A Wager for Love (17 page)

Lady Elizabeth was not quite so sure. A quick glance at her cousin’s face had confirmed her fears. Lavinia was wearing what her afflicted relative privately thought of as her “Davenham” look. Perhaps she needed a word of warning in her ear? After all, Andover was well known for his flirtations. She thought of the Earl’s reaction should he learn that his wife was openly meeting Andover. A shudder wracked her.

“My dear, what about Saltaire?” she enquired delicately.

Her worst fears were confirmed. Lavinia suddenly became strangely interested in the floral arrangement on the console table, and refused to meet her cousin’s eyes. “l believe Saltaire is dining at his club. Doubtless if he returns we shall have already left.”

Kitty was not quite so nice minded. “Oh Lavinia,” she crowed. “He’ll be as mad as fire.”

Whilst Lady Elizabeth reached frantically for her smelling salts, Lavinia tossed her head and remarked, “Good Lord, Kitty, and why should he be so indeed?” There was nothing more to be said.

Her mind made up, Lavinia flung herselfinto the preparations for the evening with some of her old enthusiasm. However, try as she might, she could not quite rid herself of a slight feeling of guilt. Every time she heard a footstep in the hall or outside. she started, fearing it might be the Earl. Was it because she was attracted to the Marquis that she was so intent upon the ridotto, or was it because she knew her husband would disapprove? She shrugged mentally. “Why should I care, he cares nought for me.”

It was half past ten when Lavinia and Kitty finally descended into the hall. Kitty was dressed in demure palest pink trimmed with bunches of artificial flowers of a slightly deeper hue, and wore an opera cloak of deep rose velvet over the whole. Her mask dangled from her fingers. But pleased as she was with her own appearance, her mouth fell open in envy when she saw Lavinia. “Oh, Lavinia, that gown. It is marvellous.”

Lavinia laughed in pleasure, looking down at her dress. It was deep blue silk, opening over an embroidered petticoat of cream and silver. Seeing Kitty’s face, she smiled. “Time enough for such gowns when you are married, child. Now come.” She tapped her lightly on the cheek with her fan. “We shall be late.”

“Where is your mask?” asked Kitty.

“Here.” Lavinia produced it for inspection. lt was dark blue velvet trimmed with the same silver as her gown. Kitty looked a little disconsolately at her own plain black velvet mask. “Come, we must hurry.”

“What about Richard and Lady Elizabeth?”

“Oh don’t worry about them, Kitty, we are meeting them there. Now let us be on our way.”

Lavinia lay back thankfully against the cushions as the coach drew away from Grosvenor Square. All the time she had been preparing for the ball, she had been on the alert for Saltaire’s voice or his footsteps in the hall. She bit her lip indignantly. Why should she not enjoy herself? Let him discover that she was no milk and water Miss. But, despite these brave thoughts, she had quailed a little at the thought of facing him. However, now they were on their way and would soon be meeting Lady Elizabeth and Richard. lf Saltaire should arrive home and find them gone, he would scarcely storm Lady Harrington is riddotto and carry off his errant bride. A small smile tinged her mouth at such a thought and then a small doubt clouded her mind. She had the most uncomfortable suspicion that should Saltaire feel so inclined, no considerations of appearance or good manners would prevent him. She wondered in a melancholy fashion what it would be like to have him so madly in love with her, that he could not bear her out of his sight, but swiftly banished such traitorous thoughts.

Indeed, by the time the coach set them down outside Lady Harrington’s smart new town house, there was nothing in her manner to suggest that she had even the very smallest disquieting thought. The informed observer might have considered her apparent good spirits a trifle forced, more in the nature of someone taking a last gulp of heady freedom and at the same time envisaging the price yet to be paid, but certainly her companions found nothing to quibble about in her behaviour. When Lady Elizabeth found time to draw her eyes away from Lady Harrington’s fine new salons, with their french windows flung open to the warmth of the evening, the scent of the roses drawing romantically inclined couples into the shadowy walks, enticing grottoes, and charming pagodas adorning the garden, she professed herself enchanted with her cousin’s gown. Even Richard commented on her somewhat excessive good spirits.

“Yes indeed, Richard,” teased Kitty. “It is the effect of spending Saltaire’s money. It’s marvellous how the purchase of a new gown can raise the most miserable of spirits.”

Whilst Lavinia frowned warningly, Lady Elizabeth could not help but agree feelingly with these sentiments. How often had she herself, on feeling particularly low, experienced just such an uplift of spirits? It was indeed quite accountable.

As Lavinia was making up a set for the third country dance. Saltaire was entering the hall of his home.

“My wife. Thompson. where is she?”

Thompson coughed depreciatingly. “I believe, My Lord, there was some talk of a masked ridotto at Lady Harrington’s. I understood it was My Lady’s intention to make up a party.”

The Earl’s face darkened. How dare she? After he had expressly forbidden it. Without allowing the butler to finish he mounted the stairs two at a time. No woman, least of all his wife, would flout his authority in this way. He entered his bedchamber. calling impatiently for his valet.

Breathless from the dance and the warmth of the rooms. Lavinia turned to take her glass from Richard. For the first half hour she had scarcely taken her eyes from the door, half expecting a furious Saltaire to erupt into the room. Chiding herself for her fears, she had just started to relax, when amongst the throng she saw one familiar face, and her heart gave a startled bound. Almost as if he felt her regard, the man turned and looked directly at her, his eyes warm. Kitty, who was standing at her side and had missed nothing of this exchange, nudged Richard. “See, there is Lavinia’s beau. It is not fair.”

Richard looked across the room puzzled. “How do you know? What with these masks, I swear I cannot tell one person from another.”

Kitty sighed scornfully. How like a man. A woman could tell a certain man anywhere, even if she herself was blindfolded. She, for instance, would have not the slightest difficulty in picking out Richard’s tall figure anywhere.

Lavinia fiddled with the strings of her mask nervously. Kitty’s whispered comments had done nothing to restore her equilibrium. “Here comes your cavalier, Lavinia. Come Richard,” she commanded, “Take me into the gardens…”

“Why?” asked the protesting Richard, as Kitty determinedly bore him away.

Lavinia had scarcely time to feel the discomfort of her position when there was a hand on her shoulder. “So, you came after all?” He made no pretence of not recognising her and Lavinia was thankful for the scant protection afforded by her mask as she felt the colour flood her face.

“Well, we came with . . “

“… With your brother and Lady Elizabeth. Forgive me if I sound abrupt. I did not mean to; it is just that I am so pleased to see you.”

“Oh … But… How did you know…?” she managed to get out at last, quite overwhelmed by his compliments.

He took her hand in his, leading her unresistingly into the dance. Beneath the mask he smiled. “I made it my business I to know.”

Lady Harrington, congratulating herself on the success of her ball, swept down the stairs just in time to receive a very late arrival. Recognising the newcomer she bustled forward, only to fall back a little in dismay as she saw the tightly-drawn face.

“Why, Saltaire,” she faltered. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Your invitation proved irresistible,” he replied grimly.

Flustered by his sudden appearance and the wild look in his eyes, she murmured disjointedly. “To be sure, your charming wife was here earlier, with her brother.” She searched the room anxiously, sighing with relief as she caught sight of Lavinia. “Ah, yes, there she is-over there-dancing with the man in the blue satin. Do you see them?”

lf anything, Saltaire’s face took on an even more saturnine look. There was an air of controlled fury about him. Indeed he did see them, and he recognised his wife’s companion.

Lavinia, unconscious of the presence of her husband, turned a little anxiously to the Marquis. “l fear I must seek out Kitty. It is growing late, and …”

“… And you would prefer to return to Grosvenor Square, before your husband discovers you are missing,” supplied Andover softly.

Stung, Lavinia replied. “Nothing of the sort. Kitty is young and a little foolish. I feel responsible for her.”

Andover said nothing, merely smiling a little mockingly.

“Come then, I saw her not half an hour ago in the gardens with your brother. By all means let us go and find them.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

Andover’s eyebrows arched in amusement. “Tiens, how galling. Here I am doing my level best to keep you entertained, and all you can think about is your brother.”

Lavinia blushed a little self-consciously. The Marquis leaned forward, his breath the veriest whisper against her curls. “Tell me, do you never think of yourself, or of your own pleasures?” By this time he was guiding her along one of the dimly lit paths, and Lavinia suddenly became aware of the impropriety of her actions in allowing him to bring her into the gardens.

“Pray where did you see Kitty?” she asked in confusion. “l cannot think that they would have come this far.” She shivered a little in the light breeze. Her companion, who had been smiling a little sardonically, was instantly all concern, and Lavinia would not have been a woman had she not felt a small tremor of delight as he placed a guiding arm round her shoulders to prevent her stumbling on the path.

“See, there is a small pagoda here. You wait, and I shall find the miscreants.”

He had barely been gone five minutes when Lavinia heard footsteps outside the pagoda on the gravel. She got to her feet, but alas her hopes were raised only to be dashed. She could only hear one set of footsteps. Whoever it was, was alone. Her heart sank. The possibilities of returning to Grosvenor Square before the Earl were becoming extremely slender, and try as she might to convince herself that she had every right to behave as she wished-and she was not doing anything wrong-she could not quite control a quiver of dread as she thought of Saltaire’s anger. All her earlier defiance had quite deserted her. If only Kitty had not gone wandering off with Richard. The gardens were so large, and the rooms so thronged that they could search for an hour or more and miss one another.

A shadow loomed in the doorway and her mouth went dry, before she recognised the blue satin cloak Andover had been wearing. “Could you not find them?” In her anxiety her voice trembled a little. In the poor light of the room all she could see of Andover’s face was the gleam of his eyes through the slits in his mask. His appearance was somehow unnerving and, almost without being aware of it, she took a step backwards.

“Is anything wrong?”

Surely his voice was more husky than it had been before?

She frowned a little. “No, it is nothing, merely that I am anxious, but your voice sounds different somehow.”

He shrugged laconically. “It is probably just the night air. It grows chill.” He came towards her in easy strides. “Your brother and Kitty will turn up, never fear.”

“Yes, I know, but I wish they had not strayed so far. Lady Elizabeth will be anxious.”

She looked towards the figure blocking the door, realising for the first time just how alone they were. A panicky feeling seized her, and she took a step backwards. Instead of increasing the distance between them, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Her companion moved so swiftly she scarcely had time to notice, but he was in front of her, his hand possessing hers. “Saltaire is a very trusting husband. Tell me, does he never escort you?”

Lavinia was having trouble with her breathing. “He is engaged elsewhere this evening,” she eventually managed to reply.

The eyes behind the mask regarded her closely. “So. It is quite a Marriage a la Mode?”

Something in his voice put Lavinia on her guard, bringing her head up sharply. “My marriage can scarcely be any concern of yours, Sir. Now, if you will forgive me, I believe we ought to be joining the others.” How could she have been so foolish as to come out here with this man, who was alter all an extremely accomplished rake? What must he think of her? Doubtless he had not the slightest intention of seeking out Kitty, and he had probably thought… A wave of shame swept over her.

However, she was not left long in doubt as to his thoughts. Instead of being properly chastened at her tone, he laughed deep in his throat. “I\/lost proper sentiments, my dear. But scarcely truthful, as we both know.”

Her colour high and her concern growing, Lavinia tried for a dignified withdrawal. “I think you mistake the matter; my sole purpose in coming here with you was to discover the whereabouts of my brother and Kitty. ” She faltered a little and then faced him bravely. “Indeed, if I have given you any other impression, I must ask your forgiveness. I fear I am not quite used to …”

He cut her short, his fingers gripping her wrist in a most unpleasant manner. “Oh, come, my dear, credit me with some intelligence. Is it not a fine night? The perfume of the roses on the air,” he breathed deeply, a thread of laughter in the husky drawl, “is most romantic. It seems a pity to waste it, and besides who would know?”

Outraged and not a little frightened, Lavinia tried to step past him and found to her horror that she was trapped against the back of the pagoda. “Pray allow me to leave, Sir?” she asked. Firm fingers grasped her chin and tilted it upwards, so that the light from the lanterns in the garden fell sharply on her face. Agile fingers untied the strings of her mask, letting it fall unheeded to the floor. “Do not, Sir, you are too free,” she cried.

“Madam, I fear I must,” he murmured, as his lips met hers, his iron grip preventing her escape. When at last he raised his head his eyes rested for a second on her panic-filled face. He waited, half expecting cajolery, tears and threats, but they were not forthcoming. Lavinia remained frozen in his grasp, her muscles bunched and tense.