Читать книгу Those Scandalous Ravenhursts Volume Two: The Shocking Lord Standon - Louise Allen - Страница 11

Chapter Five

‘When did you last eat?’ Gareth demanded, his hands fisted on his hips as he looked at her.

It was not what Jessica was expecting and she stared blankly at him while she made herself think. Jordan removed her bonnet and pelisse from her unresisting hands. ‘Breakfast?’ she hazarded.

‘I thought so, you look ready to drop. Jordan! Food for Miss Gifford, in the library as soon as possible.’

‘At once, my lord.’

‘I thought you were the sensible one in all this—what were you thinking of, to starve yourself?’ Gareth was positively scolding as he guided her into the book-lined room and sat her firmly down in one of the big wing chairs in front of the fire.

‘There were so many agencies to get round,’ Jessica protested, stretching out her feet to the hearth and letting her tired back rest against the soft old leather. It was seductively easy to allow him to take charge and organise her. It gave her an entirely false sense that all would be well and she knew she could not succumb to that: she was in charge of her own destiny and no one could help her but herself.

‘This is not a race—you know I will find you somewhere to stay for as long as you need.’ Gareth dropped into the chair opposite and crossed his legs, the silver tassels on his Hessian boots swinging. A pair of those boots would keep her for months. It was a timely reminder of just how far apart their worlds were.

‘It seems the residence you suggested for me is not so suitable after all.’ Jessica held out the note. Gareth took it, scanned it and grimaced. ‘And I am afraid I was unable to find anything in the way of employment today. I will have to look at the newspapers and try the agencies again in a day or two.’

‘Nothing suitable? Please, Jessica, don’t let it worry you.’ He read the note again. ‘Maude has such a taste for the dramatic it is a pity a career on the stage is so ineligible.’ Gareth screwed it up and tossed it on to the fire. ‘It is true that if you agree to our plan it will be impossible for you to stay with her, but did you think we were going to cast you out?’

‘I am having trouble thinking clearly at all,’ she confessed. ‘I am so disorientated, so much out of my depth. I fear I must ask you for a loan of money until I can get funds from my bank in Leicester.’

‘You have funds?’ He was regarding her steadily, his face thoughtful. It was like being interviewed for a post.

‘My savings.’ My precious savings.

‘Well, you will not want to dip into those.’ She found herself nodding agreement and forced herself to sit still. It was dangerous to agree with anything he said. ‘Jessica, I have to say I am selfishly glad that you have not secured employment yet. I have a proposition for you. Maude may be dramatic, but she is right, things have deteriorated.’

‘Yes?’

He smiled at her wary tone, and she wondered why she had not thought him handsome before. And Maude does not want him? She must be about in her head…

‘You are right to sound so cool, my sensible Miss Gifford. Ah, here is something for you to eat. We will talk when you are a little revived.’

It took considerable self-control to sit quietly and eat the savoury omelette, the soft white roll and butter and the dish of lemon posset that the footman set out on the little table before her. Jessica sipped the glass of red wine Gareth poured and schooled her tongue and her patience.

When she had finished she waited while he lifted the table to the side and then folded her hands in her lap with as much composure as she could muster. ‘You say you have a proposition for me, my lord?’

‘Gareth.’ He waited until she repeated his name. ‘You made an eminently sensible suggestion at breakfast, Jessica.’

‘That you should appear to follow a path of dissipation with a mistress and scandalise Lord Pangbourne so that he will consider you unsuitable for Lady Maude?’

‘Indeed. He called upon me at my club this morning and made it very clear that he means what he says—but he also betrayed the fact that openly scandalous behaviour would not be tolerated. I think it is the only solution if I am to free Maude from this situation.’

‘And yourself?’ she asked, curious about his own position. He must be of an age where he was looking to marry, set up his nursery, ensure the succession to the title.

‘I have no desire to marry yet and, when I do, I foresee no problem. In this case it is, as so often, the woman who is weakest.’

Jessica nodded, surprised at his understanding. It seemed Gareth Morant could comprehend the difficulties of women more generally than just those applying to his friend Maude.

‘Then in what way can I assist you?’ The only possibility she could think of was that Lady Maude might require a companion to support her in this masquerade if Lord Pangbourne became even more difficult. It might even help to have another virtuous female voice echoing Maude’s assumed shock and outrage.

‘I would like you to be my mistress.’

The empty wine glass fell from her fingers and rolled away on the Oriental rug unregarded until it clinked against the table leg.

‘What? Outrageous! What do you take me for?’ Jessica sprang to her feet and took three strides away from the fireside before she swung round to face him, more words of righteous indignation trembling on her lips. And then it hit her—the memory of his mouth over hers, the heat and the smell and the feel of him. The long, hard body—

Furious and horrified at herself, Jessica shut her mouth with a snap as Gareth got slowly to his feet. ‘A masquerade, Jessica. I am asking you to pretend to be my mistress.’ His voice was steady, but there was a trace of colour across his cheekbones. ‘I would not insult you by proposing anything else.’

‘I… You… No, you would not. You made that clear last night. I beg your pardon; I seem to be more tired and less rational than I thought.’ Jessica walked back to her chair and sat, her legs suddenly stiff and awkward. She knew why she had reacted with such vehemence: Mama, of course. But mostly it was because of her own guilty desires. Self-knowledge, an admirable trait she had always thought, did nothing to improve her mood.

‘You must be tired.’ Gareth sat again too, making the silver boot tassels swing as he crossed his long legs. Jessica found herself staring at them and dragged her eyes up to meet his somewhat rueful gaze. ‘It is the shock of yesterday’s experiences; you should not underestimate the effect such trauma has on the body and mind. And then you have spent the day without proper refreshment or rest. Not very sensible of you, Miss Gifford.’

‘Then let us be sensible at all costs,’ she retorted, taking a grip on her emotions. ‘What, exactly, are you proposing, my…Gareth?’

He steepled his fingers and bent his head to touch the tips to his mouth as if collecting his thoughts, then he raised his head and looked at her steadily. How changeable his eyes are. From the light grey of a cloudy sky to hard steel from moment to moment.

‘I believe the course of shocking Lord Pangbourne is the only way to reach a speedy resolution of this problem. But I am reluctant to involve a professional—actress or Cyprian—in our personal affairs. One places too much trust in their discretion and too much power in their hands should they choose to make mischief later: I cannot risk that with Maude. Nor, I find, can I contemplate some vulgar piece of play-acting.’

Gareth paused, marshalling his thoughts. ‘I believe this wants more than simply my apparent misbehaviour with one of the demi-monde. A man of Pangbourne’s generation considers that almost routine. The scenario I believe would be most effective is a flagrant dalliance with a lady on the thin edge between scandal and respectability. To have the maximum impact my liaison must be conducted under the noses of the ton, not merely observed at the theatre or in the park.’

‘But who, then, do you want me to be?’

‘A wicked widow.’ Gareth smiled suddenly, and she found her own lips curving in response. She caught herself and pressed them tight together. ‘A lady returned from abroad where her husband died. A lady on the fringes of respectability, yet with an entrée into London society as she searches for her next protector. And I am going to fall head over heels in my blatant pursuit of her favours.’

‘I can see that that would, indeed, cause talk and scandalise Lord Pangbourne, especially if you insultingly ignored Lady Maude in the process,’ Jessica agreed. ‘But firstly you will need to secure an entrée for this impostor and secondly—look at me! Do I look like a glamorous and dangerous adventuress?’

As she spoke she gestured at the overmantel mirror that reflected the upper parts of their bodies as they sat before the fire. Her blonde hair was still neatly in its governess’s braids and bands, its colour pretty, but, in its tight confinement, quite ordinary. Her gown was high at the neck, shrouding her figure that, while brisk walks and healthy eating might have kept neat, was by no means the voluptuous form she assumed such a siren as Gareth was describing would possess. And her deportment was that of a respectable professional woman—contained, controlled, immaculate, designed to be the very opposite of obvious.

‘Not at the moment, I must agree.’ That smile again, turning a well-looking man into one of dangerous appeal. ‘You look charming and eminently respectable. But you forget, I know exactly what you look like without that drab gown and those neat braids.’ He ignored her inarticulate sound of protest and her reddening cheeks and added, ‘And you could look spectacular, Jessica. No, do not shake your head at me—it will take two things, the transformation of your wardrobe and your coiffure and for you to think like an adventuress, a woman on the edge, a dangerous, predatory, beautiful huntress.’

Despite everything Jessica’s sense of humour got the better of her. She laughed at him, ‘You think the church mouse can turn into the hunting cat, Gareth?’

‘No, I think the fireside tabby can arch her back and flex her claws and become a tigress.’

She shook her head, unconvinced. There was no need to panic over his scandalous scheme—it would fall at the first hurdle, her inability to be the woman he was describing. She would humour him a little.

‘And who are you going to prevail upon to let this dangerous female loose in a respectable setting?’

‘My cousin Bel, who has recently remarried. She and Maude are both deeply involved in a charity to secure employment for soldiers returning from the wars. One of Maude’s schemes to raise money for this cause is to hold a subscription ball, but as she is an unmarried girl the hostess issuing the invitations will be Bel, now Lady Dereham. Everyone who is anyone will be there, for they plan to make it one of the grand opening events of the Season—and that will include Lord Pangbourne.’

‘And how, exactly, am I going to prevail upon the respectable Lady Dereham to invite me?’

‘She would do it as a favour to me, but for the public explanation of the acquaintance we depend upon another cousin of mine, Bel’s brother, Lord Sebastian Ravenhurst. He is married to Eva, the Grand Duchess of Maubourg.’

‘But I read about that in the newspapers—it was a most romantic affair by all accounts!’ The dashing Lord Sebastian had snatched the Grand Duchess from the claws of French agents and had smuggled her across France to arrive in Brussels on the day of the Battle of Waterloo. The Grand Duchess had been reunited with her son in London and returned to Maubourg with the young Grand Duke and the man she had fallen in love with on their perilous journey.

‘It was, and there was considerably more romance to it than you would guess, even reading between the lines. However, for now I think we can agree that your late husband was employed in some manner by the Duchy. As an economic adviser perhaps? I will ask Eva’s advice.’

‘She is in England?’ A few days ago Jessica had been attempting to instil the basics of Italian conversation and Mozart sonatas into the daughter of a baronet. Since then she had been kidnapped, flung herself naked into the arms of a man, escaped from a brothel and been kissed for the first time. Now, it appeared, she was to be thrust into proximity with minor royalty.

‘She and Sebastian divide their time between his estates here—where she is Lady Sebastian Ravenhurst, a private citizen—and Maubourg where she is the Grand Duchess and Sebastian seems to have taken over as Minister for Agriculture, although I am not sure I entirely believe that. Fréderic, her son, is at school at Eton. Eva has decided she would like to do the London Season for a change, so they arrived last week and the Duke of Allington, Sebastian’s brother, has loaned them the town house.’

And now dukes, Jessica thought faintly, then pulled herself together. She was never going to be the sultry temptress Gareth was deluded enough to imagine, but at least she could continue to apply common sense to this madcap scheme.

‘And where am I going to live whilst I am scandalising London?’

‘In Bel’s house in Half Moon Street, which is currently empty while she decides whether to sell it, keep it or lease it out. You will appear to have purchased it.’

‘Or perhaps the Grand Duchess has done so in recognition of my late husband’s contribution to the Duchy?’ She had meant to be faintly sarcastic, but Gareth nodded.

‘Good idea.’

Jessica sat and regarded him, trying to convince herself she was not dreaming. Although whether this was a dream or a nightmare was debatable. ‘I arrive, transformed by some miracle into a femme fatale. We conduct a very public, flagrant liaison, Lady Maude goes into a shocked decline, Lord Pangbourne cuts your acquaintance—and then what?’

‘We keep it up for the Season.’ Three months of flirting—or worse—with Gareth? Oh, my God…’ And then you vanish off to Maubourg, seduced by one of Eva’s court, perhaps, and I am left a sadder and wiser man. One who is, most obviously, unworthy of Templeton’s ewe lamb.’

‘And I return to seeking work as a governess, with no doubt some good explanation of what I have been doing for three months?’

Gareth dropped his hands and clasped them together, his eyes on her, searching, it seemed, for some insight into her thoughts. Jessica felt they should be more than obvious.

‘Do you enjoy being a governess? No, let me rephrase that—do you have a dedication to education?’ She shrugged. ‘Why then do you seek employment in that way?’

‘Because I wish to eat! And I find I am a good teacher.’

‘You have no relatives?’ he asked, frowning at her snappish tone.

‘Yes—an aunt, cousins.’ Jessica began to see the drift of his questions and produced her usual prevarication—it was not so very far from the truth in some ways. ‘You wonder why I do not live with them? I do not chose to be beholden to anyone and dwindle into an unpaid companion, dependent on family charity for my very existence. I wish to be independent and to provide for my old age. I have no aptitude as a milliner or a dressmaker. There is very little money or security as a paid companion. But I do have skills that I can teach and I have chosen my employers with great care to enhance my references and my reputation.’

Gareth nodded as though she was confirming his own thoughts. ‘So your long-term aim is for financial security and respectable independence?’

‘Exactly.’ It seemed she was getting through to him at last. ‘And I can think of few things more damaging to that ambition than flaunting myself in London society as your mistress!’

‘Certainly if you wish for further employment, I can quite see that.’ He appeared unconscious of Jessica’s frowning regard. ‘Would I be accurate if I said that you would hope to reach the point one day where you could afford a small house in a charming village or market town with adequate funds to employ a small staff and perhaps own a gig? To be in the position where you had no need to work, but might, if you wished, take the occasional pupil for individual tuition in an instrument or a language?’

‘You have painted a picture of my exact ambition.’ The image of roses round the door, a cheerful maidservant bringing in a tea tray, an earnest child happily learning the piano, flickered before Jessica’s gaze. ‘And to achieve the half of that I need to work. Work hard for years,’ she added.

‘I am offering you work.’ Gareth stood up and walked round the chair to lean his folded arms on its padded back while he watched her. ‘I am asking you to take on an onerous acting job for three months and then I will give you the house and an annuity that will allow you to do just as you please.’

‘But—’

‘You think I am offering too high a price? I can assure you—’

‘I think you are offering a very fair price for such an outrageous request,’ she retorted robustly. ‘Gareth—look at me. Do I look like a seductress? Do I seem to you to have any wiles, any aptitude for casting out lures? I have never flirted in my life, not even mildly. How do you expect me to learn?’

‘I will teach you,’ he said and the smile he sent her was pure, wicked, promise. ‘I will teach you so well, Miss Gifford, that half the men in London will be at your feet and every lady in society will wish to scratch your eyes out.’

‘No…I could not.’ She had to be strong. It was impossible, she could never do this.

Gareth walked round and picked up her hand as it clasped the arm of her chair. His fingers were warm and his thumb brushed gently against the soft mound of flesh at the base of her thumb.

‘What colour are the roses round the door in your dream house?’ he asked her, his eyes intent and dark onher face.

‘Red,’ she murmured. And was lost.