The Ruby Pendant (14 page)

She pushed at
his shoulders with her hands and tried to protest, but the only sound she could
utter was a little grunt. A strange sensation in the pit of her stomach swept
away her resistance and she found herself leaning into him, her mouth hungry
for his. She forgot where she was, forgot her parents, the music, James
Martindale, forgot everything in the pleasure of his embrace. Here was her
love.

He came to his
senses first and let her go, dropping his hands to his sides. 'I beg pardon.
That was unforgivable of me.'

Her breast was
heaving and her mouth slightly open, as if she could not breathe properly.
Then, realising slowly that some reply was expected of her, she said, `I am
glad you realise it, for I shall not forgive you.' That was untrue and the
colour in her cheeks betrayed her. She had wanted the kiss to go on and on,
though the sweetness was tinged with bitterness.

He was simply
playing with her, proving, if any proof were needed, that her recent behaviour
obviously led him and everyone else to believe she would not demur at any
liberties they might take. Any young lady who could creep out of the house at
dead of night and gallop about like some highwayman, deserved all she got. No
wonder her mama had been so shocked. 'Please take me back inside.'

`Of course. I
am profoundly sorry I distressed you.' He encircled her waist once more and
waltzed her back into the ballroom, as if they had done nothing but take a turn
about the terrace.

As the music
came to an end, they both became aware that they were the subject of
speculation. The mothers and chaperons ranged around the room had left off
their gossiping and were peering through quizzing glasses at them. Their host's
daughter, the tabbies knew, but the man they did not recognise. He was very
tall and danced superbly, but who was he? And by the look of him, he was
putting James Martindale quite in the shade. Juliette Martindale was nothing
but a little flirt and the sooner her mama and papa took her in hand and
married her off, the better.

`I think it
would be expedient to disappear,' he whispered to her. 'I am afraid I have to
go away for a while, but do not let yourself be forced into this marriage, if
that is not what you want. Wait. Play for time. I will be back.'

But she knew
they would not let her wait, not James, nor Mama, nor even her papa who could
not, or would not, stand up to his wife. 'I am not being forced,' she said,
unable to explain how confused she was. She only knew that for five heaven-sent
minutes she had been happy, five minutes of a lifetime. How little that was to
hold on to for the rest of her life. 'It is my wish.'

`Then I bid you
adieu, ma petite.' He left her side and all eyes, complete with quizzing
glasses, turned to watch him go. Then they swivelled back to where she stood a
little to one side of the dancing area, alone and apparently not quite
composed. There was a collective sigh that was audible all round the room.

James was
striding towards her, determination etched on his face. She moved towards him,
her face stiff with trying to smile when all she wanted to do was weep.

Philip returned to his apartment to discard his robes and
change into rough blue breeches and a coat of drab cloth that had certainly
seen better days, a low-crowned hat and scuffed French army boots. Then he
hurried down the steps and mounted his horse, walking it slowly down the length
of Piccadilly before turning north into Park Lane, which would take him past
the end of Mount Street.

It was almost
dawn and the ball must have long-since ended, the guests departed. What had
happened after he left? Had she succumbed to persuasion? Sitting upright in his
saddle, he relived the few short minutes they had danced together. He dreamed
of having her in his arms again, kissing her again, of telling her he loved
her. Because he did love her; it was no use denying it. 'Wait,' he had told
her. 'Play for time.' But had she understood? He doubted it.

Without knowing
why he did it, he turned into Mount Street and down a narrow lane beside Martindale
House that led to the stables and garden. Here he dismounted, tethered his
horse and walked forward. He was creeping about like a thief in the night and
to what purpose? Miss Martindale would be curled up in her bed fast asleep and
even if she were not, he had no right to intrude again, even if he had been
suitably dressed to go calling. All there was to say had been said and it was
not in his power to change either his circumstances or hers. He glanced up at
the back of the house. Everywhere was in darkness.

And then he saw
a shadow flitting between the bushes, which was there one moment and gone the
next. He was not the only one slinking about. A real thief? Or someone who
intended to harm Lord Martindale? His death would cause a furore in government
circles and would certainly please his country's enemies. Philip crept forward
silently, making for the spot where he had last seen the shadow. He was
momentarily taken aback when the figure came into view. She was wearing a long
black burnous that covered her almost completely, but he knew those eyes, even
in the poor light of a moonlit garden, and the way she held herself, they were
imprinted on his heart.

Startled to
find someone else in the garden, she turned to face him, but recovered quickly
when she recognised him. 'Mr Devonshire, what are you doing here?'

`I was riding
by and I thought I detected an intruder,' he said. 'I did not know it was you.
I am sorry if I startled you.'

`I needed a
breath of fresh air.' She was doing her best to keep her voice light, but she
was only too aware that she was trembling uncontrollably. 'I did not expect to
find anyone else taking a moonlight stroll in our garden.' It was then she
noticed his strange garb. 'Mr Devonshire, why are you dressed like that? The
masked ball finished hours ago.'

`I am simply
playing the part that Society has cast for me, a mountebank, a social outcast.'

`You are
bamming me.'

`Not at all.'

`Then is it to
do with your work for Papa or James?'

`James,' he asked
in surprise. 'Why James?'

`I don't know.
Except that you seem to be enemies and he has some curious acquaintances, one
of them dressed very much as you are now.'

`How do you
know that?' He tried not to sound too curious, but he had to know.

`I saw them together
in Richmond Park when I was walking alone the day of the picnic. I wondered why
the man was wearing a greatcoat on a warm summer's day. And money changed
hands, I am sure of it.'

`Perhaps it was
a beggar who accosted him;' he said, levelly. 'There are so many about these
days.' He paused. `But why are you not in your bed? You were not planning to
ride away into the night again?'

She smiled a
little wanly. 'No, I could not sleep.'

`Too much
excitement, I'll wager.'

`Perhaps.'

He peered into
her face. There were tears glinting on her lashes. 'Has the announcement been
made? Are you officially betrothed?'

`Yes.'

Inwardly he
cursed. 'What has become of the young lady who told me she would only marry for
love?'

`I am persuaded
that it will come. Mama told me she hardly knew Papa when she married him, but
theirs has been a very happy union.'

`Do you believe
you will come to love your cousin?'

`Oh, don't you
see?' she cried. 'I have to believe it or...' Her words trailed away and she
choked on a sob.

He reached out
and took her into his arms, realising as he did so that she was wearing nothing
but a nightshift under the all-concealing cloak and her feet were clad in the
Greek sandals of her earlier costume. He did not speak, for what could he say?
He simply held her close until she quieted.

'I am sorry,'
she said at last. 'You were right. I have had too much excitement. I had done
better to take a little Godfrey's Cordial to make me sleep than a walk in the
night air.'

`Perhaps. But I
am glad you did.' He put his finger under her chin and tipped it up so that he
could look down into her eyes. The hood fell from her hair, which cascaded free
like a shining silver river. For a long time neither spoke. Words seemed
superfluous. If she had been anyone but Viscount Martindale's daughter, he
would have carried her off there and then and been damned to the consequences.
But he could not and because he could not, it would have been thoroughly
reprehensible of him to tell her how he felt about her. That must remain locked
in his heart. He could give her no comfort and had no right to expect comfort
from her.

'If there is
ever anything I can do for you, it will be my privilege to do it,' he
whispered. 'You have only to ask.' Then, very gently, he lowered his lips to
hers in a featherlight kiss and seconds later he had gone, melted away into the
shrubbery, leaving her to make her way slowly back to her bed, so bemused she
hardly knew what to think.

Chapter Five

'You mean you took a walk in the middle of the night
dressed in nothing but a nightgown and a cloak? Miss Juliette, whatever
possessed you to do it?' It was almost midday and Anne, coming to help her
mistress dress had found her curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed with
the covers heaped up round her. Her face was flushed and her body hot as fire.

`Now, you've
caught cold. Whatever will your mama say? There will be dozens of people
calling this morning to offer congratulations, not to mention Mr Martindale,
who will expect you to be radiant. And there will be arrangements to make.'

`What
arrangements?' Juliette, eyes watering and nose blocked, peered over the edge
of the sheet as if she really did not understand.

`For the
wedding, miss. You can hardly have forgotten that.'

`Oh. Yes, but
we have not set a date. It won't be for ages yet.'

`Anyone would
think you did not want to marry Mr Martindale. You are not behaving like a
happy bride-to-be at all.'

`Aren't I?'
Juliette said dully.

`No. You should
be laughing and full of energy and busy making plans.'

`I don't feel
well enough.'

`And whose
fault is that? Of all the cork-brained things to do, that was the most
foolish.'

`But the night
was so warm.'

`So it might
have been, but you had been dancing in an overheated ballroom and drinking more
wine than you are used to. To go out half-naked...'

`I was not
half-naked,' she protested feebly, wondering if Mr Devonshire had been aware of
how little she had been wearing. Whatever had he thought of her? She had all
but thrown herself into his arms. But oh, how comforting it was there!

He had appeared
like a wraith, almost as if he had been waiting for her. But he could not have
been, could he? He could not have known she would suddenly decide she needed to
get out of the house, away from its cloying atmosphere, where the smell of
stale perfume, wine and faded flowers did battle with that of snuffed candles,
oil lamps and honest-to-goodness sweat. But he had been there, like a guardian
angel, large and warm and tender. That was what she had needed most,
tenderness, to feel that she mattered as a person in her own right, not someone
to be married off for expediency's sake.

She closed her
eyes a moment, reliving his kisses. The first, out on the terrace, while they
had been dancing, had been powerful and urgent and aroused in her a flood of
warmth that seemed to have as its source, that most private of places between
her thighs. It had made her cling to him in a kind of desperation which, she
told herself, was purely physical. It both repelled and attracted her, a
contradiction she could not understand. The second kiss, out in the moonlit
garden, had been very different, gentle, undemanding, as if he really cared
what became of her. But he could not have done or he would have offered for her
himself. And now the decision was made and her fate was sealed. Looking radiant
was the last thing on her mind.

`I really do
not know where you get your hoydenish ways, Miss Juliette.' Anne's voice broke
her reverie. 'It is certainly not from your mama. Now, I had better make you a
restorative and go and tell her ladyship.'

`You won't tell
her I went out, will you? I don't think I could bear her ringing a peal over
me. It is bad enough having you scolding me. I want to go back to sleep.'

`No, I shall
not tell her. I shall say I think you took a chill when you went riding on the
heath in the middle of the night. It will have to serve, though that was two
days ago and on that occasion you did have the sense to dress properly. Now,
you stay there. I shall be back directly.' She went off still grumbling, but
Juliette knew she would say nothing to her mother of how the cold had been
caught.

`You are to
stay in bed today,' she said, returning ten minutes later, carrying a glass
full of steaming liquid. `Her ladyship will be up to see you soon. She is
entertaining Mr Martindale.'

`Oh.' The voice
was muffled by a pillow.

`He sends his
regards to you and hopes you will soon recover.'