Читать книгу From London With Love - Sarah Mallory, Lyn Stone - Страница 16

Lady Chastleton’s rout promised to be a huge success: the elegant salons were so full that it was impossible to move freely and even though the tall windows to the garden had been thrown open, the noise and heat had increased to an uncomfortable level.

Catching sight of her reflection in the gilded mirror, Eloise thought that no one watching the Glorious Allyngham would think her anything other than a wicked flirt.

She was in Lady Chastleton’s elegant salon, at the centre of a group of attentive gentlemen. One young buck was gazing at her adoringly, another had taken her fan and was gently waving it to and fro; Sir Ronald Deforge was offering her a glass of champagne while a red-faced gentleman in a powdered wig was bending to take snuff from her upturned wrist.

Her eyes travelled to where Alex was standing, paying court to a shy ingénue who blushed prettily whenever he addressed her. She sighed. They were both playing out their charade and she knew Alex was as sick of it as she. If only they could retire again to their respective country acres. But it could not be, not yet. Not while the threat of exposure hung over them.

‘You must take care not to allow the snuff to stain your fair skin, my lady.’ Sir Ronald’s voice broke into her reverie. ‘Allow me to brush it off.’

He caught her hand and rubbed his thumb over her wrist. It was an effort for her not to pull her hand away with a little shudder of revulsion. Instead she gave him a roguish smile as he bent to touch his lips to the soft whiteness of her inner wrist. Some instinct made her look up at that moment and her smile slipped a little when she saw Major Clifton glowering at her from across the room. Her head went up and she hunched one white shoulder at him. She had heard nothing from him since Vauxhall and it did not matter what he thought, he was nothing to her. When she looked again he had disappeared into the crowd and Eloise tried to convince herself that she did not care, but her dissatisfaction with the evening was intensified.

With soft smiles and caressing words she retrieved her fan, disengaged herself from her entourage and moved away. Lord Berrow was smiling and nodding to her from across the room but she pretended she had not seen him: he might still be persuaded to sell her Ainsley Wood but she had laughed and flirted enough for one night. She would find Alex and ask him to take her home.

‘You are frowning, madam. It does not become you.’

Major Clifton’s voice at her shoulder brought her to a halt. She looked round to find him beside her. Glancing up, she saw no sympathy in his face, only a cool, considering look in his hard eyes.

‘I have the headache,’ she said shortly.

‘A little air will revive you.’ He held out his arm. ‘Let me escort you outside.’

She hesitated but the sight of Sir Ronald Deforge standing a short distance away decided her: if she turned from Major Clifton she knew Sir Ronald would be at her side, offering to escort her, enveloping her with his suffocating attentions. She laid her fingers on Jack’s sleeve and allowed him to lead her to the nearest of the tall windows. His arm was reassuringly solid beneath the soft wool of his evening coat and it was tempting to lean upon him. It was very odd that she should feel so safe with Jack Clifton beside her, despite his obvious disapproval.

As they stepped outside the night air was cool on her face and the exposed skin of her arms. After the cloying heat of the salon it was refreshing. There were several couples already on the wide balcony, and Eloise made no protest as her partner led her away from them.

‘I have not seen you since Vauxhall, Major,’ she began. ‘I wanted to thank you.’

‘For what?’ His voice was harsh. ‘The kiss we shared in the carriage, or for not knocking Mortimer’s teeth down his throat?’

‘Neither! For escorting me to the Gardens. For your protection.’

‘Little enough protection, since the rogue was able to approach you.’

‘Nevertheless, I was very grateful that you were there.’ Eloise released his arm and busied herself with arranging her fine lace shawl over her shoulders. ‘After…after you had gone, the other night, I decided to tell Alex about the letters. He is involved, you see.’

‘I had guessed as much. Well, he will be able to deal with this.’

She paused. She had promised Alex she would seek the major’s assistance in recovering the journal. This was her opportunity. She drew a breath.

‘Actually, I—we would appreciate your continued help, Major. This is a very delicate matter, and there is no one else we can confide in.’

He turned away from her, staring out across the vast expanse of Green Park that stretched away beyond the moonlit gardens. Eloise looked at him. There was something very reassuring about his strong, uncompromising profile, his upright bearing. He looked honourable, incorruptible. Suddenly it was very important to her to have his support. She reached out and touched his arm.

‘Please, Major Clifton.’

‘Give me one reason why I should help you.’

‘You called Tony your friend. I thought you wanted to protect his good name.’

‘I did, I do, but why should I concern myself with keeping the name of Allyngham free from scandal when you are so determined to sully it?’

Her hand dropped.

‘Because I flirt a little—’

He swung round to face her, his countenance as hard as stone in the moonlight.

‘A little? You are the talk of the town, madam. The betting books are filled with wagers about you!’

She stiffened.

‘I allow no man to go beyond friendly dalliance.’

He gave a bark of mirthless laughter.

‘Oh? I was watching you tonight, surrounded by your admirers! Why, you even allowed that fop to take his snuff from your hand!’

‘But that is all. It goes no further than that!’

‘Does it not?’ I have kissed you twice, madam. Was that mere dalliance? And what of Mortimer? You consider it friendly dalliance to allow him into your house at all hours of the night?’

‘No one but you knows he called upon me.’

‘Oh, so as long as he visits you in secret it does not matter?’

She bit her lip.

‘Alex is an old family friend, nothing more. I told you that.’

‘Aye, you did, and I wanted to believe you, but the more I see and hear of you—’ He shook his head and said bitterly ‘—I fear our standards are not the same. Standards—hah! I have known alley cats with better morals than you.’

‘How dare you!’ Eloise brought her hand up swiftly but he was even quicker. He caught her wrist, his fingers biting into her flesh.

Jack stared at the angry face turned up towards him. The moonlight glinted on her eyes, sending daggers of light towards him. She was radiating fury, her lips parted as if she was about to hiss and spit at him. And with good reason; he had been very uncivil—but what had he said that was not true? It angered him that he threw such accusations at her and she did nothing to deny them. He admitted to himself that he was jealous, too. Jealous that she should bestow her smiles and honeyed words on other men.

They were standing very close and as her breast rose indignantly the flowers of her corsage brushed his waistcoat and filled his senses with a heady perfume. It was distracting, intoxicating. His fingers tightened on her slender wrist, pulling her even closer. Suddenly he wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, transforming her rage into the passion he sensed was just beneath the surface. He saw the anger leave her face. Her eyes widened, as though she was reading his thoughts. He could take her now, he knew it. They were standing breast to breast; he would only have to move a little to bring his mouth down to hers. It was like holding a taper close to a tinderbox, knowing that the slightest touch would ignite a blaze.

She swallowed hard and his eyes were drawn to the convulsive movement in the slender column of her throat. He would like to kiss her there, he thought distractedly. He would like to trail his mouth over her skin to the base of her throat where a pulse was beating so rapidly, and carry on until his lips reached the soft swell of her breasts. Then…

She gave a little sob.

‘Let me go, you monster!’

His head jerked up and he came to his senses. She was struggling to free herself from his vice-like grip. Jack released her and she stepped away from him, her left hand cradling her wrist. He hardened himself against her look of anger and reproach to say coldly, ‘I am not one of your fawning admirers, Lady Allyngham. You will not strike me for telling the truth.’

Eloise glared up at him, rubbing her sore wrist. She was still furious, but beneath her anger was a lurking fear for the disturbing emotions he aroused in her. The blaze she had seen in his eyes when they had been standing so close had very nearly overset her: she had wanted to throw herself at him, kicking, biting and scratching until he responded. For one dizzying moment she had imagined him pinning her against the wall, subduing her anger with a savage kiss before carrying her off to ravage her in ways that she had heard other women talk of, but had never experienced for herself. Even now, standing before this big, disturbing brute of a man, she did not know whether she was most glad or sorry that he had let her go. She struggled to regain some form of dignity and managed to say in glacial accents, ‘We have nothing more to say to each other, Major Clifton. We will consider our acquaintance at an end.’

He clipped his heels together and made her a stiff little bow.

‘As you wish, madam.’

She drew herself up, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over.

‘I wish,’ she said in a low, trembling voice, ‘that it was you and not Tony who had perished at Waterloo!’

Turning on her heel, she marched back into the ballroom and did not stop until she had found Alex.

He was playing cards, but as soon as he saw her he excused himself and came to meet her.

‘Well, well,’ he said, taking her arm, ‘now what has occurred to ruffle your feathers?’

‘Nothing. I merely want you to take me home.’

He grinned.

‘Then I shall do so, of course, but you cannot storm into the card room with the colours flying in your cheeks and tell me nothing is wrong.’

She almost ground her teeth.

‘Major Clifton has insulted me.’

Alex raised his brows.

‘Oh? Do you want me to call him out?’

‘Yes,’ she said savagely. ‘I want you to challenge him to a duel and then run him through. I want him to die very painfully!’

‘Well, I would, of course, my dear, but Clifton is a soldier, so he is bound to be a much better swordsman than I. Then, of course, he might choose pistols, and you know what a terrible shot I am…’

Even through her rage she could not but laugh at his nonsense. Alex patted her arm.

‘That’s better. Come along then, I will take you home.’

They said nothing more until they were bowling along in the elegant Allyngham town chaise. As they rattled over the cobbles, Alex demanded to know just what had occurred.

‘I was going to tell Major Clifton that I had received my invitation to Renwick Hall. I thought he might help us.’ She rubbed her sore wrist.

‘And what happened?’

‘He told me I had the morals of an alley cat.’ She hunted for her handkerchief. ‘And I c-could not deny it, especially after he found you in my house when we got back from Vauxhall.’

‘He hasn’t spread that about, has he?’

‘No, of course not.’ She blew her nose defiantly. ‘But he thinks me quite sunk in depravity.’

‘As well he might,’ remarked Alex with what she thought was heartless candour. ‘I think he might be jealous.’

‘No, he is not.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘He is merely the most odious man that ever lived. I hate him!’

‘If that is the case, then why are you so upset?’

‘Because I am quite sick of this charade! I hate everyone thinking ill of me.’

‘You mean you hate Jack Clifton thinking ill of you.’

She stamped her foot on the carriage floor.

‘That is not it at all,’ she said crossly.

‘If it’s your reputation you are concerned for, I could always marry you.’

‘Alex!’

‘Well, it is one solution.’

‘But you do not want to marry.’

‘No, and I do not think it would make you happy, Elle. But if it puts paid to a scandal…’

She shook her head.

‘It will not do that, we both know it.’ She sighed. Putting away her handkerchief, she reached across the carriage to pat his hand. ‘It is very good of you, Alex, but we neither of us want to marry. I am sorry; I should not have let the hateful Major Clifton upset me so. I think I must be very tired tonight.’

‘I think so, too. It is not like you to be so disheartened. If you are truly worried about that journal, Elle, why not come abroad with me and forget about England? It matters little to me now where I live.’

‘No, I am resolved not to run away because some, some insignificant little worm dares to threaten us!’ She drew herself up, saying in a much stronger voice, ‘But I am determined we will not ask for Major Clifton’s help again. You and I will go to Renwick Hall, we will find a way to recover this wretched book and then I can go back to Allyngham, build my foundling hospital in Tony’s memory and, and become a recluse!’

Eloise found herself looking forward to the Renwicks’ house party. At least it would mean that she need no longer parade herself in the fashionable salons of the town. During her period of mourning she had missed the society, but the role she had set herself was proving to be very wearing. When Tony had introduced her to the ton she had enjoyed the parties and the company, but then the admiration of the gentlemen for Lord Allyngham’s wife had always been tempered by her husband’s protective presence. Even when Tony was fighting in the Peninsula and she had come to town with only Alex as her escort, somehow Lord Allyngham’s shadow hovered over her and no man dared to go too far. However, all that was now changed. As a widow—and a rich one at that—she seemed to attract the predatory males of the town. They circled about her like a pack of wolves and it was only the fact that they considered her to be under Alex’s protection that kept them from pouncing. She was aware of her precarious position: her wealth and status gave her entrée to all the grand houses of the ton, but if she allowed the flirtations to get out of hand, if she caused too much of a scandal, then society’s hostesses would close their doors to her. She would be consigned to the ranks of the demi-monde and the proud name of Allyngham would no longer be revered. Her husband would no longer be remembered as a valiant soldier—she might even be obliged to remove the memorial stone from the wall of Allyngham church. That was why it was so important to recover the journal: if its contents ever became known, she and Alex would not only be ostracised by the ton, they would be obliged to fly the country.

These sobering thoughts occupied her mind as she journeyed to Renwick Hall. Eloise became even more acutely aware of how society viewed her when she joined her hostess in the drawing room before dinner that evening.

‘My dear, how prompt you are,’ declared Mrs Renwick, coming forwards to meet her. ‘Everyone else is still at their toilette.’

‘Oh dear, if I am too early…’

‘By no means. I am glad of the company. Come and sit here beside the fire and tell me how you like your room.’

‘It is very comfortable, ma’am, and has a lovely view of the lake,’ said Eloise, disposing her skirts about her on the satin-covered sofa.

‘I knew you would like the blue bedchamber,’ smiled Mrs Renwick. ‘I regret that we could not find an adjoining room for Mr Mortimer. He sent me word that he will be joining us in the morning. We have had to put him in the bachelor wing, on the far side of the house. With such a house full of guests, I am sure you will appreciate that we have to allocate all the bedchambers in the main building to our married guests.’

Looking into her hostess’s kind face, Eloise’s heart sank at this tacit acceptance that Alex was her lover. She took a deep breath.

‘That is as it should be, ma’am. As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask your advice. I have been thinking for some time that I should have a companion when I am in London. I thought I might ask Allyngham’s cousin, Margaret Cromer. We have lost touch a little in recent years but I hope she will consider my request. I have always been a little in awe of her, but I know she is a good friend of yours, ma’am, and wanted to ask you what you thought of the idea before I write to her: do I presume too much, do you think she would accept?’

‘Meg Cromer? Oh. I had thought you preferred not to have a chaperon! That is, I mean…’

‘A widow has a great deal more freedom than a single woman,’ said Eloise, taking pity on her hostess’s confusion. ‘I am aware that there is already a great deal of talk about me, although I hope you will believe me when I say that it is all unfounded. And Mr Mortimer…Mr Mortimer is a good friend, but I have imposed upon him long enough. I think I should go on more comfortably now if I had some female company.’

‘You do not think…’ Her hostess looked down at her hands. ‘Have you considered that marriage would give you a great deal more protection, Lady Allyngham? I am sure there can be no shortage of eligible suitors…’

Eloise shook her head.

‘You are very kind to say so, but I have no wish to marry again.’

‘No, of course,’ replied Mrs Renwick quickly. ‘It is very early days, and I believe Lord Allyngham to have been the very best of men. It would be difficult to find his equal.’

‘I would not even attempt it,’ replied Eloise. ‘I am resigned to a single life, but that does not mean I need be bored or lonely. I have a large estate at Allyngham. That brings its own responsibilities, and I intend to travel, now the Continent is safe again, but for the present I need to make a life for myself, and that necessitates spending some little time in London and I find I am growing tired of being labelled the Wanton Widow.’

Mrs Renwick nodded.

‘You are very right, Lady Allyngham, you would be subjected to much less comment if you had Meg as your companion. And you have no need to write to her because she is staying here with me at the moment. So, you may ask her as soon as you wish. She is a stickler for convention, of course: her reputation and character are of such high standing that I feel sure her presence would be an advantage to you.’

‘That is why I thought I might invite Cousin Margaret to come with me when I leave here and return to London.’

‘Very wise, my dear. Talk to her while you are here. As a widow of several years’ standing she is a very independent person, but I am sure she would be happy to stay with you for a few months. But I hope that does not mean you intend to cut short your visit here. I am looking forward to such a happy time, for we have invited only close acquaintances on this occasion—and here is one of Mr Renwick’s oldest friends, now. Major Clifton, you are in good time, sir!’