His Countess For A Week. Sarah Mallory
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allow her to digress. She took a deep breath.
‘At the end of June, my husband, George, returned from a visit to Devonshire, where he had been staying with friends. He was very ill and he died within weeks. He was in a bad way, raving that he had been ill-used. Robbed and poisoned. I thought at the time that he was delirious, but later, I discovered that he had spent thousands of guineas in a matter of months. You see, the marriage settlement had been drawn up in such a way that upon my husband’s death, the money invested in Funds reverted to me. I knew exactly how much it had been upon our marriage and I was shocked to see how it was depleted.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘George was young and...and impressionable. I think he fell in with a bad crowd who tried to take all his money, but I do not know who they are. All I know is that he had been invited to stay at Meon House.’
‘One moment.’ He stopped her, frowning. ‘Why did he not take you with him?’
‘We had only just married.’
‘I would have thought that all the more reason to be together.’
She blushed, partly out of guilt because she had thought that, too.
‘It was only a small party, a few friends meeting up for gambling and a little sport. I should not have enjoyed it.’ George had told her as much, had he not? And he knew best; she had never questioned that. She said now, with a touch of defiance, ‘He was obliged to go because he had promised his friends, but I know he would have preferred to stay at home with me. He told me so.’
What George had not told her was that Meon House had no master. It had been an unpleasant surprise for her to discover its mistress was a widow. Even worse that she was a lively and attractive widow. Arabella had wondered more than once since arriving at Beaumount if jealousy was clouding her judgement of Lady Meon.
The Earl was speaking again and she dragged her thoughts back.
‘Do you believe it was these friends who took your husband’s money?’
‘Someone took it! From what he told me, before he died, Lady Meon lures unwary young gentlemen to her remote house and—and fleeces them.’ She frowned. ‘She most likely drugs them, too, so they know not what they are doing.’
‘That is a serious accusation. If it is true.’
‘I know. That is why I need to find some proof!’
‘And why you set yourself up as Lady Westray.’
‘Yes. I had read in the newspaper that the old Earl had died and that his heir was in the Antipodes and not expected to return for some time. By chance I noticed that one of the Earl’s properties was near Tavistock. It took only a little further investigation to show it was very close to Meon House.’
‘How convenient for you.’
She raised her head and continued with a hint of defiance.
‘I was determined to discover the truth and this was the perfect opportunity. Having lived in Lincolnshire my entire life, I thought it would be safe enough to masquerade as someone else. No one would know me.’ She added quickly, ‘Please do not blame anyone in your household for being taken in by my deception, my lord. I was very convincing.’
‘What exactly did you do?’
‘I turned up at the door. Told them your letter must have gone astray and that you would be following me to Devon shortly.’
He gave a shout of laughter. ‘The devil you did!’
She lifted her chin higher. ‘I gave Meavy a purse when I arrived, to cover any expenses I incurred while staying here, since you had not yet made arrangements with the bank. That helped to convince him I was genuine.’
‘I am obliged to you, madam.’
‘I assure you my funds are more than sufficient to cover anything I choose to do. I have merely made use of your house and your name.’
‘Merely made use of them!’
‘You were not using them, at the time,’ she retorted. ‘I had no idea you would choose just this moment to return to England, and even if I had known,’ she continued, with spirit, ‘I would not have expected you to come first to the least important of your properties!’
‘And you would still have carried out this charade? By heaven, madam, you are a cool one!’
‘I want to discover what happened to my husband! I have explained why I needed to come here. Why should you think it so odd?’
With a hiss of exasperation, he pushed himself to his feet. ‘For one thing, it is a hare-brained idea,’ he exclaimed, pacing the floor. ‘And for another, it is damned dangerous. Was there no one you could talk to about this? Relatives, friends?’
‘I have no family of my own. As for friends, there is no one I would trust.’
‘Why did you not tell your husband’s family?’
‘Sir Adam Roffey has a weak heart. Angina. He was laid low by his son’s death and I did not wish to add to his worries.’
He bent a frowning gaze upon her. ‘Do the Roffeys have any idea what you are about?’
She shook her head. ‘They think I am staying with an old school friend. They will not be anxious because I have Ruth, my maid, with me.’
‘The devil you have. Of all the foolish starts! How old are you?’
She put up her chin. ‘Two-and-twenty.’
‘And you said yourself you have never before been out of Lincolnshire.’
‘What has that to say to anything?’
‘You can know very little of the world. Whereas I...’ he stopped and raked one hand through his hair ‘...I know too much of it.’
‘I am well aware of that!’ she flashed back. ‘For all your title, you are no less a felon!’
His eyes darkened. She braced herself for a furious response, but he merely shrugged.
‘I cannot deny it. But that is all the more reason you should not be here. You should never have embarked upon such a foolhardy scheme, alone and unprotected.’
Arabella suddenly felt exhausted. George had been her world since childhood. Could no one understand that? Tears were not far away and she looked up at him, saying wretchedly, ‘What else have I to live for?’
Ran saw those emerald eyes shimmering with tears and thought she must have loved her husband very much. Something clutched at his heart and he turned away to resume his pacing.
He said, ‘Have you learned anything that might help you?’
‘Very little,’ she confessed. ‘I want to know who else was at Meon House when George was a guest there. I had hoped, tonight...’
He heard a sniff and glanced around to see her surreptitiously wiping her eyes. He paced a little more, trying to convince himself that the plan in his head was every bit as hare-brained as the one she had described.
‘Very well.’ He stopped in front of her. ‘Let us continue this masquerade for a little longer.’
She stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I will help you. A short note to Lady Meon tomorrow should repair any damage tonight’s little fracas may have caused and we will work on the acquaintance until the lady divulges a little more information.’
‘No!’ She was on her feet now, staring at him as if he had run mad. ‘I cannot stay here.’
‘Why not? You have been content to do so thus far.’
‘That was different!’
‘How