Читать книгу Regency Society Collection Part 1 - Sarah Mallory - Страница 59

The next morning, Constance paced her rooms, uneasily, looking at the deed on the night table. And the note beside it: We must talk. Barton.

The note had arrived with the morning’s post, even before she could get the deed to the bank. And now she was afraid to leave the house with it, lest he be waiting outside to take it from her again. He knew. That had to be the truth of it. If he thought he was still in possession of the deed, he would have marched boldly into the house this morning, as he had threatened to do. Instead, he had missed the thing, and guessed her involvement in the theft. He meant to harass her about it. Perhaps he would go to the Runners.

But what could he do? He could not very well claim the deed was his and she had taken it, since it clearly stated that she was the owner of the house. Tony was right. She had but to avoid him, until he lost interest, and her life would return to normal and the already-long string of problems that she must deal with. But the sale of the house, along with the last of Mr Smythe’s purse, would lend some time in which she could think.

And what was she to do about Anthony Smythe? It was all so much more complicated in daylight than in moonlight. She wanted to see him again. As soon as possible. The pull on her heart was undeniable.

And he could help her against Barton. She pushed the note to the side, hiding it under her copy of The Times. Tony had helped her before, and proven a powerful ally. She needed help again. He was attracted to her, and knew she was attracted to him, but he showed no intention of forcing her to take action.

She knew what action she wished to take. But in the morning, she could remember why it was wrong of her to want him as she did.

She listed the reasons against it. She knew nothing of his family or his life. He was a criminal, albeit a charming one. And he loved elsewhere.

And on her side, if she took one lover, it would be easier to take a second, once the first lost interest. And then a third. And some day, she would awake to find she had no lover, no husband and no reputation. If she wished for marriage, she must not begin by settling for less.

Yet it was hard to think beyond the moment. She could have his help and his affection, should she but ask. He might leave some day. But she remembered the feel of his hands upon her, and the rushing in her that was unlike anything she had ever felt for Robert. He might leave and she might find another. But who was to say that her next husband could arouse such passion in her? If she did not give in to him now, she might never know that feeling again.

Her teacup trembled in her hand. Very well, then. She would ask him to be careful of her reputation, but she would yield to him as soon as he asked. And no one need ever know of it, but the two of them.

And then she stared down at the front page of her paper. A hanging. She stared down at the article, reading with horrible fascination. The man had been a burglar, stealing purses from a rooming house. The gallows mechanism had failed, and his body had dropped scant inches, leaving him to dance out the last of his life for nearly an hour. And the whole time his wife and children had stood, at the foot of the gibbet, pleading for leniency, or at least a quick death. The crowd had not wanted their fun spoiled and had mocked them, laughing and pelting them with offal until they had run from the scene. And the woman had lacked even the money necessary to retrieve the body for burial.

She imagined the man, spasming out the last of his life in front of a cheering throng while his family stood by, helpless. And then she imagined Tony, dancing for the hangman, and standing below him, crying her heart out and unable to help.

But if she kept to her current plan, it would be even worse. Then, she would hide in her house, afraid for her precious reputation, leaving him to die alone and friendless. And she could read in The Times, the next day, how he had suffered for the amusement of the crowd. She would hate herself, to her last breath, knowing that the man she loved had suffered, and she had done nothing to help.

Her hand jerked as a shudder racked her, and the tea spilled on to the paper, blurring the words.

‘Your Grace, there is a gentleman come to call.’ Her maid was holding a salver.

‘I am not at home to Lord Barton.’

‘Not Barton, your Grace. Mr Smythe.’ Susan had guessed the identity of her visitor, and was grinning in anticipation.

Constance stared in fascination at the card upon the tray. She wanted to go to the parlour, grab the man by the hand and pull him upstairs with her. If she asked him, he could help her forget Barton, Freddy and the horrible thing she had just read. For a few hours. And then she would have to come downstairs and face reality again. A tryst with Mr Smythe would be lovely while it lasted. But what future could there be in it?

Only the one she had just seen.

‘I am not at home. Not to anyone. If you need me, I shall be in the garden, but whoever else may call, I am not at home.’

She tried not to rush as she took the back stairs, far away from where anyone at the front of the house might see or hear her. Stopping in the tiny still room by the kitchen, she found a bonnet and basket, and her pruning scissors. It would all be easier in the garden, surrounded by her flowers and herbs. The sights, the smells, the taste. Everything made more sense there.

She stepped out into the sunlight, feeling the protection of the high brick walls on all sides that muffled the sound of the city. Here, there was only birdsong, the faint trickle of a fountain, and the fragrances of the plants. She ran down the path that led to the wrought-iron gate and the street, to the small bench hidden in the shade of a tree.

She sank down upon it, and let the tears slide down her cheeks again, now that she was safe where no one could see her. Her shoulders shook with the effort of containing the sobs. She did not want to be alone any more, and there was a man willing and full of life who could take the loneliness away. It was so unfair, that the one thing she wanted could lead to a pain and loneliness greater than anything she had felt before.

It had been hard to watch Robert die, but he had been older, and they had known the time would come. But Tony was likely to die a young man, suddenly and violently. And despite it all, she wanted him beyond all reason, aching with it.

And she heard a sigh and a faint rattle of the gate. She looked up to see Smythe, hands wrapped around the bars of the gate, observing her.

She wiped her face dry on the back of her sleeve. ‘Mr Smythe! What are you doing here?’

He was nonplussed to be discovered. ‘I beg your pardon, your Grace. I…I…I did not mean to spy on you.’

The stutter surprised her. When he came to her at night, there was no hesitation, only resolute action. But now, he seemed almost shy when talking to her. He was a different person in daylight. But then, so was she, or she would have opened the door for him when he had come calling.

She tried a false smile, hoping it did not look too wet around the edges. ‘You did not mean to spy, or you did not mean to be caught spying?’

He released the gate and held out open hands, and there was a flash of the smile she recognised. ‘I did not expect to find you here. I was told that you were not at home.’ There was the barest hint of censure there.

‘And yet you came to the back of my house. Were you looking for something?’

He leaned his forehead against the iron of the gate. ‘I often walk by on this street. And you must admit, the view of the garden is most restful. I greatly admire it.’ He stared wistfully in at her.

She gave up. At least, if he were near, she could touch him and reassure herself that the fancy she’d been spinning was not yet reality. She rose. ‘You might as well come in, then, and have a better look.’

Without further invitation, he took a few steps back, and ran at the gate, catching a bar easily and swinging his body over the spikes at the top with inches to spare, landing on his feet on the other side.

There was an awkward pause.

‘I meant to open that for you, you know.’ She hoped the reproof in her voice hid the thrill of excitement that she felt in watching him move. He was still very much alive, and it did her heart good to see it. She sat back down, arranging her skirts to hide her confusion.

‘I am sorry. It was most foolish of me. I am sometimes moved to rash actions. Rather like spying on you in your garden a moment ago, and then lying about my fondness of flowers to gain entrance.’

There was another awkward pause.

‘Not that I am not fond of flowers,’ he amended. ‘And yours are most charmingly arranged.’

‘Thank you.’ She patted the seat on the bench beside her, and he came towards her. His stride had the same easy grace she saw in the ballroom and in the bedroom, and she tried not to appear too observant of it. ‘Do you know much of flowers?’

He smiled. ‘Not a thing. I can recognise a rose, of course. I’m not a total idiot. But I tend to take most notice of the plants that provide cover when I am gaining entrance to a house.’ He touched the bush he was standing beside.

‘Rosemary,’ she prompted.

‘Eh?’

‘The shrub you are touching is rosemary.’

He plucked a sprig and crushed it between his fingers, and the air around them was full of the scent. ‘For remembrance.’ He held it out to her.

‘You know your Shakespeare.’

‘If you knew me, you would find me surprisingly well read.’

‘Is that important? In your line of work, I mean.’

He dropped the rosemary and looked away. ‘I am more than my work, you know.’

‘I didn’t mean to imply…’

His eyes were sad when he looked back to her. ‘There was a time when I intended something other than the life I chose. I was the third son, and there was not very much money. I knew that there would be even less, once I was of age and my brothers had families to support. I would need to fend for myself.’

She felt a rush of sympathy. He had been lonely, even in a large family.

He continued. ‘What I wanted did not matter, in any case. My oldest brother was killed duelling, and the second took a bullet to the brain at Talavera. And suddenly, there was only me, two widows, two nephews and a niece. My brothers were older, but not necessarily wiser. Their estates were in shambles and they had made no provisions for their deaths. The whole family was bound for the poorhouse, unless I took drastic action.’ He shrugged. ‘There are many who have more than they need.’

‘But surely, an honest profession. You could have read for divinity.’ She looked at his politely incredulous expression and tried to imagine him a vicar. ‘Perhaps not.’

He sat down at her side. ‘It was my plan, once. And I went to interview for a living, hoping that I would be able to send some small monies home. But the lord met me at a public house to tell me that it had gone to another.

‘And when he got up to leave, he forgot his purse. I was halfway out the door to return it, when it occurred to me that he had money enough to fill many such purses, and my family had no food on the table and no prospects for the future. I put the purse in my pocket, and brought the money home to my family. And that was the end of that.’ He smiled, obviously happier thinking of theft than he had been thinking of life as a clergyman. ‘And what of you? Did you always plan on the life you got?’

She frowned. ‘Yes. I suppose I did. My mother raised me so that I might be an asset to any man that might offer for me. And she encouraged me, when offers were made, to choose carefully in return so that I might never want. Until Robert died, things had gone very much as I would have hoped. I would have liked children, of course.’

‘It is not too late,’ Smythe responded.

She resisted the urge to explain matters to him plainly. ‘I fear it is not on the cards for me. But beside that one small thing, my life was everything I might have hoped for. I made a most advantageous marriage.’

‘You were happy, then?’

She answered as if by rote, ‘I had money, social position and a husband who treated me well. I had no right to complain.’

‘That did not answer the question.’

‘Of course I was happy,’ she said in frustration.

‘And yet, when you say it thus, I wonder if you were.’

She sighed. ‘It is different for men than for women. If you have a talent for something, you can proceed in a way that will develop it and find a career that will make the best use of your abilities. There are options open. You might study law, or go into the military, or become a vicar.’

‘Or a thief,’ he reminded her.

She nodded. ‘But because I was born female, it was my fate to marry. It is not as if I could expect another future. Fortunately, I had no talent to speak of, or any other natural ability than to be beautiful, or I might have felt some disappointment about that fact.’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘No natural talent? I’ll grant you, you are a beauty, a nonpareil. But you are wrong to think you have no other virtues. You are intelligent, well read, and you have a sharp and agile wit.’

She laughed. ‘You base these fine compliments on an acquaintance of several days. My dear Mr Smythe, I would be a fool to be flattered by one with such a shallow understanding of me. There was nothing about my character, my wealth or my family that would have led Robert to want me, had I not been a beauty. I assure you, it was a great weight off my parents to know, before they died, that I was to be well taken care of.’

Tony shook his head. ‘That sounds as if you were a burden to your family. But your parents spoke often of your fine character, although your mother was most proud of her only child being so well placed.’

She glanced at him sharply. ‘You speak as if you knew her.’

‘We were acquainted,’ he replied. ‘I knew your father, as well. I sympathise with your loss of them.’

‘You knew them both?’ She started. ‘They never mentioned you.’

‘It was a long time ago. You had been gone from the house for several years when last I met them. And they never knew of this.’ He made a vague gesture, meant to encompass his life. ‘Believe me, I never visited them in my professional capacity.’

‘I never suspected that you would.’ And it was strange, but she trusted his word on the matter.

‘You are being unfair to yourself, if you think you are without talent, or suspect that you might have no value to a husband other than to beautify his home.’

But the one thing that Robert had most wanted from her, she had been unable to give him, and she held her tongue.

‘I know for a fact that you are much more intelligent than you appear, even if you pretend it is not so in the presence of the Endsteds of the world. I saw the books he was carrying for you, and the ones you keep in your room. Philosophy, Latin, French. Not the reading of a simple mind.’

‘It is a pity, then, that I could not have put all that learning to use, and saved myself from the financial predicament I find myself in.’

He gazed at her with surprising intensity. ‘You have managed most cleverly with little money or help, where a foolish woman could not have gone on at all. It is not your fault that you put your trust in people who should have protected you, only to have them fail you.’

She found his comments both flattering and embarrassing, and sought to turn the conversation back to familiar ground. She summoned her most flirtatious look, fixed him with it and said, ‘How strange you are to say so. Most men content themselves, when I am alone with them, to comment on the fineness of my skin or the softness of my hand.’

He was having none of it, and responded matter of factly, ‘You know as well as I do the quality of your complexion. But I will comment on it, if you insist. Your skin is almost luminous in its clarity. Chinese porcelain cannot compare. But I also know that the skin is nothing to the brightness of the spirit it contains. I know you, your Grace, although you do not believe it. I do.’

She smiled, overwhelmed by his obvious sincerity. ‘And I do not really know you at all.’

‘You know my greatest secret: that I am a thief. It was embarrassing to be caught. But I was glad, when it happened, to find myself in the hands of such a charming captor.’

She blushed at the notion that she had taken him prisoner, and not the other way around. ‘You really shouldn’t steal, you know. It is wrong.’

‘I am familiar with the commandments,’ he said with asperity. ‘And follow nine out of ten to the best of my ability. It is a better average, I think, than the people I steal from, who have no thought to any but themselves. They are greedy, indolent and licentious.’

‘Is that why you came to my rooms? To punish me for my sins? Because I am guilty.’ She hung her head. ‘Of pride, and of lust.’

‘Serious, of course, but the seven deadly sins are not in the Bible, per se,’ he remarked. ‘But what makes you think you are guilty of them?’

‘Barton has been able to manipulate me easily, because he knows how carefully I guard my reputation. If I were willing to admit that I am poor, and that he has gulled me…’

‘Then you might ruin any chance to marry well. You are not guilty of anything, other than being forced to place your trust in one who proved unworthy. Why should you suffer, while the Bartons of the world live in comfort? You could don a cap and remain a poor widow, I suppose. Take in sewing. Do good works. Live off the charity of the church, since your wastrel nephew cannot be bothered to live up to his obligations to you.’ He made a face. ‘It does not sound very pleasant. And it would be a waste of one as young and lovely as yourself, if there is any other alternative.’

He paused, and then added as an afterthought, ‘You could marry below your station. No one would think you proud, then.’

‘I will consider it, if someone asks. But none has. No one offers marriage at all. Men below my station avoid me as unattainable. And men who would be fine catches want nothing more than…’ She shook her head. ‘Barton says that he, and the others, can see that I secretly desire what they offer. That I am too willing, too interested in their company. That I allow too many small liberties, and they are surprised when I refuse to follow through.’

Smythe sniffed. ‘Men have ever used this, when trying to persuade a woman to do more than she wishes. It is no reflection on you. Ignore them.’

‘But look how I behave, when I am alone with you.’ She blurted the words and stopped, embarrassed to have told him the truth. ‘I…I am wanton.’

He was grinning again. ‘Yes. I noticed. It is most flattering. Tell me, is this how you behave with all the other men of your acquaintance?’

‘Of course not. How dare you even think—?’

He laid a finger on her lips to silence her. ‘I did not think so. But it is even more flattering to hear you admit that I am the only one to move you so.’ He looked down at his feet, and she thought for a moment that she could see a faint blush in his check. Then he said, ‘It is not so bad a thing, to take pleasure in the company of the opposite gender. Of course, I am biased, since I am the man in question. I would have to be made of stone to wish you less willing when in my embrace. And I would have been most put out to find you sighing over Barton’s embrace, and behaving thus with him. But I would not expect that, just because you have lain with one man, that you are game to lie with any that might ask.

‘And because you allow me a degree of intimacy, for which I am most grateful…’ he looked up and smiled at her and there was a wicked glint in his eye that made her heart beat faster ‘…I do not assume that I can do as I please with you. If ever I make a suggestion that offends you, you have but to tell me to stop. I am yours to command.’

And thoughts appeared of what she wished to command him to do. They had nothing to do with stopping his current behaviour or being any less wicked in her presence. Quite the contrary. She blushed. ‘No. It is quite all right. You have done nothing to offend me. I am…’ She whispered the next words, ‘I fear I am enjoying it too much.’

He whispered back to her. ‘You have nothing to fear. As I told you the first night, your secrets are safe with me. All of your secrets. But if you enjoy my company so much, why were you not at home, when I called?’

‘What we spoke of last night…I do not know if I can go through with it. It seemed so right, at the time. But it is foolish of me to make promises in the moonlight that I am afraid to keep in daylight.’

‘I see.’ He reached out and gently touched her arm. ‘And why were you crying? This is the second time that I have come upon you and found you in tears. I do not believe you gave me a clear indication of the problem on that night, either. What is it that distresses you so?’

‘I thought I informed you then that it was none of your concern.’

‘But we hardly knew each other, then. I dare say we are much closer now. One might say, thick as thieves.’ He considered. ‘Although for the most part, I have not found thieves to be much in each other’s confidence.’

‘Then why should I trust you?’

‘Because I care enough to ask, and sincerely hope that the problem will be something I can aid you in. You must admit, I have helped you before.’

She laughed through her tears. ‘It is not so easy, this time, I fear. You tempt me. And it is hard to resist you. But the gentleman you discovered me with in the library? I had hopes…’ She left the sentence unfinished.

Tony stiffened next to her. ‘I see. And does the gentleman reciprocate your feelings?’

She blinked away the tears. ‘I did not claim to have feelings. It would be most insensible of me, at my age, to base everything on “feelings.” Instead, I had hopes.’

‘Oh,’ he said, clearly not understanding at all.

‘He is a gentleman, his income is not as great as my late husband’s nor his estates as fine, nor his title as prestigious. But, truly, I do not expect to find the equal of Robert. My first marriage was extremely fortunate in that regard. Lord Endsted was more than rich enough. And he seemed interested. Of course, they all seem interested, at first.’

‘I should think that they would be. You are a charming and attractive woman, your Grace. Any man would be honoured to have your attention.’ He opened his mouth, ready to say more, then stopped and looked at her. ‘But I take it, the man of your choosing is not among them?’

She shook her head. ‘As I said before, this is not so much about what I choose, or what I feel. I would have been more than willing, should he have offered, or any of the others. It would have been most foolish of me to say nay if he’d have offered matrimony. But he saw me with you, and then Barton was here, when we returned. And he now thinks me inappropriate company.’

Anthony exploded with an oath. ‘He does not want you because other men find you attractive? Then the man is a jealous fool. Or blind. I will find him and call him out.’

‘Don’t be absurd.’ She laid a hand on his arm. ‘He offended me, not you. And if you wish to call out every gentleman who has disappointed me, then I would have to make you a rather long list. I expect it to grow even longer, ere I find a man who will do otherwise. You came upon me in a low mood, that is all. I had not expected, at thirty, to be so thoroughly on the shelf with regard to matrimony. And I am not yet to the point where I find the other suggestions to be flattering.’

‘I should think not,’ he responded indignantly. ‘The cheek of these men. I had thought that one such as yourself, fair as any of the young ladies of the ton, but with grace and poise, with wit as well as intelligence…’ He showed signs of continuing, and then looked down. ‘I would have thought that one such as you would have no end of suitors.’

‘I have had suitors enough.’ She smiled sadly. ‘But they are rarely seeking a wife. I suppose it is a comfort to know that men still find me desirable.’

‘Oh, I must say yes, you are very much that. But that they would be so coarse as to suggest…’

She stared at him. ‘You yourself had admitted that you would have me, should I be so inclined. I fail to see the source of your indignation on my behalf.’

‘But that is before I realised that you would settle for nothing less than marriage.’ He dropped to his knees before her. ‘I am ever your servant, your Grace. You would do me a great honour, should you give me your hand, and I would endeavour to keep you in comfort and safety for the rest of your days.’

She pulled her hand from his grasp. ‘And now you are taunting me with my foolishness.’

‘I assure you, I am not. If you cannot find another who suits you, and do not wish to accept any of the other base offers made to you, then have me.’

‘Most certainly not.’ She had blurted out the words before she could stop to think how they might sound.

He looked up at her, eyes glazed with shock, and skin white, but with a streak of colour on each cheek as though she had slapped him hard. ‘May I ask why?’

‘I should think that would be obvious.’

His voice was steady, but strangely distant. ‘Not to me.’

She ducked her head so that he might not see the fear in her eyes. ‘We hardly know each other.’

‘I doubt you knew the other gentlemen so well as you thought, if you were surprised when none of them offered. So that is not the real reason, is it?’

‘All right. If you insist.’ She steeled herself and said the words, ‘You are a criminal. How could you expect me to accept that fact, and bind myself to you? You would ask me to live in comfort off ill-gotten gains and feel no guilt about it?’

He rose from his knees and dropped back into the seat beside her. There was a flash of pain in his eyes, but when he spoke, his colour was returning to normal and his voice was light, albeit with a slight edge of sarcasm. ‘Women I have supported in the past took care not to know where the money came from. They assumed, correctly, that someone would take care of them, and shield them from the unpleasantness of finances.’ He looked at her. ‘Just as I assumed that, since you took the first money, and had no problem with the theft of the deed, you would not be bothered with the rest.’

‘You assumed incorrectly. I take pride in knowing the details of my finances, although I cannot say I’ve done a very good job with them. And I am tired of men who promise to be a shield against unpleasantness, since unpleasantness has managed to find me in any case.’

‘You would not have the details of it rubbed under your nose. I do not entertain my fence at my rooms. I keep my private life very much removed from my professional one.’

‘Or you will until such time as you are caught and hanged. Then you will drag those around you to disgrace as well.’

The words pained him, and his voice was quiet when he responded. ‘It is not as if I have never considered the fact. And I have taken great care not to be caught. Another reason I never married, I think.’

‘It was probably wise of you. I cannot imagine a crueller fate for a woman than to know such a thing about her husband and to live in fear of his discovery. I could not bear it.’

A shadow passed over his face again. ‘Thank you for making your opinions clear on the matter. I intended no disrespect. I only wished to offer you a solution to a problem that seems to weigh most heavily upon you. The offer stands, of course, for I doubt that my attraction for you will wane. But I will not break my heart over your refusal, since I suspect there is nothing to be done to change your low opinion of me.’ His tone was light, and he seemed to have returned to normal, but she could tell he did not speak the whole truth.

‘Thank you for your understanding.’

‘And thank you for your honesty.’ There was more than a touch of bitterness in the word. ‘And tell me, does your refusal of my more noble offer extend to my friendship as well?’

‘No.’ Her voice was small and unsteady.

‘Because I will not trouble you with my presence again, if you find my criminality so offensive.’ She had hurt him again, and she felt her resolve wavering. But she could not very well marry him, just to spare his feelings. Why could he not understand that one of them must hurt, no matter what path she chose?

She reached out to take his hand again. ‘No. Please, do not forsake me. I cannot help the way I feel. I wish I could, in so many ways, and yet, I cannot. I know I cannot marry you. But neither am I able to let you go. And I do not know what I am to do, in either case. It hurts me to think of it, just as it hurt to say it aloud. And that is why I was crying.’

He laid his other hand over hers and squeezed it tightly. And his smile was sad, but it was a real smile. ‘That is all right. I did not think you would say yes, and yet I felt moved to ask. I do not wish to make you cry, and am sorry to have done so. And truly, I have no desire to leave you and will not unless you send me away.’

He sighed. ‘So let us not think overlong on the details of this, since they pain us both. Until such time as you say otherwise, I am yours to command, your Grace, and that should be more than enough to be happy on, I think.’ And he pulled her close to him, so that she could lay her head on his shoulder, and rocked her in his arms until she dozed.

When she awoke, he was gone.