Regency Innocents (16 page)

Heloise only felt a small twinge of conscience for continuing with a pastime Charles frowned upon. So long as he did not find out, it could not hurt him.

And so many ideas had flooded to her while she had been studying the crowds tonight.
Beau monde!
She scoffed as she pulled a stool to her desk and lit the two lamps she had placed there for moments such as this. There was nothing
beau
about the manners of some of those people! They ignored the efforts of the actors upon the
stage for the most part, which was rude, since they had clearly gone to a great deal of effort for the entertainment of an audience that was interested only in its own members. Except for certain of the men, when the pretty young dancers came on. Then it was all tongues hanging out and nudging elbows, and comments which she was certain were coarse, though fortunately she had not been able to hear them. And as for that obnoxious marquis, who harboured such uncharitable thoughts towards both Charles and herself … well! She had seen the plump little blonde sitting beside him in his own private box, giving him sheep's eyes. A woman who was clearly not his wife. And he had the temerity to look askance at
her
!

Dawn was filtering through her curtains before Heloise began to yawn. Her excitement had driven her to fill page after page with initial sketches. Later, when she had the interminable hours of daylight to fill, she would add the detail and bring the scenes to life with judicious touches of watercolour paint. Yes … She yawned again, sloughing off her robe and letting it drop to the floor. There was much to be said about an evening spent at the English theatre.

And tonight the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall would provide even more material for her portfolio.

Robert was to dine with them both before taking her out. Charles had sent a note to inform her.

This time there were no arguments. There was scarcely any conversation at all. It was as though all three of them were determined to say nothing that might spark another confrontation.

Eventually, Charles remarked, ‘I shall not be dining at home for the next few evenings, Lady Walton. I warned
you before we married that I have an interest in politics. And at this particular time, with Bonaparte on the rampage again, you will appreciate that I must be busy in the affairs of my country.'

Of course she understood. In Paris, it was in the private salons of influential hostesses that statesmen decided which line they were going to take in public. Similar meetings must go on in London.

She nodded. Robert scowled.

She was not surprised when, the second they got into Walton's private carriage, which he had put at their disposal for the outing, Robert blurted, ‘He's not going to back those fools who want to try and appease Bonaparte, is he?'

‘I do not know,' she shrugged. They never talked about anything. ‘All I know is what you heard him say. Charles will be too busy to bother with me for a while.'

Robert looked perplexed. ‘I'm sure he did not mean that. You must admit, Bonaparte escaping like that, and winning over the army that was sent to arrest him, has caused the deuce of a panic all over Europe.'

She turned bleak eyes in his direction, though she could only make out his silhouette. Somehow, in the darkness of the jolting carriage, it was easy to let her hurt spill out. ‘It is not a question of him suddenly being busy. He has never wanted to spend more time with me than he has to.'

‘Cold-hearted wretch,' she heard Robert growl.

‘No, you must not say such things,' Heloise protested. ‘Really, he is most kind to me …'

‘Kind! To leave you alone in your room, night after night, while he goes out on the town? Oh, don't think because I stay in my rooms I don't know what goes on in this house. The way he neglects you. Look.' He leaned
forward, his earnest expression illuminated for a second as they passed under a street lamp. ‘I may not be able to introduce you to the elevated set my brother belongs to, but I do have friends in town. You'd probably enjoy yourself a deal more with them, anyway, than at the stuffy
ton
gatherings Walton frequents. I'll …' He drew in a breath, as though steeling himself to go on. ‘I'll introduce you to them. I will not,' he stipulated, ‘escort you to picnics, or go boating, or anything of that nature. But once you get to know a few people you'll have no shortage of invitations to all the sorts of things females of your age enjoy.'

Sitting back, and running a hand over his perspiring brow, he grumbled, ‘Why Walton hasn't seen to it himself beats me.'

Heloise was torn. On the one hand she wanted to defend Charles' actions. And yet there was no doubt she could use Robert's misapprehension to get him to renew contact with the friends he had shut himself away from for far too long.

It would take something as radical as his ingrained hatred for his brother for him to run the gauntlet of public reaction, she began to realise as the evening wore on. She lost count of the number of dandies who lifted their lace handkerchiefs to their noses as they sauntered past, eyes swiftly averted. She grew furious with the females who placed troubled hands to their breasts, as though the very sight of Robert was too distressing for their delicate sensibilities. She was beginning to wish she had not dragged Robert out and exposed him to such a cruel and humiliating reception.

Spying a bench, positioned in a secluded nook for the convenience of clandestine lovers, Robert limped to it and sat down heavily. His false leg might have been fashioned
by the most skilled craftsman Walton could hire, but learning to walk in it was clearly no easy matter.

‘Oh, Lord,' Robert moaned. ‘Here comes another one of ‘em.'

Heloise sat forward, to look round Robert and see who he meant, and spied Lord Lensborough strolling towards them, the plump blonde on his arm.

‘I thought he was your friend.'

‘No,' replied Robert shortly.

As he drew level with them, Lord Lensborough paused, eyeing them closely.

‘My lady,' he said, bowing slightly. ‘Captain Fawley. How … interesting to see you here, of all places.'

The blonde giggled, alerting Heloise to the fact that his sneering words could as well mean this particular secluded bench as Vauxhall Gardens. Beside her, she felt Robert stiffen.

‘A word in private, if you please, Lensborough?' Robert growled.

The Marquis sloughed the blonde from his arm, taking a seat on the far side of Robert. The blonde seemed inured to such cavalier treatment, wandering off a few paces without expecting to be introduced, let alone take part in the general conversation. Indignant on her behalf at such rudeness, Heloise got to her feet, deciding she would go and introduce herself.

‘Hello,' she said, offering her hand to the startled blonde.

Warily, she looked to Lord Lensborough for her cue. But since he had his head close to Robert, and they were engaged in such deep conversation that they were oblivious to what she might be doing, she protested, ‘You didn't ought to be talking to the likes of me—a great lady like you.'

‘Well, if I did not I would be sitting being ignored. Since you are being ignored as well, we might as well amuse each other, don't you think?'

The blonde smiled uncertainly.

‘I saw you at the theatre yesterday evening, did I not?' Heloise asked, since the blonde still seemed unwilling to initiate any conversation.

‘Yes, and I saw you too. With your husband. The Earl. Ever so nice you looked. That gown was from Madame Pichot's, wasn't it?' When Heloise nodded, she went on, ‘Oh, I should love to have a gown from her. Your husband is ever so generous, ain't he? Mrs Kenton was always saying it, and when I saw those rubies he gave her …' She trailed off, suddenly looking guilty. ‘I shouldn't be mentioning the likes of Mrs Kenton, or what your husband gives her,' she continued, hanging her head. ‘Jasper is always telling me I talk too much …'

‘It is of no matter to me.' Gritting her teeth, Heloise smiled bravely at Lord Lensborough's ladybird. ‘Men of his rank always have mistresses.'

When the nameless blonde smiled in obvious relief, Heloise knew that the simple creature had just inadvertently revealed the name of Charles' mistress. She had always known he would have one. But it was a shock, all the same, to find out her name at a moment when she was least expecting it.

Feeling a little sick, she turned back to Robert.

‘I wish to return home now,' she said, pointedly ignoring the Marquis, who had so far done the same to her.

‘I shall be only too glad to take you. I'm devilish tired.'

To her surprise, as Robert struggled to get up, the Marquis also rose to his feet, and made her a respectably deep bow. Pinning her with an intent look, he said, ‘I have
issued an invitation to you and my young friend for an evening at Challinor House. Quite informal. A little supper, some hands of cards …'

Though she felt certain the last thing the Marquis wanted was to have her enter his home, she also knew he had Robert's welfare at heart.

‘I don't mind taking you to play cards at Lensborough's,' Robert admitted gruffly. ‘But not the supper.'

She winced at the memory of Linney cutting up Robert's food for him. ‘It sounds delightful. I love above all things to play cards,' she lied.

Her ineptitude at the card table was one of the faults for which her father had frequently berated her. But people were so fascinating when they forgot company manners to concentrate on their game. Far more interesting than the little pieces of board she held in her hand, or the points she should have been counting in her head. However, Robert needed to believe she wished to play, and wanted his escort.

Bowing to her with a tight smile, the Marquis gathered up his companion and took his leave.

Neither of them was very talkative on the way home. Robert's face had the waxy pallor of a man close to exhaustion. And Heloise was wrestling with the turbulence of her thoughts.

She was not sorry, now, that she had let Robert think badly of Charles. It would motivate him to take her out, so that she could make her own friends. Which would leave Charles free to live his own life.

With his Mrs Kenton.

Somehow she would learn to cope. At least if she concentrated on helping Robert to regain his self-esteem it would stop her wallowing in her own unhappiness. It would be her mission, she decided, squaring her shoulders.

It was not until they made to go their separate ways, in the hall of Walton House, that he turned to her and said, in a voice hoarse with emotion, ‘My brother is a prize idiot not to see what a treasure you are. If he won't treat you as he should, then, dammit, I will!'

‘Oh, Robert,' she said, rather tearfully. Nobody could force her husband to grow fond of her. ‘It is enough that you agree to take me out now and again. I have been …' She paused as her breath hitched in her throat. ‘So lonely since I came to London.'

Impulsively, she flung her arms round him, almost causing him to overbalance.

‘I say—steady on!' Robert laughed.

‘I cannot help it,' she declared with feeling. ‘You are the only friend I have.'

Neither of them heard the door to the small salon close quietly as Charles withdrew behind it. He had been a little anxious all evening about how Heloise would cope with his irascible brother. Given the way things usually turned out whenever Heloise tried to ‘help' his brother, he had been preparing to go and pour oil onto troubled waters. He had not, he thought, recoiling from the scene he had just witnessed, expected to see his brother make a declaration of that sort to his wife—nor for her to respond so enthusiastically!

Nor had he expected the searing pain that left him gasping for breath.

For a few moments he gripped the edge of the mantel, leaning his forehead against the cool marble and taking deep, steadying breaths, while his heartbeat gradually returned to something like normal.

Why in Hades was he so upset?

It was not as if he was in love with Heloise. It was a proprietorial thing. That was all. He had always felt the same disgust when one of his mistresses had shown affection for another man while under his protection.

Had he made it clear to Heloise, when laying down the terms of their union, that, while he was willing to let her lead her own life, he would not tolerate her taking a lover? At least not until after she had given him an heir.

It probably hurt all the more that it was his own brother who had so effortlessly breached the defences he had lain siege to weeks ago. He laughed bitterly. All he'd had to do was trim his hair, put on clean linen, and take her to watch some fireworks!

He strode to the salon door and flung it open. The scene he had witnessed was only the opening round in the dance that went on between a man and a woman. He would have to make Heloise understand that it must progress no further, he thought, as he pounded up the stairs to her room.

He gave only a peremptory knock before striding into her bedroom. She was not yet in bed, but standing by her dressing table in the act of disrobing.

At his entrance, the maid uttered a little shriek, her hands flying to her cheeks. Heloise's gown, already half undone, slithered to the floor, leaving her standing in just a flimsy chemise. She had already removed her shoes and stockings.

He had never seen so much of her. Slowly, his blood thickening, he examined every perfect inch of her—from her flushed cheeks, down her slender arms, past her shapely calves and ankles to the ten naked toes she was curling into the soft blue carpet. She was exquisite. And he wanted to stake his claim right now.

‘Sukey,' she said in a reedy voice, ‘hand me my wrap, then you may leave us.' Whatever Charles wanted must be important for him to be displaying such an uncharacteristic lack of manners.

His eyes flicked upwards. She was fastening the belt tightly, with fingers that trembled.