The Second Lady Southvale Read online

  ‘You’ve what?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ve declined George’s proposal.’

  ‘May I ask why?’

  The time wasn’t right to tell them about Philip. ‘I’m just not in love with him, Father.’

  ‘Love? What has love got to do with marriage?’

  ‘A great deal, as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘It’s never been mentioned as a criterion before,’ he said, ‘and if it’s so important, why have you waited until now to say anything?’

  ‘I – I didn’t realize it was so important to me before, Father.’

  He sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘You do know what a good match you’ve turned down, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘George Whitby is heir to—’

  ‘I know, Father, and I’m sorry. I know you wanted the match to come about, and I truly meant to go through with it, but now I just can’t. I want to marry for love, not just for fondness and regard.’

  ‘Fondess and regard were good enough for your mother and me.’

  Rosalind fell silent, for until Philip de Grey it had been good enough for her, too.

  Her mother studied her. ‘Is your mind made up on this, my dear?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing more to be said. We’re disappointed, of course, but the times have long since gone when parents forced their daughters into unwanted marriages.’

  Rosalind smiled gratefully at her for not pushing the matter, but for several minutes afterward she could feel her pensive glances. Did her mother suspect a little of the truth?

  Mr Carberry excused himself from the breakfast table shortly after that, declaring himself to be thoroughly displeased with both his children. As the door closed behind him, Rosalind expected her mother to say something, but she didn’t. Several minutes later it was time to change for the ride.

  Her maid was waiting. Hetty was a competent, flaxen-haired young woman with a shy smile and china-blue eyes, and she spoke with only a slight hint of her Viennese origins, having lived in America for the last ten years. She’d been Rosalind’s maid for three of those ten years, and knew her well enough to guess that a momentous event of some sort had happened. Usually Rosalind would have confided in the maid, but not this time; it was all too private and important to be shared with anyone except Philip himself.

  Hetty brought the emerald-green riding habit and laid it gently on the pink silk coverlet of the bed. A few minutes later Rosalind was ready to leave. She studied her reflection in the gilt-framed cheval glass. As she drew on her gloves, she was conscious of a quiver of nervous anticipation. Would it still be the same this morning when she met Philip? Would the magic of the night before seize them both again? Or would the clear light of day make all the difference in the world? She stared at her image. Maybe for him it already had made all the difference in the world, and he wouldn’t even keep the assignation.

  She heard her horse being led around to the front of the house, and Hetty quickly brought her her riding crop. Then she left the room, but as she reached the top of the staircase, she halted in dismay, for John was waiting for her in the entrance hall below, and he was dressed for riding.

  He was leaning back against a console table, his arms folded and his eyes downcast thoughtfully. He wore a maroon riding jacket and beige cord breeches, and his top hat, gloves, and riding crop lay on the table beside him.

  Hearing her at the top of the staircase, he glanced up and straightened. ‘I heard you ordering your horse earlier and thought I might join you.’

  ‘I’m not doing anything exciting,’ she replied, injecting what she hoped was just the right note of discouragement into her voice.

  ‘My nerves are too ragged for excitement.’

  She gave a weak smile and went slowly down, wishing she could think of something to deter him.

  He watched her. ‘At the risk of sounding boringly repetitive, I have to say yet again that you look quite delectable. George will be the envy of Washington with you as his wife.’

  She was about to tell him she wasn’t going to be George’s wife, but he turned away to pick up his top hat and tap it on. Then he donned his gloves, picked up his riding crop, and offered her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’

  They went out into the sunshine, and as John assisted her to mount, she turned to look at him. ‘I’m sure you have other things you’d much rather do than ride with me….’

  ‘Don’t you want my company?’

  ‘Yes, of course, it’s just….’

  ‘I’m looking forward to riding with you, Sis, so don’t say anything more.’ He grinned, patting her arm before turning to take the reins of his own horse, which had been led out with hers.

  She sighed inwardly. The last thing she wanted was company, but there was very little she could do about it. She and John had always been allies in the past, but would he be her ally in this?

  They rode down the freshly raked drive toward the gates. Washington gleamed across the marshland, where cattle moved between the clumps of alders. Someone was shooting partridge, and the gun reports cracked sharply through the warm, still air. There were clouds on the distant horizon, and she knew there’d be a thunderstorm before nightfall.

  The horses kicked up dust as they were urged along the track toward the wooden hillside that rose to the east of the mansion, and the suddenness of their approach startled a magpie from a bush. With loud cries of alarm, it flapped into the nearest tree, where it sat in angry indignation, its chattering complaints ringing after them as they rode into the cool shade of the woods.

  Rosalind tried to think of suitable ways to mention Philip, but it soon became apparent that John was accompanying her in order to talk about his own problem. They rode slowly between the trees, where leafy shadows moved across their path, and he spoke at length about all he’d lost when Elizabeth had died.

  Rosalind reined in after a while. ‘Elizabeth wouldn’t have wanted you to stay unhappy because of her, John,’ she said gently.

  ‘It’s my fault that she died.’

  ‘Maybe it is, but Father’s right, you can’t go on like this. Will you promise me something, John?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘Promise me that you’ll do as Father wishes.’

  ‘Sis….’

  ‘Not for his sake, John, but for your own. You can’t go on as you have been, and I think that in your heart you know it.’

  He drew a heavy breath, tipping his top hat back on his blond hair. ‘It’s more easily said than done, Rosie.’

  ‘No, it isn’t, John. You’ve just got to make up your mind what you want.’

  He looked shrewdly at her. ‘You say that as if it’s something you’ve done yourself.’

  She hesitated. ‘I have.’

  ‘Are you going to explain?’

  ‘Are you going to give me your promise?’

  He smiled a little. ‘Very well, you have my word that I’ll change my ways.’

  ‘Don’t say it lightly, John.’

  ‘I’m not. I mean every word. Now, then, what is it that you’ve made your mind up about?’

  She glanced ahead through the trees. At the top of the incline ahead was the fallen tree, where she hoped Philip would be waiting for her.

  John followed the glance. ‘It isn’t like you to be mysterious, Sis.’

  ‘Nor is it like me to be reckless to the point of lunacy, but that’s exactly what I am being. John, I’m not just going for a ride this morning, I’m going to keep a tryst with Philip de Grey.’

  He stared at her, at first just stunned, but then angrily. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’ he breathed incredulously.

  ‘No. In fact, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.’

  ‘But, dammit, you’ve only met him once!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And what of George?’

  ‘He already knows.’

  John’s lips parted in amazement. ‘He does?’<
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  ‘He realized last night.’

  ‘How perceptive of him.’

  ‘If you hadn’t been so in drink, you’d probably have realized it yourself,’ she replied sharply. Then she bit her lip regretfully. ‘I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.’

  ‘I rather think you did, and I probably deserve it.’ He breathed in slowly. ‘Sis, I can’t let you keep this assignation. If I do, I’ll be guilty of standing idly by while you compromise yourself beyond redemption.’

  ‘Please, John,’ she begged.

  ‘Rosalind, drunk or not, I’d never have brought him near the house if I’d realized this would happen.’

  ‘I must speak to him, John.’

  ‘No,’ he replied firmly, reaching over to seize the bridle of her horse.

  ‘If you do this now, John Carberry, so help me I’ll never forgive you. I stood by you when Elizabeth died, and I’ve understood your grief over her. While she was alive I did everything I could to help you pusue the match with her, even though I knew our parents wanted a more wealthy bride for you. All I’m asking of you now is that you let me meet Philip. You owe it to me.’

  ‘Damn you, Rosalind.’

  ‘You owe it to me,’ she said again, holding his gaze. Slowly he released the horse. ‘If this was any man but Philip de Grey….’

  ‘Because he’s British?’

  ‘Because he means nothing but heartbreak for you, Sis. You’ve called in my debt, and I’m paying it, but I hope with all my heart that this is the first and last time you have anything to do with him.’ He gathered his reins. ‘Shall we ride on?’

  ‘I’d rather you waited here for me.’

  ‘It will do no harm for him to know that I’m now party to what’s going on.’ He kicked his heels, urging his horse on up the hillside.

  Rosalind hesitated for a moment, and then rode after him.

  4

  To her relief, Philip was waiting by the fallen tree as he’d promised. He’d dismounted from his large and rather restive black horse, and was leaning back against the tree trunk, the reins swinging idly in his gloved hand as he gazed at the magnificent view toward Washington. He wore an indigo riding coat and cream kerseymere breeches that fitted him like a second skin. There was no starch in his full muslin neckcloth, so that the folds moved slightly as a stray breeze stirred lazily through the hitherto still air. He’d hung his top hat on a branch, and the sunlight fell fully on his coal-black hair as he straightened on seeing their approach.

  He tethered his horse and then came toward them. The smile on his lips faded perceptibly as he saw John’s anger, and after giving Rosalind the briefest but warmest of glances, it was to John that he gave his full attention.

  Rosalind reined in unhappily, for she knew that John intended to confront Philip on her account and there was nothing she could do to prevent him.

  Philip surveyed him, his blue eyes cool and guarded. ‘It’s evident that you have something disagreeable to say.’

  ‘Are you surprised?’

  ‘No. In your place I’d feel as you do.’

  ‘Would you treat a London lady of quality in this way? Would you compromise her without a second thought?’

  ‘I do not seek to compromise Rosalind.’

  ‘Then what do you seek?’

  ‘My intentions are honorable, and that, I think, is all you need to know.’

  ‘Don’t adopt that lofty English tone with me, damn you,’ snapped John, his green eyes bright with affront. ‘You’ve known my sister for less than a day, and you’ve somehow persuaded her to keep this unbelievably rash tryst with you. Don’t preach to me about honorable intentions, for we both know that that simply isn’t so.’

  ‘Do we indeed?’ Philip murmured softly. ‘You seem to be very sure about “our” thoughts.’

  ‘Perhaps because you and I nearly met the day before yesterday.’

  Rosalind looked quickly at her brother, wondering what he was leading up to.

  Philip’s gaze remained steady. ‘And what has that got to do with it? We didn’t meet until yesterday, and I know full well that I haven’t shared any thoughts concerning Rosalind with you.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what it’s got to do with it, Southvale. I overheard you in a very interesting conversation with your envoy. Do you perhaps recall the conversation I’m referring to?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t.’

  ‘It was at the Hardiston house. You and he were in the billiard room.’

  A light passed through Philip’s eyes, and he nodded. ‘Yes, I recall the occasion.’

  ‘Not being a war hawk by inclination, I intended to make myself agreeable to you both, but as I was about to go into the room, I realized that your conversation was of a rather private nature.’

  Philip drew a long breath, glancing at Rosalind. ‘Yes, it was,’ he admitted.

  John leaned forward on the pommel of his saddle in a challenging manner. ‘Shall I repeat what I heard, or would you prefer to say it yourself?’

  ‘I’m quite prepared to speak for myself, although I cannot promise to use the exact words.’ Philip looked steadily at him for a moment and then turned to Rosalind. ‘What John overheard, I believe, was my somewhat emotional declaration that I still loved my wife, that there wasn’t a moment of any day when I didn’t think of her, and that I wished with all my heart that she was still with me. I meant every word.’

  Her heart tightened within her, and she remembered George’s parting words of warning at the ball, when he’d said that there were many obstacles between her and a man like Philip, not the least of those obstacles being Philip’s enduring love for his wife.

  John gave a savage half-laugh. ‘There speaks the man of honorable intentions! I said he’d mean nothing but heartbreak for you, Sis, and now perhaps you understand why. You’re nothing more than a fleeting diversion for him, and your seduction is just a pleasant way for him to idle away his time.’

  Philip rounded on him, his lips thin and cold. ‘Take those words back, Carberry, or so help me, I’ll call you out!’

  Rosalind’s breath caught in alarm. ‘Please, Philip….’

  His attention was still upon John. ‘I asked you to take those words back, Carberry, and I’m still waiting for you to do it.’

  ‘I have nothing to take back, Southvale.’

  Rosalind dismounted, hurrying to stand between them. ‘Please stop this right now,’ she cried, snatching John’s horse’s bridle and making it back away slightly.

  Philip’s eyes were still steel-bright, but then he looked at her and his gaze softened a little. ‘Forgive me, Rosalind, for the last thing I wish to do is upset you. He may be your brother, but that doesn’t give him the right to say what he did. I don’t deny what he overheard at the Hardiston house, and as I’ve admitted, I meant every word. But that was then, before I met you. I wouldn’t say those words now, because they’ve ceased to be true. You’re all that matters to me now, and you have been from the very first moment I saw you.’

  She wanted to believe him, but was it possible for a beloved wife to fade so suddenly from her husband’s heart?

  He read her thoughts. ‘Only this time yesterday you were still inclined to marry George Whitby, were you not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But all that changed quite suddenly, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Because of me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then is it so beyond belief that I, too, could undergo such a change of heart?’

  Slowly she shook her head, returning the smile. ‘No, it isn’t.’

  John looked urgently at her. ‘Use your head, Rosalind! Don’t let him—’

  Philip stepped over to him, snatching his reins. ‘Your concern for your sister does you immense credit, Carberry, but quite frankly, I’m astonished by your total lack of understanding.’

  ‘Oh, I understand only too well!’

  ‘No, sir, you don’t. I’m not
attempting to seduce Rosalind, and she’s certainly far more to me than a passing fancy. I would expect you, of all men, to understand how I feel right now.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Because from what I’ve heard about you, you’re a man much governed by his heart.’

  John met his eyes, but said nothing.

  Philip still held the reins. ‘Washington chitter-chatter has much to say about you, Carberry. It seems that your conduct in recent months has been less than dignified.’

  ‘Have a care, Southvale….’

  ‘I intend to say my piece, just as you took it upon yourself to say yours. You loved and lost, and now you’re consumed with grief. I sympathize, believe me, for I’ve been where you are now, but there is one signal difference between you and me, and that is that I would never ever brush aside as meaningless the feelings of others, least of all my own sister.’

  ‘Do you have a sister?’

  ‘Yes, and I love her very much. I would never belittle her as you’re belittling Rosalind.’

  John stiffened. ‘I’m not belittling—’

  ‘That’s exactly what you’re doing. Does Rosalind make a habit of inviting the attentions of the opposite sex? Does she have a reputation here in Washington?’

  ‘No, damn it!’

  ‘Is this the first time she’s done anything like this?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then surely it stands to reason that she must have good reason for behaving in a way that’s so out of character?’

  John exhaled slowly, his eyes moving to Rosalind as he nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose she must have,’ he conceded unwillingly.

  ‘My intentions are honorable – indeed, they couldn’t be more honorable – and all I ask is that you allow us a little time together now. You have my word that she will come to no harm at my hands.’

  For a long moment John hesitated, but then he nodded again. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But if you cause her a moment’s hurt, you’ll have me to deal with.’

  ‘And I will deserve it.’

  John looked at Rosalind, then turned his horse. ‘I’ll wait at the edge of the woods.’ He kicked his heels and rode away.