Disgrace and Desire Read online

  Eloise struggled to her feet.

  ‘I did not untie him,’ she said, feeling the groom’s accusing eyes upon her. ‘But he is not our villain. The fact that the package is gone confirms it.’

  ‘He might have an accomplice,’ said Perkins, unconvinced.

  ‘Believe me, I mean your mistress no harm,’ said Jack, standing up and dropping the pistol back into his pocket. ‘I want to help, but to do that I need to know just what is going on.’

  He drew out his handkerchief and pressed it cautiously to the back of his head. Eloise saw the dark stain as he took it away again. She said quickly, ‘Yes, but not now. First we must clean up that wound.’

  ‘My man will do that for me when I get back to town.’

  ‘Then let us waste no more time.’

  She clutched at his sleeve and led him outside, leaving Perkins to put out the lamp and shut the door.

  ‘Can you walk?’ she asked. ‘Do you need my groom to support you?’

  ‘No, I will manage very well with you beside me.’ She felt his weight on her arm. ‘I am not too heavy for you?’

  ‘I helped carry you,’ she retorted. ‘You were much heavier then.’

  She heard him laugh and looked away so he would not see her own smile. She was not yet ready to admit to a truce. They continued in silence and soon the carriage lights were visible in the distance.

  ‘Did you ride here?’ asked Eloise.

  ‘Yes. My horse is tethered to a bush, close to your carriage.’

  ‘Give Perkins your direction and he will ride it back to the stable.’

  ‘And just how is he to get back?’ demanded the groom.

  ‘He will travel back with me in the carriage.’ Eloise bit her lip. ‘I think I owe Major Clifton an explanation.’

  Jack followed Eloise into the carriage and settled himself into the corner, resting the undamaged side of his head against the thickly padded squabs. The coachman had orders to go carefully, but the carriage still rocked and jolted alarmingly as they made their way back towards town. He peered through the darkness at his fellow passenger.

  ‘Are you going to tell me the truth now, madam?’

  There was silence. He thought he detected a faint sigh.

  ‘This morning I received a letter,’ she said at last, ‘asking me to put one hundred guineas under the roots of a fallen tree on Hampstead Heath. The instructions were quite explicit.’

  ‘And what did you expect to get for your money?’

  ‘The—the return of a diary. When I went into the Clevedons’ garden last night it was because I had received a note, instructing me to do so. At the base of Apollo I found a piece of paper. It was a page torn from a…a very personal diary.’ There was a pause. ‘I discovered it was missing last year, but with all the grief and confusion over Allyngham’s death, I thought it had been destroyed.’

  ‘I see. I take it you do not wish the contents of this journal to become public?’

  ‘That is correct.’ The words were barely audible.

  ‘And what is it you wish to keep secret, madam?’

  There was an infinitesimal pause before she said coldly, ‘That you do not need to know.’

  ‘I do if I am to help you to recover the book.’

  ‘If you had not interfered tonight I might already have it back! Who knows but your untimely appearance frightened off the wretch?’

  ‘He was not too frightened to take your money,’ Jack retorted.

  ‘Well…mayhap he will return the book to me tomorrow.’

  ‘You are air-dreaming, Lady Allyngham. In my experience this type of rogue will keep on demanding money until he has bled you dry.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes.’ He leaned forwards, saying urgently, ‘The only way to stop this man is to catch him.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘There is no perhaps about it.’ The carriage slowed and began to turn.

  ‘King Street,’ she said, peering out of the window. ‘We have arrived at your rooms, Major. Would you like my footman to accompany you to the door?’

  ‘No, thank you, I can manage that short distance.’ He stepped carefully down on to the flagway.

  ‘Major Clifton!’

  Jack turned back to the darkened carriage. Eloise was leaning forwards, her face pale and beautiful in the dim light.

  ‘I am sorry you were injured,’ she said. ‘And I thank you, truly, for your concern.’

  He grasped her outstretched hands, felt the slight pressure of her fingers against his own before she gently pulled free, the carriage door was closed and the carriage rolled off into the night.

  Eloise stirred restlessly. Such dreams had disturbed her sleep: menacing letters, walking alone across a lonely heath, bags of guineas. An encounter with Major Jack Clifton. She sat up. That was no dream. As the reality crowded in upon her she put her hands to her head. She had left a packet containing a hundred guineas on Hampstead Heath. The money had gone, and the diary had not been returned. She gave a little shiver as she thought of the damage that could be done if ever its contents were made known. On top of all that she had been obliged to explain something of her plight to Jack Clifton. For a moment she forgot her own worries to wonder if his head was hurting him this morning—perhaps he had forgotten the night’s events. The thought occurred only to be dismissed. Jack Clifton had not been that badly injured; witness the way he had overpowered her.

  Eloise allowed herself to dwell on that scene in the shepherd’s hut, Jack sitting on the floor, looking up at her with a devilish grin on his handsome face. And when she had knelt before him, fooled into concern for the cut on his head, he had not hesitated to seize her. She could still remember the sensation of being at his mercy, the shiver that had run through her when she looked up and saw the devils dancing in his eyes. It had not been fear, but excitement that had coursed through her veins, the thought of pitting herself against him, her wits against his strength. Angrily she gave herself a little shake.

  ‘Enough,’ she muttered, scrambling out of bed and tugging at the bell-pull. ‘He never thought highly of you, and after last night he thinks even less. You had best forget Major Clifton.’

  But it seemed that was easier said than done. As she partook of her solitary breakfast she tried to put him out of her mind but it was almost as if she had conjured him up when Noyes came to announce that she had a visitor.

  ‘Major Clifton is here to see you, my lady. He is waiting for you in the morning room.’

  For a single heartbeat she considered telling Noyes to deny her, but decided against it. After all, it was her servant who had attacked the major: the least she could do was to show a little concern.

  ‘Thank you, I will go to him directly.’ She rose, putting a hand up to her curls, and it took a conscious effort not to stop at the mirror to check her appearance before entering the morning room.

  Major Clifton was standing by the window, staring out into the street. He seemed to fill the room, his tall figure and broad shoulders blocking the light, and when he turned she was disturbed to find she could not read the expression on his shadowed face. He bowed.

  ‘Lady Allyngham.’

  She hovered by the door, wishing she had asked the butler to leave it open.

  ‘Good morning, Major. How is your head?’

  ‘Sore, but no lasting damage, I hope.’

  ‘I hope so, too.’ She gave him a tentative smile. ‘Won’t you sit down, sir?’

  She indicated a chair and chose for herself a sofa on the far side of the room. To her consternation the major followed and sat down beside her. Heavens, would the man never do as he was bid? She sat bolt upright and stared straight ahead of her, intensely aware of him beside her, his thigh only inches away from her own. Her heightened senses detected the scent of citrus and spice: a scent she was beginning to associate with this man. She made a conscious effort to keep still: she thought wildly it would have been more comfortable sitting next to a wolf!

  ‘M-ma
y I ask why you are here?’ she enquired, amazed that her voice sounded quite so normal.

  ‘I want to help you catch whoever is persecuting you.’

  Her head came round at that.

  ‘Thank you, sir, but I do not need your help.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do. Who else is there to assist you? I presume the journal is your property, so perhaps you intend to enlist the services of a Bow Street Runner to retrieve it?’

  ‘That is impossible.’ She glared at him. ‘If you had not interfered last night the matter might well have been concluded.’

  ‘I doubt it. However, I do acknowledge that I am in some small way embroiled in this affair now…’

  ‘Nonsense! This is nothing to do with you.’

  ‘I would not call having my head split open nothing.’

  ‘I should have thought that would be a warning to you to stay away!’

  His slow smile appeared, curving his lips and warming his eyes, so that she was obliged to stand up and move away or risk falling under the spell of his charm.

  ‘My friends would tell you that I can never resist a challenge, madam.’

  ‘And my friends would tell you that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

  ‘Quite clearly that is not true, for you are in serious trouble now, are you not?’ When she did not reply he said softly, ‘Perhaps you intend to enlist the help of Alex Mortimer—’

  ‘No! Mr Mortimer must know nothing of this.’

  ‘And why not? I thought he was a close friend of yours. A very close friend.’

  His meaning unmistakable, Eloise turned away, flushing. She said in a low voice, ‘You know nothing about this. You do not understand.’

  ‘Oh, I understand only too well, madam,’ he said coldly. ‘This—journal you are so concerned about: I have no doubt it contains details of your affairs. Details that you do not wish even Mortimer to know.’

  She gave a brittle laugh.

  ‘You are very wide of the mark, Major.’

  ‘Am I? Tell me, then, what it is in this book that is so terrible?’ She looked at him. There was no smile in his eyes now, only a stony determination. As if sensing her inner turmoil the hard look left his eyes. He said gently, ‘Will you not trust me?’

  Eloise bit her lip. She wanted to trust him. She thought at that moment she would trust him with her life, but the secrets in the journal involved others, and she could not betray them. And if he should discover the truth, she thought miserably that he would look upon her with nothing but disgust. Unconsciously her fingers toyed with Tony’s heavy signet ring that she had taken to wearing on her right hand.

  ‘I cannot,’ she whispered. ‘Please do not ask it of me.’

  She met his gaze, her heart sinking when she saw the stony look again on his face. It was no more than she expected, but it hurt her all the same.

  Jack watched her in silence. The distress he saw in her every movement tore at him. He wanted to comfort her, but she was no innocent maid: she had told him quite plainly she did not need his protection. So why did he find it so difficult to leave her to her fate? He rose, disappointed, angry with himself for being so foolish. He had wanted her to confide in him, to tell him she was an innocent victim, but it was clear now that she could not do so. Better then to go now, to walk away and forget all about the woman.

  ‘Very well, madam. If that is all…’

  ‘I am very sorry,’ she murmured.

  ‘So, too, am I.’

  A soft knock sounded upon the door and Noyes entered.

  ‘I beg your pardon, madam, but you asked me to bring any messages to you.’

  He held out the tray bearing a single letter: she reached for it, hesitating as she recognised the untidy black scrawl.

  Jack made no move to leave the room. Eloise had grown very pale and she picked up the letter as if it might burn her fingers.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘That will be all.’

  ‘Well?’ Jack waited until the butler had withdrawn before speaking. ‘Is it another demand? What does he say?’

  She handed it to him.

  ‘You had best read it.’

  Jack ran his eyes over the paper.

  ‘So he wants to meet with you.’

  ‘Yes, but at Vauxhall Gardens. That will be very different from Hampstead Heath.’

  ‘But even more dangerous. Much easier for a villain to lose himself in a crowd than on a lonely heath.’

  ‘He does not ask for more money,’ she said hopefully. ‘Perhaps he means to give me back the book.’

  Jack frowned. ‘I think it more likely that he has other demands to make of you.’ He gave her the letter. ‘He does not expect an answer: the fellow is very sure of himself, damn his eyes!’ He began to pace about the room. All thoughts of abandoning Eloise had disappeared. ‘We will need to use your carriage, ma’am, and I think it would be useful to have your groom and my man there. We could send them on ahead of us: they will not look out of place in the crowd; one sees all sorts at Vauxhall. We have a few days to prepare…’

  ‘We?’ She raised her brows at him. ‘I told you I do not want your help, Major, and I thought we had agreed I do not deserve it!’

  Jack stared at her, unwilling to admit even to himself why he was so determined not to leave her to her fate.

  ‘Allyngham saved my life,’ he said curtly. ‘I owe it to his memory to help you and to protect his name.’

  ‘Whatever you may think of me?’

  ‘Whatever I may think of you!’

  Chapter Five

  Eloise looked around the crowded ballroom. The plans were laid: tonight, very publicly, she was to invite Jack Clifton to escort her to Vauxhall. She experienced a sudden spurt of anger towards the unknown letter-writer: if it were not for him it would not be necessary for her to attend another glittering party. Lord Berrow was adamant that he could not sell her Ainsley Wood, so there was no reason for her to remain in London, and with Alex away she would much rather have returned to Allyngham than be walking alone into a crowded ballroom, knowing that nearly every man present would be turning lustful eyes towards her. She shivered: any one of them could be her villain.

  ‘My dear Lady Allyngham, you are looking charming this evening, quite charming!’ Lord Berrow was at her side, beaming and offering her his arm. ‘And no Mr Mortimer to escort you.’

  ‘He is gone into Hertfordshire,’ she responded. ‘But I expect him back very soon.’

  She tried to smile, but the idea that any one of her acquaintances could have the diary had taken hold of her mind and she could not relax.

  ‘Excellent, then you must allow me to take his place: can’t have such a pretty little thing unattended.’ He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘I know what you are thinking: Lady Berrow is happily engaged with our hostess for the moment, and I know she will not begrudge me a turn about the room with a pretty woman, eh?’

  She felt a tiny flicker of amusement at the Earl’s behaviour. He puffed out his chest and strutted beside her, showing her off to his friends as if she was a prize he had won. However, it was not long before she began to find his rather self-centred conversation quite tedious, and it was with relief that she spotted Major Clifton. He made no effort to approach and at length she excused herself prettily from Lord Berrow, who squeezed her arm and invited her to come back and join him whenever she wished.

  Eloise moved off but immediately found her way blocked by a stocky figure in an amethyst-coloured coat and white knee-breeches.

  ‘Lady Allyngham.’ Sir Ronald Deforge bowed his pomaded, iron-grey curls over her hand. ‘A delightful surprise: I was afraid you had left town.’

  She gave him a smooth, practised answer.

  ‘Why should I wish to do that, when so many friends remain?’

  ‘But you said, the other night, that you were tired of town life.’

  ‘Did I?’ She managed a laugh. ‘Let us ascribe that to low spirits, Sir Ronald. I am perfectly happy
now, I assure you.’

  She walked away, making for the refreshment table, where she observed Major Clifton filling a cup from one of the large silver punch-bowls.

  ‘You cannot know the happiness it gives me to hear you say that,’ declared Sir Ronald, following her.

  Eloise paid him no heed: she was watching Jack as he continued to fill his cup: she was sure he had seen her, but unlike every other gentleman in the room, who would have been at her side at the slightest invitation, he was studiously avoiding her eye. Stifling her irritation, she approached the table. Sir Ronald sprang forwards.

  ‘Let me help you to a cup of punch, ma’am.’

  Jack looked around, as if aware of her presence for the first time.

  ‘Good evening, Major Clifton.’

  ‘My lady.’

  His slight bow was almost dismissive. Her eyes narrowed.

  Deforge handed her a cup. ‘Your punch, Lady Allyngham.’

  She thanked him but turned away almost immediately to make it plain she had no further need of his company. As Sir Ronald questioned one of the servants about the ingredients of the punchbowl, she moved a little closer to Jack.

  ‘A delightful crush tonight, is it not, Major?’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Delightful.’

  His response was polite but hardly encouraging. She reached past him to pick up the ladle and add a little more punch to her cup.

  ‘Are you avoiding me, sir?’ she asked him quietly. ‘Perhaps you do not wish to continue with our plan?’

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mobile mouth.

  ‘Of course I do,’ he murmured. He took the ladle from her hand, brushing her gloved fingers with his own. ‘Allow me, my lady.’

  She carried the refilled cup to her lips, watching him all the time. His smile grew. He turned slightly so that no one else could hear him.

  ‘Well, madam? You must invite me to go with you to Vauxhall.’

  Indignation swelled within her as she noted the wicked glint in his eye: he was enjoying this!

  She raised her voice a little. ‘Have you thought any more about Vauxhall, sir? I should very much like to visit the gardens on Tuesday, if you will escort me.’