The Earl's Untouched Bride (20 page)

His companion, a dark, lean young man, regarded Heloise through world-weary eyes. 'May I hope you are at least a competent player?'

Heloise shrugged as she took her seat opposite him. Much as she hated to admit Mrs Kenton was correct, she would feel safer waiting for Robert in here, pretending to play cards, than falling prey to men like Lampton. 'I do not know. What game do we play?'

'Whist,' the whiskered gentleman grinned. 'And Lord Matthison boasted he could beat me, no matter who Mrs Kenton found to partner him!'

'Oh,' she sighed in relief. If her partner was such a good player, her lack of skill would not matter. 'I have never played whist before, my lord. Is it difficult to learn?'

Lord Matthison gave Mrs Kenton a hard look, before going through the rules with Heloise. They seemed fairly simple, and for the first few hands Heloise did not let her partner down too badly. She even managed to win a few tricks.

But then Lampton strolled into the room, a drink in his hand, and took up a position by the fireplace, from where he could observe her play at his leisure.

The looks he sent her were lascivious enough to make her squirm in her seat. She no longer doubted he was the man from the masquerade
—
the man to whom she had responded so shamefully! The longer he stood there, leering at her, the more worried she grew that he would use that interlude against Charles, somehow.

But what could she do to stop him?

'I think it is time to call it quits,' she eventually heard Lord Matthison drawl. 'It serves me right for not specifying that I could win were I partnered with any male. In future, miss,' he growled at her, 'you might try to remember that if you lead with a trump, your partner will assume you have a fist full of them. My congratulations, Peters
—
' he bowed to Mrs Kenton's partner '
—
on rolling me up so effectively.'

'Did I make you lose a lot of money?' Unsure of the value of what they had just lost at cards, Heloise began to chew at her lower lip.

'No more than I can afford,' he said shortly. 'And I hope the same goes for you. Though, judging by the pile of vowels Peters is holding, you may have to pledge your jewels until you can wheedle the cash from whichever poor sap paid for that expensive gown you have on.' Flicking her one last contemptuous look, Lord Matthison strode from the room, leaving her cringing on her chair.

He thought she was someone's whore! She hung her head. What else was a man to think, when it had been Mrs Kenton who had introduced them?

'Your bracelet,' she heard Mrs Kenton urging her in an undertone. 'Leave that as security until you can raise the ready.'

Still cringing at what she had led her whist partner to think, she peeled off the bracelet and dropped it onto the mound of IOU's she had written.

'How much is the total?' she asked.

'Five hundred guineas!' Mr Peters beamed.

'What the deuce
—
?'

At the sound of that voice, Heloise looked up to see Robert limping towards her, his face drained of colour.

'Heloise, you have never lost your bracelet at play?'

'It is just a pledge against what I owe,' she protested. 'I will get it back when I pay this gentleman.'

'You will oblige me by giving me your address,' Robert grated. 'I will deal with the matter on the lady's behalf.'

'With pleasure.' Peters grinned, scribbling on the back of a scrap of paper.

Robert did not speak to her again until they were safely tucked into Walton's closed carriage.

'I can't believe you dropped that bracelet on the table like that!'

'But I had run out of money. And I did not like to put any more vowels down. It is not as if the bracelet is all that valuable...'

'Not valuable! You little idiot! It is a family heirloom. A totally irreplaceable part of the Walton parure!'

'Y...yes, I suppose it would be difficult to match those funny yellow crystals...'

'They're not crystals, Heloise. They're diamonds. Extremely rare, extremely fine yellow diamonds.'

'I had no idea,' she admitted, beginning to feel a bit sick. 'But I have not really lost it. We can get it back when you pay Mr Peters what I owe.'

Robert subsided against the squabs, looking relieved. 'That's right. God!' He laughed. 'I wondered how on earth you had the nerve to wear those baubles at some of the places I took you to! I thought it was because you wanted to make Mrs Kenton jealous...' He shook his head ruefully. 'When all the time you had no idea...' He grinned. 'Never mind
—
it could be worse, I suppose. How much did you lose tonight, by the way?'

'Five hundred guineas.'

Robert went very still.

'What is the matter? Is that a great deal of money? I am not perfectly sure how many guineas there are to the pound, but I know it is not twenty. That is shillings...' She faltered. 'Or is that crowns?'

'I had thought I could bail you out,' he grated, 'if you had any difficulty raising the cash. But there's nothing for it now. You are going to have to go to Walton and make a clean breast of it. You have lost a small fortune at play, and left a priceless heirloom as security against the debt. Only a man of his means will ever be able to redeem it. My God,' he breathed, 'he'll kill you. No, he won't, though
—
he'll kill me! He'll know you've no more notion than a kitten how to go on in society. It's all my fault for not taking better care of you. I've taken you to the lowest places, let you consort with prostitutes
—
and not just any prostitutes, oh, no! He will think I did this on purpose. And just when... Oh, hell.' Suddenly he looked very weary.

'Then we must not tell him!' She could not let Robert take the blame because she had been such a fool.

'There must be some other way to find the money. I have an allowance which I draw from Cummings. He might let me have an advance against next quarter!'

Robert shook his head. 'The only way to get hold of that kind of money in a hurry would be to go to a money lender. And for God's sake don't do that! Once they get you in their clutches, you'll never get out. No, there's nothing for it. We'll have to throw ourselves on Walton's mercy.'

'No,' she moaned, burying her face in her hands. It was not just a question of the gaming debt and losing the bracelet. She knew, once Charles looked at her in that cool, superior manner of his, that it would all come, tumbling out. How jealous she was of his relationship with Mrs Kenton. This was precisely what her mother had warned her she must never do
—
behave like a jealous, possessive wife! And she had promised, too, that she would never cause him any trouble. She had broken the terms of their agreement twice over. He would never forgive her.

The carriage drew to a halt and a footman let down the steps. Her heart was in her mouth as they entered the hall together. It seemed the inevitable end to a disastrous evening when, just as she had taken off her cloak and handed it to a servant, the door to Charles' study swung open and he appeared in the doorway.

'Tell him now,' Robert murmured into her ear. 'The sooner you get it over with, the better for all of us.'

'Tell me what?' said Charles, advancing on them. 'Whatever it is you have to tell me had better be told in my study.' He stood to one side, inviting them into his domain with a wave of his arm.

Robert limped forward immediately.

'Care to join us, Lady Walton?' said Charles.

She had never felt so scared in all her life. But it would not be fair to let Robert face her husband alone. It was not his fault she had been stupidly goaded into gambling away a fortune by Charles' mistress. It had been her own stubborn pride that had done that. Not that she should have known who Mrs Kenton was, anyway. And Robert was right. Charles would blame him for that, too. There would be another fight between the two men, and the rift between them, which had begun to heal, would be ripped even wider. She could not let it happen.

Garnering all her courage, she followed Robert into the study, and joined him beside the desk.

Charles took the chair behind it, and gazed upon them with cool enquiry.

Neither of them could tell how fast his heart was beating as he braced himself to hear what he assumed would be the confession of their affair. He had not needed to question Heloise for long when he had trapped her in that box at the masquerade. She had confessed that Robert was her lover. Though she'd clearly felt guilty, bursting into tears and castigating herself for her loose morals, hearing the confirmation of his suspicions from her own lips had stunned him He had reeled away from her in agonising pain and found himself somehow back here
—
waiting, as had become his habit, until he knew she was safely home.

They had both gone to Robert's rooms, rather than parting at the foot of the stairs as they normally did. It had been some considerable time before she had emerged, with a little smile playing about her lips as she floated up the stairs. Robert had stood in the hallway, gazing up at her, with a calculating expression on his face.

'Well?' he rapped out, when they had stood shuffling their feet and exchanging guilty looks for several minutes.

'I have taken Heloise to several places you would not like
—
' Robert began.

'The truth is,' Heloise blurted out, determined not to let him sacrifice himself for her, 'that when we went to that horrid masquerade some man assaulted me!'

Robert turned to her with a look of exasperation on his face. 'Hang on, Heloise, that's not
—
'

'No, Robert! Let me tell this my own way!'

With a shrug, he fell silent.

'Robert only left me for a minute or two unprotected, I promise you. It was not his fault. It was mine. I insisted that he ask a young lady to dance, since he had the idea that no woman will ever accept him with the injuries he has taken. And while he was engaged with her this man, whom I have never seen before, took me in his arms and...kissed me.'

'Did you enjoy the experience?' Charles enquired coldly.

Heloise gasped as though he had slapped her.

'What sort of question is that?' Robert put in, aghast. 'She was naturally terribly upset! The point is, I had no business taking her to such a place...'

'Is this all?' Charles enquired politely, looking down at a sheaf of papers on his desk. Frowning, he moved the top sheet, as though something of interest had caught his eye. Certain that they were about to confess what had gone on between them behind closed doors, under his very roof, he was filled with such cold fury he could not bear to look at either of them. The only hope left to him was that he might be able to salvage his pride by masking his true state of mind while he waited for the blow to fall.

'Yes, that is all!' Heloise flung at him, her face white with fury. 'Come, Robert. You can see that to him it is nothing!'

She flounced out, Robert hard on her heels.

'Heloise! Wait!' Robert cried.

She paused halfway up the stairs and glared down at him.

'I told you we would have to find another way!' she whispered, aware that the door to Charles' study was not properly closed.

'You haven't confessed the whole yet
—
'

'What would be the point? I would die rather than tell him what happened tonight. Besides, if he finds out I have thrown away something you say he values so highly, he will banish me to the country
—
or put me aside altogether...'

'No, he won't. A gentleman doesn't divorce his wife over
—
'

'Gentleman! I do not even know what you mean by that term any more. Except that it is a nature that is cold and proud and unapproachable! I will not beg him to rescue me ever again! I wish I had not done so in the first place! Du Mauriac is dead, after all, and I would have been able to stay with my parents, who, though they think I am an imbecile, at least let me draw what I wish!'

While Robert's brow pleated in perplexity at this statement he found incomprehensible, in his study Charles clutched his head in his hands.

He had known from the start that she should not have carried on with the marriage once Du Mauriac was out of the picture.

Stifling a groan, he went to the study door and closed it.

'I will find a way to raise the money myself!' Heloise declared defiantly, storming off up the stairs.

In his study, Charles paced the carpet, too agitated even to pause to pour himself a drink. It would not soothe him, anyway. Nothing could ever ease the agony of hearing Heloise declare she wished she had never married him.

He had done all in his power to reconcile her to her position. To demonstrate she need not fear him he had allowed her more freedom than even the most besotted of men would accord their bride. He had put no pressure on her to conform to his requirements, imposed no restrictions on her movements, no matter how close she had sailed to the wind. And for what?

As he passed the window, he caught sight of his reflection in the panes of glass. Could this wild-haired, wild-eyed man really be him? Within two months of being married his wife had reduced him to this?