Читать книгу Regency Rumours - Juliet Landon - Страница 9

The crash back to earth came as soon as the door had closed upon the departing escorts and their cries of farewell. Caterina was halfway up the staircase as the sound of a door into the hall made Amelie turn in surprise. She had forgotten about Fenn, her gardener, until that moment.

‘Ah, Fenn,’ she said, pulling her thoughts back into reality. ‘You waited up for me? What time is it?’

‘'Bout two o’clock, m’lady. No matter.’

‘And what news? Did they come back with you? Where are they?’

‘No, m’lady.’ Fenn stifled a yawn and rubbed his nose. ‘I went up to the workhouse as you bade me. I offered them the purse, but they sent it back.’

‘With what message?’ Hardly able to believe it, she leaned against the wrought-iron banister, suddenly overcome by tiredness and impending disappointment after such an evening. It would be too much for her to bear, she was sure of it.

‘You all right, m’lady?’

‘Yes, just tell me what happened. Why have they not come?’

‘I don’t really know. It was like she didn’t want to. They telled me she was well enough and that the babe was well too, and that she’d chosen to stay where she was, thank you very much. And that’s all.’

‘And you didn’t get to see her or the child?’

‘Lord, no, m’lady. I didn’t get no sight of them.’

‘So you don’t know whether this is the truth, or whether she’s being prevented from leaving?’

‘Well, no.’ He looked at the door, then back at her. ‘But she’s had her bairn and they said she’s all right, so perhaps it’s for the best. I dunno.’ He fished into one baggy pocket and brought out a leather purse weighted with coins. ‘They wouldn’t take it,’ he said, passing it to her and watching how her hand sunk a little.

‘They actually…sent it back? Well, that’s a first.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘Thank you, Fenn. You did your best. Did they tell you.?’

‘Tell me what, m’lady?’

A hand crept to her breast. ‘Did they say…whether it was.?’

Fenn understood. ‘Oh, aye. It were a little lass. Night, m’lady.’

‘Good night, Fenn. And thank you. You did your best.’

The mother would rather stay where she was, in that dreadful place, with a new babe? Yes, and I’d like to know who gave the orders to turn all benefactors away at whatever cost to the unfortunate inmates. Was it you, my fine lord? Could it have been you, by any chance? You, with your lack of compassion and your wandering, knowing hands? Damnyou…damnyou…

If anything more had been necessary to persuade Amelie that this so-called friendship must cool, this was it. Not only had she made a complete fool of herself in allowing a most indecent intimacy, but now he would believe her to be no better than a low woman ready for anyone’s favours. All her earlier protestations about caring nothing for her own social contacts would be worthless, for she had shown herself to be desperate and ready to drop the handkerchief at the first man to show an interest. Well, she had warned him that their friendship would not last. Now, he had better believe her.

Wriggling deeper into her warm bath, she scrubbed vigorously at the parts where his hands had smoothed. ‘Like a horse…a mare.’ she growled.

‘Beg your pardon, m’lady?’ said Lise.

‘My hair. Is the shampoo ready?’

She could never have grown to like him, anyway, a man with so little pity in his heart that he could actually forbid a woman’s release from a squalid workhouse to the safety of a caring employer. He must know that there was no likelihood of exploitation or abuse in such circumstances. And he was a womaniser, too. Never was there smoke without fire, nor had he bothered to deny it.

One more thing was certain. Caterina must be better protected from men like Lord Rayne. Perhaps she ought never to have allowed the introduction in the first place. Yes, it had been a mistake. Both friendships must be slowed, before it was too late.

Accordingly, Caterina’s breezy request to go driving in the park and to leave cards at the homes of her new friends met with a puzzling refusal that put an end to any chance of meeting Lord Rayne, which was what she had intended. Instead, she was taken through the aspects of housekeeping and accounting using Mr John Greig’s The Young Ladies’New Guide to Arith-metic, which did little to banish her yawns or her frustration.

Later that morning, the mantua-maker arrived for a fitting of Caterina’s new gowns, though her young assistant had gone down with something and had not arrived for work. Amelie suspected that the child was close to starvation.

After a light luncheon, they went into the garden to practise the sketching they had missed at Kew, and there Henry came to say that Lord Elyot and Lord Rayne were in the hall asking if they were at home.

Caterina was already on her feet, drawing-pad and pencils discarded.

‘No, Henry,’ said Amelie. ‘Tell their lordships we’re not at home today. Caterina, come back if you please and finish your study.’

‘Very good, m’lady,’ said Henry.

‘Aunt Amelie!’ Caterina squealed. ‘How can you say that? You must know how I want to see him. Please…please, let me go. He’ll want to—’

‘Not this time, my dear. Take my advice on this. It doesn’t do to show too much interest at this stage, you see. Make him wait a while. In any case…’ She bit her lip, regretting the necessary deviousness.

‘In any case what? Don’t you like him?’

‘Of course, I cannot say that he’s not a charming companion, but such men are not innocents, you know. They tend to…well…change partners rather too frequently for most women’s comfort. Such men break hearts, I’m afraid.’

‘Well, I’m not afraid of that,’ said Caterina, knuckling away a tell-tale tear. ‘I haven’t given him my heart, so he can’t break it, can he?’

‘You’d be surprised what men can do, my dear.’

Although her aunt’s enigmatic remark did very little to inspire a recognisable drawing of an artichoke head, it provided food for thought in other ways, one of them being the exact nature of Lord Rayne’s interest. Being less experienced than her aunt in such matters, Caterina was by no means sure that he would care as much as she did about her being unavailable. All this waiting was a huge risk, at seventeen years old.

Her fears were allayed next day when Lord Seton Rayne arrived after breakfast in his brother’s perch-phaeton to ask if Miss Chester would be allowed to take a turn with him round the park and up the hill. Amelie was speaking to her housekeeper, Mrs Braithwaite, in the hall when Lord Rayne was shown in, so it was well-nigh impossible for her to refuse the invitation with anything like a convincing excuse. Realising that this would do nothing to cool matters between the two of them, she could only beg Lord Rayne to be careful with her niece, to return her in exactly two hours and not to allow her to drive, no matter how much she might wish it. If Caterina had not yet given him her heart, she had certainly loaned it to him.

Expecting that Lord Elyot might follow his brother’s example and hoping he would not, Amelie went up to her workroom where she had already begun a painting of her artichoke in an interesting state of decay. The tap on the door and the arrival of the footman caused her heart to leap uncomfortably, but it was only to deliver a letter, the handwriting of which she didn’t recognise, nor did it have the assured flourish of an aristocrat’s hand.

Laying her fine sable pencil aside, she broke the wafer and opened the sheet of paper, puzzled by the unfamiliar scrawl.

Then, before reading it, she searched for the signature at the bottom and found the words that drained the blood from her face. I remain your most obedient and loyal servant, Ruben Hurst.

A sickness churned inside her, and she held her mouth to prevent a cry escaping. This was a man she hoped had vanished from her life forever and, although she had never seen his handwriting before, she had seen enough of him to wish him perpetually at the ends of the earth. Which is where she believed he had gone.

Her hand shook as she read:

Dearest and Most Honourable Lady, My recent return to Buxton has made me aware of your removal from that town, which saddens me, for I had hoped to speak with you about our future sooner than this. However, while staying at St Anne’s Hotel, I discovered that enquiries were being made about you other than my own, these from a manservant in the employ of the Marquess of Sheen, a magistrate of Richmond in Surrey, where I understand you to be residing. Without revealing my own interest, I tried to ascertain the nature of this man’s enquiries and the reason thereof, but all he would say was that it was a personal matter. Nevertheless, from the escutcheon on his carriage door, I discovered that it belongs to the Marquess’s eldest son, Lord Nicholas Elyot. Which begins to sound, my Dearest Lady, as if your past is about to follow you whether you will it or no, as the man has taken the liberty of interviewing your erstwhile neighbours. I believe he is soon to be on the road to Manchester, whereas I am to leave Buxton at my leisure by post-chaise tomorrow. I shall send this news to you by mail, for you to receive it soonest.

Assuring you of my Highest Esteem and Devotion at all times, I remain your most obedient.

Lowering the unwelcome letter to the table, Amelie propped her forehead with one hand and stared at the words which, more than any she could think of, were the most disagreeable to her. Furious that her privacy should be so invaded, she felt in turn the raging forces of fear, resentment and indignation, followed by a desire to pack her belongings and move on again before the troubles of the past could reach her.

Ruben Hurst was the ghost of her past who had wedged himself between her and her beloved husband. He was a man who lost control of his affairs to such a degree that he could ruin the lives of others. He had ruined her life quite deliberately, and eventually she’d had to move away. And so had he. Now he had found out where she was and, of all the times when she needed the protection of a husband most, Josiah was not there to do it.

What made this news even more unacceptable was that Lord Elyot, the man from whom she was hiding her other self, the ‘do-gooding’ as he would see it, had somehow known of it from the start, otherwise why would he want to investigate her so thoroughly? Was he muck-raking? And she had even had him in her home, let him escort her to a ball, had danced with him and…oh…the shame of it! What a deceiver the man was.

Once again the footman knocked and put a toe inside the room. ‘Lord Elyot, m’lady, asks if you’d be pleased—’ ‘No, Henry! I will not be pleased to see him. I’m not at home.’ ‘Er, yes, m’lady. Though he may find that hard to believe.’

‘He’s not supposed to believe it, Henry.’

‘Very good, m’lady.’ The door closed.

Within moments, he was back. ‘Lord Elyot says to tell you, m’lady, that he’ll call tomorrow afternoon and hopes you’ll receive him.’

‘Order the phaeton for tomorrow afternoon, Henry.’

Henry grinned, beginning to enjoy himself. ‘Very good, m’lady. Anything else?’

‘Yes. Get Lise to come and make some tea.’

Having bought tickets for a local charity concert for that evening, Amelie decided that there were more pressing matters to be attended to. The idea that Lord Elyot and his brother might also be there was only a passing thought in her mind that had nothing to do with her decision, she told herself.

That afternoon, she sent her housekeeper and maid to the house of the mantua-maker’s young assistant to ask if a contribution of food would be acceptable to the family. Furthermore, would Millie, when she was sufficiently recovered, care to come and work for Lady Chester as a seamstress and to live in at Paradise Road? The grateful reply came within the hour, a small victory that soothed much that was disturbed in Amelie’s mind. It had occurred to her more than once that it might not have been the most diplomatic method of solving Millie’s problem, but she feared that the mantua-maker would do her utmost to delay the matter of the girl’s welfare, and delay was unacceptable in cases of dire need.

A very disturbed night’s sleep found Amelie unready for Caterina’s company the next morning, and she was not able to find any good reason why Lord Rayne should not whisk her away to visit his sister at Mortlake, which seemed a safe enough way to spend an hour or two.

But no sooner had she settled down to her painting when Henry came up to say that a gentleman had called and hoped to be allowed to see her. Amelie stared at the footman. If it had been Lord Elyot, she knew he would have said so. Could it be someone she had met at the dance?

‘Did he give his name, Henry?’

‘Yes, m’lady. Mr Ruben Hurst. You all right, m’lady? I can send him away? Tell ‘im you’re not at home? He said you’d want to see him.’

If Henry had been one of her Buxton servants, he would have known how far from the truth that was. But he was not, and now Hurst was here, in her house, and there was no one to protect her as there used to be. To have him thrown out, shrieking his protests, would attract exactly the kind of attention she wished to avoid, yet to be civil to the dreadful man after all the damage he had done was more than most women could cope with. While she had the chance, she must know what else he had discovered about Lord Elyot’s man, which of her old neighbours he had spoken to, what she might expect from their loyalty, or lack of it. If she wanted to control her future, it was best to be prepared in every way possible.

‘Show him up, Henry, but wait outside the door. Don’t go away. Do you understand?’

‘Perfectly, m’lady.’

She heard Hurst take the stairs two at a time and was reminded of the fitness that had once stood him in good stead. He had changed little since their last meeting over two years ago when he had suddenly ceased to be the devoted friend he claimed to be. His bow was as correct as ever, his figure as tall and well proportioned, his clothes as unremarkable but clean, a brown morning coat and buff pantaloons setting off the curling sandy hair like a crisp autumn leaf just blown in. Yes, he was very much the same except that the blue eyes were a shade more wary and watchful, marred by pouches beneath, which one would hardly have expected from a man of only twenty-eight years.

‘My dear Lady Chester,’ he said, having the grace not to smile.

Amelie remained seated at her work table. ‘It would have been more fitting if you had given me some warning of your visit,’ she said. ‘That is the usual way of things.’

‘Ah, a warning. Now that’s something you might have gleaned from my letter, then you could have had.’ his eyes swivelled melodramatically ‘. an escort. Would that have been too inhibiting? You did receive my letter, I suppose?’ His faint Lancashire burr sounded strange here in Richmond.

Rinsing her paintbrush in the water-pot, Amelie took her time to wipe it into a sharp point before laying it down, then she rose from her chair and picked up her shawl to drape it around her shoulders. Her morning dress was a brief pale-green muslin over which she wore a deeper green sleeveless pelisse, and she did not want his stares at her bosom any more than she wanted his stupid insinuations.

‘I did receive it, sir, and I think you are as much of a fool as ever you were to make contact with me, whether by letter or in person.’ And if I did not want desperately to find out more of another matter, you are the last person to whom I would ever give house room. ‘What have you come here for, exactly, and why on earth did you return to England?’

He was about to lay his hat and gloves beside her paintbox, but was stopped. ‘Not on my work table, if you please.’

He tried again on the demi-lune by the wall. ‘Why did I come out of hiding? Well, you know, I thought I’d take a gamble on seeing you again. The stakes are high, but I cannot stay out of society for the rest of my life, can I? And two years without a sight of your lovely face is too long for any man.’

‘You might have suffered a far worse fate, Mr Hurst. Indeed, you should have done. Don’t expect any help from me, sir.’ Even as she spoke, she heard the emptiness of her refusal, for she knew full well that he had come as much for money as to see something of her, and that to keep him quiet she would, eventually, give him some. What alternative was there?

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘One law for the toffs and another for the rest of us, eh?’

Amelie was committed to redressing that imbalance, but she would not discuss that with such a man. ‘And what have you come for, sir, apart from delivering the mealy-mouthed flattery?’

For an instant, Hurst’s eyes narrowed at her rebuke. ‘You were always cruel, Amelie,’ he said, quietly.

‘I loved my husband,’ she replied.

‘And he’s left you even more comfortable than you were before,’ he said, looking around him at the beautiful feminine green-and-whiteness. ‘Well, then, perhaps you might consider sharing it with me for a few days since I’m looking for somewhere to lay my head.’

‘Here? Don’t be ridiculous, man. You must know you can’t stay here. What would.?’

‘What would the neighbours say? They wouldn’t see me.’

She felt the fear crawl inside her, standing the hairs up along her arms, and she summoned all her grit to hold on to her apparent coolness.

‘Oh, I understand why you had to move on,’ he continued, picking up a pencil sketch of a toadstool and studying it. ‘You’ve not lost your knack, I see. You must have known you’d not escape while I’m still alive, but the gossip…well, that’s equally tricky to shake off, isn’t it? And there’s Miss Caterina too. She’ll not get far in society once your affairs get an airing, will she? And you’re not going to blow the whistle on me or you’d have to be a witness at my trial, and then the whole nasty business will be there for everybody to pick over. Newspaper reports, cold shoulders. Very embarrassing. No, my lady, surely you didn’t think moving down here would solve everything, did you?’

‘You’ve thought it all out, haven’t you? And put that down.’

‘I’ve had two years to think it out, my dear Amelie, and only the memory of your beauty to keep me sane. Oh, yes, I’ve thought it out all right, so now you can start with a generous subscription to my funds. Then you can send for Mrs Braith-waite. See, I still remember your housekeeper’s name. I’ll take one of the best rooms. Next to yours?’

‘Get out! Get out of here and crawl back into the gutter.’

‘Tch! Still like ice, dear Amelie. Did that old husband of yours never—?’

‘Get out!’ She reached for the hand bell on her work table, but Hurst’s hand was quick to grasp her wrist, holding her arm in midair as if he was about to assault her.

She had known him during the two years of her marriage, and indeed there had been a time when she had thought him likeable, charming and clever. He and Amelie’s husband had gambled together regularly, but whereas Sir Josiah knew exactly when to stop, Hurst never did, nor when to stop drinking, or borrowing money, or making promises he couldn’t keep. Perhaps if Amelie had never shown him any of the kindliness she extended to all Josiah’s friends, this man might never have deluded himself about her. But self-discipline was not a strong point with Hurst as it was with her husband, and there had come a time when all his weaknesses came together. Now he was a man to be feared, for the pity she had once borne him had been purged forever, and he had become a menace.

‘Let go of my arm, Mr Hurst,’ she said calmly, though she quaked inside with every shade of insult and anger. ‘You have forgotten yourself, I believe. I can lend you some money and then I shall expect you to go and find somewhere to stay. You can not stay here. It’s not as safe as you think. I have some rather influential friends, you see.’ It was a long shot, but it might work.

Releasing her, he watched as she moved away well beyond his reach while his eyes widened at her boast. It was unlike her. ‘You surely don’t mean the Marquess and his son? Him, too? What’s his name…Elyot? So you know the man who’s been scouring Buxton for gossip about you, then?’

‘He was not scouring Buxton for gossip, Mr Hurst,’ she said, fabricating the beginning of an outrageous piece of fiction in the hope that he might swallow it. ‘He was simply clearing up some questions to do with Sir Josiah’s property. The man you spoke to was Lord Elyot’s lawyer. Naturally he wouldn’t disclose his client’s business to a complete stranger, would he? The neighbours he visited are those whose names I gave him, personal friends, and loyal. There was no need for your dramatic conclusion, Mr Hurst. It’s all quite innocent. He should be back from Manchester any day now, I dare say.’

Hurst sat down rather suddenly, gripping the arms of the chair until his knuckles were white. ‘What? You know this Lord Elyot and his father? The magistrate? Is it true?’

‘Of course I know them,’ she said, derisively, warming to the theme. ‘What do you suppose I’ve been doing for the past five weeks, living like a recluse? Miss Chester is at this moment out driving with Lord Elyot’s brother, visiting his sister.’

The arrogance drained from his face as he sifted through this surprising development, hoping to find a flaw in it. He tried scepticism. ‘Hah! You’re not telling me he sent a man up to Buxton to prepare the ground for some kind of. understanding… between you, are you? After only five weeks?’

‘He’s settling a few legal matters for me, visiting my solicitor. He has the means. It’s quite the usual way to proceed, I’m told.’

‘That’s not what I asked you,’ he said, nastily. ‘Do you have an understanding with this man?’

‘Yes, of sorts.’ The plunge into such a fathomless untruth was like a douche of icy water, so absurd was the idea. She had never told such a whopper before, but nor had she needed the protection of a man’s name more than she did now, her excuse being that Lord Elyot would never know how she had used him, of all unlikely people. ‘You really do ask the most indelicate questions, Mr Hurst. It is not common knowledge, yet.’

Hurst leaned back in the chair, eyeing her with some disbelief. If a man could win her in five weeks, he must have something no one else had. Even Chester with all his wealth had taken longer than that, but then she had been only twenty and as green as grass. ‘Not common knowledge, eh? That sounds to me remarkably like saying that Lord Elyot doesn’t know of it either.’

‘Then you’ll be able to ask him yourself, won’t you? I’m expecting him to call any time now.’ That, she thought, should see the back of him.

To her joy, her clever ruse began to work. Hurst rose slowly from the chair and strolled over to pick up his hat and gloves, apparently taking seriously the possibility that he might at any moment bump into the influential son of the local magistrate. This time, he suspected that the odds were definitely stacked against him. ‘Money,’ he said. ‘There’s a small matter of a contribution, if you would be so kind. Then I shall leave you to your lover. Are we talking of wives, or mistresses?’

Amelie paled with the effort of controlling her fury. ‘We are not talking at all, sir. The sooner you go, the better. Here, take this and get out of my house. It’s all I have available.’ She took the weighty bag of coins that had been returned from the workhouse and threw it in his direction, but because she was thoroughly unnerved by his insult and by her own indiscretion, and because he was not expecting that particular mode of conveyance, the bag landed on the floor with a heavy thud some way from his left heel.

At that precise moment, Henry threw open the door, but was unable to announce the visitor’s name before he strode in, pulled up sharply, and stood there with that unshakeable poise which was one of his most attractive qualities.

Amelie could have screamed at him that he was not expected until the afternoon, and that he was not to speak to Mr Hurst under any circumstances. Her plan was destined to come unstuck, however, teaching her never to lie like that again. ‘Lord Elyot,’ she said, breathlessly, ‘your timing is perfect, as ever. My guest is just about to leave.’

‘I hope you will introduce us,’ he said coolly, taking in the complete picture including the money-bag on the floor, Hurst’s eagerness to be gone, and the angry red blotches upon Amelie’s neck and cheeks.

‘Ruben Hurst. Lord Elyot,’ she said.

The two men bowed, and Hurst would have made for the door except that Lord Elyot stood in his way and looked unlikely to move.

‘Mr Hurst is an old friend of the family,’ Amelie said, ‘on his way to London.’

‘Is that so? And you’re staying here in Richmond?’ said Lord Elyot, still not moving.

Hurst seemed to cringe a little. ‘Well, my lord, I am suffering a slight embarrassment. I came down by post-chaise from Buxton and discovered at the first stop that my luggage has been left behind…mixed up, somehow…stupid porters. you know how it is…well, no, you probably don’t. And now I find myself without my belongings or my money. It was in my trunk, you see, safe from highwaymen. So annoying. I had wondered whether dear Lady Chester would be in a position to offer an old friend a night’s hospitality, but perhaps that’s not a good idea after all.’

‘There are some good inns in Richmond, Mr Hurst,’ said Lord Elyot with a remarkable lack of sympathy.

‘Ah…yes, of course. Lady Chester has kindly offered to lend me some funds to pay for accommodation until my own arrives. We have been close friends for a good many years, you see, as I’m sure she has sometimes mentioned to you. Very close.’

‘No, I don’t believe Lady Chester has ever mentioned you.’

‘Oh…er, that does surprise me, my lord. She has confided in me something of the nature of your personal relationship…your 1 understanding, that is, though of course I shall keep it to myself until it’s announced. May I offer you my felicitations, my lord? You are fortunate indeed, as I’m sure Lady Chester is also.’

Amelie closed her eyes and held her breath.

‘Thank you for your felicitations, Mr Hurst. Yes, I am indeed a very fortunate man,’ came Lord Elyot’s unwavering response. ‘And as a very good friend of the family, you will be kept informed of our progress. However, I am sure you will appreciate that our negotiations are still at a rather delicate stage, and I must point out to you that Lady Chester’s circumstances are changing, even as we speak. So the funds she has so kindly offered to lend you are frozen for the time being. Unfortunately, she is no longer in a position to lend you anything, Mr Hurst. Not until everything is finalised, you understand. Then we shall review the situation.’

Amelie opened her eyes and slowly began to breathe again.

Hurst took a step backwards, glancing at the money-bag on the floor with a grimace between a frown and a forced smile of defeat. ‘Yes, indeed, my lord. Yes…er…I had not thought, and naturally Lady Chester did not say as much to me.’

‘No, she wouldn’t.’ Lord Elyot smiled at her. ‘She is the most kind-hearted lady.’

‘Quite, my lord. You see, she lent me money in the past for which I have never ceased to be grateful. Most grateful.’

‘Really? What was that for, Mr Hurst? More luggage problems?’

‘No, it was for my beloved sister, my lord. A predicament. These things happen,’ he whispered, sadly. ‘Lady Chester was infinitely generous.’ He turned a look upon her that Garrick could have boasted of, full of devotion, adoration, and a sickening intimacy that almost turned Amelie’s stomach.

At that, she caught Lord Elyot’s eye for the first time and, without the slightest effort, conveyed to him all the fury and humiliation of the past half hour. Relieved beyond words to have had his support at this most disturbing interview that had satisfied none of her intended queries, she also felt the repercussions of her grotesque lie banking up behind her like the thunderclouds of doom in some Gothic novel, with the supernatural calm that comes before the storm.

‘I could not agree more, Mr Hurst,’ said Lord Elyot smoothly. ‘Lady Chester’s warmth and generosity are the first things that attracted me to her. Now, my good fellow, I can recommend some excellent inns in Richmond: the Red Lyon and the Feathers are opposite each other, the Greyhound, the Talbot…oh, any number of them. On the other hand, the mail coach leaves for London from the King Street posting-office three times daily. You may wish to take advantage of that as soon as your baggage catches you up. I see you understand me well, sir.’

As he spoke, Lord Elyot reached behind him to open the door where the faithful Henry was waiting for just such a moment.

From beneath his gathered brows, Hurst glowered with deep distrust at his audience, but carefully avoided looking at the money he was forbidden to retrieve. He bowed. ‘Your servant…my lady…my lord.’ Then he was gone.

In spite of her new predicament, Amelie’s relief and gratitude robbed her of words and, if she had been of a weepy frame of mind, she would almost certainly have burst into tears and thrown herself bodily into the arms of her rescuer. But since her rescuer was bound to be expecting some convincing explanations very shortly, she stood with both hands enclosing the entire lower half of her face as if she were praying. Which, in a sense, she was. She was also wondering how on earth to explain herself, not to mention Ruben Hurst.

She realised she was in for a rough ride as soon as Lord Elyot approached her with that maddeningly cryptic expression he favoured, and said, ‘Well, my dear Lady Chester, there’s a dirty dish if ever I saw one. You really do have the oddest friends. I fear I may have to forbid you to see him again once our engagement is formally announced. He won’t do, my dear. Really he won’t. Not up to the mark at all.’

‘You were not expected until this afternoon,’ Amelie mumbled through her fingers.

‘Yes, and you’d have been out, wouldn’t you? Hardly the way to behave towards your intended husband.’

‘Please…stop it! You must have realised that was a last resort.’

‘Thank you. I cannot recall when I was last known as a last resort. Must have been in my schooldays, I suppose.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Then what did you mean? And who was that jackanapes with his bag of moonshine?’

Inside her hands, she shook her head, closing her eyes.

‘You’ll do better like this,’ he said, taking her wrists. ‘It releases the mouth, I find. There now. Come and sit over here.’ Leading her to the chair vacated by Hurst, he lowered her into it. Then, pouring her a glass of some mulberry-coloured liquid from a decanter, he passed it to her. ‘I don’t know what this stuff is, but take a sip.’

‘Blackcurrant juice. Thank you.’ Obediently, she sipped.

A pained expression fled across his eyes. ‘Is that what I’m going to have to put up with? Heaven help me.’

‘Lord Elyot, I owe you an explanation, I know, and an apology for making use of your name. I didn’t think you would ever find out, and that’s the truth of it and, at that particular moment, I desperately needed that dreadful man to believe I had influential friends here.’

‘Well, that’s an improvement on being a last resort, I suppose. But if you didn’t think I’d find out, what d’ye suppose he’ll be doing in the nearest tap-room at this very moment but telling everyone within range that Lady Chester, his very close friend, has an understanding with Sheen’s eldest son? I’m really quite gratified to discover who my next partner is to be before the rest of Richmond does. You must understand my relief, I hope?’

That was a possibility she had not taken time to consider. ‘Would he do that?’ she asked, weakly.

‘Well, I would if I were him. He needs all the clout he can get. Who is he?’

‘A gambler and prime scandalmonger from Buxton. I’m afraid this so-called affection he professes is all in his mind. He was a family friend, my lord, but not any more.’

‘So why let him in?’

‘If I’d thought he would come here to Richmond, I would have told Henry to keep him out, but since he was in, I thought it was best to know exactly what he was up to. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know, as they say. I suspected he’d ask for money. He always needs money. So I gave him some, hoping he’d go away and leave me in peace.’

‘Most people would call that blackmail, Lady Chester. You really are not the most worldy-wise of women, are you? A charming naïvety, I suppose some would call it.’ He glanced at the money bag still on the floor.

Stung by the criticism, even though it was accurate enough, she threw him a glance not intended to alter the rhythm of his heart, which it did. ‘I had a good husband,’ she snapped, ‘who was worldly-wise enough for both of us and I have not acquired the knack of it yet.’

‘Then it’s time you had a replacement, my lady. Indeed, you’ve already set the machinery in motion all on your own. I find your reading of my mind quite uncanny.’

Amelie leapt to her feet, slamming the glass down upon her table so hard that the juice slopped on to her toadstool sketch. ‘I’d rather not stay in here with you any longer, my lord. This is my favourite room, not to be shadowed by argumentative men with silly talk. Two in one morning is more than I can bear.’

Glancing around him again, Lord Elyot could well understand her feelings on the matter, even if the expression of them came close to a set-down. The room was obviously special to her, for not only was her work table spread with paints, papers and sketches, but by his side stood a large oak folio stand holding her unframed watercolour paintings, very like the one he had admired on his first visit. He would much rather have given his sister one of those. Leather-bound volumes lined the walls, botanical journals, poetry, and novels in French and Italian. A portrait of a middle-aged businessman holding a roll of parchment looked down from above the marble chimney-piece. Her father, perhaps? Whoever he was, this conversation would be better continued, he thought, out of the man’s hearing.

‘I agree,’ he said. ‘I have a better idea.’ Before she could object to any plan, he hitched the shawl up around her shoulders and threw the long end over to the back. ‘There’s a decided chill in the air. Come with me.’

Without a murmur of protest she went with him downstairs and out through a back door into the garden, boxed into sections by waist-high hedges and paved pathways. Rose-covered columns supported wooden beams across which blowsy roses drooped their wet rusting petals and, at the far end in the shelter of a tall yew hedge, a curved stone bench waited for them, warmed by the sun.

With some foreboding, Amelie wondered if she would be able to fend off his imminent and no doubt relentless questions, for it was clear he was not going to leave things as they were. Brushing the dust off the bench, he waited for her to sit before taking his place at her side, and she could not hold back a comparison of his tight white breeches with Hurst’s buff pantaloons, a world apart.

He saw what was in her mind. ‘Memories?’ he said, softly.

Beneath the shawl, heat flooded into her neck and she looked away quickly to conceal the reply in her eyes. ‘I have apologised, my lord,’ she said, stiffly. ‘Pray do not retaliate by reminding me of…things…I would rather forget. You cannot know how deeply shamed I am.’

‘So shamed that you thought it a good idea to attach your name to mine? That doesn’t sound like shame to me, my lady.’

‘A temporary device. I’ve tried to explain. What more can I do?’

‘Oh, that’s easily solved,’ he said, smiling. ‘But we’ll discuss those details later, shall we? What I’d like to know is why you were—’

‘Naïve?’

‘…generous enough to lend money to Hurst in the past. I suspect he was lying when he said it was for his sister. Didn’t you?’

‘The story does me no credit, my lord. It happened when I was newly married and very trusting of men. I know better now. He told me his sister was being evicted because she was… well…in a difficult situation. She needed money desperately. I let him have some and he swore he’d repay me. He never did. It was not until after my husband’s death that I discovered Hurst had no sister, that the money was to pay a gambling debt. To Josiah. And since you are about to ask the obvious question, no, Josiah did not know of my loan to Hurst.’

‘Or he would have been angry with you?’

‘For trying to help a woman in distress? No, not for that, though he might have been surprised by the amount I was asked for.’

‘But Hurst can be prosecuted for such a thing. That’s theft, you know. Obtaining money by false pretences. Fraud.’

‘It’s too late for all that. Water under the bridge.’

‘No, it isn’t. You have friends who know the truth of the matter, surely? They’d testify at a trial. And your word is worth something.’

‘His word against mine. I told no one about the loan because the reason for it was confidential. Afterwards, I was not likely to tell anyone how I had been duped by a man like that. I hoped to learn by it, that’s all.’

‘But you haven’t, have you?’

This was getting too close. She must seem not to understand him. ‘Oh, I think I have, my lord. I’ve learnt that it’s best to stay clear of men, for the time being, at least. It’s my niece who needs to get to know them, not I.’

‘You wish to protect Hurst, then?’

‘I wish him to stay well out of my life, sir.’

‘Then the best place for him is behind bars or, believe me, he’ll keep on coming back for more. Unless you can rely on the timely intervention of your future husband, that is.’

‘Please…can we forget that now? I shall manage well enough, I thank you, and I’d be most grateful if you would think no more about the device I used. It was an emergency and I shall never do it again.’

‘You won’t have to. It’ll be all over Richmond by this time tomorrow.’

With any other man of so short an acquaintance, especially one whose compassion was so underdeveloped, she would have asked him to leave her to sort out her problems alone. But having used Lord Elyot’s good name and linked it so firmly with her own, she could not now tell him it was nothing to do with him when it so patently was. And unfortunately he was right about Hurst spilling the news. She’d had enough evidence of the power of his malicious tongue to know that the damage would spread like oil on water. Why this had not occurred to her at the time she would never know, her only excuse being that she was taken unawares.

‘No, you’re mistaken,’ she said, rising. ‘I know him. He’ll leave.’

But the other matter had not been resolved to Lord Elyot’s satisfaction, and he was determined she should not escape so lightly. He stood before her just one step too close for comfort, his dark head inclined towards her. ‘For a lady who thinks it best to steer clear of men, I’d say you were not making a very convincing job of it, wouldn’t you? Could it be that you’re sending out the wrong signals? Eh?’

‘No, my lord. I think it more likely that they’re being wilfully misinterpreted, if indeed there are any signals to be seen.’

‘Really. But to adopt a man’s name for such an intimate relationship for whatever reason seems to me more like a miscalculation on your part, for if you believe I shall simply ignore a signal like that, which is what you suggest, then you have miscalculated, my lady. I take such an appeal for help very seriously.’

‘You were not meant to know. If you had not turned up—’

‘If I’d not turned up when I did, you’d have had that wretch in your house for the next few weeks. You’re too generous for your own good, and far too impulsive to be let loose on your own in a place like this. You must admit that you’ve not made a very impressive beginning, have you?’

‘I’ve hardly had time in five weeks, but thank you for the vote of confidence.’ She made as if to turn and walk away, but he anticipated her, facing her into a curve of the high yew hedge where she could not turn without standing almost on his toes.

She felt again the solid and potent bulk of him at her back, his warmth through her clothes, the unaccustomed and mysterious electric charge that had a strange effect on the softness deep inside her, and it was as she had been at the dance, too tired and exhilarated to feel anything except an inexplicable urge to surrender herself without protest. It seemed then not to matter that she couldn’t approve of a man who took mistresses instead of marrying, who used his power to restrict the freedom of others, and the unacceptable elements faded into nothing as he moved closer and placed his arms across her, pulling her against him until, this time, his mouth was against her ear, whispering, beguiling.

‘Hush, my beauty. You need a man’s protection, if ever a woman did.’

Oh, yes…yes…I need your protection…no other…

She kept her head turned as he stopped her from twisting away, but his warm breath was upon her neck, emptying her lungs of air with a sudden shudder of delight. ‘My lord,’ she said, willing herself to concentrate, ‘I am not…th…things are not as they seem…please… let me go. What happened that evening was a terrible mistake…and today also…and I deeply regret.’ But his arms held her fast while one hand eased her face upwards and, before she could say more about how wrong he had got it, her protests were tenderly extinguished under his lips, holding her mind in a limbo between excitement and fear.

If she had thought that this might be a quick peck meant to tease her, the idea dissolved within seconds as his mouth moved expertly over hers, unhurried and assertive like that of a man who knows how to change a woman’s protest to wanting. Yet Amelie knew almost nothing of kissing. It was not something she and her late husband had ever practised, and now it was her complete lack of proficiency that became obvious to Lord Elyot, who knew from years of experience the difference between a novice and an unwilling woman.

Though surprised, he was unable to resist letting her know of it. ‘At last, my lady,’ he whispered, lapping at her lips, ‘I have discovered an art at which you are not so accomplished. A little more tutoring, perhaps?’

She was not ready for the taunt, nor could she pretend not to know exactly what he meant. Angrily, she pushed herself out of his arms and, if he had not held her, she would have fallen into the hedge. ‘Let go of me!’ she snarled. ‘I should have expected a man like you to take advantage of a lady in such a manner, Lord Elyot. Please leave me.’

He did, but not without having the last word. ‘I think, my lady, that you should not be the one to be complaining about taking advantage. That was to even the score, nothing more. Your servant, ma’am.’

She had little choice but to watch him march briskly away towards the house, knowing that he would find his way out as easily as he’d found his way in.

Planting tulip bulbs was as good a way as any of dissipating anger, though this time it was only partly effective, even after Amelie had lectured the polished copper bulbs on being fortunate enough to have everything they needed, that they had nothing to complain of, not even a lack of companionship. It was the missing element in her own life that no talking-to would be able to reverse.

Signifying everything she had lacked in her marriage, Lord Elyot’s kiss had brought home to her for the second time how little attention she paid to her own physical needs, perhaps deliberately. His hands on her body, his desirous eyes, his deeply moving voice, his authoritative manner that both riled and fascinated her. Josiah had had other sterling qualities, but this was the first time a man had aroused in her such intensely disturbing emotions, combining dislike and fear with a yearning to be near him. He would never know, she told the fecund bulbs, what his kiss had meant to her and, though he had detected a lack of practice, he would surely put it down to her two years of widowhood without taking into account the two bleak years that had gone before. Her despair was for what she had missed, for what she had just been allowed to see, and for what she would never taste again, for by now his enquiries must be nearing some kind of conclusion.

It would mean little to him, of course, one way or the other. His sort made a game of such minor diversions, of teasing respectable women before leaving them to pick up the broken pieces. Twisting the old dry roots from the base of a bulb, she allowed indignation to take the place of sorrow. ‘Well, not me, my lord,’ she growled. ‘I know exactly what to expect from you any day now.’

That same day, Amelie’s obliging young footman, Henry, carried a note to a certain Mr Ruben Hurst at Number 9 King Street from where the mail-coach departed for London three times daily. So intent on his mission was Henry that he failed to notice Lord Seton Rayne resting there on his way home from delivering Miss Chester safely back at Paradise Road. Nor did Henry notice that he was being overheard asking for Mr Hurst, or being told that Mr Hurst had already taken the mail-coach half an hour earlier. Tucking the note back into his waistcoat pocket, Henry was observed leaving the postingoffice, whistling.

As Lord Rayne had been asked by his brother, Lord Elyot, to keep his eyes peeled for anything havey-cavey, he thought the incident worth reporting, though this he was unable to do until after his brother’s long consultation with Todd, the coachman who had just returned to Sheen Court from his visit to the north.