The Decadent Countess Page 11

  Was she two women in one? Leo did not pretend to be an expert when it came to the character of the fair sex—no man was!—but he had never before been faced with two such starkly different women in the one delightful package.

  Now that he had begun, he recalled other times when similar transformations had occurred. It was all very puzzling and did not help him to unravel his own tortured feelings, or gloss over the fact that he had behaved in a manner far beneath the Duke of Belford.

  ‘Am I going mad?’

  Leo drew his mount to a halt and stared hard at the grand gates which led into the winding drive which in turn led to Ormiston. He did not feel mad, just a trifle overexcited. What was he going to do? How was he going to extract himself from this tangle and resume the life he had led previously?

  With a heartfelt sigh, he kicked his horse into a gallop.

  Leo was still no closer to a solution to his problems when he reached the stables. Indeed he was as confused as ever. The groom who came to take his mount increased his confusion by informing him that his sister had arrived at Ormiston.

  ‘My sister?’ Leo stared at him blankly. ‘I have only one sister and she is in Sussex.’

  ‘No, sir, she has come to Ormiston. She arrived an hour ago.’

  Tina at Ormiston? Leo quickened his stride. What was Tina doing at Ormiston? Why should she have left her husband and two young sons to visit her brother? Was there bad news? But this last he all but discarded. Leo’s close family, these days, consisted of himself and his sister, and if she had bad news she would hardly be in a state to bring it to him personally.

  Still puzzling, Leo reached the main staircase. He had begun to ascend when, looking up, he beheld his sister descending. She was wearing yellow silk, her dark curls coiled upon her head. She was some ten years younger than her brother, a calm and sensible girl who had nevertheless listened to and, when necessary, been guided by her older brother. It had rarely been necessary. Despite having lately been brought to bed of another son, she was blooming. In fact, Leo thought he had never seen her look more lovely. When she saw him she cried out softly in pleasure and surprise.

  ‘You are in looks, Tina,’ he said.

  But Clementina did not want to hear his compliments. ‘Leo, whatever is this about Julian’s widow?’ she burst out. ‘Aunt Ellen has written to me to say she is the Decadent Countess, and either you have lost your wits or else you have tumbled headlong in love with her!’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Are you comfortable?’

  Leo eyed his sister, watching her arrange her skirts with impatient tugs.

  ‘Yes, yes.’

  ‘Do you require anything to drink, to eat?’

  ‘No, Leo, I do not.’

  ‘Perhaps you require a cushion?’

  Her eyes, every bit as blue as his, narrowed in the manner of a cross Siamese cat. ‘No, Leo, I do not require a cushion! I am waiting to hear what you have to say about Aunt Ellen’s accusations.’

  Leo forced a laugh and was dismayed to find it completely lacking in humour. ‘What can I say? She is overwrought. She asked me to deal with the matter, and because I have not been able to accomplish it so soon as she likes, she has decided I will not. Or cannot. You know her character.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ Tina replied soothingly, keeping a close watch on her brother. ‘I also know she is not prone to nervous starts of quite this magnitude. Something has thrown her into hips, Leo, and I think you know what it is.’

  ‘There is no need for her to be in “hips”, as you call it. I have the matter well in hand.’ A picture flashed into his mind of himself and Miranda embracing in the middle of the road, and his voice dried up. He turned to look out of the window.

  Tina watched him a moment in silence. She had always considered herself close to her brother, and although her own domestic life had lately expanded to take up most of her time, she still felt as if she knew him well enough to be able to read him now. Leo was worried. Leo was not himself. Leo had been thrown off his usual, controlled balance and he did not know how to deal with it.

  ‘What is this woman like, Leo?’

  She watched him gather himself before turning, so that he could face her with his familiar urbane smile. But there was no smile in his eyes.

  ‘What is she like?’ Leo repeated. ‘Tolerable.’

  “‘Tolerable”, Leo?’ Tina raised a slim dark brow.

  He laughed, and this time it was genuine.

  ‘Yes, all right, she is more than tolerable. She is a beauty, Tina. But it’s not just her appearance. There’s a sweetness to her I would never have believed a woman such as she could possess. An innocence, an…an…’ He turned away, and suddenly his voice was bleak. ‘Oh, God, what can I say? She’s a witch.’

  ‘And by the look of it, she’s used her powers on you,’ Tina said drily. ‘Oh, Leo, how could you? I cannot believe you, of all people, would fall for such a woman. You cut your eye-teeth years ago.’

  ‘That is just what I have told myself. It doesn’t help.’

  ‘Could you…could you…?’

  Tina blushed, but Leo, who had turned back and was watching her with interest, read her like a book.

  ‘Could I offer her a carte blanche?’ he finished mockingly. ‘Yes, I suppose I could, although it would be very awkward and she would in all probability make my name as notorious as hers.’

  ‘But you haven’t?’ she asked curiously. ‘Offered her one, I mean?’

  Leo shook his head, and now his smile mocked himself. ‘No, my dear, I haven’t. That does not seem to be what I want, Tina. It would not be enough.’

  He looked at her helplessly.

  ‘Oh, Leo, you would not think of…Leo!’

  ‘Marriage? I haven’t allowed myself to think of it. I am hoping it will pass, you see. A brief madness, and it is gone. Then I can go back to being myself, marry the Honourable Julia Yarwood, breed a dozen little Fitzgibbons and die a respectable man.’

  Tina did not laugh as he had hoped she might. Instead, she stared down at her skirts, her fingers smoothing imaginary creases.

  ‘It may be as you say,’ she sighed at last. ‘An…an aberration. You are going through some sort of crisis.’

  ‘You do not believe in the family curse then, like Jack?’ The question was only half-humorous.

  Tina gave an unladylike snort. ‘No, I do not.’ She hesitated a beat before continuing. ‘Do you?’

  Leo shrugged. ‘I have wondered. There was Grandfather—’

  ‘Odious man!’

  ‘Yes, I cannot imagine myself quite as bad as that. Women as a group are not presently my problem, just one of them. Unless,’ he went on thoughtfully, ‘it is like the measles, and begins with the one spot?’

  Tina seemed to be making up her mind about something, and now she spoke with determination.

  ‘Leo, I have lately thought you have grown far too smug and satisfied with yourself. Probably this was bound to happen.’

  ‘Well, I thank you, dear sister!’

  Tina ignored him.

  ‘Yes, this may well be as you say; a madness which will quickly pass. We must pray so, Leo, for all our sakes! In the meantime, you must see this woman as seldom as possible. An obsession cannot thrive if the object of it is not in evidence.’

  ‘By God, you speak as though you are an expert!’

  For the first time since her arrival at Ormiston, Clementina smiled. ‘Oh, no, Leo, I am no expert.’ Her smile faded as she took in her brother’s demeanour. ‘Are you very unhappy?’

  ‘No, love, I am not unhappy at all.’

  But he was, and it pained her to see it. Blithely, Tina changed the subject to her own family, discussing in great detail the latest wonders performed by her new baby son. She did not flatter herself that Leo was particularly interested, but he listened and marvelled and the time passed. It was only as Tina set about the lengthy task of dressing for dinner that she allowed her thoughts to return to Aunt Ellen’s letter an
d the Decadent Countess.

  Upon first receiving that letter she hadn’t been nearly as worried as she was now. Surprise and amusement had been her chief feelings. It had all seemed so preposterous! Leo? Head over heels with such a woman? But then, as she had read and re-read the hysterical accusations, doubts had begun to disturb her calm certainty. She had remembered that lately, on the few occasions when she happened to see her brother, she had found him frighteningly distant, as though an actual physical shield protected him from the rest of the world.

  Oh, he was still affectionate, still her brother, but his feelings were restrained. It was as though he kept himself always on a tight rein. Tina knew that in some men that would be a normal and natural state of affairs, but Tina had known Leo as a young man when he had been a wild and passionate soul.

  Although older than she, Tina still recalled the Leo who had set her up before him on his horse and raced with her across the fields. And then been scolded roundly by their mother. When he had come into the title all that had changed. The responsibility had weighed heavily upon him, but he had been determined to bear it with the appropriate stoicism.

  Until now Tina had not realised just how much Leo had bound over his true character to his duty. She had grown used to this new Leo, this cold proper man, married to his position as the Duke of Belford. And, with a twinge of guilt, she had been too caught up in her own happiness to delve into the workings of her brother’s mind. All, at least on the surface, had appeared calm.

  That was why Aunt Ellen’s letter had seemed so particularly shocking.

  Leo! Involved in a scandal!

  Tina had put aside her comfortable domesticity at once, and travelled to Ormiston to see for herself. It had not needed Leo’s admittal for Tina to guess the truth—one look at his face was enough. He had fallen into deep waters, and was presently floundering in an unfamiliar sea. Yes, the cold man was mortally wounded, and the Leo she saw now was almost a stranger.

  No, not a stranger, she reminded herself. A childhood memory. The Leo of her youth. The cool protective shield hung in tatters, and Tina could almost have been glad…if she had not been so angry.

  That evil, hateful woman! No doubt she was enjoying her triumph, playing Leo like a fish on a line. Well, thought Tina, she would have something to say to that!

  As soon as possible, she would pay this Countess a visit.

  The hall was hardly recognisable. Cleaned and shining, there were pieces of furniture Miranda was sure had not been there before, or else they had been disguised under a heavy coating of dust. She should be grateful, but now that The Grange was perfectly clean and tidy, Miranda felt less like the owner than she had when it was an ill-run mess.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Fitzgibbon.’ As usual, Pendle wore an expression which hinted that he had much to bear.

  ‘Pendle. I’m going to church.’

  ‘To church, ma’am? How are you—?’

  ‘I’m walking, Pendle.’

  The look of dawning horror on his face did much to lift her spirits and bring a spring to her step.

  The day was a fine one and Miranda enjoyed her ramble along the country lane. The hedgerows were sweet with blossom, while nesting birds flitted about, adding their cheery song to the hum of the bees. It filled her with memories of her childhood, bittersweet thoughts of her mother and the life that might have been.

  Her mother had hoped to settle Miranda respectably but happily, with a steady man far different from her own husband. She had died before such a thing were possible, and Miranda had been launched upon her Italian adventure.

  Had she thought to find a steady, respectable husband in Italy? No doubt there were many such men, but they had not frequented the Villa Ridgeway. Miranda had occasionally thought of marriage, but as the years had passed, she had resigned herself to being forever the untangler of domestic crises for her financially incompetent father and rackety stepmama.

  Loneliness was something she pushed to one side, telling herself she was fortunate, really, to have a home at all.

  And then the count had died, and everything had changed. Julian had gently and subtly but firmly taken control of her future. Now she was twenty-four years of age, a widow without ever having been a wife, and the owner of a huge, rundown house. Was her situation all that much better than it had been in Italy? Was she any less lonely?

  An image of jet hair and dark blue eyes took shape in her mind.

  Would Leo Fitzgibbon assuage her loneliness? He probably would—and drive her insane in the process! And yet there were moments when they seemed strangely suited. Indeed, thought Miranda, it was a puzzle and not one she was ever likely to unravel.

  The church was visible for some distance before Miranda reached it. A large building for so small a village, it boldly declared that St Mary Mere must have been of some import in times past, certainly more so than it was now. By the time Miranda arrived at the door, the service had begun, and she crept inside and found herself a quiet place near the back.

  The service, though wholesome, was lengthy as the minister wrestled for the souls of his parishioners. To distract herself, Miranda took advantage of her position at the rear of the church to peruse the rest of the congregation.

  Sophie and her father were seated at the front, their fair heads bright in the gloom. There was another gentleman with them, larger in physique than Sir Marcus, but with hair of a light brown colour. Miranda pondered as to whether this was Jack, Sophie’s brother, newly arrived from London. As far as she could tell, he wore a fashionable coat and his shirt points were exceedingly high and well-starched. She was examining the back of his head for any family resemblance, when she saw him turn his face aside, cover his mouth with his gloved hand, and yawn hugely.

  Miranda smiled. She was not alone, then, in finding the sermon overlong. The remainder of the congregation consisted of neatly dressed ladies and country gentlemen, and villagers in their Sunday best. Luckily, there was no sign of Nancy and her large family. Perhaps they preferred chapel.

  Her eyes travelled on over the interior of the church and the great many memorial plaques. One of these, on the far wall, was actually carved into the shape of a man in an Elizabethan ruff, his profile stern and hawklike as he gazed confidently into the next world.

  His face reminded her, a little, of Leo, although she could not think why. When the service had ended, and she was able to slip over to peer more closely at the effigy, she found some carved words, worn, but one at least was legible.

  Fitzgibbon.

  Some subtle family resemblance then. Was this stern gentleman the founder of the Fitzgibbon fortunes?

  Outside in the churchyard, the congregation were inclined to linger. Sir Marcus had been waylaid by two excessively genteel ladies in tartan shawls, but Sophie Lethbridge hurried over to Miranda, the brown-haired gentleman following at an unwilling trot behind her. As Miranda had guessed, this was Sophie’s brother, Jack, lately returned from London.

  While Sophie was introducing them, Miranda took a moment to cast her eye over the gentleman. He was an amiable-looking man, and handsome, even if his expression was somewhat vacant. With Sophie and her father as pleasant examples, Miranda had been looking forward to meeting the third member of the family and finding him equally pleasant.

  She was disappointed.

  Jack Lethbridge’s complexion darkened alarmingly as soon as his eyes met hers, even before his sister had finished her introduction. As if he already knew her by sight—or knew who she was.

  ‘Oh!’ he said. Then, recollecting himself, ‘I mean, how do you do, ma’am?’ His bow was small and grudging.

  Sophie took instant umbrage.

  ‘Well,’ she declared, ‘I must say you are not very polite, Jack! Miranda is my friend, I’ll have you know.’

  Jack looked uneasy. It was an expression ill suited to such an open and friendly continence. However, he stood his ground.

  ‘I always did think you were a bit too free and easy with your affect
ions, Soph. Told you so, more than once. Could get you into bother, one day.’

  ‘Well, really, Jack!’ his sister gasped. ‘I would never have believed I’d be ashamed of your manners, but I am! Apologise at once to Miranda, or I will…I will never speak to you again!’

  Jack appeared shaken by this threat, opening and shutting his mouth like a landed fish. Miranda could see that he was torn between his brotherly duty and his desire to be on good terms with everyone. He was that sort of man. Of course, the reason for his dilemma had already occurred to her.

  Jack Lethbridge was Leo’s friend, and therefore he must be a privy to Leo’s mistaken belief as to her identity. He thought she was the Decadent Countess. She only hoped he had not heard of her escapade yesterday, when Leo had found her outside Thorne’s cottage and taken her up on his horse, and…

  Well, she could hardly bear to think of it herself without blushing!

  But at the moment Miranda was prepared for a conciliatory approach. After all, she told herself, she could well understand a brother’s concern for his only sister. Jack was doing what he thought best, and if he were not in serious error his actions would be commendable.

  It did not occur to Miranda that Jack’s belief that she was Adela, the Decadent Countess, was no different to Leo’s, and yet her feelings on the matter were so different! With Jack, the knowledge caused her trepidation and a corresponding eagerness to allay all his fears concerning his sister. In short, to win him over to her side. There was none of the fiery temper and deep inner hurt and anger that the same mistake had induced in her when it was Leo who had made it!

  Miranda gave Jack an understanding smile.

  ‘I believe, Sophie, that your brother fears I may have taken advantage of your kind heart. It is not so, Mr Lethbridge, believe me. I am very grateful for your sister’s kindness. Indeed, I would be a very mean-spirited sort of person if I were not!’

  Jack eyed her suspiciously. ‘You understand, ma’am, that I think only of my sister in this matter.’