Regency Innocents (18 page)

She had smiled gaily, holding out her hand to Mrs Kenton, who had been looking as if she wished to strangle poor Nell.

‘Is it not fortunate for us both that Charles is not here? This is exactly the sort of scene which he would dislike above anything!'

‘Indeed he would,' Mrs Kenton had replied faintly, taking Heloise's hand in a limp grasp.

Seeing Nell's brow finally pleating with concern, Heloise went on, with false bravado, ‘I assure you, I do not in the least mind meeting the lover of my husband. It is only what I expected when I married an Englishman. It would be silly of me to pretend I do not know he has a mistress.'

And now that she had seen her she could understand exactly what drew Charles to this woman. Although she was a good deal older than Felice, she had the same dark hair, the same graceful carriage, even a sultry set to her lips that put her strongly in mind of her sister when she was not in the best of moods.

‘At least he does not have two, like Lord Wellington,' she prattled on. ‘Or parade them about in public while shunning his poor little wife. Why he brought her to Paris at all nobody could in the least guess, if he meant to humiliate her in that fashion!' Finally she paused to breathe, desperately hoping the bright façade she had adopted was successfully hiding her despondency.

For Mrs Kenton was wearing the ruby necklace. The stones were magnificent, gleaming like fire against the woman's milk-white skin, the large, central stone dipping provocatively into a cleavage that made Heloise fully conscious of her total inadequacy to compete in the bedroom stakes.

‘Although I suspect, myself, that he wished to prove he had beaten Bonaparte upon all suits, and probably had no idea he had hurt her. Men!' she finished on a false laugh, fluttering her fan before her flushed cheeks.

‘It is very … open-minded of you to say so,' Mrs Kenton said, with a puzzled frown.

‘Oh, no—I am a realist, me. And it seems silly to pretend not to know how the world works.'

A knowing expression flickered across Mrs Kenton's face. She purred, ‘Or to pretend that you don't mind?'

Heloise responded with a shrug. ‘Why should I mind?'

The older woman's eyes narrowed on the parure Heloise was wearing, her expression growing positively feline.

‘Why, indeed? He is such a generous man that any woman with an ounce of sense would always forgive his little … lapses.' She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘You are wise to pretend not to mind about me, my dear, just as I shall pretend not to mind about you. The one thing he cannot abide is a woman making a fuss. He hates to feel he might be losing control of a situation.' She chuckled—
a low, throaty sound. ‘Well, you know how far he takes his
desire
for mastery.' She fanned herself, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. ‘My, I grow heated just thinking about his skill between the sheets. It more than compensates for the coldness of his public manners, as I am sure you would be the first to agree.'

Heloise turned and stalked away. Round one had definitely gone to the courtesan. Though she wanted nothing more than to leave the party at once, she refused to let it look as though Mrs Kenton had driven her away.

The second bout was fought with rather more subtlety. Mrs Kenton followed Heloise to the lady's retiring room, where she had been trying to hide until a sufficient amount of time had passed to make it look as though she was not running away.

Pretending she did not know anyone else was in the room, Mrs Kenton remarked to Nell, who was with her, ‘Isn't it a good thing that Walton's poor little wife is able to look after herself?'

Nell blinked owlishly, hiccupped, and subsided onto a sofa.

‘Otherwise, who knows what would become of her? Everyone knows he is bored with her already.'

‘Well, I like her,' Nell protested.

‘As do I!' Mrs Kenton quickly put in. ‘Which is why I feel so sorry for her. He never goes anywhere with her if he can avoid it. One can only wonder why he married her in the first place!'

That remark had struck her to the core. Charles had only married her to save face, and at her own suggestion. But it had been to no avail. The whole of London could already see that it was a mismatch!

Well, one thing they would not see. And that was a
bride who was not completely content with her lot. Heloise had determined there and then to prove to the whole world that nobody need feel in the least sorry for her. Particularly the patronising Mrs Kenton. From that moment she had taken pains to attend the sorts of places she was most likely to run into the woman, and demonstrate that not only did she know exactly what she was to her husband, but that it didn't affect her in the least. She would show them all she was a sophisticated Parisienne, well acquainted with, and impervious to, the base nature of men.

This bravado had carried her, over the next few days, to all sorts of places she had not enjoyed visiting in the least. But she would not back down. Not while that woman flaunted the rubies her husband had given her, while all she had to show for the marriage were some antiquated crystals he'd got out of a cupboard and dusted down so she would not look as though she had nothing! And if she could face down her husband's mistress at every turn, Robert could learn to deal with his own demons.

‘Robert,' she said now, more gently, laying a gloved hand on his arm, ‘your limp will not deter a woman who has a good heart.'

‘Nor my face?' he scoffed.

‘Ah, but tonight it is covered.' She reached up to adjust the set of his white velvet mask, which matched her own. ‘Any woman you approach will see only your eyes, burning with admiration for her. She will see how determined you are to approach her, and she will think, My, how he must want me. You will not give her commonplace flatteries about the colour of her hair, or the magnificence of her figure—
non!
You will tell her that no other woman has such beauty of spirit. You will see beneath the trappings to the very heart of her. And her
heart, it will be in your hands before the end of the very first dance.'

‘I shall sound like a complete coxcomb if I dish out that kind of cant,' Robert grumbled. ‘Then I'll probably catch my false leg in her skirts and trip her over.'

‘Ah, no! The coxcomb is the one who pays tribute too prettily, not meaning half of what he says. You will let your lady see that you need her. Every woman wants to feel she is the only one who can answer the needs of her lover's heart.'

‘Sounds like a load of hokum to me,' huffed Robert from the dark corner of the box where he was hunched. ‘Shall I prove it? Shall I do as you have suggested, and make a complete fool of myself?'

‘That,' replied Heloise with some asperity, ‘was the whole reason for coming to a masked ball. So that you could try out the technique on some girl who does not in the least matter to you, rather than make the cake of yourself before your friends. There!' Heloise took his arm and indicated a female in a pink domino, who was casting them an occasional look from a box directly across the stage from where they sat. ‘She is looking your way again. Go and ask her to dance!'

The masked damsel shot him a coy look, before turning away and fanning herself with vigour.

‘Hell, what have I got to lose?' Robert finally said, pushing himself out of the chair.

It was not until he had left her alone in her box that Heloise realised just how vulnerable she was to the attentions of the masked revellers who leered at her over its edge. This was not the first time since embarking on her private little battle with Mrs Kenton that Heloise had felt completely out of her depth. But it was the first time she had sensed she could be in real danger. Even in private
gaming hells there was a code of conduct which ensured her personal safety. But here the drunken bucks who made free with the females clearly felt they had the right to do so. For the type of females who came to such a place did not expect the same consideration as would a lady of quality. Indeed, she had not seen any woman here display reluctance towards any advances made upon her.

It was quite terrifying when a large male, clad in a black silk domino topped with a red devil's mask, stepped over the edge of the box without so much as a by-your-leave.

The domino parted as he took the chair beside her, revealing the stuff knee breeches of a tradesman.

‘All alone, my pretty?' he slurred. ‘How about a kiss?' He lurched forward, assailing her nostrils with gin fumes.

‘Non!'
she gasped, shrinking back into her chair.

‘French, hey?' the stranger responded, cocking his head to one side. ‘Not a good time to be a Frenchwoman in London, is it? Though you are the prettiest one I've ever seen. Let me see you better,' he said, reaching for the strings of her mask.

‘You must not!' she cried, rapping him over the knuckles with her fan. It was imperative that her mask remain in place. Charles would be furious if he ever found out she had revealed her face at such a place as this!

‘Why not?' The man chuckled, his hands dropping to her waist. ‘It's what you've come here for, isn't it? To have a little fun?'

In a panic now, Heloise struck out at his devilish mask with her fan. He caught her hand easily, his reflexes surprisingly quick for a man whose slurred speech indicated he was heavily inebriated.

She could not think how to get rid of him. Admitting she was a respectable married woman would do no good.
He would not believe her. Respectable married women did not come to places like this. Not without their husbands.

If he knew she was the Countess of Walton, with a husband renowned for his vengeful nature, he would stop trying to paw at her like this! But she could not betray Charles by using his name! Nobody must ever know that she had disgraced him by coming to a place like this!

In desperation, she mentioned the only threat which she thought might hold sway with the drunken buck.

‘I am not here alone! I am here with my …' Even if she mentioned her brother-in-law, it might give her assailant a clue as to her true identity. In spite of his domino and mask, it was impossible to disguise the full nature of Robert's injuries. Anybody who knew anything about the upper classes would have heard of the maimed soldier who lived with his half-brother and the French wife. ‘My lover!' she declared, hoping this man had not seen Robert limp off towards the far side of the stage.

‘Lover, is it?' the stranger hissed. ‘Pretty careless of him to leave you here unprotected, then, wasn't it?' He placed his arm along the back of her chair, propping his leg up against the door of the box as he did so, effectively penning her in with him. ‘I don't think he would care all that much if I stole a kiss or two … not if he's the fellow I saw going to the refreshment room with the little tart in the pink domino a moment or so ago.'

Heloise's breathing grew ragged. Robert could
not
have abandoned her! He would not do such a thing!

‘You lie! He would die for me! And he was a soldier. If you dare to touch me he will kill you!'

The man's eyes glittered coldly through the slits in his mask. ‘He would have to catch me first,' he sneered. ‘Is that
how you came to be his lover? He fought in France? Is that it? And brought you back with him? Spoils of war …' Almost casually, the hand which was not gripping her shoulder fumbled its way under the silken folds of her domino.

‘Non!'
she cried, trying to push his hand away. ‘It was not like that!'

‘What was it like, then?' His hand headed unerringly towards her breast. She couldn't believe how strong he was. It took both her hands and all her determination to prevent him from reaching his destination, and even then she was not convinced he hadn't stopped for some obscure reason of his own.

‘It is none of your business!' she panted, seizing his wrist as his questing hand altered the angle of its exploration under the concealing folds of her domino, this time sliding to the low neckline of her gown, from whence he slipped it inside her bodice. ‘Stop this! Stop it at once!' she shrieked, leaping up out of her chair with such haste that the neckline ripped. ‘Oh!' she sobbed, pressing herself to the back of the box, her hands clutching at the torn edges of her gown. Thank heaven Sukey was utterly loyal to her. She would never be able to give a satisfactory explanation to Charles if he ever found out she had come home with the front of her gown torn. ‘You will pay for this!'

‘Since I'm paying, I may as well get my money's worth,' the man said, lunging at her.

He grasped her by the elbows, his body pressing hers into the thick crimson curtains that shrouded the shadowy depths of the box as his mouth crashed down on hers.

It was an angry, demanding kiss, and quite terrifying. Outraged, Heloise struggled against him with all her strength.

Until something quite unexpected happened. As the stranger's hands embarked on an assured exploration of her
feminine contours, she began to compare him with Charles. He was of the same height and build, and though his voice was coarse, and his clothes that of a much poorer man, the eyes which glittered from behind the devilish mask were of a similarly cool blue.

If only Charles would kiss her like this. She groaned, and then, for a few crazy seconds, found herself pretending this man was her husband, and that he wanted her. She stopped struggling, sagging back into the suffocating folds of the drapery, her whole body trembling with a kind of sick, guilty excitement.

If only Charles would caress her like this! Would be so wild with desire for her that he would kiss her in a public place, even peeling the torn fabric of her dress away and pressing his lips to the exposed skin beneath as this man was doing now. She moaned. Oh, if this man did not stop soon, she would fling her arms round his neck and kiss him back!

And why should she not? Charles was doing something like this, maybe at this very moment, with the beautiful Mrs Kenton!