He was a few steps along the pavement and about to hail a hackney when a tentative voice behind him made him turn.
“You’re the gentleman who visited Hope the other day, aren’t you?”
Felix was struck by the girl’s angelic looks. Wearing a clinging long-line gown in white and silver and standing on the top step of Madame Chambon’s, she looked like an angel in the gaslight.
“Where is she?” His urgency overrode good manners.
“Will she want to see you?”
“Perhaps you know the answer to that better than I.” His heart skittered as she appraised him.
The girl squinted as if trying to decide whether to engage him further. “Are you the gentleman who knew her before she came to London?”
“It depends which one. There were two of us.” Felix realised this only as he spoke the words. Wilfred had always wanted Hope. As much as Felix had.
“The gentleman with whom she only recently renewed her acquaintance?” The young woman put her head on one side. “The one for whom Hope was a special surprise. The only gentleman she said she’s ever loved.”
Felix did his best to resist any feeling that resulted from her words. “Then why did she steal from me? If she told you she loved me perhaps she told you the answer to that also.”
“Blackmail.” The girl said it matter-of-factly.
Felix’s suspicions hardened into a kernel of vengeance. The pieces of the puzzle were all coming together, and he’d soon be searching for Wilfred as diligently as he was now searching for Hope.
But Hope was his first priority, and he needed to find her before another day dawned, though it didn’t stop him asking, “She said she loved me?” It was a delight to hear it from anyone’s lips though he’d rather have heard it from Hope’s own.
The girl nodded. “You’ll find Hope at Skittles, if she’s still there. Lord Westfall took her for a night out, though he might have taken her back to his lodgings. You know he’s going to make her an offer tonight?”
“An offer?” For a ridiculous moment, Felix misinterpreted her until she said, laughing, “What kind of offer do you think? To set her up, of course. That’s what all the girls here hope for. And Lord Westfall is smitten. He’s a good catch.”
The imperative for Felix to scupper Lord Westfall’s offer and make good his own was suddenly too great for him to stand there talking any longer. Bowing his thanks, he hailed the next passing hackney carriage and was soon bowling through the cobbled streets towards the lively premises of one of London’s most notorious courtesans. Felix knew Skittles’ lodgings well.
The party was in full swing, as it usually was at three in the morning. Felix had been to Skittles before, with Millament and others. Good food, good conversation and lovely women were the order of the day. The drawing room was a long expanse from which the furniture had been cleared for dancing at the far end. Felix scanned the dozen or so couples who were taking up the available space in a fast Viennese waltz. He could not see Hope. At the rear of the room, a few tables were occupied by card players, while to the side a supper table laden with tiers of rich fare had attracted a small crowd.
Felix made his way through the throng, nodding at various people he knew until he was accosted by Millament.
“Back in the land of the living again, eh?” his friend greeted him. “I dropped into Lady Hunt’s and congratulated your future wife, though she seemed surprisingly out of spirits. No doubt it was on account of you leaving before your engagement announcement to go gallivanting about at a renowned courtesan’s lodgings—though I’m sure you didn’t tell her that!”
“I told her I was going to my club.” Felix continued to search the room, looking over Millament’s shoulder.
“Jolly good! Great progress since last week. I thought you were going to retreat back into one of those blue funks of yours. Last thing we all expected was an engagement to Miss Annabelle Hunt! Sly old devil. And there I was, thinking you’d lost your heart to a prostitute, though she’s more than that, eh? What a beauty! She could pass as a duchess, eh. She’s here, actually. With Westfall.”
Felix cut him off impatiently. “I see Westfall over there. And she’s not with him.”
Millament shrugged. “She’s probably dancing. Oh, yes, now I recall. She went yonder with that fellow I don’t care for who, regrettably, is brother to your betrothed so you’re going to have to suffer his company, which means I no doubt will too.”
Felix stared after his pointing finger and took a step towards a closed door at the far end of the room before Millament clapped him on the arm.
“I say, you’re not going after her, old chap. Not good form, I must remind you. Not been yourself, have you, so I feel justified—”
Felix removed his friends hand and ignored his call for restraint as he parted the throng of merrymakers in his pursuit of what he’d find on the other side of the doorway he pushed through.
If Hope was alone with Hunt, it didn’t augur well, whether or not she was there of her own choice. Not that Hunt would have tied her up at Skittles and whisked her into a back room, with so many people about to witness his crime, he reassured himself.
Nevertheless, something malevolent was at play. Hunt was blackmailing Hope. The girl in the diaphanous gown had said it. She’d implied it was Hunt, and Hope had told Felix she’d been Hunt’s mistress before joining Madame Chambon’s establishment. What she hadn’t yet explained was how her fall from grace had come to pass.
The large room into which he stepped was empty. A few pieces of elegant furniture indicated it was a private sanctuary, but the half-open door beyond suggested Felix might find his quarry along the passage.
It was eerily silent as he made his way through the back of the house, opening doors but finding only neatly made beds and cold fireplaces.
Two more rooms until the last one. He stopped. He thought he’d heard a noise. It was muffled. A thud, a faint cry. The chink of something metallic landing on stone. He’d heard it often enough when the housemaid disturbed his morning slumber, dropping one of the fire irons upon the hearth.
Someone occupied the last room, and he didn’t care that he showed no restraint in bursting in. He gripped the brass knob, surprised and relieved that the door was not locked, and pushed.
The door did not yield immediately. Something was blocking the entrance so that he had to put his shoulders into it and shove with all his might in order to slide through the opening.
He was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes. Bathed in gloom, he could make out the figure of a woman, kneeling at the side of a man. A tall, large man in evening dress who lay, unmoving, blocking the door.
Felix was more worried about Hope than the unconscious man whom he was recognised as a horribly marked Wilfred Hunt.
“Hope?” Felix crouched beside her, his insides recoiling at the damning sight.
“I’ve killed him.” She didn’t look up, but kept her gaze on the figure whose right eye was smashed in. “I’ve killed him,” she said again, even more softly, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.
Nor could Felix. He didn’t think he’d seen a sight so gruesome and his stomach clenched, but overriding his revulsion was his terrible fear for the woman kneeling by Hunt’s side.
“What did he do to you?” Gently he put an arm about her.
The distant strains of the orchestra could be heard from the makeshift ballroom while the night caller declared it to be four in the morning. All the sounds indicated it was an ordinary night but Felix knew nothing would ever be ordinary again.
“He tried to force himself on me. I know I should have submitted, but I just couldn’t do it again.” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t give him the very last of me…of my dignity.”
She turned, her eyes luminous in the dark but she didn’t seem to register Felix’s identity. He was simply the man who’d stumbled upon her crime.
“Wilfred is dead, and I’ll hang. It was always going to end in tragedy
.” She sounded resigned, but then her eyes widened as if at last she realised to whom she was speaking, and she reached out a hand, her voice urgent. “Felix, please, don’t let them release my name until Charlotte is married! She needn’t know the truth of what I’ve become. It needn’t destroy her happiness. Don’t let my notoriety be known before Charlotte is Lady Hartley.” She withdrew her hands to cover her eyes, adding brokenly, “Otherwise everything will have been for nothing.”
Felix couldn’t help himself. He’d wanted to rescue Hope his whole life and now he finally had the chance. He took her in his arms. She didn’t resist but nor did she cleave to him. It seemed her fear for her sister’s happiness was more important than her own future; more important than anything else.
He kissed the top of her head. “Is that how Wilfred blackmailed you? By threatening to reveal the truth of your…profession…and thus shame and disgrace your sister, putting her marriage in peril?”
“He was blackmailing me over what he turned me into.” Hope raised her stricken face to his, then looked down at herself, her expression one of contempt as she contoured her ruby-clad gown with both hands. “I am anyone’s who can pay for me. Would you like me, Felix?” Her voice shook as she uttered the words that seemed to brand her as so much worse than she could ever be. “Before they take me away, I’ll give you a good price because I’ve always liked you. Truly, I have. And I know you once liked me. The night of the Hunt Ball. I wanted you to kiss me then. I’d never been kissed before, and I wanted you to be the first.” She ran the back of her hand across her face. “But, of course! That’s why you’re here. You were looking for me, weren’t you? You wanted to make me another offer?” She gave a bitter laugh. “A counter offer to Lord Westfall’s. Congratulations on your impending marriage, Felix. I’m sorry I just killed your future brother-in-law. I never meant to cause trouble. But please, try and keep my real identity secret, at least for as long as it takes for Charlotte to be married. That’s all that matters.”
“Hush!” He restrained her hands in his to stop their agitated plucking at her skirts then pulled her against his chest. “No one knows who you are, Hope,” he soothed, “and no one will know you’re associated with Charlotte. Ever. I’ll make sure of it.”
She sagged against him and began to weep. “I’m sorry, Felix. I must be filth in your eyes.”
He shook his head and held her tighter, kissing the top of her dark glossy hair once more and revelling in her need for him. It fulfilled his own desire to be more to her than he ever felt he could be. “Never,” he whispered.
Gently, he put her away from him and turned at the sound of a voice calling him from further down the corridor.
“I say, Felix! Where are you? Westy’s on the warpath, so if you’re up to something I give you fair warning. Good Lord!” Finding the door difficult to open, Millament had given it a good shove and now stood upon the threshold, staring at the grisly scene.
“Close it!” Felix barked, and open-mouthed, Millament obeyed.
Hope began to speak but Felix cut her off, rising, and taking her hand to draw Hope to her feet. “I found Hunt in the process of ravishing Miss Merriment, and I killed him,” he told Millament matter-of-factly. “When he rushed at me with the fire iron, I seized the poker to defend myself.”
“You killed him?” Millament’s eyes bulged. “You killed Hunt…your future brother-in-law…for ravishing a woman who’s paid by dozens of men to do exactly what Hunt was no doubt going to pay her for? And you killed him?”
“I was defending the woman I’m going to marry.”
“Christ, Felix, have you taken leave of your senses? You’re going to marry Miss Annabelle Hunt!” Millament looked bilious as he glanced at the man lying on the floor then added, “The woman whose brother you just killed defending a prostitute, in case I don’t have to remind you again!”
Felix fixed the young man with a steely stare. “Just between you and me, my friend, I shall offer you the truth before I concoct the story the court needs to hear.” He reached out one arm to draw Millament aside. “The truth is, I killed the man who kidnapped the woman I’d always intended marrying; the man who stole her virtue when he raped her, who then sold her to a brothel, and, because he was drunk on the power he had over her, proceeded to blackmail her so that not one shred of her dignity remained.” Felix took Hope’s wrist, but she resisted when he tried to put his arm about her.
“You can’t do this, Felix,” she whispered. “You can’t destroy your life because of me. Mine is already worth nothing. Don’t sacrifice yours for nothing.”
“For nothing?” He’d never felt more convinced of the rightness of his actions.
“It’s too big a gamble,” she said urgently. “You may think you’re being noble now, but you won’t when your life is hanging in the balance. Please, Felix”
They heard more footsteps. Felix dipped his head to Hope’s ear. “Don’t refute what I say. I have a chance of being exonerated if I claim responsibility. You don’t!”
“You can’t, Felix!”
“Why did you not contact me when Wilfred held you against your will? Or when he came back to blackmail you? Why? Was it because you thought my sense of propriety would be offended? That I’d consider your actions so dishonourable? Well, I am that man of honour you believed me to be, and I will not see a travesty of justice condemn you to death.” He turned to Millament, his heart racing, never more desirous of his friend’s acquiescence. “Promise that you’ll agree with everything I say! And promise me that you’ll ensure that Hope is safe. She must leave this house now. I don’t want there to be any association made between her and Hunt. Not ever, and certainly not until long after her sister weds Lord Hartley on Saturday.”
“Hope’s sister is to wed Lord Hartley?” Millament swayed with astonishment.
“Hope Merriweather left England for Germany to be a governess. At least, that’s what everyone thought. However, before she even made it onto the train she was kidnapped by this man…” Felix indicated Wilfred with a scornful nod, “and sold to Madame Chambon. That is the truth. We will, however, adhere to the fiction that Hope has, in fact, spent the last two years in Leipzig, and that she was, only this afternoon, greeted off the boat by Hunt who took her here, to this house, against her will, where I found her and defended her honour. In no way must her good name be compromised.”
“Impossible!” Millament shook his head, his horror having turned to measured concern. “Felix, I want to help you, but it’s impossible. Why, half the men in this room have slept with the woman you claim is as pure as the driven snow. Beg pardon, Miss Merriweather, but we’re speaking facts.”
“It can be done,” Felix insisted. He would not be dissuaded now. He pushed Hope towards his friend. “Take her away. Quickly! I’ll deal with this. Our first task is to keep her name out of the newspapers until her sister is married tomorrow. No mention of her identity, and remember, I have spoken only to you about that because I trust you, and you are the only one who can help us now. I’ll worry about the rest later.”
Chapter 15
Eighteen months later
“Goodness, darling! You’ll never believe it!” Hope couldn’t keep the shock from her tone as she stabbed her finger on the article in The Times.
Felix looked up enquiringly from where he was eating his breakfast at the table opposite.
“Miss Annabelle Hunt is to marry Lord Westfall.”
Felix stood up and went round behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder as he read aloud the news. Hope twisted to look at him, smiling as she gazed out at the snow-capped mountains and the past flooded back.
“Well, provided nothing happened to prevent it, they’re already happily wedded,” Felix said, pointing to the date.
Two months prior. Although it took a long time for London newspapers to reach the Black Forest, this one must have been unusually delayed.
“Are you all right, my love?” Felix murmured, in that concerned, reassuring way of
his that had been so hard to get used to. Not that he mollycoddled her. Hope had made sure he didn’t do that. But, for as long as she could remember, no one had concerned themselves about Hope unless it was to further their own ends.
She nodded.
“And baby’s doing well?” Gently he placed his hand upon her belly, not yet showing, but occupied by a growing little being that had, declared Felix, added a layer of joy to his life he could barely credit.
“Baby’s doing very well. And so is its mother.” Hope twined her hands behind Felix’s neck and brought his face down for her kiss.
They were interrupted by the arrival of the parlourmaid carrying a silver salver with several letters bearing London postmarks. Hope straightened, thanking then dismissing the servant. She had taken well to being mistress of her own household and every day basked in the relief that her past was not about to destroy the happiness she’d found with her new husband.
“One for each of us, including news from Charlotte!” she cried happily, bending over Felix to reach for a knife to slit the envelope, then unfolding the parchment. “Oh, and she’s having another baby!” she added when she’d scanned the page. “I wish I could see her children. And Charlotte. It’s been nearly four years.”
“Would you really?”
“Of course, I would!”
“I mean, would you really want to go back to England? With all its dangers?” Felix tapped the letter he’d just read. “It’s an invitation from the London Literary Society to speak about On Her Majesty’s Service.”
Felix had not idled his time away in their mountain eyrie. In between loving Hope, he’d penned an exciting spy novel which had started life as a distraction when he refused to return to England without his darling wife.
Hope clapped her hands, excitedly. “What an honour! You want to go, don’t you? Surely you need to, since you became Lord Lambton?”
Fair Cyprians of London Boxset: Books 1-5: Five passionate Victorian Romances Page 17