The Rake's Ruined Lady (5 page)

‘Why...Mr Kendrick...I...that is...we were expecting somebody else,’ Beatrice finished faintly, having finally snapped herself to attention.

‘You remember me...I’m flattered.’

Beatrice attempted to rouse herself from her stupor. Her heart had begun to thud erratically and the pearl buttons on her bodice were quivering with every breath she took. But if her visitor noticed her bosom’s alluring movement he gave no sign; Hugh Kendrick’s eyes were politely fixed on her blanching face.

‘I’m sorry to startle you, and hope I’ve not arrived at a bad time...’

‘No...not at all...’ Bea fibbed. ‘Please...do come in, sir.’ She belatedly remembered her manners and drew to one side, aware that Betty was hovering behind, watching and listening to their strained conversation.

‘Just one more cup, then, please, Mrs Francis.’ Beatrice was thankful to have a reason to turn to the housekeeper and compose herself, simply to avoid a pair or relentless hawk-like eyes.

She
had
recognised Hugh straight away, yet marvelled at having done so. The person before her little resembled the gentleman she had fallen in love with three years ago. His thick hair was still conker-brown, worn rather long, and his eyes were deepest hazel, fringed with ebony lashes; but there all similarity ended. Once he’d had an appealing fresh-faced demeanour and had worn modestly styled attire. Now his lean, angular face was sun-beaten and bore lines of dissipation. His elegantly tailored suit of clothing, dusty and creased from the journey, proclaimed him a man who could afford to be carelessly indulgent.

So far they’d exchanged few words, all of them polite, yet Bea felt unsettled by his lazy confidence. Once Hugh Kendrick would blush endearingly the moment she entered a room; at present she found his hooded amber gaze intimidating rather than flattering. As Beatrice pivoted about to again invite him into her home she sensed a pang of regret that he was no longer a charming young fellow but an aloof stranger who possessed an alarming virility.

‘I expect you’re busy with wedding preparations.’

His quiet comment caused Beatrice to snap her darkening eyes to him, wondering if he was being deliberately sarcastic. His tone had been as unemotional as were his features, but she quickly realised it was unlikely he’d yet heard her bad news. Her sister had only found out a few days ago on reaching Hertfordshire, and Elise’s husband remained in ignorance of what had gone on.

‘It’s none of my business, I know. My apologies for mentioning it.’ Hugh had sensed her frostiness increase at the mention of her marriage. She had good cause to dislike him, and he’d often cursed the reason for it.

But not any more. He’d been too broke to have her—the only woman he’d really wanted—and following several humiliating and vain attempts at fortune-hunting a bride he’d done with love and marriage. Now he could buy himself all the female company he needed, and renew it when he grew bored with the women in his life.

Hugh’s mouth slanted in self-mockery as he recalled that a joyful wedding reception had been taking place the last time they’d been in one another’s company.

Alex Blackthorne had been married in Hertfordshire at a country church with few people in attendance, but he had bestowed on his bride an extravagant party when they arrived back in Mayfair. No expense had been spared and the lavish affair had seen ambitious society brides emulating it ever since.

During the celebration Hugh remembered Beatrice and her father keeping their distance from him. He had taken against the fellow escorting Beatrice even before Alex told him that Beatrice Dewey had become engaged to Colin Burnett.

‘What do you want, sir?’ Bea asked coolly, although her complexion had grown warm beneath his relentless scrutiny. She felt wound as tightly as a spring, but the thrill of being so close to him, enveloped in his musky sandalwood scent, was not easily conquered. If he’d just stop staring at her, she thought crossly, she might manage to calm down and stop turning over in her mind what had happened between them years ago.

At Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, Hugh had singled her out, paying her such attention that a crowd of envious women had closed in on them to eavesdrop. The giddy elation of that warm midsummer evening and the following days, anticipating her next meeting with Hugh, were not easy to forget. Neither was the memory of her happiness disintegrating when he bluntly told her he couldn’t see her again.

‘We have some neighbours visiting. I do not want to seem inhospitable, sir, but it might be better if you do not join us.’ Mrs Callan’s hoarse laugh had jolted Beatrice to the present. ‘My father has not forgotten or forgiven that once we knew each other...that is, he recalls that our brief friendship turned sour,’ Beatrice hastily amended, blushing. They had most definitely not
known
each other—in the biblical sense or any other. She had mistaken this man’s nature and sincerity just as she had with Colin.

‘I regret that we parted before I knew you as well as I would have liked.’

‘I cannot echo that sentiment, sir.’ Hugh’s amused tone had deepened the colour staining Beatrice’s porcelain complexion. ‘
My
only regret is that I ever became acquainted with you at all.’ Stolen kisses and caresses, snatched during their brief moments alone, were at the forefront of her mind, putting a disquieting throb low in her belly. Bea feared he might also be recalling their passionate moonlit trysts, and his next soft comment proved her intuitive.

‘I don’t believe you wish we’d never met when we had such a delightful time.’

‘Then you should curb your conceit, because it is the truth,’ Beatrice snapped, avoiding the sultry glint in his eyes. ‘Once again I must ask you what you want. I cannot believe you have simply come to see me and reminisce—’

‘I won’t keep you long from your friends,’ Hugh interrupted smoothly. ‘Nice as it is to see you, my dear, it’s a far more vital matter that brings me here uninvited.’

Bea was aware of the arrogance in his tone and felt her hackles rise. No doubt now he had increased his prospects he felt she should feel flattered by his attention. Before she could step away from him he’d strolled back towards the door as though he might leave.

‘I have some urgent news for Alex. Would you fetch him, please, so I might speak to him?’ Hugh’s exasperating thoughts made him sound harsh and domineering. Beneath his breath he was cursing himself for finding her country freshness sweetly appealing after Gwen’s cloying presence. Once he’d touched and caressed Beatrice often, and with her full consent. Any sudden move from him now was sure to result in a swift slap, so he’d distanced himself to avoid temptation.

‘Alex?’ A small frown crinkled Bea’s brow. ‘Why, I cannot get him, sir...he is not here. Elise arrived a few days ago with baby Adam but we have not seen Alex. Is he on his way, then?’

‘I imagined he would have arrived by now. He left before me. His butler said he’d travelled into Hertfordshire so I came directly here, assuming he’d be with Elise.’

On the long hard ride towards St Albans he’d been wondering how he’d feel again when he saw Beatrice. In his youth he’d been infatuated plenty of times, impoverished just as frequently, by pert beauties with expensive tastes. But he’d put all of them from his mind. Beatrice Dewey he’d not been able to forget. He’d explained it away by blaming mutual friends for keeping the winsome blonde haunting his thoughts. But Hugh suspected that what presently occupied Beatrice’s mind was her brother-in-law’s safety. She was no doubt imagining that Alex had come a cropper on the road, and Hugh naturally wanted to soothe her fears on that score.

‘If he’d broken an axle, or one of his horses had gone lame, I would have passed him en route,’ Hugh softly reassured her. ‘Alex might have taken a break at a tavern.’

A furrow appeared in Beatrice’s smooth brow, testament to the fact she was not entirely convinced by that argument. ‘I shall let Elise know you are here; she’ll want to speak to you if you’ve come on her husband’s account.’

Swiftly Hugh moved to apprehend her, catching her wrist in a firm grip. ‘It might be best not to tell her anything till I locate Alex. I don’t want to unduly upset Elise if there is an easy explanation for the viscount’s absence.’

‘Yes...I understand...’ Beatrice croaked, her skin heating beneath his clasp. She’d proof now that Hugh Kendrick had kindly sought to allay her fears over her brother-in-law’s tardiness, despite suspecting all might not be well. But it was the sensation of Hugh’s touch—far more assertive than she remembered it to be—rather than anxiety for Alex that was making her captured flesh quiver.

Slowly Hugh withdrew his hand, and this time Bea heard a syllable of the oath he emitted as he jammed his hands in his pockets and walked off.

‘Oh, there you are, Bea...I wondered where you had got to...’

It was too late to prevent Elise knowing the truth: Bea’s prolonged absence had prompted her sister to nip out of the front parlour in search of her. With Adam cradled against a shoulder, obscuring her view, Elise hadn’t at first noticed the gentleman by the door.

‘Hugh!’ Elise hurried towards him. ‘What a lovely surprise to see you! Why have you not joined us in the parlour?’ she burst out. Elise’s sparkling gaze veered between the couple, lingered on Bea, wordlessly enquiring what had brought about this unexpected and exciting turn of events.

‘Mr Kendrick has come here with important news for Alex.’ Beatrice didn’t want to worry Elise, but knew her sister would eventually discover the reason behind Hugh’s visit. ‘We expect he’ll turn up soon, having stopped for a drink.’

‘Alex didn’t say he would come after me but I won’t be surprised if he does.’ Elise smiled contentedly. ‘He’s probably at the Red Lion. He doesn’t like Papa to fiddle and fuss and spend his money on unnecessary comforts just so he might bed down here for a night or two.’

‘Of course...that’s where he is.’ Beatrice sighed in relief. When Viscount Blackthorne had been courting her sister he would often lodge at the inn at St Albans.

Elise was swaying her drowsing son while frowning at Hugh. ‘If you’ve come all this way it must be bad news. Please tell me what it is for I shall only fret if you do not. Has something awful happened in the few days I’ve been away?’

‘I’m afraid that your mother-in-law has scarlatina.’ Hugh comforted Elise with a sympathetic smile as one of her hands flew to cover her shocked gasp. ‘The physician thinks she will recover well but at her age there is an obvious risk...’ His voice tailed off. ‘She has been asking to see Alex.’

‘Of course...he must go immediately to her side. I should return too.’ Elise was very fond of her mother-in-law and knew the woman doted on Alex, her only child.

‘It has been wonderful to see you, but Papa will understand why you must cut short your visit.’ Beatrice strove to remove Elise’s worry over leaving so soon after arriving in Hertfordshire.

The doorknocker was again loudly employed at the same moment that Betty reappeared, shuffling towards them, bearing a tray laden with a silver tea set surrounded by some delicate bone china.

‘If it’s more nosey Parkers here to tattle they can come back another time,’ the housekeeper stated with salty directness. ‘We’re right out of tea anyhow, till Norman gets back from town with the provisions.’

Being closest to the door, Hugh did the honours, opening it to find Alex on the step.

The viscount gave his chum a quizzical look while proceeding inside, but was prevented from asking the most obvious question. His wife hastily handed her precious burden to her sister, then launched herself at him to hug him about the waist in a show of welcome and comfort at the news she must soon break. Gently Elise urged her husband towards a small alcove by the stairs so they might quietly converse.

‘What’s it all about?’ Walter demanded waspishly, emerging from the parlour and pulling the door shut behind him. ‘You’re not going to abandon me with those two, are you?’

Leaning heavily on his stick, he fished out his spectacles and put them on so he might get a closer look at what was occurring. He peered from one to the other of the people crowding his narrow hallway. ‘Ah...capital! I see my son-in-law has dropped by to join us...why are they whispering?’

Walter didn’t wait for a reply to his question about Elise and Alex huddling together a yard or so away. His attention had already moved on to a person he felt sure he recognised. When the fellow’s identity popped into his mind his gaze narrowed angrily on Hugh Kendrick’s tall, distinguished figure.

‘Ha! I
do
know you! So you’ve heard, have you, and come to speak to my daughter and me? Well, Bea won’t have you now, no matter how much money you’ve got from your diamonds. And neither will I. You had your chance years ago, so be off with you.’

In the ensuing silence Betty shuffled forward with the heavy tea tray, and never before had Bea felt quite so grateful for their housekeeper’s peevishness.

‘Is some kind person going to open the door?’ The woman huffed out. ‘My arms are giving out with the weight of this lot.’ Betty rested a hip against the wall for support.

Courteously, Hugh unburdened the elderly servant, allowing her to enter the parlour. She gave him a wide smile when he carried the tray inside and put it down on the table, causing the two seated ladies to gawp admiringly at him. Hugh nodded politely before retracing his steps, leaving Betty behind the closed door setting the cups and Mrs Callan and Victoria frantically burbling in low voices.

‘You may quit my house, sirrah.’ Walter pointed his stick at Hugh. ‘Beatrice, come into the parlour, do. I’ve exhausted every topic of conversation I can think of that avoids mentioning a fickle scoundrel upsetting my daughter.’ Again his rheumy eyes settled accusingly on Hugh.

Walter beckoned to Elise and Alex, then disappeared inside the parlour, oblivious to his elder daughter’s mortification or Hugh Kendrick’s cynically amused expression.

‘I’m sorry my father was so rude just then.’ Beatrice’s voice was hoarse with chagrin and she found she could not meet his eyes. She feared he’d understood her father’s oblique reference to her having been jilted. Eventually it would all come out and Hugh Kendrick, along with other acquaintances who resided further afield, would discover Beatrice Dewey’s wedding had been cancelled, but she didn’t want his pity, or his questions, today.