Disgrace and Desire (20 page)

I
t was only to be expected that Sir Ronald Deforge’s party would be the crush of the Season. He brought in his cousin, a colourless little widow of impeccable birth, to act as hostess, and even the creditors who had been baying at his door for the past few weeks had suddenly disappeared, reassured by the news that he was about to become master of the Allyngham fortune.

Any hopes Eloise had that her forthcoming marriage would pass off with little comment were dashed as the carriages turned off Oxford Street and queued up outside Sir Ronald’s tall town house, waiting to disgorge their fashionable occupants. The interminable evening began with dinner. Eloise had tried to refuse but Sir Ronald insisted, pointing out that his cousin’s presence would prevent any hint of impropriety.

‘Although with your reputation I am surprised to find you worrying about
that,’
he said, with a grin that made Eloise long to slap his face.

‘Until we are married,’ she said frostily, ‘we will observe every propriety.’

‘Of course, my dear. I can contain my impatience a few more days.’

The dinner was long and cold, despite the dining room being on the ground floor and not far from the kitchen. Sir Ronald’s cook was obviously unused to entertaining. The wine, however, was excellent, but she refused to take more than one glass. She was the only guest at dinner and her attempts to make conversation with her hostess could not be deemed a success. The widow was patently in awe of her blustering cousin and made no answer without first looking to Sir Ronald for approval.

‘Once we are married I shall expect you to take over the running of my household,’ said Sir Ronald, refilling his glass. ‘I have no doubt that you are a very capable housekeeper.’

‘I could certainly do better than this,’ she retorted, pushing a piece of tough and stringy beef to the side of her plate.

‘Well, we will not require two cooks when we are in town so I shall turn mine off,’ he said. ‘But what about the house—shall we live here, or would you rather I moved into Dover Street? You see, I am minded to be magnanimous about these things.’

The thought of Sir Ronald living in Dover Street appalled her. It had been her husband’s home, not to mention the memories it held of the night spent in Jack’s arms. She could not bear to think of it being desecrated by the boorish animal now sitting at the head of the table.

The meal dragged on, the covers were removed and she was wondering how soon it would be before her hostess gave the signal to retire when Deforge said suddenly, ‘Time is getting on. Our guests will be arriving soon and I have something for you. Come along to my study. Oh, don’t mind Agnes,’ he added, as Eloise’s eyes flickered towards her hostess. ‘She
should be off now to make sure everything is in readiness for our guests. Should you not, Cousin?’

‘Oh. Oh, yes, Ronald, immediately.’ The thread-like voice could hardly be heard above the scraping back of her chair, and the little woman scuttled away. Sir Ronald picked up a branched candlestick and walked to a door at the far end of the dining room. Eloise hung back.

‘How do I know this is not a trick?’

‘What need have I of tricks? In three days’ time you will be mine, you have given me your word. Now, if you please, madam.’

He led her up the stairs and past the main salon to a room at the back of the house. At the door he stopped.

‘No one enters here without permission,’ he said, fishing in his pocket for a key. ‘Not even my valet.’

The room was very dark, and Sir Ronald held the candles aloft as he entered. The light flickered over a large wing chair and across a number of tall bookcases. Eloise glanced about her nervously: a tall chest of drawers stood against one wall with a wooden-framed mirror and a number of small objects on the top. In the dim light she thought perhaps they might be snuff-boxes and scent bottles. She edged back towards the open door.

‘This is your dressing room.’

‘It is used for that purpose, yes, since it adjoins my bedchamber. Perhaps you would like to see where we will spend our wedding night?’

She fought down her panic.

‘With the first of the guests about to arrive I think we should return to the salon with all speed,’ she retorted.

Sir Ronald shrugged and moved towards the large mahogany desk by the window.

‘I realised I have not given you a ring to seal our betrothal,’
he said. He put down the candlestick and unlocked the centre drawer. Eloise watched as he pulled out a small leather box. ‘I have no family heirlooms to give you, so I have bought you this.’ He laughed. ‘Let there be no secrets between us now, my dear. To tell you the truth I have it on credit, the jeweller knowing that I shall pay him just as soon as your fortune passes into my hands!’

He opened the box and held it out to her.

‘There, I knew you would like it. Never met a woman who could resist a trinket.’

Eloise’s gasp was genuine, but it was not the large diamond ring winking in the candlelight that had caused her exclamation. She had watched Sir Ronald pushing aside the contents of the drawer to get to the ring box, and nestling amongst the clutter she had seen a small, leather-bound book bearing the Allyngham crest.

Quickly she raised her eyes and gave Sir Ronald what she hoped was a warm smile.

‘It is quite…breathtaking,’ she said, moving around the desk. ‘May I wear it now?’

‘Of course.’ Delighted, he pulled the ring from the box and slipped it on to her finger.

‘There, now you have something to show the tabbies tonight.’

He shut and locked the drawer again, slipping the key into his pocket. She heard the thud of the knocker, and the sound of feet running down the stairs. Sir Ronald looked up.

‘Now, shall we go and greet our guests?’

Eloise stood between Sir Ronald and his cousin as a steady stream of people made their way up the stairs towards her. Her smile was pinned in place and she greeted them all mechanically. If she had not been so busy with her own thoughts she
might have felt a little self-conscious of their stares. Everyone was curious to know what lay behind the sudden betrothal, but her mind was elsewhere, thinking about what she had seen in the study. By walking around the desk she had managed to take a quick look through the unshuttered window. A pale moon illuminated the night, showing her that the room looked out on to a narrow yard bounded by a high brick wall. Half the space was taken by a small outbuilding that butted against the wall of the house, its roof only a few feet below the window ledge. And the journal was in the desk drawer. For the first time in days she began to feel a glimmer of hope.

‘I am disappointed,’ said Sir Ronald as he escorted Eloise through the crowded rooms. ‘I know your friend Mortimer is indisposed, but I had hoped that Major Clifton would be here.’

‘I do not see why he should be,’ she replied shortly. ‘He is no friend to you.’

‘But I made sure to send him an invitation, because I know he is a special friend of
yours,’
he purred.

‘You are mistaken.’

He turned to look down at her, an evil smile curling his lips.

‘What is this, a lovers’ quarrel, perhaps?’ When she did not reply he laughed softly and patted her hand. ‘What a pity. I had hoped he would be here tonight: I wanted him to know just what he had lost. But never mind, my love, I may even allow you to take him as a lover again, if he will have you once I have done with you.’

Disgusted, Eloise pulled her arm free and went her own way. The rooms were so crowded she thought it might be possible to spend the rest of the evening without talking to Sir Ronald. His comments about Jack Clifton had touched a raw
nerve. She had heard nothing from him since he had walked out of Dover Street. A casual enquiry of Alex had elicited the information that Jack was preparing to leave town. Alex had questioned her closely, had asked if she and Jack had quarrelled and she had been at pains to laugh it off, but secretly she was forced to conclude that she had succeeded in driving Jack away.

Nothing of her melancholy thoughts showed in her face as she circled the room, talking and laughing with everyone. By the end of the evening her cheeks ached with the effort of smiling. She was so tired she could hardly stand and there was no attempt at deception when she told Sir Ronald that she was too exhausted to remain another moment, once the last of the guests had quit the house.

‘If that is the case,’ he said, ‘then surely it would be easier to walk to my bedchamber than to take your carriage to Dover Street.’

She had no energy to prevaricate. He merely laughed at her look of revulsion.

‘Very well, my sweet. Go home and rest.’ He placed her cloak about her shoulders. ‘I am engaged to dine at the Forbes’ tomorrow night: Mrs Forbes did send me a little note to say that, having seen the announcement of our engagement, I might bring you with me, but it is a long drive to Edgeware and I want you to be looking your best for Keworth’s party on Thursday.’

‘Thursday! But we are to be married on Friday. I need to prepare.’

‘No. You will accompany me to Keworth House. His lordship’s parties are always well attended. I want everyone to see you at my side.’

She grimaced.

‘A card party! I have no interest in gambling.’

‘But I have, and I want you beside me. You need not play.’ He ran a finger down her arm. ‘You may stand by my chair and bring me good fortune!’ He laughed as she shrugged him off. ‘I want everyone to see that I am lucky in cards
and
in love!’

With barely a nod she left him, and made her way downstairs to the tiled hall, where a vacuous-looking footman was waiting by the door.

‘Your carriage is sent for, m’lady, but it ain’t here yet,’ he mumbled as she approached.

Eloise gave him a tired smile and moved towards a large button-backed arm chair. ‘Then I shall sit here and wait. Unless, of course, this is your seat?’

The lackey jumped and looked a little flustered. She suspected he was unused to being addressed in anything but the curtest of terms.

‘No, m’m, that seat’s only used by Stevens, the master’s valet, when he waits up for Master to come in o’ nights.’

‘Well, it is very comfortable. I have no doubt Mr Stevens has a little sleep while he is waiting for his master, what do you think?’ She twinkled up at him and the lackey flushed, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Then he nodded.

‘Aye, m’m, I think he does. Ah, and here’s your carriage now, m’lady.’

Eloise hurried out, relieved to be leaving the gloomy and oppressive house at last. But the depression that had enveloped her for much of the evening had lifted. She had a plan.

Alex Mortimer was stretched out on the daybed in his morning room, struggling to eat his breakfast one-handed when Eloise was shown in.

‘Thunder and turf, Elle, you cannot come in here!’

‘Fustian,’ she replied calmly, pulling off her gloves. ‘Farrell told me you were going to get up today.’

‘Yes, but I am not yet dressed. It is most improper for you to walk in here as if we were related. I won’t have it!’ He gave her a quick, searching look from under his brows. ‘Unless you have come to tell me you’re not going to marry Deforge after all.’

‘No, I am not going to tell you that, although I hope now it might not be necessary.’ She could not quite keep the excitement out of her voice. ‘The journal is at his house, Alex! I saw it in his desk when I was there last night. I suppose he had his lawyer deliver it, ready for the wedding on Friday.’

‘Very likely.’

‘Or perhaps it has been there all the time,’ she mused, ‘and he only told me otherwise to make sure no harm came to him. It is in his study, which is at the back of the house, on the first floor.’

‘And what has that to say to anything?’

‘Well, it should not be too difficult to break into that room and take the journal.’

Alex’s knife clattered on to his plate.

‘Are you out of your mind?
You know the penalty for stealing!’

‘The journal is not Sir Ronald’s property, and once it is destroyed—’

‘Eloise, you know if I was fit I would do this for you, but it is as much as I can do to climb the stairs at the moment.’

She looked at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

‘I thought, perhaps, you might speak to Major Clifton for me…’

‘Well, you thought wrong,’ he retorted brutally. ‘Jack has left town.’

‘L-left?’ A chill rippled through her, starting in her core and spreading rapidly throughout her body. ‘He’s gone?’

‘Yes. When he came to see me yesterday he said he was off to Staffordshire.’ Alex scowled at her. ‘I take it you quarrelled with him.’

‘Not, not quarrelled, exactly.’ She looked down at the gloves held tightly between her fingers. ‘He was very angry about my marrying Sir Ronald and I told him it was none of his business.’

‘What? After all he’s done for us?’

‘No, what he has done for
you,’
she flung at him, angry colour burning her cheeks. She was filled with a disappointment as bitter as gall. ‘As far as I am concerned, Jack Clifton has been nothing but a nuisance!’

‘Oh, nuisance, is it? Well you had best look at what he’s left you, over there.’ He waved towards the side table. ‘I was going to bring it to you later today but since you are here you may as well read it now.’

Eloise picked up the letter and broke open the seal. The thought flashed through her mind that Jack had written to her, but the hand was unfamiliar, and as that first flare of hope died away she had to concentrate to make sense of the words. Alex pushed aside his breakfast tray and waited for her to finish reading. At last she looked up.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said slowly. ‘This is from Lord Berrow, agreeing to the sale of Ainsley Wood.’

Alex nodded.

‘Aye. Jack brought it round to me last night.’

‘But…but why did he not bring it to me?’

‘He said he didn’t want to see you again, and from what you have just told me I can’t say I blame him! He persuaded Berrow to sell you the land so you can build the road to your foundling hospital. Jack suggested you should get the papers
signed today. Once you marry Deforge you will lose control of Allyngham and your fortune.’