Disgrace and Desire Read online

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘You will discover soon enough. Here.’ He held out the grey oblong. ‘Take it. I shall let you know the price for the rest.’

  She twitched the paper from his fingers.

  ‘How…how did you come by the book?’

  ‘You do not need to know that.’

  She put up her chin.

  ‘It could be a forgery.’

  He laughed softly in the darkness.

  ‘And would you have left me a hundred guineas on Hampstead Heath if it had not been genuine?’

  She bit her lip, regretting that first, rash action. She said, coldly, ‘What if I refuse to continue with this?’

  ‘But you won’t.’ His voice was low, just above a whisper, and it sent unpleasant shivers through her. ‘Neither will you leave town. Do you think if you bury yourself in the country you can escape the scandal? You know that is not true.’

  She put up her head.

  ‘If you publish I shall go abroad—’

  ‘And what of the Allyngham name? Such an illustrious history—are you content to see it tainted?’

  Eloise peered into the darkness. It was impossible to tell much about her tormentor: the hat and cloak concealed his body as effectively as he had disguised his voice.

  ‘What is it you want from me?’

  ‘You will continue with your engagements. I understand a party will be going to Renwick Hall at the end of the month. You will be invited.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Mrs Renwick likes you. I have heard her say she would like you to be there.’

  She turned away, shaking her head.

  ‘No. I have had enough of your games—’

  ‘If I publish that book your name will be disgraced.’

  ‘Allyngham is dead,’ she said dully. ‘It will make no odds.’

  ‘But others are very much alive, and they will suffer, will they not? Are you willing to risk their disgrace, perhaps even to risk their lives, Lady Allyngham?’

  She stopped. He was right, of course. Slowly she turned back.

  ‘How much do you want?’ she asked again.

  ‘I shall let you know that in due course. For now you will continue to adorn the London salons and ballrooms while you await my instructions.’

  He stepped back into the shadows. There was a rustle of leaves, then silence. She could see nothing. She put her hands out and stepped towards the back of the arbour. Branches and leaves met her fingers; there was no sign of the cloaked man. Eloise backed away. As she moved closer to the main path she held up the paper, still clutched in her fingers. Even in the dim light she recognised the writing. It was another page from that damning journal. Turning the page to catch the best of the light spilling in from the walk, she read it quickly then, with a sob and a shudder, she turned and ran out on to the path.

  Chapter Six

  After the darkness of the arbour the lamps strung amongst the trees of the Druid’s Walk were positively dazzling. Eloise looked around wildly. Perkins and Robert came running up as she emerged on to the path.

  ‘Did you see him?’ she cried. ‘He was in there. Did you see him?’

  ‘Wasn’t no one in that nook when we got ’ere,’ said Perkins. ‘We’ve bin watching all the time and no one’s appeared.’

  Hasty footsteps scrunched on the gravel and she looked around as Jack approached. He went to put his arm about her but she held him off.

  ‘Where were you?’ she demanded. ‘You said you would follow me.’

  ‘I did. I set off shortly after you. I admit the crowds in the main walks impeded my progress but I was no more than five minutes behind you.’

  Eloise shivered. Had she been in there such a short time?

  Jack took her arm. ‘You are trembling. Come away from here.’

  ‘No, I must know how he got into the arbour and how he left it again without being seen. There must be a back way.’

  Robert reached up and unhooked one of the lanterns from a nearby tree.

  ‘Well, then, madam, perhaps we should take a look.’

  With Jack beside her, she followed Robert and Perkins back into the arbour. The lamplight flickered over the closely woven branches that formed the walls. She pointed behind the bench.

  ‘He disappeared through there.’

  Robert moved closer, holding the lantern aloft.

  ‘Aha.’

  Jack’s grip on her arm tightened. ‘What is it, Bob?’

  ‘Two of the uprights have been sawn through. A man could squeeze through there.’

  Perkins stepped up.

  ‘Shall I go after ’im, m’lady?’

  ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘He will be long gone by now. We must take Lady Allyngham home. Run ahead, Perkins, and summon the carriage.’ He looked down at her. ‘What happened, did he demand more money?’

  Beneath her cloak Eloise crumpled the paper in her hand and slipped it into her reticule. She was not about to let Jack read it.

  ‘He said he will let me know his demands later.’

  ‘And did you get a look at him, ma’am?’ asked Robert. ‘Was he taller than you, fatter—’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I could not see. It was very dark, and he was disguised.’ She cast a quick glance up at Jack. ‘I am sure it is someone who was at the Renwicks’ party earlier this week—he knew I was thinking of leaving town. I wondered for a moment if it might be Mr Renwick, but he is such a short, round, jolly gentleman his size would have been difficult to disguise.’

  ‘But why should you think of Charles?’

  ‘Because the man said I would be invited to join the Renwicks at their house party, and I was to accept.’

  ‘So our villain is not a stranger to society.’ He put his hand over hers. ‘I should not have let you meet with this man alone.’

  Eloise said nothing. She found herself listening to his voice, trying to match it to the breathy tones of her tormentor. After all, Jack had been at the Renwicks’ and standing near to her when she had said she might leave London. And he had been nowhere in sight when she had emerged from the arbour. Had he been discarding his disguise?

  She tried to dismiss the idea as they walked back through the gardens. Her instinct was to trust him, but what did she know about this man? He was a soldier, but that might not make him any less a villain. Every nerve was stretched to breaking point and she could not relax, even when they were seated in her comfortable travelling chaise and on their way back to town. She was not at ease, being so close to Jack Clifton. She remembered that night on the Heath. Was he really as innocent as he claimed? He might well have had an accomplice, who had taken the money from the tree roots. She cast a swift, furtive glance at the black shadowed figure beside her. Had the man in the arbour been taller or shorter than Jack, had he been fat, or thin? It was so difficult to tell; the enveloping cloak and tall hat had been a very effective disguise. She thought perhaps he had been more her own height, but everything had happened so quickly she could not be sure.

  She turned to stare out of the window at the dark, shadowy fields and the houses flying by. Jack had kissed her once. It should be possible to compare that to her experience in the arbour. Both kisses had been swift and rough, but could they have been from the same man? She tried to think back to Major Clifton’s first visit to Dover Street. She remembered her surprise when he had pulled her into his arms, she could even recall the excitement that had flared within her, the dizzying pleasure that for a brief moment had kept her motionless in his arms. But she could not remember the detail.

  The carriage jolted over the uneven road and she was briefly thrown against her companion. Instead of shrinking away, she held her position, her face only inches from his shoulder. She breathed in, trying to detect any scent that might remind her of the man in the arbour. She leaned closer, desperately searching her memory for any little point that might identify the man. It had been very dark in that leafy bower, and she had seen very little, but
she had felt the man’s hands gripping her arms—that certainly had been very similar to Jack’s savage embrace!—and she had been aware of his mouth pressing her lips, and his rough cheek rubbing against hers. If it was the man sitting beside her in the carriage, there was one way to find out. Aware of her proximity, Jack turned towards her.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked her, concern in his voice. ‘Madam, are you afraid still?’

  Amazed at her own daring, Eloise edged a little closer.

  ‘I vow I am a little nervous, sir.’

  Jack put his arm about her shoulders.

  ‘There is nothing to be nervous of now, Lady Allyngham. I shall not let anything happen to you.’

  She leaned against him with a little sigh.

  ‘You are very good,’ she murmured, looking up towards the paler shadow that was his face. She felt his arm tighten around her. There was a momentary hesitation before he bent his head, blocking out the light. Her face upturned, Eloise closed her eyes and waited for his kiss.

  The feel of his lips, soft and warm against her own, almost robbed her of her senses but she battled against the mind-numbing sensations he was arousing within her. She must remain calm and make her comparisons. The man in the arbour had smelled of leather and snuff and wine. Now her head was filled with much more refreshing aromas of citrus and spices. The rogue had been content to press his lips hard against hers but Jack’s mobile mouth was working gently upon her lips, encouraging them to part. She almost swooned as his tongue explored her mouth, playing havoc with her already disordered senses. She had peeled off her gloves, now with a little moan her hand came up to his cheek. It was smooth and cool beneath her fingers, not rough and pitted. Suddenly it was all too clear; Major Jack Clifton was not the villain.

  Having established this fact, Eloise knew she should now draw back, but her body would not obey her. Instead of pressing her hands against his chest and pushing him off, they crept up around his neck. In one sudden, swift movement he caught her about the waist and dragged her on to his lap, all the time his mouth locked on hers and his tongue darting and teasing, robbing her of any ability to think.

  At last he raised his head and gave a long, ragged sigh but he kept his arms tightly about her, and she could not find the strength to disengage herself from his hold. Instead her fingers clung to his jacket and she buried her face in his shoulder.

  ‘Oh, what must you think of me?’ she murmured into the folds of his beautifully starched neckcloth.

  He rested his cheek on the top of her head.

  ‘You were in need of comfort,’ he murmured.

  She could feel the words reverberating in his chest.

  ‘I was, of course, but I should not have imposed upon you.’

  His laugh rumbled against her cheek.

  ‘That was no imposition, my dear, it was sheer delight. In fact, I think we should do it again.’

  Eloise was filled with horror. She had behaved quite as wantonly as her reputation had led him to expect and suddenly it was very important that he should not think ill of her. She raised her head and tried to slide off his lap, but strong hands held her firm. She blushed in the darkness, aware of his body pressed against her. The heat from his powerful thighs seemed to be transmitting itself to her own limbs and she had to make a determined effort not to wriggle. She said quietly, ‘Please, Major, let me go.’

  Immediately he released her and she eased herself back on to the padded seat of the chaise.

  ‘It—it is not as is seems,’ she began. How much should she tell him? How much could she tell him?

  They were rattling into London now and when she looked up the light from the streetlamps showed her that her companion was smiling.

  ‘How is it, then?’ he said. ‘Tell me.’

  Jack waited, watching as she clasped her hands in her lap, searching around in her mind for words to explain herself. She was such an intriguing mixture of shy innocence and searing passion. It was almost possible to believe she was a virtuous woman. Almost.

  ‘I am afraid I have given you a very false impression, Major Clifton. I am nothing like the Wanton Widow society has christened me. In fact, I—’

  She broke off as the carriage slowed. Jack glanced out of the window.

  ‘Dover Street. You are home, my lady.’ He opened the door and jumped down, turning to hold out his hand to her. ‘We will continue this conversation inside.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ She shrank back. ‘No, I do not think we should to that. It is so very late…’

  He grinned.

  ‘After the events of the past few days I do not think we need to stand upon ceremony, ma’am. Come, we will be more comfortable inside. Besides, your nerves are still disordered and I want to see you take a cup of wine before I leave. It will help you to sleep.’

  Jack helped her down from the carriage, but even as they trod up the steps into the house she was suggesting that they should continue their discussions on the morrow. Jack ignored her protests. He was reluctant to leave her: the anger he had felt when he realised the blackguard had escaped them was nothing compared to the cold, gut-wrenching fear he had experienced, knowing that Eloise had been alone with the villain. Lady Allyngham might consider herself a woman of the world, she might enjoy her flirtations with gentlemen of the ton, but for a brief time tonight she had been at the mercy of an unscrupulous villain, and Jack’s blood ran cold when he thought of what might have happened to her. With one hand possessively around her waist he swept her into the house and guided her towards the morning room, where a thin strip of candlelight glowed beneath the door.

  ‘Major Clifton, I assure you I am perfectly composed now.’ She continued to protest as the wooden-faced lackey threw open the door of the morning room. ‘There really is no need for you to stay.’

  Jack opened his mouth to reply as he followed her into the room but the words remained unspoken. They were not alone. Alex Mortimer was sitting in a chair beside the fire, a glass of brandy on the table beside him and his booted legs stretched out towards the hearth.

  ‘Alex!’

  The lady’s unfeigned pleasure at the sight of her visitor had Jack grinding his teeth. Mortimer, too, looked particularly at his ease. Damn him. He rose as Eloise went forwards, her hands held out towards him.

  ‘I did not expect you back in town for days yet.’

  ‘My business was concluded early.’ Mortimer took her hands and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Noyes told me you had gone to Vauxhall, so I thought I would wait for you.’ He looked across at Jack and raised his brows. ‘Am I de trop?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Eloise quickly. Jack noticed she had the grace to blush. ‘You know Major Clifton?’

  ‘We have met.’ Alex nodded towards Jack, his eyes wary. ‘Is it the usual practice to bring gentlemen home now, Elle?’

  Jack’s chin jutted belligerently. ‘Is it the usual practice to treat a lady’s house as if it was your own?’

  Eloise stepped between them.

  ‘Major Clifton escorted me back from Vauxhall.’

  Alex’s brows rose higher. ‘I trust you had a pleasant evening.’

  Jack was about to retort that pleasure had not been the object of attending the gardens when he realised Eloise was looking at him, such a look of entreaty in her blue eyes that he could not ignore it. He allowed himself a faint, mocking smile.

  ‘How could it be otherwise,’ he drawled, ‘with Lady Allyngham at my side? And now that you are safely home, madam, and have no further need of my…services, I shall take my leave.’

  There was some bitter satisfaction in the way her cheeks flamed at the inference. Mortimer frowned and took a step forwards. Jack braced himself for the challenge but it never came. Eloise put out her hand, palm down, saying coolly,

  ‘Yes, thank you, Major, for escorting me tonight. I am very grateful.’

  The shadow of reproach he saw in her eyes flayed his lacerated spirits. He cursed silently. They find Mortimer making himself at home in he
r house and she expects him to act like a gentleman. Clenching his jaw against further unwary comments, he gave a stiff little bow and retired, reminding himself that the widow’s behaviour really was no concern of his. But this comforting thought did nothing to alleviate the black mood that enveloped him as he strode back to King Street.

  Eloise watched the door close with a snap behind the major and let her breath go in a long and very audible sigh. She untied her cloak and threw it over a chair.

  ‘I am sorry if I have frightened off your lover,’ murmured Alex.

  Eloise swung round.

  ‘Major Clifton is not my lover!’ she retorted, knowing the heat was flooding back into her cheeks.

  ‘Well, I think he would like to be,’ mused Alex, pressing her down into a chair. ‘The look on his face when he saw me here was one of severe disappointment.’

  ‘It was?’ She looked up hopefully.

  Alex grinned.

  ‘Oh, yes. I think he could happily have murdered me. He looked most disapproving.’

  ‘Well, that is no surprise,’ she retorted. ‘It was a shock for me to find you here at this time of night.’

  ‘This time in the morning, actually,’ Alex corrected her, sitting down. ‘I was concerned about you. It is not like you to go off to Vauxhall with only Clifton for company. Unless, of course, you have decided to live up to your wicked reputation.’

  ‘I would never do that!’ she retorted.

  She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, thinking back over the events of the evening. She did not know what to do. About the journal. About Jack. He had been angry when he left, and with good reason. To find Alex waiting for them had been a shock. She was so accustomed to having Alex around that she had thought nothing of it, but a moment’s reflection had shown her how it must look to Jack. It confirmed all the disgraceful things he had already heard about her. She gave an inward shrug. It was too late now to worry about that. She turned her mind instead to the problem of the missing journal. She glanced at Alex. Perhaps, after all, she should take him into her confidence. He had always been her friend and she knew she could trust him. Besides, this matter involved him. It was only right that he should know what was happening. She said slowly, ‘You will remember, after Tony died, we searched for the journal and could not find it?’