Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow

‘It would be better for all.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘No. I am not sure of anything at this juncture.’

‘Well, I am. I don’t know what you told Sarah and I don’t know what the truth is, but at the moment she thinks the worst of you!’

‘I know it.’

‘Tell her the truth, Sher,’ urged Thea, deliberately picking up Nick’s affectionate family name. ‘It cannot be worse than Sarah believing what she does, and Sarah can deal with the truth. Better than lies and charades. We had too many of those in the Baxendale family to accept them with any degree of comfort.’ As she remembered her own attempts to hide her Baxendale connections from Nicholas. What a disaster that had been.

Theodora patted his hand and followed her sister to discover the truth.

Sarah had approached the dark lady and come to a halt beside her.

‘Madame. Forgive the intrusion, but I would beg a few words with you.’

‘Do I know you?’ The lady appeared surprised, but not unfriendly.

‘No, you do not. I am Sarah, wife of Lord Joshua Faringdon.’

‘Ah.’ The straight dark brows rose with some hauteur, but there was a distinct sparkle in the lady’s eyes.

‘So I think you know of me,’ Sarah prompted.

‘I do indeed…’ The lady inclined her head. ‘I am the Marquise de Villeroi.’

‘Yes… I mean….’ What do I say now? Are you my husband’s mistress? Sarah discovered the dangers in Thea’s plan to confront the lady. But as she became aware of Thea’s presence beside her, she gathered all her courage and used the only possible opening. ‘I wish, my lady, to know why your portrait is in the attic of my home in London.’

The Marquise smiled. But with no hint of shame or discomfort, or even of surprise. ‘That seems a perfectly reasonable request to me,’ she remarked. ‘I think that we should find a private corner where we might sit—and I will try to explain what I can.’

So the little anteroom was witness that night to a second fraught conversation. The ladies drew the enclosing curtains against any who might be tempted to seek out the private space, and sat on the delicate gilded seats.

‘Well, my lady…’ the Marquise took up the initiative immediately as she spread her skirts and disposed her gloved hands in her lap, before embarrassment could set in ‘…I did not know until tonight that Joshua had remarried.’

‘Yes.’ Sarah was not inclined toward trivial conversation. ‘Some weeks ago. But I would know—what are you to him?’

‘Sarah—may I call you Sarah?’ The lady lifted her hands in what could have been seen as a plea. The hauteur had vanished. Instead there was a warmth here, a depth of understanding, and not a little melancholy. ‘I presume that you and Joshua are at odds over this. I am sorry for it, for the blame is partly mine. I think it will solve all your problems if I tell you my name. I am Marianne.’

Sarah’s lips parted on a soundless ‘Oh’. Theodora’s fan paused in mid-sweep. The two ladies who heard the admission looked at each other in obvious astonishment.

‘I was Joshua’s wife, as you will be aware,’ the Marquise de Villeroi continued, amusement now curving her lips at the stunned silence that resulted.

‘We thought you were dead. The whole family believes you to be dead,’ Thea exclaimed.

‘Not so.’

‘We thought,’ Sarah added, still trying to order her wayward thoughts and come to terms with this development, ‘that perhaps you had been murdered. There have been rumours to that possibility. Murdered by Joshua himself!’

‘Never that!’ The Marquise laughed. ‘Murdered by Joshua? It is a suggestion quite nonsensical, is it not?’

Thea and Sarah again exchanged glances. ‘The family was given to believe—by Lord Joshua himself—that you were struck down by some virulent disease and buried here in France.’ Sarah frowned at the lady who sat before her, in no fashion discomfited, clearly in perfect health.

‘No. As you see. Our marriage ended when a divorce was arranged. Discreetly and to our mutual agreement.’

‘But why? Why the secrecy?’

The Marquise leaned forward to touch Sarah’s hand with fingers heavy with jewels. ‘Forgive me, my dear. That is not my secret to tell. You must ask Joshua. I think that he will tell you now that he knows that we have met.’

‘But why could he not tell me before? Why should he deceive his family? You cannot imagine the difficulties caused by the rumour that he was a murderer!’

‘I think I can.’ The Marquise increased the pressure of her hand on Sarah’s in eloquent sympathy. ‘But as for why he would not… It was, I think, to protect me. He is a man given to gallantry. Or perhaps he was simply under orders to keep silent concerning sensitive matters. We all know what it is like to be held at the whim of those who hold the reins, do we not?’ She shrugged elegantly, a particularly French gesture. ‘But now it no longer matters.’

‘I still do not understand,’ Sarah replied, as much in the dark as ever.

‘It is a complicated affair, a tapestry with many tangled strands.’ The Marquise rose to her feet. ‘Tell Joshua to tell you the truth. Tell him that the truth can no longer hurt me. That I am no longer engaged in the activities I was before. Tell him, if you will, that my brother is dead. He will understand.’

‘Very well.’ A pause, then Sarah felt compelled to ask, ‘Did you love him, my lady?’

Her reply was immediate. ‘Oh, yes. He is so very handsome and so utterly charming—I could not have chosen a better husband, even if I had been given that freedom.’ She shook her head as if regretting her somewhat strange admission. ‘But Joshua will also explain about that too. As for the rest—it is all in the past. I have been married to Charles—the Marquis de Villeroi—for more than a year now. There is nothing between Lord Joshua and myself to concern you.’

The solemn gravity of the Marquise’s assurance brought another image into Sarah’s mind. The dark intensity was, of course, all Beth.

The Marquise smiled a little as if she read her thoughts. ‘Tell me of Celestine. It is the one aspect of this sorry and involved tale that I regret.’

‘She is well.’

‘Is she happy? I had to let my daughter go, you see. I was not allowed to see her. It was not thought to be desirable.’ For the first time in the conversation the lady’s composure was no longer secure.

‘Yes. She is happy. And she has found a friend in my son.’

‘That is good. Will you care for her? Love her for me? I know that Joshua will, but she will also need a mother’s care.’

‘I already do love her. She is growing fast. She is a true Faringdon, but her eyes are yours. Now that I know, I see it clearly. I did not see it in the portrait.’

‘No.’ The tension in the lady’s manner relaxed a little. ‘I think it was not a good likeness!’

They moved towards the archway and Thea drew back the drapes, letting in the world once more.

‘Shall we meet again?’ Sarah asked.

‘I do not know.’ And the Marquise made no promises. ‘But I am glad that we have done so. It has drawn a closure to something that should never have happened. I did not deal well with Joshua.’ She turned quickly and, to Sarah’s amazement, lightly kissed her cheek. ‘It has been my pleasure to know you, Lady Faringdon.’

And then she was gone.

‘What will you do?’ Thea raised her hand to attract Nicholas’s attention as they made their way back into the ballroom.

‘Ask Joshua, of course! But not here.’ Sarah frowned at the crowds that still thronged the reception, even at this late hour. If Joshua was still present, she had no knowledge of it. ‘I shall go home. It seems that there is still much to be explained.’ She thought for a moment or two, before adding softly, ‘And we both have some apologies to make.’