Читать книгу Regency Society - Хелен Диксон, Ann Lethbridge, Хелен Диксон - Страница 58

Music played softly in the background and Constance sipped her champagne and pretended to enjoy herself. Sunday night’s ball at the townhouse of the Earl of Stanton was to have been a night of pure pleasure in the company of friends. She had been looking forward to it for weeks. And now Barton had ruined everything. The music made no impact and the drink held no flavour. All she could think about was the impending doom of Monday morning and the cold look on Tony’s face as he had sent her away.

Her friend, the countess, had hugged her when she had seen the expression on Constance’s face, and enquired after her health.

She had pretended that nothing was wrong, but even the earl had noticed the change in her and remarked on it. And Esme had clasped her hand again and assured her that, whatever the problem might be, she had but to ask, and they would find a way to resolve it. She could treat the Stanton home as her own, if need be. Stay the night or longer, if she wished. And take pleasure in the entertainment at hand, for it was expected to be most fine.

Constance had insisted that she was in no dire need, and that her friend needn’t worry, although the earl’s look at her as she passed through the receiving line was too shrewd and it was clear that he was not fooled.

It had been a mistake to lie at all. For it would look even worse to her hosts when she needed to swallow her pride and beg Esme for refuge at the end of the evening, if it was to be a choice between her house and her honour.

There was some comfort, at least, in knowing that only the best company was invited through these particular doors. She had no reason to fear a run in with Barton before the morning, for such as he would never gain entrance to a ball held by the Stantons.

Which made it all the more surprising to see Anthony Smythe in close conversation with the host. The earl could not possibly know the man’s true occupation, or St John would throw him bodily from the room. And Constance could not very well inform them of what she knew. Certainly not when she had gone to Mr Smythe, requesting the very service she pretended to abhor.

He was across the room from her, and she tried to resist the urge to look in his direction. How utterly mortifying it had been to go to him, practically bare and obviously willing, only to be patted on the head and put from the room. If she had behaved in a similar manner, with any of the other men of her acquaintance…

Then she need not have gone to Mr Smythe at all. Upon seeing how she had costumed herself, and hearing of her willingness to co-operate, they’d have given her any sum she required to clear her debts. The ink would scarcely be dry on the cheque before they’d have taken her up on her offer.

Then why, for the sake of her already-battered spirit, had she gone to the only man unwilling to take her body as payment? Was it because she had known in her heart that he would be too honourable to accept?

Or simply because she wanted a reason, any reason at all, to see him again, tempt him in a way that would make him forget her behaviour in the library, and offer him no resistance when he pulled her close, laid her down, and took from her what she wanted to give him?

It had been so easy to restrain herself through the last year, as the suggestions she’d received had become bolder and bolder. And, on some level, she’d known that if there was no one to offer her marriage, there might be one whose offer was not quite so insulting as the rest. She had no desire to be a mistress. That would be no better than marrying for money.

But if there were a man who valued her, and whose company she enjoyed, and if he was willing to be discreet? She would gladly yield just to feel arms around her again, and lips on her temple, and to sleep secure in the knowledge that someone cared about her, even if it was for only a night.

She glanced into a mirror at the far end of the room, catching a glimpse of the image of Tony Smythe reflected back to her. His dark blue coat fit smoothly over the muscles she felt when he’d held her. His legs, as well, were straight and strong from climbing, and graceful as he walked. She thought she could hear his distant laugh, and could imagine the light in his eyes, and the way his smile curved a little higher on one side than the other.

It was a face not so much beautiful as it was interesting. There was energy in it, and enthusiasm. One could look at it for a lifetime and always see something different. And when he had a passion for something, or someone, his excitement would be impossible to resist.

Constance averted her gaze from the mirror, casting her eyes downward, focusing on the trails of bubbles arising from her champagne. It did no good to watch him now. She might see the one thing she most feared, a look of pity in the eyes for her pathetic behaviour of the night before, and confirmation of his lack of success in getting the thing she needed. How had she expected him to manage in a night what might take days of planning? She was a fool to even ask him.

And she would look an even bigger fool, if he caught her spying on him in public.

‘Would you stand up with me, your Grace?’

She was startled. He was close to her now, standing beside her, and she’d never heard him approach. Her heart was pounding in response to his nearness, and it was not because of fright.

He gestured to the dance floor. There was polite interest on his face now. Neither more nor less than she would expect from any of the other men attending.

‘I would be delighted, Mr Smythe.’ She tried to read his face, but it gave no clue. Did he have news for her? She was dying to ask it, but what was the point in swearing him to secrecy if she blurted out the whole truth in a crowded ballroom?

They took their place in the set and he bowed to her, and the music began.

He was an excellent dancer. His steps were sure and his touch light as he guided her down the row. She tried to relax and enjoy herself, but his steady gaze was both pleasant and unnerving. He wanted to tell her something, she was sure.

And found herself wishing that that was not the reason for the intensity when he looked at her. Robert had not cared much for dancing, and was most relieved when other men had been willing to stand up with her in his place. But none of them would dare gaze at her so, with the duke in the room.

She had watched other young ladies, and watched their beaus watching them. She had thought it sweet and tried not to lament on it. Men had looked at her thus once, very long ago, but so long ago that she could hardly remember how it felt.

They had looked as Anthony Smythe was looking at her now. His hand took hers again and he smiled. When it was their turn to wait at the bottom of the set, he leaned closer to her, and said, ‘You are very lovely tonight.’

‘Thank you.’ She wondered if that was the case.

He must have seen the doubt in her eyes. ‘You were lovely last night, as well.’

‘You did not seem to think it at the time.’

‘On the contrary. You were inordinately tempting. But speed was of the essence, was it not? If I had accepted your offer, we would be there still, on the floor of my parlour, too exhausted to move.’

She stared around her, to make sure no one had heard him speak. And, as always, he had taken care that the other guests would know nothing of his scandalous comments, but her delighted blush might make them stare.

‘I am just as diligent and careful in taking pleasure as I am in doing business, and I take care not to mix the two. In the future, there will be ample time to spend together, if you still wish it. But if I had lost myself in you last night, I would have quite forgotten to go to Barton and get the thing that you wished me to retrieve.’

She opened her mouth to speak, and he smiled placidly.

‘Please act as though nothing has happened. Remember where we are, your Grace.’

He was right. Throwing her arms around his neck and begging to see it this instant was sure to incite comment. But she could not help the joy that showed upon her face.

He looked at her, smiled back and said, ‘The look on your face right now is payment enough for me. Have you forgiven me for last night?’

‘There is nothing to forgive. It was I—’

‘Shh. Let us hear none of that. May I visit you, later? With your permission, I will come to your house, to return the thing that concerned you so.’

She whispered, ‘I shall leave here immediately and tell my servants to expect you.’

‘You shall do nothing of the kind. No one need know of what has transpired between us. Enjoy your time here, for Esme is a particular friend of yours, is she not? And this is a delightful ball. It would be a shame to go so soon. Return home after midnight, send your maid to bed and wait for me at one.’

She nodded, wondering how he knew of her friendships, for she had not told him.

And he nodded back to acknowledge her assent and led her through the rest of the dance as though nothing unusual had happened, with an occasional comment about the music, the fine quality of the food, and the fact that summer had been uncommonly warm.

But he continued to fix her with the same intense gaze that had unsettled her before.

He was coming to her rooms later, and in secret. She found the prospect quite exciting. And with the way he was looking at her, perhaps he had decided to mix business and pleasure after all. It was not so surprising, she reminded herself. Despite what they might claim to put one off one’s guard, men had needs and would act on them, given the opportunity.

He might say that he was honoured to help and needed no reward, but he had taken great risk to do what she had asked. She doubted that he would deny her or himself, once they were alone. And try as she might, she could not bring herself to be bothered. Why, if Lord Barton’s offer had been so distasteful to her, was she not offended now?

Because she did not want to lie with Barton, as she did with Anthony Smythe.

The thought of them together warmed her blood. She wanted to feel his hands upon her and see that crooked smile in the firelight as he took her. Her stomach gave a lurch at the thought and her steps faltered.

And he caught her hand and led her on, smiling in curiosity at the look that must be on her face, but making no comment.

Very well, then. Her virtue was not as steadfast as she had once thought. And she did miss the touch of a man, just as everyone kept reminding her.

Everyone except Tony.

Perhaps that was why she wanted him so.

The dance ended and she moved through the rest of the evening as if on a cloud. Her home was safe. Barton had no hold on her. And when she retired, she would have Tony.

When Esme saw her again, as she said her goodbyes, she proclaimed her looking better. The food and the dancing must have done her good, for she was in fine colour. Almost blushing.

Constance smiled the secret back to herself and agreed that she was feeling worlds better, and that she intended to retire early. Then she returned home, prepared for bed and sent the maid away. The lawn of her nightdress was crisp and cool against her fevered skin as she unlatched the window and waited for the clock to strike one.

As the bell was chiming, he stepped over the sill, smiling back at the window she had left open for him. ‘Thank you for the small courtesy, your Grace. It is rare to enter in this way and find evidence that I am welcome. Most refreshing.’

‘Did you find the deed?’ She hurried to his side.

‘What? No “Hello, Tony. So good to see you. Lovely dancing this evening…” No preamble. Small talk? Chitchat?’ He grinned. ‘I supposed not.’ He reached into his pocket and brought out a document, which he laid upon her night table. ‘It is exactly as you said. In your husband’s hand, the house is deeded to you. And here is the attached inventory. Put it somewhere safe. Your bank, perhaps. But do not trust it to that young jackanapes that holds your husband’s title. And do not mention it to Barton until you have to. He will know that someone has got into his study and taken it, and you do not want to be associated with other thefts that might occur there. I will be visiting him again, before my business with him is done, and he will be on guard against me.

‘If you can just stall him for a time, he will forget his plans for you, for I dare say he will have troubles enough soon and little time to pursue you.’

She wondered if this might have something to do with the theft at the ball, but was afraid to ask. Instead she looked down at the deed, which need be her only concern. She swallowed. ‘It is such a relief to know that, no matter what, the house is mine.’

Then she looked at him significantly. ‘And I am so very grateful. How can I ever repay you?’ And she leaned close to him in the moonlight and waited for the obvious suggestion.

He smiled. ‘No thanks are necessary. It is enough to know that I have helped a woman in distress.’

‘No thanks. At all.’ She hoped her disappointment was not too plain.

‘I know something of hardship, and of being forced to make decisions that might compromise myself, for the sake of stability. I would not wish it on another.’

‘Many men would take advantage, given the circumstances. You held the deed yourself and could just has easily have used it against me.’

‘But I would not.’

‘I am sorry to create more work for you, when I can do nothing in return for you.’

He sighed. ‘Some day, quite without even thinking, you might do a thing that seems like a trifle to you, but will make all my efforts on your part seem as nothing. Until then, do not trouble yourself. While it would be easy to accept what you are trying to give me, I fear you might live to regret it. If I succumb, in the end you will think me no better than Barton. You are safe now, but if Barton, or any other, should prove difficult, please feel free to call upon me.’ He started towards the window.

She followed him, searching for something that might stay him a little longer. ‘Will I see you again?’

He smiled. ‘It is likely. You have seen me many times before, you know. I certainly knew of you. But we have not been introduced until just recently. Now you know me, I suspect you will not be able to help but run into me again.’

‘I should like that.’ She touched his sleeve.

He had reached the window and then turned back when he felt her touch. ‘I should like that as well. Under better circumstances.’ He put his hand on the sill, ready to lift himself over the edge.

And she remembered the first night, when he had assured her of his character, and hazarded a bolt. ‘Your wife is very fortunate to have such an honest thief for a husband.’

He pushed away from the sill and turned back to her. ‘Wife?’ He looked puzzled. ‘I have none.’

‘But when we first met—’

‘When I was robbing your jewel case,’ he reminded her.

‘You said that you had loved but once, and I thought perhaps…’

He shook his head and stepped back into the room. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and paused to take a deep breath. Then he said, ‘And this is where I admit the truth, and you think me a fool. I’ve loved but once. But she has never loved me. It has been years…We were childhood friends.’ He shook his head again and muttered, ‘That puts too fine a gloss on it.’ And then he admitted, ‘We were acquaintances. I was too terrified to speak to her.’

‘You, afraid to speak to a woman?’ She stared at him incredulously.

He looked into her eyes and nodded. ‘I was then. And I still am, when it comes to her.’

‘Because she rejected you, all those years ago.’

He shook his head. ‘She did not give that much thought to me, I’m afraid. I doubt she said three words to me in the time we knew each other. She married young and well.’ He looked up at her. ‘She is as high above me as you are. And as beautiful. But I doubt she would know me if we passed in the street. She has forgotten all about me. There can never be anything between us, of course. How can there be, if but one of us loves?’

She took a step towards him. ‘But that is so sad. And you have kept yourself for her, all these years?’

‘Not as such. I have known the company of women, of course. But my heart is elsewhere. I do not wish to marry, if I cannot have her.’

‘But if you do not marry, you will not have children.’ The next question mocked her, but she forced herself to ask it. ‘Do you not wish for a son?’

He looked genuinely puzzled. ‘I had not honestly given it much thought.’

‘You did not think on it?’ It was her turn to look puzzled. So many hours of her life and her husband’s had been consumed with the subject of children. And here was a man who did not think about it at all. ‘But you will have no heir.’

‘Of course I will have an heir. I am quite well stocked with nephews. I have two of them, and a niece as well. I have been “dear Uncle Tony” for so long I can hardly remember a time when I wasn’t. And I have done my share to raise them up. I always assumed that what was mine now would some day be theirs.’ He smiled fondly, as he thought of children that had been fathered by others.

‘But they are not yours,’ she insisted.

‘As much mine as anyone’s. Their fathers are long dead. They have stepfathers now, at last. So the burden is no longer solely mine.’

‘You do not care for children,’ she surmised.

He shook his head. ‘You misunderstand. The raising of them was not so much of a burden, even at its worst. I like children. And I would welcome my own, should any appear through design or carelessness. But it has always seemed to me to be a frivolous thing to insist on raising the fruit of one’s loins when one is surrounded by windfalls.’

He would not care, even if he has already guessed the truth. Her legs almost collapsed under her, her knees trembled so. ‘Then, if your wife could not give you children?’

‘If the wife of my choosing could not give me children?’ He sighed. ‘If I could but get her to give herself to me, it would be more than I ever expected. What kind of fool would I be to win my heart’s desire and then find fault with her for a thing that was not under our control?’

What kind of fool would he be? A fool like her husband and all the other men of her acquaintance. Children did not matter to Tony. If he wanted her, he would have her, and not think twice about her infertility. There would be no snide offer of fun and games, followed by a pitying smile when the talk came to marriage.

‘It would not matter to me in the slightest. There is but one woman for me, Constance. And I will not love another, as long as there is life left in us, and even the smallest chance.’ He looked into her eyes and it was as if he were looking into her very soul and making the vow to her.

He shook his head again and looked down, unable to meet her gaze. ‘I do not expect you to understand. It really sounds quite mad, when I explain it thus.’

‘Oh, no. I understand perfectly.’ And, suddenly, she did. It was possible to fall hopelessly in love with someone who was totally wrong for you, and even worse, could never love you back, because of a foolish fantasy of perfection that he’d been carrying with him for his entire life. How could one compete with that?

He was smiling at her again. ‘That is most kind of you to say so. Because…’ He appeared to be about to speak. But he said nothing. There was a pause that seemed ready to become long and awkward.

So there was nothing wrong with her. He did not wish to raise false hopes by a casual seduction that would lead nowhere. He respected her. She should feel more relief than frustration. She broke the silence. ‘Do not feel you need to explain yourself further. I think it is very noble of you. I have often wondered what it might be like to be as brave as you and to not care for reputation or stability, hazarding all for the sake of love. But I fear I am disappointingly practical, far too concerned with my own security in the distant future to risk following my heart on the moment. Still, I very much enjoy seeing others do so, and will pray fervently for your good fortune. I fear some of us are not destined to feel that kind of grand passion.’

If possible, he looked even more mortified than he had the night she came to him to ask for the deed. He coloured again, and his eyes fell. And when he looked up, his expression was earnest, as it had been when she had seen him in the library. ‘Do not say that. Do not ever say that. You deserve all that love can give, and you should settle for nothing else.’ And when he pulled her to him, it was shockingly sudden and she had just enough time to lift her face to his kiss.

It wasn’t the same kiss that he had taken from her on the night they met. This one was hard and demanding. A soul-deep kiss, full of desire. And she kissed him back, hoping that the night might last just a little longer, that he might forget himself and stay.

He devoured her mouth and she took his tongue, thrusting into his mouth in return. And she felt his hand opening the buttons on her nightdress, cupping a breast and pinching the nipple between his fingers until she moaned.

She pushed her leg between his, and rocked her body against him. There was no question that he wanted her as she wanted him and she reached to pull him even closer so that he might know how well their bodies would fit together.

He pulled away from her, then, shaking his head. And he said, ‘I must go.’ He laughed, and it was unsteady. ‘Although you do make it most difficult to leave. Especially since I need my body to obey me as I climb down from your window, and it is making it almost painfully clear to me that it would much rather stay here with you.’

But his eyes were bright with excitement as he said, ‘I promise you, soon. But alas, I must not stay tonight. I have other work I must do before the sun rises. I cannot spend it in play with you. Besides, I have no desire to rush what I will do with you, the next time we are alone.’ He traced the line of her throat downwards with his finger to massage her breast again. ‘Are we in agreement?’

She nodded, dazed at the idea.

‘Very good, then.’ She looked into his eyes, and her body trembled at the suggestions in them. ‘And remember, if you need anything at all before I come to you again, you know my direction. Feel free to call on me, or send a message and I will come to you. But do not think that you ever need walk through life alone, or that you must be practical instead of happy.’

And he was gone again, taking her heart with him.

‘What do you mean, you did not tell her?’

Tony stared down into the glass in his hand, and willed himself not to throw it. But with Patrick standing between him and the fire, the temptation presented itself.

‘I mean,’ he responded to his valet, ‘that it is a damned tricky thing, when you have been speaking to a woman as one person, to suddenly come out and admit that you are not who you seem to be. I thought, once Barton was gotten out of the way, and there was nothing standing between us, it would be easier.

‘And in a way it was. She was not the false jade she played in my sitting room last night. She was much more herself, grateful, but not brazen. She cared enough to make conversation. She asked about me. She made it plain that she wanted to know me better.’

He remembered the feel of her body against his and her breast in his hand. ‘She was willing to know me even better, by the end, I dare say. And I did declare my continued and unwavering devotion.’ He shrugged. ‘Not technically to her, but I believe she was responding well, even though I did not specifically say I was speaking of her.

‘But then she declared me too noble and showed signs of giving me up entirely, for my own good, so that I could continue to worship her from afar. And so I kissed her again, and then everything got fuzzy and I quite forgot how it was I meant to go on. But I had to get back to Stanton’s damn ball since he wanted to speak to me in private, after. I could not very well drop anchor for the night.’ He grinned. ‘Although I got the distinct impression, there at the last, that I would have been a welcome guest, had I decided to do so.’

Patrick smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘But now she has the deed, and you have no reason to see her again.’

‘On the contrary, I have every reason. She might pretend uninterest during the day, but she has kissed me again. That is the third time and it is not often enough.

‘Now that she has noticed me, I plan to be very much under foot. She cannot ignore me for ever. Perhaps next time we meet, I will not need to climb through her bedroom window. If I am not conversing with her in her bedroom, it will be much easier to keep my head.’

And perhaps, in good light, she will recognise me. He did not want to think it. He did not want it to matter. And yet, it mattered so very much.

Patrick replied with confidence, ‘Once you tell her the truth, there will be no problem at all.’

Other than accepting that, if I am not attempting to rob her, I am utterly forgettable. ‘It is rather embarrassing, not to have told her from the first.’ He tried to toss the comment out in a way that made it unimportant.

‘It will only grow more embarrassing as time passes.’ Damn Patrick and his reasonable advice.

‘I gathered that. But it is vexing to have my true nature go unrecognised by one who has known me my whole life.’ There. The truth would out, somewhere, if not where he needed it.

‘Your true nature?’ Patrick snorted. ‘And by true nature, you mean the nice young cleric who pulled me out of Newgate, pretending charity, but really wanting me to help him dispose of his ill-gotten gains?’

Tony bristled. ‘That is most unfair.’

‘But it is the truth. You were only too happy to learn all I could teach you, and assume all the risks, while sensible men such as myself preferred to retire from crime and devote themselves to pressing milord’s coat and perfecting the knot for a Mathematical cravat.’

Patrick was staring at him in disbelief. ‘You insist on seeing yourself as no different than you were when you were children. But you are both changed by the past thirteen years. Your true nature, as you put it, was not in evidence when she saw you last. She paid you no heed then because there was no reason to. You were shy, bookish and painfully honest. It was easy enough to cure you of the honesty, and now that you are putting your education to use, you are not so quiet as you once were. Once you rid yourself of the shyness, there will be nothing left at all of the old you, not even the name. And you have her complete attention, do you not? She does not love another?’

‘There is Endsted,’ Tony admitted.

Patrick snorted. ‘Then you have nothing to fear. The results are guaranteed, once you declare yourself to her.’

Perhaps Patrick was right. ‘Very well, then. I shall call on her tomorrow. At her home this time, so she has no reason to be distracted by a rival. I have no doubt she will welcome me, since she said as much last night. In daylight with the servants about and a respectable distance between us, it will be much easier to part with the truth. And then we shall see how things go.’ And he knew the path was right because of the sudden flare of hope that sprang beside the banked fires of desire in his heart.