Disgrace and Desire (16 page)

‘That it was poachers. I saw Sir Ronald this morning.’ She shuddered. ‘I could hardly bear to sit still at the breakfast table, for he was smiling in the slyest manner.’

‘The devil he was! When I am back on my feet I shall take a pistol to the villain!’

‘When you are back on your feet you may of course do what you wish,’ replied Jack. ‘But for now you must rest. I’ve sent your man down to fetch you some breakfast.’

Even as he spoke, Jack was very aware of the lady standing silently beside the bed. She looked so pale and forlorn
that guilt wrenched at his insides. If only he could go back and unsay his hasty words of last night. He was furious with himself for his outburst. From the little he had overheard when he walked into the room he was sure she had not told Mortimer what had occurred, so he would follow her lead and say nothing, at least when they were in company.

He needed to talk to her, to explain his behaviour, but that was not possible here, with Alex Mortimer looking on. He was not at all sure that it was possible under any conditions. How could he make her understand just how he had felt, after the most glorious, the most fulfilling lovemaking he had ever known, to discover that she was still a maid? He had been shocked, mortified to think he had not known. True, she had responded to him, matched his passion with her own but that was no excuse. He was not inexperienced and he was horrified to think he had been so insensitive to her. She had thought his annoyance was directed towards her and by the time he had collected his dazed wits she had gone, fled back to her room. Unable to rest he had collected her cloak, wrapped up her discarded clothes and deposited them at her door. He hoped she would know from that gesture that he intended to be discreet, that he meant her no harm. Until he could find a way to talk to her privately, it was all he could do.

Mortimer was pulling angrily at the bedcovers.

‘Breakfast! I had rather you sent Farrell with a challenge to Deforge!’ He glowered. ‘He has gone too far this time. I won’t have it, Elle. I say let him publish and be damned to him, we’ll fight!’

Jack looked up quickly. ‘Why, what is Sir Ronald demanding?’

As Alex opened his mouth to speak, Eloise put up her hand, saying icily, ‘Major Clifton is no longer party to our plans, Alex.’

‘Gammon! If Jack had not rescued us last night we would have been in the devil of a fix!’ Alex turned his angry eyes towards him. ‘Deforge wants Eloise for his wife.’

‘The devil he does!’ Jack could not prevent the exclamation, nor the sudden, intense surge of possessiveness. No wonder she had looked so frightened when he had told her of his suspicions about Deforge. He wanted to gather her up in his arms but he knew that if he made any move towards her she would run away from him. Despite the fear he could see in her eyes, she bravely put up her chin.

‘That is nonsense, of course. I told him so last night.’

‘He must think his hold upon you very secure to suggest such a thing,’ Jack said slowly.

The lady was silent, but something in her countenance caused Alex to sit up.

‘Thunder and turf, you are not to think of giving in to that villain, Eloise!’

Jack saw a shadow cross her face but it was gone in an instant. Smiling, she reached out to push Alex gently back against his pillows.

‘No, of course not. Now lie still or you will set your shoulder bleeding.’

‘You are not to do anything until I am on my feet again.’ Alex grabbed her wrist. ‘Promise me, Elle! Clifton—you must look after her, make sure Deforge has no opportunity to bully her.’

‘By all means.’

She flushed.

‘That will not be necessary. I am going back to London in the morning. I shall tell Mrs Renwick that I have business to attend to.’

‘I would rather you remained here, under my eye,’ declared Alex.

She smiled at that.

‘A poor chaperon you would be, confined here in your room!’

Alex sighed. ‘I am sorry, love: I had thought for once I should be able to help
you
out of a scrape, but it seems I have only succeeded in causing you more problems.’

She squeezed his hand and smiled fondly at him.

‘You must not worry over me, Alex. We will deal with everything once you are well again.’

‘But you are determined to leave?’

‘Yes. There is plenty to occupy me in London. You know, I still have hopes that I might persuade Lord Berrow to sell me his land.’

Jack watched them, beating down the little demon of jealousy that gnawed at his insides. They were not lovers—he knew that now—but they were very close and they shared secrets that he was not privy to. His frown deepened as he realised how much he wanted Eloise to trust him as she trusted Mortimer. She kissed Alex’s cheek and moved towards the door.

‘Wait,’ said Jack. ‘Let me go first, to make sure there is no one to see you.’

Silently he checked that the passage was empty and preceded her down the stairs. When they reached the great hall the faint sound of voices could be heard coming from the drawing room. Jack stopped.

‘Will you join them?’

Eloise shook her head.

‘I would rather not. I would like to be alone. I think I shall go to my bedchamber.’

Even as she uttered the words the door of the drawing room opened and Lady Parham’s shrill voice could be heard. It could only be a matter of moments before they were spotted
and Jack knew that the lady would insist upon carrying Eloise away with her. The hunted look in his companion’s blue eyes decided him. They were standing by the entrance to the long gallery. It was the work of an instant to whisk Eloise inside and shut the door.

He said, by way of explanation, ‘I thought perhaps you might prefer to avoid them.’

On the other side of the door he could hear Lady Parham talking with her hostess, their voices echoing through the marbled hall. Eloise moved away from him.

‘Thank you. I can find my way from here.’ She nodded dismissively and when he made no move she added sharply. ‘Please, you may leave me now.’

Jack smiled, his eyes flicking towards the door.

‘Would you throw me out? Lady Parham would be sure to pounce upon me and drag me in to tell them all how Mortimer goes on.’

A reluctant smile lurked in her eyes.

‘Surely you are not afraid of a group of ladies, Major.’

‘Terrified,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘I shall have to remain in here until I know it is safe to venture out.’ He moved further into the room. ‘Renwick has some fine paintings here; will you not take a few moments to look at them?’

She had been walking away from him but now she stopped, uncertain, and he added quickly, ‘If you are leaving in the morning you may not have another opportunity of seeing them in daylight.’

It was clear from her expression that she was torn between a desire to look at the pictures and a disinclination to be alone with him. At least she had not refused to stay. He pointed to the nearest painting and said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘This Cuyp landscape is highly prized and this next is thought to be
a Rembrandt, although there is some doubt about that: what do you think?’

She moved a little closer.

‘I cannot tell,’ she said slowly. ‘It is certainly very good, if it is a copy.’

‘But what of the colours, and the brushstrokes, are they not a little fine for Rembrandt?’

‘Not necessarily. I think his style changed when he grew older. And the subject matter, a biblical scene: this is typical of his later work.’

He regarded her with admiration.

‘And you say you are no connoisseur? I believe you misled us, my lady.’

‘My husband was very interested in the old masters. I picked up a little from following him around Florence and Rome.’

‘You would enjoy the Louvre, I think. Now Paris is free once more you might like to see it.’

‘Perhaps. One day.’

He smiled to himself, thinking how much he would like to escort her there. His previous visit had been in the company of his fellow officers: how much more enjoyable to be with someone who really appreciated art.

‘And who is this?’ Her soft, musical voice recalled him with a jolt. He cleared his throat.

‘This next is a portrait of one of Renwick’s ancestors—can you see the family resemblance?’

Jack moved slowly along the gallery, drawing her attention to various pictures, asking her opinion, searching his brain to drag up long-forgotten snippets of information about the artists. His patience was rewarded: gradually she relaxed and gave her attention to the paintings. He stood beside her, close but never touching, enjoying her company and amused by her
forthright opinions. By the time they were halfway down the long gallery she was chattering away quite naturally. She even turned to him at one point, laughing at something he said. Jack found himself wishing the gallery were twice as long. He drew her attention to a small pen-and-ink drawing.

‘There is an interesting picture here of the house painted about sixty years ago, before it was remodelled into its present state.’

She stepped forwards for a closer look.

‘The formal gardens are much smaller, and there looks to be a village where the park is now.’

‘Yes, it was demolished by Renwick’s grandfather, to improve the view.’

‘Oh dear, and the villagers?’

‘You need not worry; he built houses for all his tenants on the far side of the Home Wood. They were delighted to have new, weatherproof houses. I hope my own people will feel the same.’

She turned to look at him, her blue eyes wide with surprise.

‘Are you evicting your tenants?’

He laughed at that.

‘No, no, but I plan to build better houses for them as and when the funds will allow.’

‘This is at Henchard, your estate in Staffordshire?’

He smiled, inordinately pleased that she had remembered.

‘Yes. I have a very good agent, who has been looking after matters while I have been away, but there is much to do and I plan to spend more time there in the future.’

‘And will you be content with such a quiet life, sir?’

‘Quiet? It will be hard work, improving my land and the lot of my tenants. The house needs to be enlarged, new kitchens
built—do you think I cannot be happy unless I have a sword in my hand?’

‘No, of course not. I suppose I had not considered. I know so little about you, Major Clifton.’

‘There is a great deal we do not know about each other, my lady.’

A shy smile lit her eyes and Jack’s spirits soared. This was progress indeed: perhaps now he could talk to her about last night. As if reading his thoughts her cheeks flushed and she turned quickly back towards the paintings.

‘This is by Ricciardelli.’ She leaned forwards to read the label on the frame.

‘Yes.’ Jack nodded. ‘It is a particularly fine view of Naples—do you agree? I remember Tony telling me you visited Naples on your honeymoon.’

Jack clamped his mouth shut, cursing himself. Eloise’s face flamed. She turned to go and he reached out for her.

‘I beg your pardon. I did not mean to remind you of your marriage, if it was not happy.’

He was holding her arm and she stood perfectly still, keeping her face averted.

‘Tony and I
were
happy.’ Her voice was so quiet he could hardly hear her. ‘Despite what you now know of me, we were very fond of one another. Excuse me, I must go.’

He released her and she hurried towards the door. He followed, saying, ‘And you are determined to leave for London in the morning?’

‘I am.’

‘Then first let me talk to you—let me apologise—for last night.’

‘There is nothing more to say.’

She reached for the door handle but he stepped past her, putting his hand against the door to prevent her from escaping.

‘Oh, but there is! At least let me tell you that I know now how much I had misjudged you—you were not what I thought.’

She turned to look at him, fixing him with eyes as dark and troubled as a stormy evening sky.

‘You thought me wanton, which is the impression I have been at some pains to give. I cannot blame you for that.’ She looked away. ‘We enjoyed a night together and that is all there is to it. Now I would be obliged if you would forget all about me.’ Her chin lifted: he thought he detected the faintest wobble in her voice. ‘I am sure I am not the first woman to have enjoyed your attentions for a single night. There will be no regrets, no recriminations and if we are obliged to meet in company, I hope we can do so like civilised beings. As far as I am concerned the matter is over.’

Jack stared at her. His instinct was to drag her into his arms, to melt her icy resolve with a savage kiss, but he was haunted by the memory of her distress that morning. Despite her brave words she had been a virgin when he had taken her to his bed and he was ashamed that he had not realised it. That she had not told him, that their lovemaking had been as passionate and intense as any he had ever experienced, was no excuse for his lack of control. More than that, he was confused by his feelings for her. She did not trust him, she certainly did not confide in him—it seemed now that she did not even
want
him, so why could he not just do as she asked and leave her to her fate?

‘My lady. Eloise—’

She closed her eyes and lifted her hand as if to defend herself.

‘Please, let me go!’

Her impassioned whisper cut him like a knife. She did not
want him near her. He removed his hand from the door and stood back.

‘As you wish, madam.’

‘
M
y lady, are you going downstairs for dinner?’

Alice’s voice roused Eloise from her sleep. She blinked and gazed around the room. As her mind cleared she remembered with a sinking heart the events that had resulted in her spending the entire afternoon curled up on her bed.

Alice was bustling around the room, pulling clothes from the linen press and chattering all the while.

‘I made sure everyone thought you had the migraine, my lady: even fetched up a tisane for you, which I drank myself since you was asleep. Didn’t want anyone connecting your malaise with Mr Mortimer’s antics last night. Mrs Renwick sends her compliments and says that if you wish she will arrange for you to have dinner in your room, so I said I would come and find out how you are.’

Eloise sat up and rubbed her eyes.

‘No, I must put in an appearance, I think.’

Alice gave an approving nod.

‘I have brought you up some hot water. Shall I lay out your new gown for you?’

She allowed Alice to dress her in the white silk with its
exquisite silver embroidery. She pulled out the diamonds Tony had given her for a wedding present and as her maid fastened the necklace she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, feeling very much as if she was putting on her armour to go into battle.

When Eloise walked into the drawing room some time later she had the impression that there was a sudden lull in the conversation, that all eyes were turned upon her. She kept her smile in place and walked towards her hostess: not even by the flicker of an eyelid would she betray her inner trepidation.

‘My dear Lady Allyngham, I am so glad you could join us: migraine can be most debilitating.’ Mrs Renwick leaned forwards and peered into her face. ‘But, my dear, you are still a little pale, are sure you are quite well?’

‘Yes, ma’am, thank you. You must not worry about me, especially when we have a much more serious invalid in the house. Is there any news of Mr Mortimer?’

‘I think Major Clifton can answer that for you,’ said Mrs Renwick, beckoning to Jack. ‘He has been most solicitous of poor Mr Mortimer and can tell us if there is any change, can you not, Major?’

Eloise berated herself for her stupidity. She should have realised that any enquiries about Alex would be directed to Major Clifton. Unable to escape, she fixed her eyes upon the floor as Jack approached. He did not look at her, but addressed himself to his hostess.

‘I called in upon Mortimer on my way downstairs, ma’am, and I am pleased to tell you that he is looking much better.’

‘So we have no need to summon Dr Bellamy?’ asked Mr Renwick, coming up.

‘Not in the least. In fact I expect to see him out of bed in a few days, once his leg has begun to heal.’

‘That is excellent news,’ declared Edward Graham. ‘Poor Mortimer, he will be sorry when he hears what a good day’s shooting he missed today. And you too, Clifton. Pity you didn’t come out with us, but I take it you’ll be able to join us tomorrow?’

‘Yes, if the weather holds.’

The conversation turned to sport and Mrs Renwick went off to greet Meg Cromer, who had just come in. Eloise moved towards the fire to warm her hands. She did not know whether to be most relieved or disappointed by the cool reception she had received from Jack, yet what did she expect, after the way she had repulsed him that morning? Her mind strayed back to their walk through the long gallery. For a short time she had been able to forget her troubles and lose herself in discussing art and the paintings on the walls. It was as if they had been old friends, until his chance remark had reminded her that she was not free to indulge in such luxury. She and Jack Clifton could never be friends. After last night he knew too much about her—for him to learn more might endanger everything she had worked so hard to conceal.

She allowed her eyes to stray towards the little group of gentlemen: Jack Clifton’s powerful figure immediately claimed her attention. His broad shoulders filled the black evening coat without the need for padding and his long legs encased in biscuit-coloured pantaloons gave him the height to stand out amongst his companions. Some called him saturnine, with his raven-black hair and hard, unsmiling features, but she had seen the kindness in his eyes, experienced the warmth of his smile and found more jovial countenances insipid by comparison.

I love him.

The revelation shocked her. She turned away quickly, afraid that someone might look into her face and discover her secret.
It could never be, of course. Witness his reaction when she had revealed that she was a maid—surely he would never have reacted in such a way if he cared for her at all. If he loved her.

Aye, there was the rub: she was being foolishly romantic. Jack Clifton was a kind man, an honourable man, but he did not love her. He had told her himself that he had loved Clara Deforge and she had been a sweet, innocent young maid, a paragon of virtue compared with the disgraceful Lady Allyngham, who flirted and teased and kept all manner of secrets! Jack could never love such a woman. He wanted to help her because she was Tony’s widow. Lying on her bed that afternoon, she had relived the moment when she had told him she wanted nothing more to do with him, only in her silly, foolish, fairy-tale imagination he did not let her walk away from him. An unhappy lump settled in her throat. If only Jack had held her then, told her he would not let her go, that she was his and he would keep her no matter what happened. But he had said nothing. He had stood back and let her walk out, probably relieved to be free of her toils.

‘A penny for your thoughts, Lady Allyngham.’

Sir Ronald Deforge’s soft words brought an abrupt end to her reverie. This man had the power to ruin her, he had tried to kill her best friend, but she dare not denounce him. Instead she assumed the brittle, society manner that served her so well.

‘They are not worth even a groat, Sir Ronald.’

He leaned closer and it was all she could do not to back away.

‘I thought you might be thinking over my…proposal.’

‘That requires a great deal of consideration, sir. It is not something to be undertaken lightly.’

‘Very true, but I am not a patient man, and I want your
answer.’ He took out his snuffbox and flicked it open. ‘Our hostess tells me you intend to leave us.’

‘Yes. I am going back to town.’

‘This is very sudden, is it not?’

She was silent while he took a delicate pinch of snuff.

‘I made my decision last night,’ she said at last. ‘I informed Mrs Renwick earlier today that I have business in London requiring my attention.’

His puffy, pock-marked face pushed even closer, so that she could feel his breath on her skin.

‘I hope you do not plan to run away from me, madam.’

She raised her head, her lip curling disdainfully.

‘Of course not. But I need time to think.’

‘So you are leaving your lapdog Mortimer behind you? Do you think that is wise? Will he be quite safe, do you think?’

Her head came up at that. She fixed him with a steady gaze.

‘Let us understand one thing, Sir Ronald. I shall not make any decision until Alex Mortimer is quite well again. It is in
your
interests to make sure he comes to no more harm.’

His look of surprise gave her some small satisfaction

‘Perhaps you think Major Clifton will protect you,’ he muttered. ‘Let me warn you, madam, that I shall not be caught unawares again. Any attempt by the major to interfere in this affair will have disastrous results, for you both.’ He added silkily, ‘I shall not hesitate to kill him, my lady, do not be in any doubt about that.’

‘Oh, I believe you capable of any base act,’ she retorted haughtily. She turned on her heel and walked away, head held high, yet a deadly depression was already seeping into her bones: if she was to protect everything she held most dear, she could see no alternative. She would have to marry Sir Ronald Deforge.

London was cold. Eloise ordered fires to be lit in every room of her house in Dover Street but the chill never seemed to leave her. She told herself she was anxious for news of Alex, but even when his letters arrived, and she knew he was recovering well, still something was missing. She found herself re-reading the letters, searching for any mention of Jack Clifton, but Alex told her very little, save that Jack intended to accompany him back to town, as soon as he was well enough to travel, and with that crumb she had to be satisfied.

Everyone welcomed Lady Allyngham back to town and she threw herself into the round of breakfasts, parties, routs and balls that filled the days and nights of any society lady, but although she was relieved to be away from Sir Ronald’s presence she could not relax. At one particularly tiresome party she began to think of going to Allyngham until Alex returned. She was idly making plans for this when Lord Berrow sought her out and invited her to tell him more about the foundling hospital she intended to build. He hinted that he might be persuaded to sell her the land she needed at Ainsley Wood, and it occurred to her that she should make sure that her plans for the hospital were well under way, and a trust set up for its support as soon as possible: she was all too aware that if she was forced to marry Sir Ronald she would lose all control of the Allyngham fortune.

Alex came in to London sooner than she expected. Eloise returned from the Green Park one afternoon to find a hastily scrawled note awaiting her.

‘When did this arrive, Noyes?’

‘It was delivered shortly after you left the house, my lady.’

She looked up, smiling.

‘Mr Mortimer is back in town. Since I am dressed for walking I shall go and see him immediately.’

‘I will summon your maid, madam.’

‘No, I will not wait for that.’

‘But, my lady!’

She waved an impatient hand at him.

‘It is only a few doors away and not yet dark. Open the door, Noyes. I shall not be long.’

Ignoring the butler’s tut of disapproval she hurried along the street, holding her skirts up to avoid the dirty pavement.

If Alex’s butler was shocked to find an unescorted lady at his master’s door he was too well trained to reveal it and merely ushered her to the drawing room. Alex was stretched out on a day-bed, one arm in a sling and a brightly coloured rug thrown over his legs. Eloise ran forwards and bent to hug him.

‘Oh, my dear, I am so pleased that you are back! I am sorry I did not come earlier, but I was out walking with Lord Berrow when your note arrived. How was your journey, was it terribly painful for you?’

‘Not as bad as I feared. Jack brought me in his new carriage, which is very well sprung. I scarcely noticed the bumpy road.’

‘Oh, I beg your pardon. I did not realise you had company.’

She straightened and turned to see Major Clifton standing by the window. As he walked forwards she observed the warm look in his eyes and heat seared her cheeks. He was not deceived by the cool, polite smile she was giving him, and she scolded herself for allowing that first, initial burst of irrational pleasure to show. Jack bowed to her.

‘You will want to talk alone,’ he said. ‘I shall leave you—’

‘The devil you will!’ retorted Alex. ‘You promised to keep me company at dinner, Clifton, and I will hold you to that.’

‘Then I should go,’ said Eloise quickly. ‘I wanted only to assure myself that you had survived your journey.’

Alex reached out and gripped her hand.

‘No, there is no need for you to rush off, Elle. We three know each other well enough to take a glass of wine together, do we not? My dear, ring the bell for me. Then you must sit down. A gentleman should not lounge around in a lady’s presence, but you know very well that I cannot get up.’

‘Allow me,’ said Jack, pulling up a chair for her.

She did not look at him but sank into it with a murmur of thanks.

‘Have you seen Deforge?’ Alex’s question brought her eyes to his face and he said impatiently, ‘For heaven’s sake, Elle, there’s no need to look daggers at me. It is not as though Clifton does not know what is going on.’

‘But Lady Allyngham would prefer not to discuss the matter while I am here…’

She put up her hand.

‘No,’ she said carefully. ‘I have no objection to you being here, Major. After all, you saved Alex’s life.’

Alex nodded. ‘I am glad you are being sensible at last, my dear.’

‘Sir Ronald left Renwick Hall two days before us,’ explained Jack. ‘He said he was calling upon friends, but I thought he might try to steal a march by coming straight to town.’

‘I have not seen him,’ said Eloise. ‘I have no doubt he will seek me out when he is ready.’

‘Then we must decide what is to be done,’ declared Alex.

‘You will do nothing, my dear,’ she said quickly. ‘At least, not until you are well again.’

‘Then perhaps Jack—’

‘No!’ She sat up very straight. ‘Major Clifton need not involve himself further in our affairs.’

‘But I should like to help,’ said Jack mildly.

She glanced across at him. Her heart lurched at the sight of his smiling face and she squeezed her hands together in her lap, reminding herself of her resolution.

‘That is very kind of you, Major, but there really is nothing to be done at the present time.’

She was relieved that the entry of a footman carrying the wine caused a diversion.

‘Yes, yes, that will do,’ said Alex, impatiently waving away the servant. ‘Clifton, will you pour? I am weak as a cat.’

‘Hardly surprising after a long journey,’ said Jack. ‘You will feel better when you have had a good night’s sleep.’

He held out a glass of wine to Eloise, saying with a faint smile, ‘I insisted he send for his doctor to call upon him in the morning.’

‘I am glad of it, thank you.’

She was very aware of her fingers brushing Jack’s as she took the wine. She remembered the feel of them on her skin and experienced a little
frisson
of pleasure at the memory. Giving herself a mental shake, Eloise put both hands around the wine glass. Heavens, she must curb such thoughts!

Jack had turned away to carry a glass of wine to Alex and she was able to watch the two men as they conversed. She remembered the icy dread she had felt when Alex had been wounded. It was nothing to the fear that now enveloped her when she thought of anything happening to Jack Clifton. She regarded his broad back. He was so strong, so assured, but even he was not proof against an assassin’s knife or bullet. Deforge had promised to kill him, and she had no doubt that he would carry out that threat, if he thought Jack was involved. She squared her shoulders: she would talk to Alex tomorrow
and make him promise not to divulge anything more to Jack Clifton. She finished her wine.