Disgrace and Desire (18 page)

She sat up, anxiety cutting through her drowsiness.

‘No! No, if you do that his lawyer will publish the journal!’ She clutched his coat. ‘Promise me,’ she said urgently. ‘Promise me you will not challenge him.’

‘How else would you have me deal with him?’

Her head was swimming, but it was imperative that she make him understand.

‘I have no idea. I only know that if anything should befall him he has given instructions for the journal to be made public. If that happens—! No, please, Jack; tell me you will not call him out.’

‘Very well, if that is your wish.’

She shook her head, wincing a little as something like a brick banged against the inside of her skull.

‘No, you must swear it.’

‘Very well,’ he said solemnly, ‘I swear I will not call him out.’

She looked into his eyes, frowning a little because it was so difficult to focus. At last, satisfied, she nodded and subsided against his shoulder once more. Everything seemed such an effort. She closed her eyes as Jack enfolded her in his arms again.

‘But I still want to help you fight Deforge.’ he murmured the words into her hair.

Secure within the comfort of Jack’s arms, Sir Ronald seemed to pose no more threat to her than a troublesome fly. Her hand fluttered as if to swat him away.

‘I can deal with him,’ she said.

‘He is a dangerous man, my dear.’

‘To you, perhaps.’ Deforge would not hurt her, at least not until he had made her his wife. That thought made her shiver, but she was resolved to wed him, if it was the only way to retrieve the journal. Once the damning evidence was destroyed then she would do what was necessary to escape a husband she hated. But Deforge had threatened to kill Jack. She could prevent that. She could protect him, just as she had always protected Alex and Tony—and now she knew that Jack was as dear to her as either of them. Her hand crept up
to rest against his chest. ‘Alex wants me to let you help us, but I cannot allow that.’

‘Why not?’

She shifted impatiently. She was so tired. Why did he keep asking her questions?

‘Because Deforge might kill you. Besides, you might discover the truth.’

‘The truth? And what would that be?’

She shook her head.

‘Oh, no, I won’t be tricked into telling you.’

Even in her sleepy, comfortable state she knew she dare not tell him: he was far too good, too honourable. He would despise her for ever if he knew how deceitful she had been. And he would turn against Alex. She sighed.

‘Poor Alex.’

‘Why poor Alex?’ asked Jack.

Had she spoken aloud? She pressed her lips together. She had drunk too much wine this evening and she must guard her tongue. She must not allow Jack to know any more of her secrets. And she must not allow him to fight Sir Ronald. She gave a little sob and Jack’s arms tightened around her.

‘Eloise? What is it?

She was drifting into oblivion, but even so she knew it was up to her to keep them all safe. As Sir Ronald’s wife she could do that.

‘Why poor Alex?’ Jack asked again.

She said sleepily, ‘I will marry him, and never see you again.’

‘Curse it, no!’ Jack exclaimed, sitting up.

Eloise remained slumped against him, fast asleep. Damnation, perhaps he should not have given her brandy, but she
had been such a pitiful sight, pale and shaking so much he feared she might faint. Growling in frustration, he settled back against the sofa and gathered her against him. So she was going to wed Mortimer. Jack cursed under his breath. They weren’t lovers; he knew that only too well. So why had they been at pains to make the world believe otherwise? And why marry now?

It had something to do with that damned journal. What secrets did it hold, if not a catalogue of the lady’s scandalous affairs? His mind began to race with outlandish conjecture. Treason, spying, perhaps murder? He could not believe it, but even if it was true, did she think that by marrying Mortimer that would be the end of the matter? Deforge would publish anyway. If the contents were as scandalous as he had been led to believe then what life could she have? Marriage to Mortimer would not save her. They would have to go abroad, to live with the other exiles in Calais or Paris or Rome.

And he would never see her again.

His arms tightened around the slight figure sleeping against his chest. He would not let it happen. Jack put his head back and stared at the ceiling.

‘By heaven, what a coil.’ He looked down at Eloise, her golden curls resting against his dark coat. She was an enigma. She had been at pains to hide her virginity from the world. She was happy for the world to think her fast and immoral, so what on earth was it that she dare not tell him? She had said it was not her secret, that others were involved. Suddenly he recalled Alex’s words:
she was loyal to a fault…spent most of her time rescuing Tony and me from our more outlandish scrapes.
Perhaps she was innocent after all. Perhaps she was merely trying to protect others. It would certainly fit in with what he knew of the lady.

Jack sighed again. Conjecture was useless. There was only one certainty in his mind. She was his, however scandalous her past, and he did not want to see her married to Alex Mortimer.

E
loise was sitting at the breakfast table, her head on her hands when Noyes announced Major Clifton. Before she could tell him to deny her there was a heavy footstep in the passage and Jack entered the room. His knowing grin annoyed her.

‘I did not know if you would be out of bed yet,’ he said as the butler closed the door upon them. He eyed the untouched food upon the table and his smile grew.

‘I have the most pounding headache,’ she told him crossly.

‘I am sorry for it.’ He took a seat beside her. ‘I find that a good meal helps.’

‘I could not eat a thing!’

He buttered a piece of toast and handed it to her.

‘Oh, I think you can. Try this.’

After a few pieces of toast and two glasses of water Eloise had to admit that she was feeling a little better. She knew she should not be entertaining a gentleman alone at breakfast, but several questions had been nagging at her since she had woken up that morning, and she needed Jack to answer them.

‘How did I get home last night?’

Jack poured himself a cup of coffee.

‘I brought you home in your carriage.’

‘Thank you. I cannot remember leaving Parham House.’

‘No, you were asleep at the time. I carried you out.’ He grinned at her horrified stare. ‘I waited until most of the guests had left, then put it about that you had been taken ill. However, I have no doubt that the Wanton Widow’s latest escapade will be the talk of the town this morning.’

She dropped her head back into her hands.

‘Until now my…
escapades
have been nothing more than conjecture.’

‘And they are still. Your going off with Lord Berrow appears to have attracted little or no comment and by the time we left it was very late. No one can be sure how long we were alone together.’

‘We should not have been alone at all!’

‘I did not take advantage of your powerless state. Many men would have done so.’

‘I know,’ she muttered. ‘I know and I am grateful to you.’ She added in a low voice, ‘I do not deserve your kindness.’

He put down his coffee cup.

‘Elle—’

She recoiled at the use of her pet name: it was too intimate, too painful.

‘No, please,’ she beseeched him, ‘do not say anything. I am in no fit state to talk to you this morning.’

He took her hand.

‘Very well, but we must talk at some point. There must be no more misunderstanding between us.’

His clasp on her fingers was a bittersweet comfort. Once there were no misunderstandings he would not want to be near her.

‘Yes, very well,’ she said, fighting back tears. ‘But not today.’

She looked up as the door opened and Noyes entered.

‘This has arrived for you, my lady.’

The butler brought a letter to her on a small silver tray while a footman followed him into the room, carrying a large package. Her smile faded as she recognised the black scrawl upon the note.

‘Thank you, Noyes. That will be all. Please, put the box down over there.’

‘What is it?’ asked Jack, when they were alone again.

Silently she handed him the note.

‘Sir Ronald is back,’ she said, her voice not quite steady. Steeling herself, she crossed over to the side table and began to open the parcel.

Jack scanned the letter. ‘He will be at the Lanchester Rooms tomorrow night and expects you to be there.’ She heard the note of disapproval in Jack’s tone. ‘They hold public balls there. Masquerades.’

‘I know it.’ She untied the string and lifted the lid of the box. Inside she found an elegantly printed card lying on top of a cloud of tissue. ‘He has sent me a ticket. And I presume this is the costume he wants me to wear.’

Jack came over to her and while he perused the card she lifted a heavy silk gown from the box and held it up. The full skirts fell in folds of deep green and orange to the floor.

‘It is in the old style,’ she said, observing the laced bodice and straight, elbow-length sleeves.

‘Even older,’ muttered Jack. ‘This goes back to the time of the Stuarts. Look at the motif embroidered here.’ He lifted out a cream petticoat. ‘Oranges. You are to go as Nell Gwyn.’

She stared at him, then turned back to look again at the gown with its wickedly low-cut neckline.

‘He wants me to go out in public dressed as a…as a…’

‘An orange seller,’ supplied Jack. His lips twitched. ‘One cannot deny that Sir Ronald has a sense of humour.’

‘He is a villain!’

She dropped the gown back into its box as if it was contaminated.

‘Then do not go.’

She put out her hands.

‘What choice do I have? You have read his letter: if I am not there he says the journal will be public by morning.’

He caught her hand.

‘Elle, let him publish! I will take you out of town, tonight if you wish. I can protect you.’

She looked up at him. Her heart contracted at the concern she saw in his face. She reached up and touched his cheek.

‘Then you, too, would be tainted by association,’ she said softly. ‘Besides, there is Alex. He is not fit enough for another long journey.’

He dropped her hand.

‘And of course you cannot leave him.’

His cold tone cut at her. She said quietly, ‘No. I will not leave him.’

‘Yet you will not tell me what it is you have done that is so very terrible.’

She shook her head, not looking up. She heard him sigh.

‘Very well, but you cannot go to the Lanchester Rooms unattended. I shall go with you.’

That brought her head up.

‘No. It is too dangerous. I will not allow it.’

‘Madam, you cannot stop me attending a public ball!’

Eloise looked up into his face, noting the stubborn set to his jaw. With a tired shrug she turned away and rested her hands on the table, bowing her head. Her brain felt so dull that she
could not form an argument, especially when in her heart she knew she wanted him with her. She felt Jack’s fingers on the back of her neck, rubbing gently, easing her tension.

‘You need not be afraid. I will be in disguise. Deforge will not know I am present, but I will be close by if you need me.’

‘Well, I must say, my lady, you looks a picture and no mistake.’

Alice stepped back to admire her handwork, a satisfied smile on her face. Standing before the long mirror, Eloise had to admit that the costume supplied by Sir Ronald appeared most authentic. From the brocade shoes with their leather-covered heels to the fontange headdress perched atop her golden curls she looked every inch a king’s mistress. A whore. Eloise shivered. A green-and-gold mask had been supplied to hide her identity, but she allowed Alice to apply a coating of powder and rouge to her face to complete the disguise and the result was reassuring: Eloise did not expect to see any of her acquaintances at a public ball, but she would defy even as close a friend as Alex Mortimer to recognise her now.

‘Your carriage is at the door, madam.’ Alice interrupted her reverie by placing her cloak around her shoulders. ‘I shall wait up for you, my lady, and won’t rest easy until you are safely returned.’

With a nod and a brief, strained smile, Eloise hurried down the stairs and was soon on her way to Lanchester House.

She had never attended a public ball before and as she walked into the large echoing entrance hall her first instinct was to turn and run back to the safety of her carriage. Not that she could find fault with the bewigged and powdered footmen on duty at the door. Their livery was as fine as any she had
seen, but the shrieks and unbridled laughter coming from the masked and disguised guests was very far from the genteel murmur of a
ton
party. Uncultured, nasal voices clashed with the over-refined accents of females whom she suspected to be the wives of wealthy tradesmen, dressed as fine as duchesses and gazing about them in surprise and disapproval at the free and easy manners of some of the revellers.

Eloise wanted to clutch her cloak about her but an insistent footman blocked her way and it was quite clear that she would have to give it up. As she moved to the stairs she put her hand up to her mask to check that the strings were secure, then, squaring her shoulders, she moved up the sweeping staircase towards the huge ballroom, where the strains of a boulanger could just be heard above the noise of the crowd.

In the ballroom she looked about her, dismay in her heart when she observed so many strangers, all attired in gaudy costume. She wondered if Jack was present. Perhaps he was one of the figures disguised head to foot beneath an enveloping domino. A waiter approached and offered her a glass of wine. She waved him away: she needed to keep a clear head tonight. She moved to the side of the room and turned to watch the dancing. It was not yet midnight but already the crowd was very wild. A Harlequin skipped passed and grabbed at her, trying to pull her on to the dance floor. Eloise dragged her hand free and stepped back even further, until she was standing at the edge of a small, shadowed alcove.

‘Not inclined to dance tonight?’

Jack’s low murmur drew a gasp from her and he added quickly, ‘Do not turn. Keep your eyes on the dancers.’

She began to fan herself, holding the sticks high to cover her mouth as she replied,

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Not long. I saw you come in.’

‘I am glad you are here. I did not expect it to be quite so…raucous.’

‘Do not be afraid. I will let no one accost you.’

‘Let me see you.’ She wanted desperately to look at him. ‘How shall I find you?’

She heard him chuckle.

‘There are many black dominos here tonight. Best to let me find
you.’

‘Oh, but—’ A laughing couple cannoned into her and she was knocked back against the wall. They ran on, heedless, and by the time she had recovered and turned to peer into the alcove, it was empty.

Eloise wandered around the room. Her low-cut gown was attracting attention and she studiously ignored the many invitations from gentlemen to dance or to join them for supper. It was a comfort to know that Jack was nearby, although she could not see him. Her eyes sought out anyone wearing a black domino. There were several, but most were far too short to be Jack. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she did not notice the gentleman in an old-fashioned coat and large black periwig until he spoke to her.

‘So you came, Lady Allyngham.’

She stiffened immediately, but knew an irrational desire to laugh when she looked at the speaker.

‘I had no choice.’ Her lip curled. ‘You see yourself as the merry monarch, Sir Ronald?’

He bowed.

‘It seemed appropriate, since you are Nell Gwyn. Allow me to say how well you look in that costume, my dear.’

She waved her hand impatiently.

‘Say what you have to say and let me leave this place.’

‘I want your answer. Will you be my wife?’

‘I have not yet decided.’

He placed a hand under her elbow and guided her, none too gently, to the far end of the room, where a series of pillars supported a minstrels’ gallery. The area beneath the gallery was not lit, and the heavy columns cast deep shadows across the space. At first Eloise thought the area was deserted, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom she could see that there were couples in each of the shadowy corners, their bodies writhing against the walls. She averted her eyes.

Sir Ronald turned to face her.

‘My patience is running low, madam. I have given you time enough to make a decision. You know the consequences of refusing me. Are you prepared to suffer that? Your name disgraced, Mortimer branded a criminal.’

She snapped open her fan and began to wave it angrily.

‘I am well aware of the risks, but what you ask…’

His lips parted in an evil grin. She took a step back and found a cold, unyielding pillar behind her.

‘Would you rather I traded the journal page by page?’ he said, leaning so close that she could feel his breath on her face. She averted her gaze and he continued softly, ‘I could do that, you know.’ He trailed one finger across the low scoop of her bodice. ‘I would give you a sheet from the journal for each night you spend in my bed. As long as you pleased me, of course.’ His lips brushed her neck and she froze, gritting her teeth to suppress the shudder of revulsion. He laughed softly. ‘You do not like that plan, so I will be generous and honour my original offer: marry me and you shall have the journal immediately.’ He grasped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. ‘And do not think that you can ask Major Clifton to help you.’ He took her arm and turned her towards the room again. ‘Oh, yes, I know he is here, thinking he can protect you. Look—’ his voice grated in her ear ‘—that is your precious major over there, is it not? In the black domino. But you see
the two rustics on his right, and the piratical figure behind him? They are all my men. I realised at Renwick Hall that Clifton was likely to be a threat so I had him followed. I only have to give the word and they will cut him down like a dog.’ Eloise gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Deforge hissed, ‘You have alarmed him. You had best signal to him not to approach. And quickly!’

The tall figure in the black domino had taken a few steps towards her. Behind him a huge bearded man in a pirate’s costume was reaching for the gleaming, evil-looking blade in his belt. Frightened, she shook her head. Jack stopped and with a struggle she summoned up a reassuring smile.

Behind her, Sir Ronald murmured, ‘Well done. You have averted a tragedy.’

‘You would commit murder to achieve your ends?’

‘Not I, my lady. It would have been a drunken brawl. No one could connect it to me.’

‘You are an out-and-out villain!’

‘No, I am merely protecting my interests. You have only to agree to marry me and Clifton will be safe.’

She shook her head and looked at him, bewildered.

‘What happiness can there be with a wife that hates you?’

His thick lips parted into a leer and his grip tightened on her arm, the fingers digging into the flesh.

‘Schooling you will be part of the enjoyment. And you must not forget that you bring with you the Allyngham fortune. So, madam. Your answer, now, if you please.’ She swallowed nervously. A net was closing around her, cutting off every means of escape. At last she said in a low voice, ‘You leave me no choice.’