More than a Mistress/No Man's Mistress (84 page)

And then the sounds of merry laughter and another voice dominated all others.

“Come, now,” the voice called gaily, “you can do better than that, my fine fellow. You have not yet turned the air blue. I have business with one of your passengers.”

Viola scarcely had time to feel shock before the carriage door was wrenched open.

“In the nick of time,” Lord Ferdinand Dudley said, peering inside and then reaching up a gloved hand to her. “Come, Viola.”

A moment ago her heart had felt as if it were breaking in two because she would never see him again. Now she was furiously angry. How dare he!

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you know—”

“I went to the White Horse Inn first.” He grinned. “I have just put terror into half of London by springing my horses through its streets. Come down.”

She clasped her hands firmly in her lap and glared at him. “I am going home,” she said. “You are holding up the coach and making a spectacle of us both. Please shut the door, my lord.”

If the coachman had not turned the air blue before, he must surely be doing it now. Other men were shouting indignantly too. Only the inside passengers remained quiet, their attention focused on the interesting scene before them.

“Don’t go,” he said. “Not yet. We need to talk.”

Viola shook her head while one of the female passengers informed the others in an awed whisper that the gentleman was a
lord
.

“There is nothing more to say,” Viola said. “
Please
go away. Everyone is terribly angry.”

“Let them be,” he said. “Come down and talk to me.”

“You go with him, love,” the same passenger advised aloud. “He’s a right handsome gent, he is. I’d go with him myself if he would take me instead.”

There was a burst of appreciative laughter from those within hearing distance.

“Go away!” Viola said, angry and embarrassed.

“Please, Viola.” He was no longer smiling. He was compelling her shamelessly with his dark eyes, which gazed very deeply into her own. “Please, my love. Don’t go.”

The other passengers awaited her reply with bated breath.

Hannah touched her arm. “We had better get out, Miss Vi,” she said, “before we are thrown out.”

The coachman and a few other men were still swearing ferociously. The guard had jumped down from his place and was advancing menacingly on Lord Ferdinand.

“If you insist upon staying where you are,” Ferdinand said, grinning suddenly again, “I’ll follow the coach, Viola, and accost you at every tollgate and every stop between here and Somersetshire. I can make a very public
nuisance of myself when I choose. Take my hand now, and get down.”

He had made it impossible for her to remain in the coach. How would she look her fellow passengers in the eye during the long hours ahead? How would she be able to face the coachman and guard at the various stops along the way? She stretched out her hand slowly until it was resting in Ferdinand’s. He grasped it tightly, and the next moment she was descending to the inn yard while all the inside passengers, a few of the outside ones, and a sizable ring of spectators cheered and applauded.

“Toss down the lady’s bags and her maid’s, if you will, my man,” Ferdinand said, grinning at the guard and pressing a gold coin into his hand. With one glance at it, the guard forgot his wrath and did as he had been bidden. Ferdinand, meanwhile, was assisting Hannah to alight and then stretching up an arm to appease the coachman with another coin. His curricle and horses, Viola noticed, were still blocking the gateway, his groom holding the horses’ heads.

She stood mutely watching while the curricle was pulled ahead and the stagecoach finally rumbled out of the yard—without her—and turned onto the street. The grooms and other spectators were dispersing.

“Ma’am.” Lord Ferdinand was addressing her mother. “May I have your leave to take Miss Thornhill for a drive?”

She did not
want
to drive with him. At this particular moment she hated him. The worst should be over now. She should be on her way home.

“Of course, my lord,” her mother said warmly. “Hannah will return to the White Horse with us.”

They were all smiling, Viola saw when she looked
from one to the other of them—just as if they were witnessing the beginning of a happily-ever-after. Even Hannah was beaming. Did they not
understand
?

He was offering her his arm. She took it without a word and went with him out to the street, where he handed her up to the high seat of his curricle before striding around to the other side and climbing up beside her. He took the ribbons from his groom’s hand.

“I am very vexed with you,” she said curtly when the curricle was in motion.

“Are you?” He turned his head to look briefly at her. “Why?”

“You had no business stopping me from doing what I had decided to do,” she said, “and what I
wanted
to do. This morning, when there were important papers to deliver to me, you sent them with a servant and a note signed
F. Dudley
. Now suddenly this afternoon you need to speak with me urgently enough to drag me from a stagecoach.”

“Ah, this morning,” he said. “I had a very important commitment this morning that made it impossible to call on you in person. But it struck me that you had a right to see those papers at the earliest possible moment. I had time only to dash off a quick note. Did I really sign myself that way? Were you offended?”

“Not at all,” she said. “Why should I be?”

He merely flashed her a grin.

“There is nothing more to be said,” she told him. “I have already sent a letter thanking you for the papers. Where did they come from, by the way?”

“Bamber,” he said. “He went to Yorkshire to call upon the countess’s solicitor. It seems that his father used his services occasionally. He did so just before his death because
Westinghouse was away from London when you left for Pinewood. The York solicitor neglected to bring the papers to light afterward, though, probably at the countess’s urging. Bamber did not know where to find you with them, and so he came to me.”

“I would have expected him to keep his mouth shut too,” she said tartly. “He cannot feel kindly toward me, after all.”

“He is a ramshackle fellow,” Ferdinand said, “but not dishonest.”

“Everything has been said, then.” She turned her head away from him. “It could have been explained just as well in a letter. You did not need to see me again. I wanted to be on that stagecoach. I wanted to go home. I did not want to see you again.”

“We have to talk,” he said—and then was silent.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Somewhere where we can talk,” he said.

Her question had been rhetorical. It was clear that they were headed in the direction of the Duke of Tresham’s house—the one where his grace housed his mistresses. The curricle drew to a stop there a couple of minutes later and Ferdinand jumped down before coming around to her side.

“I won’t,” she said firmly as her feet touched the pavement.

“Sleep with me?” he said, grinning down at her. “No, you dashed well won’t, Viola. Not today anyway. We need to talk.”

Alone together. Here, of all places, where they had spent one night of delirious happiness.

She hated him with an intense anger.

*   *   *

H
E TOOK HER TO
the room he liked best—the back room with the pianoforte and books, where Jane and Tresham must have spent a great deal of time. She took off her outdoor garments and went to sit primly in the armchair beside the hearth. Her face was pale and expressionless. She had not once looked at him since they entered the house.

“Why didn’t you trust me?” he asked her. He stood some distance from her, his hands clasped at his back. She had lost weight and bloom since that day of the village fête. But somehow she looked as beautiful as ever. Or perhaps it seemed so because he was no longer able to see her objectively. “Why did you go to Tresham instead?”

She looked up at him sharply then. “How do you know that?”

“He told me so,” he said. “Did you think he would not, Viola?”

She stared at him. “Now that I think of it,” she said, “I can see that it is something he
would
do. He would want to tell you how I was willing to bargain with him and take money from him in exchange for refusing to marry you. Yes, I can see that he would get satisfaction from telling you how calculating and mercenary I am. Does he know about the receipt the Earl of Bamber brought you? How disappointed he must have been—and how terrified that after all I might accept a marriage offer from you.”

She was still angry, he could see. He had learned early that Viola Thornhill was not easily dominated. She
would not readily forgive him for forcing her to get down from that stagecoach.

“Why did you not trust me?” he asked her again. “Why did you not ask me for the money, Viola? You must know that I would have helped you.”

“I did not want you to,” she said. “I did not want you to know why I worked for Daniel Kirby. I wanted you to believe that I was Lilian Talbot because I liked being her and doing what she did. I wanted you to abandon the foolish notion that we could marry. I still wish it. I
was
Lilian Talbot, even though I hated every moment of her life. And I remain what she was. I wish the Duke of Tresham had not told you. Better yet, I wish I had not gone to him or had waited another day. That receipt has set me free, you see. But not free to live here or to associate with people like you.”

“I can never ever be worthy of you, you know,” he said. She looked at him in astonishment, but he continued. “When I learned as a boy of the life my mother and father lived, as well as most of their friends, I was so disillusioned with love that I shrank from it forever after and withdrew into cynicism. Apart from my studies I have done nothing worthwhile in all the years since. Certainly I have not given love. You, on the other hand, have stuck steadfastly by love even though it has hurt you immeasurably. And you keep on sticking by it. You are intent upon not hurting me, are you not?”

She turned her head away. “Don’t make a saint of me,” she said. “I did what I had to do. But I am a whore nonetheless.”

“I think,” he said, “that I have done
one
worthwhile thing in my adult life.”

“Yes. You gave Pinewood back to me before you knew
it was mine anyway,” she said. “I will always remember you kindly for that.”

“Kirby won’t be troubling you again,” he said.

“No.” He saw her shudder.

“I would have killed him for you, Viola,” he said quietly. “I would
like
to have killed him.”

“Oh, no.” She was on her feet then and closing the distance between them. She set one hand on his sleeve and looked earnestly into his face. “Don’t get into any trouble on my behalf, Ferdinand. He has no more power over me.”

He covered her hand on his arm with his own. “Oh, I did not say that he has gone unpunished,” he said.

She looked at his hand as he spoke, and then she looked down at the other, her eyes widening. “Oh, Ferdinand, what have you done?”

“I have punished him,” he said. “No punishment could be adequate for what he has done to you, not even death. But I believe it will be several days before he can get up off his bed. Once he
is
up, he will be taking himself beyond these shores for the rest of his life.”

She raised his hand and set her cheek gently against his raw knuckles. “How dreadful of me to feel glad,” she said. “But I do. Thank you. But I hope no one else hears of this, especially the Duke of Tresham. You should not be seen to have any involvement with me. But no matter. I will leave for home tomorrow, and no one will ever hear from me again. I did not want to see you today, Ferdinand, but I am glad after all that you caught up to me in time. I will have this as a last memory of you.”

“Actually, Tresham does know,” he said. “He is the one who brought Kirby to me in the park.”

She looked at him in horror. “He
knows
? In the
park
?”

“With fifty or so other chosen witnesses,” he told her. “By now there is probably no one in the
ton
who does not know.”

She stepped back from him, her face suddenly pale. Then she tried to rush past him to the door, but he caught her arm and held her.

“By now,” he said, “everyone knows of your courage and selfless devotion to your family when you were little more than a girl. Everyone knows that the villain who preyed upon you has been publicly humiliated and punished. Everyone knows that the powerful and influential Dudleys, led by the Duke of Tresham himself, have taken your part and devoted themselves to restoring your good name and celebrating your heroism. And everyone knows that Lord Ferdinand Dudley has appointed himself your champion.”

“How could you?” she cried. “How
could
you? To have exposed me to such public …” She could not seem to think of the right word. Her eyes flashed at him.

“Do you not see that it is the only way?” he asked her gently. “Tresham is going to invite the
ton
to a reception at Dudley House. He wants you to be the guest of honor. Everyone will come, Viola. They will all be agog to catch a glimpse of you. But it is our version of you they will come to see. It is the real Viola Thornhill they will meet. You will become all the rage.”

“I don’t want to be all the rage,” she snapped at him. “Ferdinand, I was a courtesan for four years. I am illegitimate. I—”

“Bamber hopes to escort you to the reception and present you to the
ton
as his half-sister,” he said.

“What?” She stared at him.
“What?”

“He was in the park too,” he told her.

“So were a dozen or more of my former clients, I daresay.” She glared indignantly at him.

“Yes.” He drew a slow breath and tested the idea in his mind. It really did not matter to him. “But not one of them will reveal the fact by so much as a flicker of an eyelash, Viola. You will be the acknowledged half-sister of the Earl of Bamber. You will be the protégée of the Duke and Duchess of Tresham. You will be my lady—or so I hope.”