he’d have her either way.
Chapter Three
Panic made Faith’s breath short and she had to fight for control.
How could she go with him when he thought they were married?
She hadn’t missed his hot glance, understood exactly what it meant.
It had stirred her, moved her body to soften, ready itself for him, but she had never allowed herself to become a slave to her baser instincts. She refused to start now. She had to go home. On her own.
She’d known her masquerade couldn’t last forever but it had served its purpose. Maybe she could safely move on.
“I have no night things with me,” she said, “And I have to prepare for my removal here.” She pressed his hand. “You stay. I’ll be fine. I’ll come back in the morning.”
He cocked his head to one side. “You aren’t anxious for our reconciliation?” The warmth in his eyes seared her, but she feared letting him too close. She’d seen him at his most dangerous and she knew he was shielding his menace under a veneer of social respectability. He didn’t fool her.
She forced a smile, putting on the best act of her life, and she’d staged a few in the past. “I’m tired. I’m sorry, but I need to sleep and to think. I won’t be alone, I have a maid waiting up for me.”