The Earl's Untouched Bride (18 page)

'Only because you asked me to!' he protested, twitching her simple black domino over her evening gown. 'For God's sake, if we are going to stay, keep yourself covered up,' he urged, taking her arm and tugging her towards one of the boxes on the lowest tier. 'And don't do anything or say anything that might give anyone a clue as to who you are. If you think you can shock Walton into taking more notice of you, you need your head examining!'

She almost laughed aloud at Robert's misapprehension. She had long since given up any hope of making Charles regard her with anything more than bored indifference.

But Mrs Kenton was a different matter.

She was not going to permit That Woman to sneer at her and pity her and crow over her for being the one who had Charles in her bed every night!

It had been Nell, Lord Lensborough's plump blonde mistress, who had introduced the two women one evening, when Heloise had gone unaccompanied to a small party being held by one of Robert's friends. At the last minute he had confessed he was not feeling up to it, but, at the look of disappointment on her face, had told her there was nothing to stop her going alone.

From the outside, the house had looked completely respectable. It had only been once she had stepped inside she'd realised she ought not to have gone. The guests had nearly all been young, single military gentlemen, who had already been growing rather boisterous. She had intended to say hello to her host, a Mr Farrar, and slip away, when Nell had come bounding up to her. The dear silly creature had noticed her looking a little flustered upon coming into a room of virtual strangers without a male escort, and decided to look after her. Being slightly foxed, she had seen nothing untoward in introducing her to the statuesque brunette who'd stood at her side. For a split second neither lady had been sure how to react.

It had been Heloise who had recovered first. Later, when she had gone over the evening's events, she had been proud of the way she had behaved.

She had smiled gaily, holding out her hand to Mrs Kenton, who had been looking as if she wished to strangle poor Nell.

'Is it not fortunate for us both that Charles is not here? This is exactly the sort of scene which he would dislike above anything!'

'Indeed he would,' Mrs Kenton had replied faintly, taking Heloise's hand in a limp grasp.

Seeing Nell's brow finally pleating with concern, Heloise went on, with false bravado, 'I assure you, I do not in the least mind meeting the lover of my husband. It is only what I expected when I married an Englishman. It would be silly of me to pretend I do not know he has a mistress.'

And now that she had seen her she could understand exactly what drew Charles to this woman. Although she was a good deal older than Felice, she had the same dark hair, the same graceful carriage, even a sultry set to her lips that put her strongly in mind of her sister when she was not in the best of moods.

'At least he does not have two, like Lord Wellington,' she prattled on. 'Or parade them about in public while shunning his poor little wife. Why he brought her to Paris at all nobody could in the least guess, if he meant to humiliate her in that fashion!' Finally she paused to breathe, desperately hoping the bright facade she had adopted was successfully hiding her despondency.

For Mrs Kenton was wearing the ruby necklace. The stones were magnificent, gleaming like fire against the

woman's milk-white skin, the large, central stone dipping provocatively into a cleavage that made Heloise fully conscious of her total inadequacy to compete in the bedroom stakes.

'Although I suspect, myself, that he wished to prove he had beaten Bonaparte upon all suits, and probably had no idea he had hurt her. Men!' she finished on a false laugh, fluttering her fan before her flushed cheeks.

'It is very...open-minded of you to say so,' Mrs Kenton said, with a puzzled frown.

'Oh, no
—
I am a realist, me. And it seems silly to pretend not to know how the world works.'

A knowing expression flickered across Mrs Kenton's face. She purred, 'Or to pretend that you don't mind?'

Heloise responded with a shrug. 'Why should I mind?'

The older woman's eyes narrowed on the parure Heloise was wearing, her expression growing positively feline.

'Why, indeed? He is such a generous man that any woman with an ounce of sense would always forgive his little...lapses.' She leaned forward conspiratorially. 'You are wise to pretend not to mind about me, my dear, just as I shall pretend not to mind about you. The one thing he cannot abide is a woman making a fuss. He hates to feel he might be losing control of a situation.' She chuckled
—
a low, throaty sound. 'Well, you know how far he takes his
desire
for mastery.' She fanned herself, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. 'My, I grow heated just thinking about his skill between the sheets. It more than compensates for the coldness of his public manners, as I am sure you would be the first to agree.'

Heloise turned and stalked away. Round one had definitely gone to the courtesan. Though she wanted nothing more than to leave the party at once, she refused to let it look as though Mrs Kenton had driven her away.

The second bout was fought with rather more subtlety. Mrs Kenton followed Heloise to the lady's retiring room, where she had been trying to hide until a sufficient amount of time had passed to make it look as though she was not running away.

Pretending she did not know anyone else was in the room, Mrs Kenton remarked to Nell, who was with her, 'Isn't it a good thing that Walton's poor little wife is able to look after herself?'

Nell blinked owlishly, hiccupped, and subsided onto a sofa.

'Otherwise, who knows what would become of her? Everyone knows he is bored with her already.'

'Well, I like her,' Nell protested.

'As do I!' Mrs Kenton quickly put in. 'Which is why I feel so sorry for her. He never goes anywhere with her if he can avoid it. One can only wonder why he married her in the first place!'

That remark had struck her to the core. Charles had only married her to save face, and at her own suggestion. But it had been to no avail. The whole of London could already see that it was a mismatch!

Well, one thing they would not see. And that was a bride who was not completely content with her lot. Heloise had determined there and then to prove to the whole world that nobody need feel in the least sorry for her. Particularly the patronising Mrs Kenton. From that moment she had taken pains to attend the sorts of places she was most likely to run into the woman, and demonstrate that not only did she know exactly what she was to her husband, but that it didn't affect her in the least. She would show them all she was a sophisticated Parisienne, well acquainted with, and impervious to, the base nature of men.

This bravado had carried her, over the next few days, to all sorts of places she had not enjoyed visiting in the least. But she would not back down. Not while that woman flaunted the rubies her husband had given her, while all she had to show for the marriage were some antiquated crystals he'd got out of a cupboard and dusted down so she would not look as though she had nothing! And if she could face down her husband's mistress at every turn, Robert could learn to deal with his own demons.

'Robert,' she said now, more gently, laying a gloved i hand on his arm, 'your limp will not deter a woman who has a good heart.'

'Nor my face?' he scoffed.

'Ah, but tonight it is covered.' She reached up to adjust the set of his white velvet mask, which matched her own. 'Any woman you approach will see only your eyes, burning with admiration for her. She will see how determined you are to approach her, and she will think, My, how he must want me. You will not give her commonplace flatteries about the colour of her hair, or the magnificence of her figure
—
non
! You will tell her that no other woman has such beauty of spirit. You will see beneath the trappings to the very heart of her. And her heart, it will be in your hands before the end of the very first dance.'

'I shall sound like a complete coxcomb if I dish out that kind of cant,' Robert grumbled. 'Then I'll probably catch my false leg in her skirts and trip her over.'

'Ah, no! The coxcomb is the one who pays tribute too prettily, not meaning half of what he says. You will let your lady see that you need her. Every woman wants to feel she is the only one who can answer the needs of her lover's heart.'

'Sounds like a load of hokum to me,' huffed Robert from the dark corner of the box where he was hunched. 'Shall I prove it? Shall I do as you have suggested, and make a complete fool of myself?'

'That,' replied Heloise with some asperity, 'was the whole reason for coming to a masked ball. So that you could try out the technique on some girl who does not in the least matter to you, rather than make the cake of yourself before your friends. There!' Heloise took his arm and indicated a female in a pink domino, who was casting them an occasional look from a box directly across the stage from where they sat. 'She is looking your way again. Go and ask her to dance!'

The masked damsel shot him a coy look, before turning away and fanning herself with vigour.

'Hell, what have I got to lose?' Robert finally said, pushing himself out of the chair.

It was not until he had left her alone in her box that Heloise realised just how vulnerable she was to the attentions of the masked revellers who leered at her over its edge. This was not the first time since embarking on her private little battle with Mrs Kenton that Heloise had felt completely out of her depth. But it was the first time she had sensed she could be in real danger. Even in private gaming hells there was a code of conduct which ensured her personal safety. But here the drunken bucks who made free with the females clearly felt they had the right to do so. For the type of females who came to such a place did not expect the same consideration as would a lady of quality. Indeed, she had not seen any woman here display reluctance towards any advances made upon her.

It was quite terrifying when a large male, clad in a black silk domino topped with a red devil's mask, stepped over the edge of the box without so much as a by-your-leave.

The domino parted as he took the chair beside her, revealing the stuff knee breeches of a tradesman.

'All alone, my pretty?' he slurred. 'How about a kiss?' He lurched forward, assailing her nostrils with gin fumes.

'
Non
!' she gasped, shrinking back into her chair.

'French, hey?' the stranger responded, cocking his head to one side. 'Not a good time to be a Frenchwoman in London, is it? Though you are the prettiest one I've ever seen. Let me see you better,' he said, reaching for the strings of her mask.

'You must not!' she cried, rapping him over the knuckles with her fan. It was imperative that her mask remain in place. Charles would be furious if he ever found out she had revealed her face at such a place as this!

'Why not?' The man chuckled, his hands dropping to her waist. 'It's what you've come here for, isn't it? To have a little fun?'

In a panic now, Heloise struck out at his devilish mask with her fan. He caught her hand easily, his reflexes surprisingly quick for a man whose slurred speech indicated he was heavily inebriated.

She could not think how to get rid of him. Admitting she was a respectable married woman would do no good. He would not believe her. Respectable married women did not come to places like this. Not without their husbands.

If he knew she was the Countess of Walton, with a husband renowned for his vengeful nature, he would stop trying to paw at her like this! But she could not betray Charles by using his name! Nobody must ever know that she had disgraced him by coming to a place like this!

In desperation, she mentioned the only threat which she thought might hold sway with the drunken buck.

'I am not here alone! I am here with my...' Even if she mentioned her brother-in-law, it might give her assailant a clue as to her true identity. In spite of his domino and mask, it was impossible to disguise the full nature of Robert's injuries. Anybody who knew anything about the upper classes would have heard of the maimed soldier who lived with his half-brother and the French wife. 'My lover!' she declared, hoping this man had not seen Robert limp off towards the far side of the stage.

'Lover, is it?' the stranger hissed. 'Pretty careless of him to leave you here unprotected, then, wasn't it?' He placed his arm along the back of her chair, propping his leg up against the door of the box as he did so, effectively penning her in with him. 'I don't think he would care all that much if I stole a kiss or two...not if he's the fellow I saw going to the refreshment room with the little tart in the pink domino a moment or so ago.'

Heloise's breathing grew ragged. Robert could
not
have abandoned her! He would not do such a thing!

'You lie! He would die for me! And he was a soldier. If you dare to touch me he will kill you!'

The man's eyes glittered coldly through the slits in his mask. 'He would have to catch me first,' he sneered. 'Is that how you came to be his lover? He fought in France? Is that it? And brought you back with him? Spoils of war...' Almost casually, the hand which was not gripping her shoulder fumbled its way under the silken folds of her domino.