Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  How convenient of Waxton's little brother to appear on the scene. Now he could bring the little bitch to Hunt.

  Chapter Seven

  A knock sounded at the door. Ellen glanced up from the script of Cleopatra she was reviewing for next week's new performance. The Royal Theater changed its production so often that she found that once she had a play memorized, she had only to look over the lines of the particular character she would play for the coming performances. Next week she would play Cleopatra, a part she'd played so often that she had only to refresh her memory.

  "You want me to get it?" Richard was playing a game of solitary cards at a small gaming table across the room. It was late afternoon, a comfortable time when Richard and Ellen simply enjoyed each other's company.

  The knock came again, more insistent this time.

  She glanced at the door. "Please. It's probably just a messenger from the theater. I told John to let me know if the rehearsal schedule changed."

  Richard laid aside the deck of cards and strode to the paneled door.

  "For Mistress Scarlet," a young man's voice stated.

  Ellen looked up to see a boy in dirty breeches trying to hand Richard a basket of out-of-season fruits. Richard looked over his shoulder as if to ask if he should turn the child away. Ellen got up and came to the door to push a farthing into the boy's hand. There was no need to ask who had sent the gift; she knew.

  "I thought you told him not to send anything else," Richard said stiffly.

  Ellen took the basket from the boy, who bobbed his head and ran down the steps. "I did." She closed the door with her bare foot.

  Richard eyed the note nestled among the exotic fruits. "So, does your mouth say no whilst your eyes say yes?"

  She watched him return to his card game. She hated this friction between them, but there seemed to be no easy way to soothe. Even if she never saw Gavin Merrick again, Richard would know Ellen had cared deeply for him. He would know.

  "I haven't seen him since the night he brought me home, Richard, you know that."

  "I know what you tell me."

  Ellen frowned but made no comment as she extracted the note from beneath an orange and unfolded it. Just one last time, the floral script of Gavin's handwriting read. Come, She refolded the note carefully.

  "I tell you the truth and you know it, Richard Chambray. You cursed well know it!" She set down the basket but held onto the note.

  It's only fair that I say goodbye, she thought. I owe him that courtesy. She tried to push from her mind the thought that she needed to see him one last time. She needed to make him understand that there was danger in their meeting, without revealing the nature of the danger.

  She'd just go to his door. She wouldn't go in. She wouldn't give him a chance to wile her with his charm. She'd just say goodbye and thank him for what he had done for her.

  Of course, she could never tell him how much his friendship had meant to her. How he had healed her wounds, much in the same way Richard had. Gavin had made her aware of her own sexuality and convinced her that all such emotions were not sordid or wrongful. He had brought her one step closer to recovering from her husband's abuse. He had convinced her that perhaps someday she could love a man and be loved.

  Ellen looked up. "I think I should tell him myself, Richard."

  He looked up from the card game he was pretending to once again be occupied with. "I'll not argue with you, because I know it's senseless. At least let me go with you."

  She went to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. Her dear Richard, her dear, gallant, loving Richard. "I need no protection from Gavin. The coachman will be enough. I'll even take along Rose if it will make you feel better."

  Richard started to speak but, seeing the look in her eyes, remained silent. "You have to do it alone," he said finally.

  She smiled bittersweetly. "I have to do it alone, Richard, because I could have loved him."

  Richard looked away, trying to control the emotions he struggled with. "Are you certain you don't?"

  Ellen hesitated at the door of Gavin's upstairs apartments at the Tres Fleurs, on a fashionable street in Covent Garden. She had left her maid in the coach below, ordering the coachman to wait. She'd only be a moment, she'd said.

  But standing here at Gavin's door, she was having a difficult time even bringing herself to lift the doorknocker and allow it to fall. She fiddled with her mother's crucifix worn around her neck. Ellen wasn't certain what she should say. Should she be abrupt and unemotional, simply saying she didn't want to see nor hear from him again? Or should she tell him how much he meant to her and how it hurt to break off their relationship? Should she speak of love, something she knew so little about? Somehow that didn't seem appropriate in this age, when there was no love between the ladies and gentlemen who came to the theater. Love was out of fashion for certain folks in Stuart's court.

  But didn't that make the seed of her emotions all the more precious? Wasn't Gavin the kind of man who would think so?

  Ellen sighed. There was no need to get into this with him. Gavin had made no proclamations of love. She was under no obligation to say anything other than to please not try to contact her again.

  Ellen rapped on the door before she lost her nerve. For a moment she heard nothing, then a door from within opened. She heard hearty male voices, then light footsteps.

  A blackamoor boy of ten or twelve, wearing colored robes and a turban, answered the door. He spoke perfect English, but with a liquid smooth accent. "Yes, mistress, might I tell the master who calls?"

  She twisted a piece of ribbon at the point of her bodice. Gavin had visitors. He hadn't expected her to come immediately. "Tell . . . tell your master it's Ellen."

  "Won't you come in?" The boy swung the door open a little farther.

  She stepped out of view of the men gathered around a table. "No. I'll wait here. Tell him I'll only take a moment of his time."

  Reluctantly, the blackamoor closed the door, leaving Ellen alone on the stair landing. Not a minute passed before it opened again and Gavin's tall frame filled the doorway.

  "Ellen." He was surprised but obviously glad to see her. He was dressed casually in heather-blue breeches and a light linen shirt cut in the colonial style. His hair was braided in the back the way she had seen in paintings of savages, but it was dashingly attractive on him.

  Their gazes met and he reached for her hand. "Come in. I didn't expect to see you. I have guests . . . friends from America. I want you to meet them."

  She pulled her hand away, fearful his touch would weaken her resolve. "No." She looked down. "I'll not come in."

  "Of course. You don't want to be seen. You don't want Chambray to know you've come. I'll send them away." He turned to call to his servant, but Ellen stopped him.

  "Please, Gavin. It's not Richard; he knows I'm here." She twisted her hands. "I can't stay, and I don't want you to make what I have to say any more difficult than it must be."

  He studied her face for a moment and then stepped into the hall, closing the door and blocking out the sounds of his friends' laughter. The smile was gone from his face. "Richard's turned you out? Don't be upset, love. I'll take you in. I said so before. Why, you could well come here. The apartment is large and I'm hardly ever—"

  He's going to make this difficult, isn't he? "Please listen to me, Gavin. Richard didn't turn me out."

  "But he's forbade you to see me, else he will, so you've come to tell me there'll be no more suppers, no more picnics."

  "No, no." She shook her head, looking away. "I can't see you any more, but it's not Richard's decision." She forced herself to look up at him. "It's mine and mine alone."

  It was Gavin's turn to look away.

  She watched him for a moment, and when he didn't respond, she touched his sleeve, barely a brush of her fingertips against the soft linen. "You don't understand . . ."

  "By the king's cod, Ellen! No, I don't understand. What kind of man is this Chambray that he would give his wom
an permission, whore or nay, to see another man? What the hell has he got on you that you must make this choice?"

  She held her temper. "I told you when first we met there were things you mustn't know."

  "Things Chambray is aware of and holds over you, no doubt?" he snapped.

  "No. No, that's not it at all. Richard is trying to protect me."

  "Protect you? From me!" Gavin's baritone voice echoed in the plastered hallway. Somewhere below a door opened and then closed.

  "No."

  "Then from whom? What?" He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tightly so that she couldn't back away. "Tell me your dark secret and I'll protect you, Ellen." When she said nothing, he went on faster than before. "I told you, I don't know who you are or what you've done! I know you could never have done anything so terrible that the wrong cannot be righted."

  Her lower lip trembled. "You truly care for me, don't you?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

  He brought his face so close that she could see the speckles of amber in his dark eyes. "I do, more than I want to admit even to myself. You've gotten under my skin, Ellen. I'm enamored, entranced. I can't give you up . . . not yet, Ellen. Not this way."

  "It's dangerous."

  He brought his lips to hers. "Tell me what Chambray knows that I don't. It's the only way I can aid you."

  She shook her head with the slightest motion, intoxicated by the warmth of his lips. "I can't."

  He kissed her again, the pressure of his mouth more forceful this time. She couldn't resist her own response and she wondered, as she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, if he could taste her desperation.

  She wanted Gavin. Ellen could deny the fact no longer. No matter how much she loved Richard, she wanted this man. But the physical want that ached inside her didn't alter the fact that what Richard had said was true. She knew nothing of Gavin Merrick. There was no way she could be certain that any involvement with him might not lead to a confrontation with Hunt or one of his men. It was true Hunt was said to be in France, but as Richard reminded her, how long would he stay away from home?

  Gavin ran his finger through the curls at Ellen's temples. His mouth touched hers again and again, sending her mind swirling and her thoughts askew.

  She felt the rough plaster wall against her back. Somehow Gavin had turned her around and now pressed her against the wall, his mouth on hers, his tongue delving deep. She could feel his hand on her breasts, squeezing gently, sending shivers of sweet pleasure through her limbs as she tightened their embrace.

  "Gavin . . ." She whispered his name, her fingers finding his crown of dark hair as he kissed a trail of lingering heat down her neck and across the bare flesh that rested above the line of her deeply cut bodice. When he slid the neckline of silk taffeta down off her shoulder to reveal yet more of her breasts, she caught his shoulders.

  "Gavin . . ." She was breathless, wanting more yet fearful that if she didn't stop him now, she'd lose her virginity here in this dark hallway. At some point Gavin had thrust his knee between her legs and she had shamelessly tightened her thighs around it, savoring the throbbing heat of the steady pressure against her woman's mound.

  "Gavin, please, not here."

  "Tell me you'll not leave me. I'll be here but a few months longer and then I sail, Ellen." He brought his lips to hers again, his voice as raspy with passion as her own. "Tell me we still have this time together, Chambray and secrets be damned!"

  She closed her eyes, flattening her palms against the wall. "Yes." She lifted her chin to receive yet another brush of his lips against hers.

  "Yes?"

  "Yes, but I must be careful." Her dark lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes and studied his. "It could mean my life, Gavin."

  He rested his cheek in the hollow between her shoulder and neck. Carefully, he lifted the neckline of her gown and replaced it as best he could. "I didn't mean to fondle you in the stairwell," he apologized. He smoothed the taffeta, unable to resist touching her soft skin with his fingertips. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend for it to happen like this. I thought myself a scant more romantic, or at least more sophisticated."

  She laughed, taking his cheeks in her damp palms. "No apologies. Suddenly I crave your touch. I'm a wanton woman, it seems."

  "No." He kissed her gently. "Not you. Not my sweet Ellen."

  She cut her eyes away from him. "Your sweet Ellen who walks the boards of the king's stage and lives with a man not her husband?"

  He touched her breast lightly. "The heart tells the end truth in all matters, don't you know that?"

  "I know not much of the heart. I've little experience with that. But what I do know is that I have to go. If Richard's coachman comes up the steps to see us groping in the hallway, he may try to defend me." She laughed, her voice still husky, as she untangled herself from Gavin's arms.

  "Come again—tomorrow night. There'll be no fumbling in the hallway, I can assure you."

  She shook her head, taking a step back as she attempted to make herself a little more presentable. Her gown was twisted and wrinkled, her hair in slight disarray. "I can't come tomorrow night. Not here. An inn, perhaps."

  "If you're afraid to be alone with me, I swear I'd not force you to do anything against your will. I'm not a man who finds pleasure in rape."

  She smoothed her cheeks, knowing they were flushed. Even standing here at arm's length from Gavin, she could feel a magnetism that was difficult to resist. She wanted to feel his arms around her, she wanted to taste his lips. She wanted to know what it was to lie with a man, but Ellen knew that making love with Gavin would only bring heartache, if not tomorrow, then the next day.

  "It's not you I worry about, it's myself." She watched his face for evidence of understanding. "I'm not free to give myself—to you or to anyone, Gavin. I have no right to lead you into thinking otherwise."

  He grinned roguishly. "Your virtue should be safe enough at the Six Pence tomorrow evening after your performance."

  Ellen hung on the polished stair rail, feeling younger than she had in years. "The Six Pence, then."

  "And what of Chambray? Is he to be out of London?"

  Her gaze fell to her kid slippers that peeked from beneath her petticoat. "I told you, Richard knows I came. I'll tell him where I'm going tomorrow night."

  "I'd rather not have to duel for you, Ellen. Too many good men have died over insults, feigned or otherwise." He brushed back a lock of his own dark hair that had come loose from his savage's braid. "But if it comes to that, I'll meet him at Goodman's fields."

  "Richard would not challenge you to a duel. He's not that kind of man."

  Gavin's eyes narrowed speculatively. "Just what kind of man is Chambray, then? He has me more than perplexed."

  "I have to go, really." She turned away and started down the steps, but he caught her hand.

  "A farewell kiss?"

  She pulled back before his lips touched hers and broke away, tossing her head of red hair saucily. "Mary, come up! I should think I've had enough kissing for one evening, don't you?" But when she reached the bottom step, she turned back to him and blew a kiss in his direction. He was still leaning over the rail watching her as she slipped out the door and into her coach.

  "You've what?"

  "Richard, please don't be angry with me." Ellen sat at her dressing table in an azure silk robe with matching silk mules hanging on her bare feet. She was expected at the theater in less than an hour's time.

  "Don't be angry with you!" He snatched the hairbrush from her hand and slammed it down on the table. "I thought you had gone last night to say goodbye. I thought we had agreed that we didn't know enough of this Merrick for you to become involved with him."

  Stubbornly, she retrieved the silver-handled brush and yanked it through her hair. "It's too late. I'm already involved."

  "You mean you already laid with him?"

  She looked up at Richard's reflection in the mirror. "I mean I wanted to."

&nb
sp; He swore softly in French. "This couldn't be at a worse time, Ellen."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, Hunt has returned from France."

  Ellen's fingers gripped the handle of the brush tightly, her hand frozen in the air. "When?"

  "A week or more ago. I'm not certain."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" She tried to control the hysteria that rose in a great lump in her throat. "When did you find out?"

  He perched himself on the end of her bed. "I didn't tell you because I only found out myself last night."

  The shock passing, she set down the brush carefully and rose to dress. In action she remained calm, but her voice was shaky when she spoke again. "You saw him?"

  "No, but I heard Lord Edmond speak of the albino who returned to court this week. Who else could it be, Ellen?"

  She sat down on the edge of the bed beside Richard to roll on her sage-green stockings. Only moments before she had been lighthearted, excited by the thought of meeting with Gavin if only for a quiet supper. Now suddenly her world, the world she and Richard had so carefully constructed to protect her, was crashing in again.

  "What are the chances he'll ever see me except perhaps from the royal box? With the red hair, the costume, and my country accent gone, he'll never recognize me. He'll never look for the Countess Waxton in a common actress."

  "Probably not. And even if he does, I would guess that he is clever enough to know that as long as you hold the letter with his name upon it, you control him and his actions, not the other way around. Surely he knows that if he were to have you arrested for Waxton's death, not only would the authorities have you, but the letter as well." He frowned. "But then comes the next complication."

  Her stockings on, she rose to continue dressing. "I'm afraid even to ask, but what complication is that?"

  "I heard last night by the way of the same Lord Edmond that there's a mysterious man about town claiming to be the brother to the late Earl of Waxton. Edmond says he's in search of the woman who killed his brother."