‘Bien! Now you must say yes, mademoiselle,’ Miss Bilodeau said, a satisfied smile on her prettily rouged lips.
It seemed pointless to argue and, aware that it would now be ungracious to do so, Catherine reluctantly agreed, though she was in no way looking forward to the outing. She had a sneaking suspicion Valbourg intended to continue their conversation about her taking a lover, even though she had said all she intended to the last time.
What did he think he could say this time that would possibly make the slightest bit of difference?
* * *
Yet another carriage waited in the street; this one a smart little equipage drawn by a single black horse.
‘Have you an endless supply of these at your disposal, my lord?’ Catherine enquired as they walked towards it.
‘A gentleman requires a variety of carriages to accommodate the needs of the evening, Miss Jones. This is but one of them.’
‘I see.’ Catherine glanced at the young boy holding the carriage, quite sure he wasn’t old enough to drive, and asked, ‘Where is your coachman?’
‘At home with a toothache.’
She stopped dead. ‘There is no one to act as chaperon?’
‘No, but that needn’t be a problem. You and I have ridden in a carriage before.’
‘Yes, with a coachman in the box and a valet on the back! You lied to me, Valbourg, and I do not like being lied to,’ Catherine said tersely. ‘I shall find a hackney and make my own way home.’
‘Wait. I’m sorry I had to deceive you, Catherine, but it is of vital importance that you listen to what I have to say. And I doubt you will wish anyone else to hear it.’
Torn between curiosity and annoyance, Catherine glanced back at the house. She had been ready to walk away...until that last remark. ‘Very well, my lord, but I’m warning you. If you intend to bring up what we talked about the other night—’
‘I said I had something important to say.’ Valbourg cut across her objections. ‘Can we leave it at that for the moment?’
Aware she had little choice in the matter, Catherine sighed and allowed him to help her up into the carriage. He climbed in beside her and set the horse to a trot, its high-stepping hooves clattering on the cobbles. She could feel the warmth of Valbourg’s leg pressing against hers, but was unable to move away in the close confines of the carriage.
‘You surprised me this evening, Catherine,’ Valbourg began in a conversational tone. ‘I had no idea you could play the piano. You are, indeed, a woman of many talents. And, of course, your beauty made you the belle of the ball.’
‘Thank you, but I could never be the belle of any ball at which Miss Bilodeau was present,’ Catherine said, refusing to be charmed. ‘She is an exceptionally lovely young lady, though I hope her forthright manner does not prevent her from being embraced by English society.’
‘I suspect her fiancé will take steps to instil a proper sense of decorum in her.’ Valbourg sent her a sideways glance. ‘Does that matter to you? The opinion of others?’
‘A strange question, given my career,’ Catherine mused. ‘But, yes, I suppose it does. I like to think people judge me for who I am rather than what I do, but I realise many don’t and that there’s nothing I can do about it. The people I care about know who I am. The others I just try to avoid.’
‘I can’t imagine there would be all that many.’
‘You would be surprised,’ Catherine murmured. ‘But now we have engaged in polite chit-chat long enough. I wish to know what was so important that you felt you had to trick me into coming with you.’
‘I did not trick you,’ Valbourg said, skilfully navigating a sharp corner. ‘I simply manipulated the truth a little. However, you remember that when we were last together, I asked you a question?’
‘As I recall, you asked several.’
‘None of which you answered.’
‘The reasons for which I made clear.’
‘Not really. You said the course of your future was dictated by the mistakes of your past.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then...and I promise this is my last question, if you could change what happened in your past, would you?’
Catherine turned her head away. Such a simple question. One to which a glib yes would likely prevent further questioning and send Valbourg on his way. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Did she regret having been foolish enough to fall in love with Will Hailey and to have given in to the desires that overtook them both? Of course she did. But could she honestly say she regretted the outcome of her mistake...Thomas...enough to make her wish it had never happened?
She turned back and met his gaze. ‘No, I would not.’
There. She had told him what he wanted to know. What was he thinking now? What would she have made of such an answer had she been the one to ask the question? ‘Have you nothing to say?’
‘I’m not sure what the right response is,’ Valbourg said, pulling the horse to a halt and securing the reins. ‘To be honest, I was expecting a different answer. However, it does lead me to my next question.’
‘No. You promised only one more and you have asked it.’
‘Agreed. But I don’t intend to ask this question,’ he murmured. ‘At least, not in words.’
Giving her no more warning than that, Valbourg turned and drew her against him, one hand gently grasping her chin and tilting it back. His fingers were warm against her skin, the scent of him sweet in her nostrils. Catherine tried to pull away, but he held her firmly. Then his mouth closed over hers—and she had no desire to go anywhere.
Desire exploded like a dried-up seed bursting in the welcome rains of a long-awaited storm. The touch of his mouth, the slow, sensual caress of his lips, set her blood pounding so that in an instant, the protective wall she had built around herself shattered, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.
But, oh, how she wanted this. To feel the strength of his arms around her and to experience the mastery of his kiss. It was everything she had imagined it would be, and more. Equal parts heaven...and hell.
When he finally drew back, he sat for a moment gazing down into her eyes. Catherine wanted to look away, but he held her fast, his thumb caressing the smoothness of her cheek.
‘Find someone to take care of you, Catherine,’ Valbourg said, his voice a whisper in the darkness. ‘You are a creature of passion. What just happened between us proves that. You need a man to protect you.’
‘I do not. I cannot!’ Catherine closed her eyes, desperate to shut out the sight of his face. ‘You don’t understand. You don’t know—’
‘I know all I need to,’ he said softly, his lips brushing hers again. ‘There is a wager on the book at White’s. An insidious wager in which your virtue is the prize.’
‘Me? But why—?’
‘Because you have become a challenge to them, my dear. A game they are determined to win and they will not let you go. For that reason, you must choose a champion. A woman on her own, a woman like you, cannot hope to survive.’
‘I have survived until now.’
‘Circumstances change. And as much as I might wish otherwise, I cannot be there to protect you from the Lassiters and the Tantemons of the world,’ Valbourg said, his expression darkening. ‘You need to put yourself under someone’s protection and to do so as quickly as possible. I will help you in any way I can. I have friends. Men whose values I respect and who would treat you with kindness—’
‘Stop it!’ Catherine jerked her face away. ‘I will not become some man’s mistress simply because you think I should or because some other man feels entitled to put me down as the prize in his disgusting wager!’
‘Then you invite trouble, Catherine, and trust me, it will find you,’ Valbourg said. ‘I urge you to give this matter the consideration it deserves. And I beg you to
do it soon.’
He might have said more, but Catherine was already clambering out of the carriage. She didn’t wait for him to help. She ran blindly for her door, tears of anger and shame rolling down her face.
How could this have happened to her? How could she suddenly have become the object of some twisted man’s lust? She had never spoken badly of anyone. Had never caused any of these men embarrassment or pain, yet still they pursued her and now with money as the means to spur them on.
You have become a challenge to them... A game they are determined to win and they will not let you go.
It was hard to believe that fine, upstanding members of society would stoop to such a vile and cowardly act! And yet, had she not seen evidence of such cruelty before? Had she not seen the coldness with which men cast aside their mistresses when the women no longer pleased them? Had she not heard stories about husbands who betrayed their wives after vowing before God and witnesses to be faithful?
Had a man of God not taken her child and denied her the right to see him?
How could she doubt that any man would stoop to such conduct when she had more than enough proof to the contrary?
Valbourg did not doubt it. Otherwise he would not have told her of the wager. She had to be grateful to him for that.
As to the matter of her recent behaviour, Catherine could find no words to excuse what she had just done. For five years, she had kept herself apart; maintaining a distance from the men who pursued her, knowing it was the only way of avoiding this kind of involvement. Yet tonight, the first time Valbourg had touched her, she had melted into his arms. She had let him kiss her until her lips softened and her body trembled, and now she was truly undone. She had allowed herself to be seduced by his kindness and reassured by his air of nobility—only to find herself faced with a most painful truth.
The game was already lost. She had chosen her champion...knowing full well she would never be the lady for whose honour he fought.
* * *
Catherine saw no sign of Stubbs or Moody as she let herself into the house and locked the door, and for that she was grateful. There was no way on earth she would have been able to deliver as convincing a performance as the one she had given the other night. Not with the memory of Valbourg’s kiss still sweet on her lips.
Thank God she was leaving London. She had to get away from here and to put herself beyond Valbourg’s reach. He was a threat to everything she had built for herself. Everything that mattered.
‘Find someone to take care of you... You are a creature of passion.’
The implication behind the words stung, yet it was their lack of truth that made Catherine want to cry. She was not a creature of passion. The roles she enacted on stage might call for her to engage in emotional and sometimes passionate scenes, but she was not that way inclined herself. Until Valbourg, she had not even felt the desire to be with a man. She had shut herself off from those feelings; convinced they didn’t matter. No man since Will Hailey had aroused even the slightest stirrings of her heart.
And yet, she had experienced every one of those feelings with Valbourg tonight. Why? What was it about him that made him so different from everyone else? Wealthy men appeared at her dressing-room door every night. Many with promises of jewels and gowns, others with offers of carriages and homes, yet she had turned them all down. No man had touched her...until tonight, when Valbourg had kissed her and turned her world upside down.
And what had she done to discourage him? Had she shouted or screamed for help? Slapped his face and demanded that he let her go? No. She had offered no resistance whatsoever. She hadn’t even asked for an apology.
Well, it was time for a change, Catherine decided as she closed her bedroom door and began to get ready for bed. Circumstances might force her into associating with Valbourg on the journey tomorrow and at Lord and Lady Brocklehume’s soirée the following evening, but after that she intended to have nothing more to do with him. She was too vulnerable where he was concerned. Her reaction to his kiss had prompted him to call her a creature of passion and to insist she take a lover. He had even gone so far as to offer to introduce her to a few of his friends. But not once had he offered to give her the protection of his own name. Even though he knew what was at stake, he had not given her that option.
How much clearer could he make it that he had absolutely no interest in her?
* * *
The marquess’s carriage arrived at precisely eight o’clock Thursday morning, and by half past, Catherine was on her way, her luggage securely stowed on the racks overhead and Mrs Rankin—who was still feeling the effects of her illness—dozing in the seat across from her.
Catherine didn’t mind. Mrs Rankin’s lethargy left her free to think about Thomas. It was hard to believe they were soon to be reunited as mother and child. The visits she had made to Grafton over the past five years had been sweet torture; long anticipated, but too soon over. And she was never allowed more than two visits per year. For that reason, Catherine spent every moment of those visits with her son, even if it meant sitting in his bedroom, watching his dear little face as he slept.
Her last visit had been particularly memorable because at four and a half, Thomas had been more aware of what was going on around him and of the people he met. He actually remembered Catherine and greeted her at the door with his bright, beautiful smile.
Eliza, who insisted on remaining with Thomas at all times during Catherine’s visits, hadn’t looked pleased, but Catherine hadn’t cared. All that mattered was Thomas and the fact she was with him.
‘You’re smiling,’ she heard Mrs Rankin say in a weak voice. ‘You must be thinking about Thomas.’
‘I was.’ Catherine looked up and smiled. ‘Are you feeling any better, Margaret?’
‘A little. I’m so sorry to have been such a bother, Catherine. It seems you’ve spent more time looking after me than the other way around.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’ve done so much for me these past five years, I can’t begin to thank you. In fact, I don’t know how I would have managed without you,’ Catherine said with a smile. ‘Those early days in London were very difficult for me, but you were always there with words of wisdom and support. You encouraged me when I was uncertain and let me lean on you when I was down. I’ll never forget that.’
‘Nor will I ever forget you,’ Mrs Rankin said. ‘The weeks following my husband’s death were very hard. I suddenly found myself with too many empty hours on my hands and not enough activities to fill them. But when Gwendolyn wrote to me and told me about you, I thought it might be the perfect opportunity to pick myself up and brush myself off...and it was. Being a part of your life these last five years and watching you grow from a nervous young girl into the successful actress you are today has been marvellous. And I am, of course, delighted that you and Thomas are finally to be reunited. It has been a long time coming, but now happiness is within your grasp. Ohh...’ She leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘Will this dreadful nausea never end?’
‘You should have stayed home,’ Catherine said, concerned about her friend’s welfare. ‘A long carriage ride was the last thing you needed today.’
‘Never mind. I wasn’t about to see you travel halfway across the country without a chaperon. I feel bad enough you had to go to Lord Alderbury’s reception on your own,’ Mrs Rankin said. ‘Had I known Lily wasn’t going with you—’
‘It’s not Lily’s fault. She had already made other plans.’
‘With a fellow, no doubt.’
Catherine smiled. ‘Yes, with Mr Hawkins’s son. And knowing how Lily feels about him, I wasn’t going to spoil her plans by insisting she come with me.’
‘But how did you explain things to Mr Stubbs? He must have been surprised to see you out on your own.’
Remembering the conversation, Catherine sighed. ‘He was. But everything tu
rned out fine in the end.’
‘Hmm.’ Mrs Rankin looked far from convinced. ‘How much did you give him this time?’
‘Five pounds.’
‘Five pounds! Oh, Catherine, that was far too much,’ Mrs Rankin said. ‘You know he’ll only demand more the next time.’
‘There isn’t going to be a next time,’ Catherine assured her. ‘When we leave Grafton this time, Thomas will be coming with us. Then there will be no more Stubbs, no more reports and no more being spied upon.’
‘I do hope so,’ Mrs Rankin said. ‘I would like nothing better than to see you and your dear little boy together again. But to be honest, I haven’t a great deal of faith in Reverend Hailey’s promises, for all his being a man of God. What man separates a mother from her child so heartlessly?’
‘I know, but I like to think Reverend Hailey did what he felt best for Thomas,’ Catherine said, repeating the words as though they might hold more truth now than they had in the past. ‘I had no way of taking care of Thomas at the time.’
‘He could have made allowances for that. You would have found employment. You wouldn’t have let that little boy starve.’
‘Of course not, but I don’t think Reverend Hailey believed I was capable of finding a job.’
‘Nonsense! You’re an intelligent young woman. You could have worked in a shop or taken a position as a governess,’ Mrs Rankin said. ‘But to be honest, I don’t think Reverend Hailey is the one who wanted the boy to stay. I’ve thought all along it was his wife. She’s the one who doesn’t want to give Thomas up.’
Her words had a disturbingly familiar ring, and Catherine was about to tell her what Stubbs had said when the carriage suddenly drew to a halt. Fearing an accident, Catherine glanced through the window, only to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw Valbourg approaching on a magnificent black horse that pranced and tossed its head as it drew level with the carriage.
‘Good day, Miss Jones, Mrs Rankin,’ Valbourg called through the open window. ‘I trust you’ve had a good journey thus far.’
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