Regency Mistresses: A Practical Mistress\The Wanton Bride (15 page)

George looked affronted. ‘I’ve only ever wanted you to be practical. You’re not a blushing virgin, after all. And Colin is not such a bad chap. Would you not … once or twice …?’

Helen said icily, ‘No, I would not.’

George resumed his pacing about the room, frowning at ceiling, door and wall. Suddenly he halted and spun to face Helen, a grin splitting his face. ‘Of course! Hunter would advance you more if you ask him. He is renowned for being generous to his women. You could find a romantic little spot in the Pleasure Gardens this evening and ask him nicely for me.’

‘I shall do no such thing, for he has been more than generous thus far,’ Helen said in a cold, quiet voice.

‘So you will not help me? You refuse to do a thing,’ George whined.

‘What I
will
do, when next I see Bridgeman, is tell him exactly what I think of him. I’ll see if Betty has made the tea.’ With that Helen quit the room without a backward glance.

‘You’re quiet this evening.’

Helen slanted Jason a faltering smile as they promenaded the Long Walk in Vauxhall Gardens. ‘I have been engrossed in Charlotte’s wedding plans, that is all.’ She pressed a little closer to him to indicate she was content. ‘Shall we go back and find Philip and Charlotte? The music must soon be due to start.’

As they turned on the path to retrace their steps, Helen’s thoughts were once more occupied with her family’s troubles.

Before they left the house earlier that evening, Helen had tried to pacify her sister. Persuading Charlotte that no good would come of relating George’s sorry tale to Philip had not been an easy task. But Helen was sure it would be best to keep the matter private. Although he was a placid gentleman, Philip might take it into his head to act manfully to protect his fiancée. Gossips were already having a fine time at Helen’s expense. It would not be prudent to give them something new to crow over and risk a stain on Charlotte’s reputation.

Helen glanced at the tall gentleman at her side. An aura of power seemed to emanate from Jason and she was tempted to confide her worries. If she asked for money, he would give it to her. But such a sum would beg a question and she had no wish to lie. Neither did she intend disclosing that her brother was venal enough to sell one or other of his sisters to Bridgeman to keep his liberty. Her continuing loyalty to George seemed wasted, as did attempting to shield him from Jason’s disgust. But a stubborn scrap of caring seemed entrenched in her soul.

The peacefulness of the Long Walk receded as they neared a more populated area of the Pleasure
Gardens. Helen glanced up and sensed her blood freeze. Not more than twenty yards away she spied Bridgeman’s thin profile, his mouth agape in a grin. He was with George and some other fellows. A little further on was a party of young people grouped about Charlotte and Philip. Should Charlotte panic at the sight of him she might yet cause Philip to confront Bridgeman.

‘I didn’t know George was coming here this evening,’ Helen breathlessly said, urging the muscular figure at her side to accelerate his step.

‘Are you so keen to see him?’ Jason drily asked and took a look down at Helen’s countenance, now puckered in anxiety.

‘No,’ Helen muttered. ‘In fact, I wish he and his friends had taken themselves off elsewhere this evening.’

Jason caught Helen to him and gently turned her about. Although her body faced his, her amber eyes were immediately looking over her shoulder. She anxiously eyed the group of gentlemen lounging against a supper box in which were several attractive ladies. ‘What’s the matter?’ Jason asked. ‘You have been preoccupied since we arrived.’

Helen sensed Jason’s strengthening concern and gave him a wobbly smile. ‘It is nothing, really … George upset Charlotte this afternoon,’ she blurted
in explanation. ‘It might be as well to keep them apart. I shall just go and warn her he is here.’ Helen looked into a darkly handsome face. A slight lift at a corner of Jason’s mouth did little to convince her that he was satisfied with her answer.

‘Your brother is heading this way.’ Helen’s dusky head briefly nodded to the left as she noticed Mark Hunter’s distinguished figure weaving towards them through the crowd. ‘I shan’t be more than a moment,’ she said, slipping her hand from Jason’s elbow and darting towards Charlotte.

‘I don’t see anything of you in an age then, delightfully, we meet by chance twice in one day.’

Helen gasped and twisted about to see Colin Bridgeman’s pale blue eyes on her. About to nod and immediately hurry on she hesitated and haughtily faced him. She had told George earlier that she would tell this man what she thought of him. Perhaps now was the perfect opportunity to do so.

‘I
s it a chance meeting?’ Helen bluntly demanded to know.

Colin Bridgeman’s bulbous lower lip protruded in amusement. ‘I see you’re a lady who knows when not to act coy. I like that.’ He eyed her appreciatively from beneath stubby lashes. ‘I take it from your attitude that George has revealed he is heavily in debt to me. Do you understand how perilous is his predicament?’

‘Indeed I do, sir,’ Helen breathed in a voice made virtually inaudible by wrath.

‘He is a hair’s breadth from a stay in gaol. But I can be persuaded to be lenient … did he tell you that?’

Bridgeman asked whilst his eyes lowered to Helen’s pert bosom, and his wet tongue crawled on his lips.

‘He did tell me that. And I will relate to you my
response. I have no intention of saving him by becoming your harlot.’

‘You’d rather remain Hunter’s whore, would you?’ Bridgeman’s top lip lifted in a sneer. ‘That’s what people are calling you … did you not know?’ he enquired with mock surprise.

Helen swallowed and glanced about, her face white and strained. ‘Other than to let you know I despise you, I have nothing more to say to you,’ she whispered hoarsely and took a step away from him.

‘And
I
have nothing more to say to you,’ Bridgeman echoed carelessly. ‘Now I think on it, I’d sooner speak to your sister. Charlotte is younger and has the full figure I like. I’ll warrant the sweet maid is more tenderhearted where her brother is concerned, and anxious to keep him from the Fleet.’ His pale eyes swerved to slyly study Charlotte. ‘A virgin, too …’ he reminded himself, but with sufficient volume for Helen to hear.

‘You will leave my sister alone!’ Helen fiercely gritted out. Bridgeman simply winged a ginger eyebrow at her, and made to strut in Charlotte’s direction. Helen blocked his path. ‘You will not bother Charlotte! She is betrothed and is soon to be married.’

‘Betrothals have been broken before when a family crisis demands it.’

Helen darted a furtive look about to see if they were drawing attention. Her golden eyes pulled to the spot where Jason and his brother had been standing, but they had gone. Next she glanced in Charlotte’s direction and was relieved that her sister still seemed happily oblivious to Bridgeman’s presence. George appeared to be flirting with a young lady in the pavilion upon which he was still supported, negligently, by an elbow.

Helen’s attention moved to the odious man close to her and for a moment she simply glared at him. She didn’t want to spend another minute in his company, but she feared he was not bluffing. Should Bridgeman carry out his threat to approach Charlotte so soon after her hysterical outburst this afternoon, chaos was likely to ensue.

Sensing her imminent capitulation, Colin purred, ‘Come, my dear, we ought not be bad friends. Let us take a little walk along the paths and be free from prying eyes. It will only take a few minutes more to establish if we might arrive at a mutually acceptable arrangement.’

About to reject his suggestion out of hand, Helen hesitated. There was scant chance of them finding common ground. Nevertheless, going with him would prevent him bothering her sister and might even, if she was astutely eloquent, gain George some
time to pay up. She allowed her hand to hover above his sleeve—the idea of touching him was repugnant. A moment later a graceful raven-haired woman and her dandified escort could have been mistaken for a couple out for a romantic stroll as they merged into the shadows on the pathway.

Helen’s hope that they had departed unseen was far from realised. In fact, several people had noticed her slip away with Colin Bridgeman, and reactions to their disappearance were varied.

Charlotte had been sharing a joke with Emily Beaumont when Emily suddenly began frowning over her shoulder. Charlotte had turned to see what interested her friend and had been agitated to see her sister with the horrible man who wanted to usurp Philip as her husband.

George had also been keeping a sly eye on the proceedings between his sister and his main creditor. His heart had soared as he saw Helen take Bridgeman’s arm. But it was short-lived euphoria; his conscience began to worry him at about the same time he noticed the disquietingly saturnine demeanour of the imposing fellow a few yards away.

Jason had moved towards the orchestra podium to greet Peter Wenham and some other friends, but had nevertheless kept an eye on Helen’s progress towards her sister. From the moment Bridgeman had
intercepted her, Jason had been ready to intervene if necessary.

Helen was an independent woman and Jason was not a character to stalk a mistress and be thought overly possessive. Nevertheless, at one point, when Helen seemed flustered, he had started towards her. A moment later he retraced that step, for Helen had moved very close to Colin before glancing about as though to check they were unobserved. She had obviously felt reassured by her furtive survey—he’d watched relief smooth her brow as she took Bridgeman’s arm. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d gone willingly with him into the dark.

Jason had never liked Colin Bridgeman. Since Mark had told him of the incident when Kingston had humiliated Philip in Hyde Park, and Bridgeman had found it amusing, he liked him even less. The man was renowned to be callous and lecherous.

Jason accepted he was hardly fit to judge, for he had long been ruthless in business and predatory with women. But if recent events were anything to go by, he was in danger of becoming not only a reformed character but content with his mellow persona.

Thus he stood for several minutes more, surrounded by his jovial friends, attempting to control the gnawing jealousy he felt. Helen had every right
to promenade with her admirers and flirt with whomsoever she pleased. She had promised him nothing more than her body in his bed and that she would not interfere in his life. And she had been true to her word. If she cared what he did, or whom he saw, those evenings they were apart, she gave no sign. It had never occurred to him that perhaps he ought ask what
she
did whilst he sat quietly at home, thinking of her.

Abruptly he excused himself from his brother and his friends and strode towards the walkway. As he passed George Kingston, their eyes briefly met before George shifted his gaze. The wine within George’s fist was so abruptly upended into his throat that, some distance on from him, Jason could still hear him choking. A humourless smile tugged at Jason’s tight lips. George had looked guilty and if there was any skulduggery afoot, George was certain to be embroiled in it.

Thus, some minutes after Helen and Colin Bridgeman disappeared, Jason did, too.

‘I think we have come far enough, Mr Bridgeman.’ Helen’s fingers recoiled from proximity with his hairy knuckles and swiftly she removed herself to a spot some distance away. The pretty globe lamps swayed high up in the hedge, illuminating the rustic bench framed by an arbour. ‘I have but a few minutes to spare, then must return or I will be missed.’

‘Come … let us be seated,’ Bridgeman coaxed whilst sidling close.

Helen immediately evaded him and moved the other side of the seat. ‘I must first ask you to please show my brother a little tolerance. George told me that he was negligent in checking the terms you offered when you made him the loan. Had he wholly understood the document—’

Colin interrupted her with a theatrical sigh. ‘You do George no kindness in making him sound such a fool, my dear.’ He took a surreptitious step, then another, craftily penning Helen into a corner of yew. ‘Do
me
a little kindness, however, and I promise it will pay dividends for that doltish brother of yours.’

‘I have made myself clear over that,’ Helen reminded icily. She attempted to dodge behind the bench, but it was set too far back into greenery to permit her to escape both him and injury. ‘I will never sleep with you.’ She put up her chin, intrepidly confronting her persecutor. ‘So, if you have no sensible arrangement to offer, you are wasting my time.’

‘But
I
think my arrangement is sensible,’ Bridgeman cooed. ‘And perhaps when Hunter is finished with you, you might not be so precious over it all.’ He grinned as he saw her reaction to that. ‘I know your rent at Westlea House is waived courtesy of your trips to Chelsea.’

Helen nipped her soft lower lip between her teeth.

‘Ah … I see you thought nobody wise to your little love-nest.’ Colin’s eyes glowed with satisfaction, for he understood what provoked her stricken expression. ‘I made it my business to find out,’ he admitted with a flick of a limp wrist. ‘I followed you there when you and Hunter left the Beaumonts’
musicale.
Extreme tactics I’ll own, but that’s how you affect me, Mrs Marlowe. I want you and, now I know you’re not too prudish to be bought, I will have you.’ He eyed her, his head cocked in consideration. ‘I could soon ensure the drawing rooms are abuzz with details of how you earn your keep.’ He chuckled lewdly. ‘I know you don’t stare at ceilings in Chelsea every night. On those occasions Hunter prefers the company of a blonde,
I
could take his place.’ He hooted in derision. ‘Don’t look so melancholy, my dear. Did you not know that Diana Tucker is still firmly ensconced in one of his houses?’

Helen felt her throat throb in anguish, but nevertheless whispered, ‘My brother is less of a fool than are you if you expect me to stay longer and listen to your—’

Her scorn was not fully expounded, for, with surprising strength and agility, Bridgeman suddenly leaped the space between them, forcing Helen back against the hedge. His moist mouth pounced on to
hers and a few fingers delved forcefully into her bodice.

‘Am I intruding on a tender moment?’

Colin pivoted about on hearing that glacial sarcasm. His chest was heaving with exertion and thwarted lust. A foul curse scratched his throat; next came a gasp of triumph as he identified the silhouette in the gloom. ‘I think you ought ask the lady that … or judge from what you saw with your own eyes, Hunter.’ He leered at Helen’s shocked countenance. ‘Will you tell him about our tête à tête, my dear, or shall I? He will know it all soon enough, in any case.’

Snapping free of her daze, Helen pushed past Bridgeman, the back of a shaking hand wiping the residue of his slimy kiss from her mouth. She took a few faltering steps towards Jason, gazing up appealingly into his shadowy face. He was smiling at her, she glimpsed a gleam of white teeth, but it was his lack of comfort in words or deed that turned her heart to stone. ‘It’s not what it might seem,’ she whispered. ‘I … I hope you do not believe I wanted him to kiss me.’ Still he said nothing, and she knew that his silence stemmed from a suspicion that she had been enjoying Bridgeman’s nauseating attention.

Anger and hurt mingled in her, churning her
thoughts to nonsense. But one vital fact surfaced to again torment her: Diana Tucker still figured in Jason’s life.

So many times she had been tempted to ask Jason about her. Pride had kept the words locked in her mind, as had the memory of her naïve vow not to pry or to nag or to demand his fidelity. She had thus taken comfort from her certainty that she would
know
if he slept with another woman. Although he did not see her every night, she had convinced herself that the passion and affection they shared was special and fulfilling. When making love he was tender and patient, even when self-imposed duress corded his muscles and betrayed that he would rather plunge headlong to his own release.

Invariably their parting kiss outside Westlea House would be followed by her sound sleep, not simply got from sensual satiation, but from the tranquillity of knowing their intimacy sprang from them being friends as well as lovers. Now she knew how badly she had misjudged the reality.

She sensed that, despite Bridgeman’s malice, he had not lied about Diana being still under Jason’s protection. Her dream that they might build a future together had been shown as a silly fantasy, not just by knowledge of his inconstancy, but from knowing he could be so cold and aloof. Far from being her
good friend, Jason might have been a callous stranger.

Now she felt a fool for having attempted to appease her faithless lover because a lecher had forced a kiss on her. She had done nothing wrong, yet Jason immediately suspected she had. She gazed defiantly into the glittering depths of his eyes.

A pitiless smile from Jason broke their combatant gazes, then he looked past Helen to where Colin stood.

‘I’m not concerned with how you managed to persuade Mrs Marlowe to accompany you, Bridgeman. But I am anxious that you understand you’re now
de trop’
Jason said with eerie placidity. ‘Why don’t you run along … while you’re still able …?’

The smirk writhing on Colin’s lips began to wither. Jason Hunter was not a fellow to make idle threats of violence. He had an impressive record with both pistols and sword and was not averse to an impromptu bout of sparring. Colin clearly recalled that Peter Wenham had once riled this fellow enough, by a bit of shabby chicanery, to end sporting a shiner that took the gloss off their friendship for some while.

Bridgeman tilted his head to an arrogant angle, but was already subtly retreating. With a mocking bow for Helen, he turned and began bowling back along the path.

‘Do you want me to defend your honour over it? I’ll call him out if you like.’

‘No …’ Helen’s eyes were still challengingly fixed on his rugged features etched hard and dark as granite against a backdrop of dusk.

‘Did I arrive at an inopportune moment, just as you were sealing the deal with a kiss? Or perhaps you received rather than offered a seduction this time. Is that it?’

Helen flinched beneath his mordant tone, yet answered crisply, ‘Yes.’

‘Yes … on both accounts?’

‘I don’t know how you have the nerve to interrogate me over it,’ Helen whispered hoarsely. ‘Since we became lovers,
I
have thus far slept only with
you.
’

Jason strolled closer to her, halting beneath a little lamp that misted a pale halo above his devilishly dark features. ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ he drawled. ‘I would be irritated to find I’d been paying for another man’s pleasure.’