Reckless in Pink (13 page)

Claudia didn’t care what people called her. Had her ladyship been a noticing person she’d have spotted that at once. She was not, so she saw nothing.

The poet was handsome, tall and very slim, making Claudia wonder how much of his body weight was due to the heavy coat he wore. She didn’t want to pursue the connection when he wouldn’t meet her eyes and utterly refused to smile when she offered him one. Instead, he looked down his considerable nose at her and declared her “A positive beauty, I declare! You should pose for a portrait of Venus, that you should!”

Because she was fair-haired, or because he really thought it? The facile comparison should be under the notice of a decent poet. Mr. Pope would have twisted it into something different, making analogies until the ground under her feet became uncertain. Perhaps that was why women flocked around the diminutive poet. He’d been a favorite of her mother’s, but when she recalled that to the poet, whose name eluded her, he sneered. “I could not possibly comment. He is far too obvious for my taste. I prefer the natural style.”

“The rustic is charming, and it has a number of profound meanings.” She wished she’d listened more to Livia when her passion for poetry was at its height a few years ago. Livia had read every volume she could get her hands on and memorized much of it before moving on to novels.

“Indeed so.” The poet proved as loquacious as her ladyship.

Claudia was hard put to get away. But after at least ten minutes, she extricated herself by accepting an invitation to dance from a half-inebriated Lord Withermore, a loose-lipped man she usually did her best to avoid. She’d have accepted a dance from the devil if it meant she got away from the most tedious poet in London.

She would be sure to tell her mother about him when she got home, except she still couldn’t remember the man’s name. After she’d taken the floor with Lord Withermore for a country-dance, she feared her quarry was long gone.

Except she caught sight of him. Resplendent in emerald green, he was chatting to Lady Marbury, or at least, her ladyship was chatting to him. Spying Livia across the room, she exchanged a grin. Her sister jerked her head slightly in the direction of the card room. So that was where her brothers had decamped to. Picking up her skirts, she made a determined advance on her prey. He would not get away this time.

Lady Marbury had the great felicity of introducing them. She curtseyed as he bowed, but this time when he took her hand, he didn’t kiss it, merely the air above it in the accepted manner. He behaved as if they’d never met before, so she pushed the acquaintance on a little.

“I believe we know each other already, sir.”

He smiled, but it was a bland society smile that barely changed his expression. “I believe we do, ma’am. May I escort you to your mother?”

“She isn’t here tonight. I’m with my sister and two of my brothers.”

The orchestra chose that moment to strike up a fresh air.

“Oh, a minuet!” Lady Marbury exclaimed. “How delightful!”

Thus giving him a choice. If he asked Lady Marbury to dance, Claudia would find it hard to forgive him.

He held out his arm. “Lady Claudia, will you do me the honor?”

“I would be delighted, sir.”

A minuet meant the couples remained together for much of the measure, but not all. In a country-dance they changed partners and met again at the end of the set, but a minuet was a courtship dance.

He led her on to the floor and they joined the other couples. “You shouldn’t have avoided me,” she murmured. “Why are you doing that?” Flicking out her fan with a snap, she waved it before her face three times as she curtseyed in the dance and then closed it sharply.

“I thought it better to remain apart,” he replied. “No good can come of your acquaintance with me.”

“Don’t you think you should do me the courtesy of letting me decide that?”

“Or your esteemed parents. Believe me, they will bar me from the house once I’ve told them what I know. I was not aware of it when I first met you.”

She didn’t care. Why should she? The dance took them into a complex section, and she had to concentrate on the steps and keeping the shapes she made with her body graceful. At least he couldn’t run, not without creating a scandal. He would once the dance was complete if she didn’t say something. What could she possibly say?

Only the truth. “I have missed you. You hurt me by pushing me away.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He turned around her, keeping his gaze fixed on her, as the dance demanded. “I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world. Believe me, had I known then what I do now—”

“What? You wouldn’t have made love to me?”

“Keep your voice down!” Although he kept it low, his voice held a note of command. “Do you want a scandal?”

“I don’t care.” Her family had weathered worse in its time. Very few people could countermand the combined forces of the Emperors of London. “If you abandon me, I shall tell my brothers. My cousins. You can’t walk away with no explanation. I do not want that. Society is already sneering at me.” It wasn’t, but she’d use every tool at her command.

By her reckoning, she had five minutes to change his mind. Otherwise he’d walk away and he wouldn’t come back this time. The determination lay in his eyes. He didn’t have to tell her.

“Society will recover. There is no scandal. I’ve been careful to ensure that.”

She had a brainwave. “That day you kissed me? At the Royal Exchange? Somebody saw us.”

“Who?”

“Lady Compton.” At random she chose one of the biggest gossips in society. “Once she speaks to our hostess, our secret will be out. What price your clandestine habits then?”

“Quiet!” They were so close his breath heated her ear. “Wait until your father returns. I have to tell him first.”

“Why?” she demanded through grimly smiling teeth. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because it destroys everything I’ve believed in. Everything I fought for.”

His voice was entirely without emphasis this time, so cold that she shivered from the chill. “I want to help.”

“There is no help.”

Turning his back, he walked off the floor, leaving her partnerless and stranded.

* * * *

Blindly, Dominic walked out of the room and down the stairs, heedless of the gossip that surged around him. He couldn’t touch her, look at her, without wanting her, and he couldn’t have her. Not anymore. His dreams of marrying one of the most highborn women from one of the untouchable families of London were at an end.

He strode out of the house, sucking in air tangy with soot from the torchères still burning outside the house. It seemed an age since he’d walked through them, determined to make an appearance and leave. The hostess was an old friend of his mother’s—he smiled wryly—and he’d promised to put in an appearance. Well he had. Duty done.

Claudia danced exquisitely. The minuet was a dance of courtship. He could hardly bear it. People watched them, smiling indulgently. Their match was one many people had already made. He couldn’t allow that.

He was nobody, brought up by liars, traitors even. How could he hold up his head with that kind of history behind him? One day it would come to light. Secrets always did, and then he’d drag her down with him.

Having recovered some of his composure, he turned to leave and only then recalled he’d forgotten his hat. People would stare. Let them. They’d stare even more soon.

“Dominic?”

“No.” He spun around to confront her.

She stood there, watching him. She wasn’t wearing a hat, either, only a froth of lace on her head. Her hair shone in the torchlight, its red highlights blazing. She was all fire, his Claudia.

Except she wasn’t
his
Claudia, was she?

When she approached him, he held out his hands as if to ward her off and took hasty steps back. He turned and walked quickly to the end of the street. The sound of determined steps followed him. He spun around. “Claudia…”

A deafening report split the air, a crack and a whistle he knew well. He only had time to leap forward, wrap his arms around her, and drag her to the ground before the bullet struck.

She jerked forward into his arms as the bullet hit her.

Never before had Dominic panicked, but he did now. Tears stung his eyes as he rolled her to her back on the dusty pavement. “Claudia, oh my God!”

Blinking, she met his eyes, her own dazed, her pupils wide. “What was that? What happened?”

He had time to get her away. A yell from the road attracted his attention. “’Ere, guvnor, in ’ere!”

Where the hell were her brothers? He had no time. Blood seeped through the sleeve of her gown, soaking the fine silk, turning the pale blue to gory red. Getting to his feet, he picked her up. He didn’t think he was hurt. Certainly he was hale enough to carry her the short distance to the hackney. As long as his arms and legs were working, he’d carry her.

He climbed into the vehicle, leaping over the iron step. “Whip up the horses!”

“Aye, aye, my lord.”

The hackney rocked into motion, its worn suspension making the carriage rock and sway, but Dominic was too busy stripping off his coat to bother. Grabbing the heavy stiffened skirt of the garment, he used it to press against her arm, where the blood was deepest. He wasn’t sure where she’d been hit, but she was bleeding copiously. Raising his voice, he bellowed his address to the carriage driver. One person could help him now. Nothing else mattered except getting her to help straight away. “Claudia, don’t leave me. Talk to me. Give me that wonderful smile.” Desperation drew him now. He’d do anything to keep her with him.

“I thought my smile bored you.”

He forced a smile of his own, although he feared it was more of a grimace. “How could it ever do that? I swear I’ve never said it, because it’s not true. I would do anything for a smile from you.”

The corner of her mouth moved. “Don’t press so hard. It hurts when you do that.”

“It would hurt more if I did not.” He felt like a villain, but he had to do something to staunch the flow of blood. “Please, Claudia, talk to me. Tell me anything.”

“I liked your coat tonight.”

That was better. Anything to keep those lovely eyes open and hear her voice. If she lapsed into unconsciousness, they might not get her back.

The carriage turned a corner on one wheel and carried on at the same breakneck pace. Dominic held on to her arm, circling it with part of the skirt of his coat and pulling tightly. Anything to stop the bleeding. It had soaked through his coat now. Four layers of fabric plus a heavy buckram lining. Forcing himself to think, he tried to recall when he’d seen someone bleed this much and live.

Where the hell were they?

As if he had shouted the words, the driver yelled to the horse and stopped it. “We’re ’ere, sir.”

Dominic climbed out of the hackney carefully, never letting go of Claudia and keeping his gaze fixed on hers, willing her to stay awake. He would risk everything to save her now. A servant flung open the door to his house. “Pay the man whatever he asks for,” he said tersely. “Double it. Don’t stint him. He could have saved this lady’s life.”

Striding indoors, he bellowed the name of his servant. Not his valet, but his factotum, the man who’d served by his side in the war. Binney came up from below stairs promptly, wiping his hands on a towel. The sound of his feet hesitated on the hard floor, just once, and then they quickened as he approached the couple in the hall. “Can you get her up to a bedroom, sir? I’ll get what I need. What happened?”

“She was shot.”

“How about you, sir?”

He must be covered with blood. “Not at all or very slightly. I don’t know. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Binney, already half way up the stairs, tutted. “Now, sir, we’ve seen much worse than this and the man got up and walked away once I’d seen to him. Just take her into your room and I’ll be there directly.”

Within a minute of Dominic laying Claudia tenderly on his bed, Binney had returned. He carried an armful of towels and his bag, the one that went everywhere with him. Binney was a surgeon, a skilled doctor. Having seen the worst war could inflict on a person, he gave it up for a few years. Dominic would trust Binney with his own life, and he could think of nobody better to ask for help when he needed it most.

“Help her, Binney.”

“Pass me a sharp knife. I’m going to cut off her clothing.”

Dominic found one in the bag and handed it over. Binney took it without thanks, setting to slicing the gown off Claudia’s body. She watched, but said nothing. When Binney jerked his head, Dominic climbed on the bed to sit on her other side and keep her attention. They’d done this before, but with all his heart, Dominic prayed the outcome would not be the same as ones he’d undergone in the past. Never had the survival of one of Binney’s patients meant so much to him.

“You were charming tonight. I could not resist you, although I should have.”

“Why should you have?” She gazed at him trustfully. He wished she would not. He didn’t have all the answers.

He hesitated. He had sworn not to tell anyone, not until he’d informed her family, but he had little choice now. That was his best chance to stop her eyelids drooping. Give her something to think about

He met her gaze again. Binney peeled the sleeve of her gown away and began to slice her bodice off. The man had received so many confidences that he was more trustworthy than a priest, but this secret was so dire, he paused before vouchsafing it. He would not willingly put that burden on anyone else.

Binney glanced at him. “If it helps, I won’t remember anything. Tell her. Keep her thinking and awake.”

Dominic had little choice. “I have seen the record of my birth. My mother and father were on the Continent, travelling through Europe, when I was born. My father undertook some diplomatic tasks. My mother always attributed my conception and birth to the change of scenery, and she was right.”

Her free hand twitched. He grasped it firmly. Paradoxically, having her little hand clasped in his gave him strength instead of the other way about. “They said I was born in Paris while my father was attending King Louis in Versailles, but according to the record, they were actually in Rome. I was born the child of an Italian woman. My parents bought me from her.”