If this was going to work, if the ton, and the obnoxious Mr Grubber, were to believe they were witnessing a love affair, they would have to spend a lot of time together and look as if they were enjoying it, too. He was right, she could hardly spend the entire time scowling at him. Yet if he was already undermining her defences in this short amount of time, she could be in trouble. The problem was that he was such a handsome devil. When he smiled at her … well, the less time spent thinking about it, the better. She was playing her game, and he was playing his, and she had best remember that fact.
Her concerns were put to one side, however, as a more immediate problem presented itself. Two ladies were hurrying towards them, curiosity alight in their eyes. One was older, perhaps in her late fifties, the other perhaps five years older than Dinah. She watched with trepidation as she noted the quality of clothes and jewels, and despite herself, her grip on Lord Lancaster’s arm tightened a little.
“Don’t be alarmed,” came the warm and reassuring sound of Lord Lancaster’s voice as he dipped his head. “That is Lady Obalston and her niece, Miss Price. Her ladyship is a dreadful gossip and, as I have never in my life been seen walking in Hyde Park with a young lady on my arm, she’s going to want to know who you are.”
“Oh,” Dinah replied, her voice faint and not sounding the least bit reassured.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do the talking, but if you want the story to spread, this is the best and fastest way of doing it.”
Dinah nodded, trying to ease her grip on his sleeve before he complained about her ruining his coat.
“Lady Obalston,” he greeted her, sounding as though he was greeting an old friend. “And the lovely Miss Price,” he added, stopping to kiss both lady’s hands with an odiously flirtatious manner that made Dinah want to gnash her teeth. “How do you do?”
“Very well, Lancaster, very well, indeed,” Lady Obalston said, raising a quizzing glass to her eye to look Dinah up and down in a manner that made her blush to her toes. She hoped she had chosen her gown well, as she’d spent hours anguishing over which one was most suitable. The dress was a fine cambric, a delicate pale green, with a darker green sarsnet pelisse over the top. She was rather too warm now as the sun was growing ever hotter, and she rather envied Miss Price her cropped silk spencer. “And who is this lovely creature and where have you been hiding her?” The woman’s eye was enlarged through the glass, peering at Dinah like an exhibit in a museum.
Lord Lancaster laughed, covering the hand on his sleeve with his own, a rather proprietorial move that Dinah wasn’t sure how she felt about. Under Lady Obalston’s enquiring gaze, and the jealousy she could see growing in Miss Price’s eye, she didn’t know whether to hang onto him for dear life or pick up her skirts and run. Good Lord. She’d never in her life looked to be the centre of attention and now she was inviting busy-bodies like this snooty creature to gossip about her and Lord Lancaster over tea.
“This lovely creature, as you so aptly describe her, is Miss Osborne. Miss Osborne, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to Lady Obalston and Miss Price.
Dinah curtsied and murmured a greeting, pleased when Lord Lancaster moved on, though the ladies walked with them. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, deflecting any attempts they made to speak further with Dinah, much to her relief. Once he’d managed to get rid of them, she breathed a sigh of relief. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up to find him watching her, a little perplexed.
“Don’t let the likes of Lady Obalston worry you,” he said, his smile as warm as ever. “She’s an old busy-body, it’s true, but she’s no one grand, you know. Married Baron Obalston when she was barely out of the school-room if the stories are to be believed. Must have been quite a looker in those days as her husband was a wealthy man and no fool. But she’s not from a grand family, quite the opposite, in fact, but she’s a respected figure now. She’s made her mark on the ton, and so shall you.”
“What makes you think I want to?” Dinah demanded, irritated for no reason she could think of, except for the fact that rubbing shoulders with women like that regularly made her feel sick to her stomach. She was more familiar with thieves and rogues than lords and ladies, no matter how she spoke or acted. For her, it was simply that, an act, a pretty façade. She didn’t belong with that set, and Lord Lancaster damn well knew it, too. He’d made that abundantly clear.
“Don’t you want to attend balls and parties and wear fine dresses, dance until the early hours?” he asked, something in his voice that told her he was genuinely curious now.
“I’d rather just have a comfortable home, know I have clothes I need not be ashamed of, a full larder, and money for books,” she retorted, wondering what it might be like to go to a ball and dance all night. She had wondered about such a life, of course. Joe had once brought home some old, tattered copies of La Belle Assemblée. They had been full of lovely prints of beautiful gowns and descriptions of all the fine ladies at some big society event. It had seemed colourful and glamorous, but also like reading of exotic places and far-off lands. It was something she would never experience, never see with her own eyes. Except that now, she would, but she was doing it under false pretences, and that made her quake to her toes.
“I’m sorry.”
Dinah looked up in surprise, wondering if she’d missed something of the conversation, and startled to see concern and sorrow in Lord Lancaster’s expression.
“I’m sorry that things have been so dreadfully hard for you,” he carried on, sounding so damned sincere that her eyes prickled. “I’m afraid you are right, of course, I have never known poverty or even anything close to it, but I can see that you have, and I understand your desire for security. I will help you get it, I promise.”
There was a strange sensation in her chest, an ache … a peculiar sort of longing. The desire to believe in it, in him, hit her hard and fast and she sucked in a breath, scolding herself and forcing such nonsensical ideas away. Anger hit her all at once, anger at him for playing games with her out of spite when she was just trying to climb out of the gutter. He didn’t have to make it harder for her.
“I think that’s enough for one day,” she said, her tone rather hard now. “We’ve shown ourselves off enough to set tongues wagging, so we have achieved the aim after all.”
He nodded, looking a little puzzled now as he turned and escorted her back to where his carriage was waiting.
“I’ve upset you,” he observed, sounding as though he regretted the fact.
“Not in the least.” The words were brittle but she didn’t trust herself to say more. She felt discomposed and anxious and she didn’t know whether to rage at him or burst into tears. Either outcome seemed equally likely. All she wanted now was to run back to the familiar shabbiness of her home, away from all the fine ladies and gentlemen and their curious glances and whispered comments. “I would just like to go home now, please.”
Lord Lancaster nodded and handed her up into the carriage before climbing in beside her. She saw the look in his eyes, though, the perplexed expression that told her he could not figure her out in the least and felt glad for it. She would not allow him to charm her and she hadn’t the slightest interest in charming him. This was a business arrangement for which he would be amply rewarded. That was all there was to it.
Chapter 9
“Wherein our hero undermines good intentions.”
Ben lay back in bed, one arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He’d woken earlier than was his habit, finding his mind full of Miss Osborne.
Yesterday had been interesting, intriguing, if he was honest. The young lady was a mass of contradictions and he wasn’t sure which was the truth and which was fiction, or if all was fiction. Maybe she really was everything he saw. It was perplexing. She was a puzzle to him and he discovered that he wanted to solve it more than ever.
On the one hand, she was ruthless and confident; after having been seduced into playing cards for her virtue and then blackmailed into
doing her bidding, he could hardly think otherwise. However, he thought she really was terrified about going into society. Whether her words about wanting security were true or not, he wasn’t so sure. She had certainly sounded sincere, yet he had never yet met a young woman who didn’t enjoy fine clothes and dancing, and spending money, too. A murmured voice in his head whispered that he’d never met a woman like her before at all. He couldn’t deny it.
The way she had clung to his sleeve when Lady Obalston interrogated him was gratifying. Just as he had predicted, it was better the devil you knew. The further she was out of her depth, the more she would cling to him, rely on him.
He’d had to admit, however, that he hadn’t realised how hard her life had been. Joe’s words, delivered at the blade of a knife, came back to him. They’d done what they had to do to keep body and soul together. So, the villain had taught her to fuzz the cards, and God alone knew what else. The lovely creature being forced to earn her keep in such a manner made an unwelcome feeling bloom in his heart.
Pity. It was nothing more than pity that such a beautiful creature should be brought so low. He would change that, though, once he’d won their little game. It would give her a life of ease, and he would have the pleasure of seeing that fierce pride melt away for the chance to be in his arms. Ben smiled, the expression curving over his mouth as he sighed with satisfaction. Not that he thought it would be easy. She had given a little yesterday, laughed at his jokes and smiled at him. Yet that temper and the defensive walls she had built about her were quick to go up again when she felt he was playing her. He would have to tread carefully. She would be no pushover. Strangely enough, the idea pleased him more than dismayed him. After all, where was the triumph in an easy victory? The spoils would be all the sweeter after a hard-won battle.
Throwing back the bed covers, Ben got to his feet and stretched. From the brightness behind the curtains, he predicted another lovely day. He had suggested they bump into each other at Hatchard’s. The grand book shop had been a good choice as he’d seen her eyes light up at the idea. He would buy her a book, he decided, imagining the pleasure in her eyes at his gift. It would be just the sort of thing she would appreciate. If he bought her jewellery, she’d be as likely to slap his face at all it implied, but a book, that she would be happy with. Afterwards, he’d take her to Gunter’s and buy her as many ices as she could eat. Such a frivolous pastime would surely be new to a girl who’d gone hungry as often as she had? The idea pleased him so much that he was in an excellent frame of mind as he set about his ablutions, startling Frost as he came in to find his master already up and whistling a jaunty tune. Frost was more used to finding Ben sleeping off the night before than such early morning bonhomie, but if he thought it an unusual start to the day, he kept his own counsel.
***
Hatchard’s was Dinah’s own personal vision of heaven on earth. It was all she could do not to stand and stare at the rows and rows of shelves and books that rose for several floors. She must have been wide-eyed enough, however, as Lord Lancaster’s amused gaze was more than obvious.
“I knew you’d like it,” he murmured, sounding far too pleased with himself. Anyone would think he’d built the damned place, she muttered, though she didn’t know why she was cross with him, only that it was safer than anything else. “Come up here,” he instructed her, flashing that slightly crooked grin she imagined made the ladies of the ton swoon with longing. Not that she’d noticed it.
On the upper level, a narrow balustrade overlooked the lower levels, and the whole place was light and bright and airy, virtue of a huge arched window. Dinah walked the shelves, realising that he’d brought her to look at the novels. Title after title beckoned her and it was some time later that she finally looked up, realising that she’d not said a word for … good Lord, how long had she been standing here? She looked over to see Dot snoring, mouth open and slouched in the nearest chair. Dinah grimaced. Turning away, she found herself further mortified to discover Lord Lancaster strolling back to her.
“I wondered if you’d notice I’d moved down the aisle some time ago,” he said, the words dry but lightly spoken. “I see my unflattering assumption was correct.”
“I beg your pardon,” Dinah replied, replacing the book on the shelf with regret. “I’m afraid once I pick up a book, I … well, I become rather absorbed.”
“So I discovered,” Lord Lancaster replied, a rather mournful look on his face. “After I’d addressed you for the third time and still been ignored.”
Dinah blushed, biting her lip, but he just laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t look so appalled. It was perfectly charming, I assure you. I have never known anyone to be so thoroughly entranced by anything. It was a good book, I take it?”
She nodded, deciding she’d best not tell him about it as she’d bore him to tears and they’d still be here at dinner time. If she wasn’t careful, she could get enthusiastic over such things.
Lord Lancaster reached out, plucking the book from the shelf beside her.
“Mrs Radcliffe,” he said, shaking his head and laughing. “I should have known you’d have a taste for Gothic novels. Come along, then.”
Dinah frowned as he walked away, giving Dot a hard shove to wake her up as she went. “But you haven’t put the book back.”
“No,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to the staircase. He paused at the top, turning to give her that devastating smile again. “I haven’t.”
“You’re going to buy it?” she asked, feeling a little aggrieved as she was longing to buy it herself, but she didn’t dare spend the outrageous sum of money it commanded. Not until she was certain her grandfather’s fortune was hers. Then, she promised herself that she would spend many, many happy hours in this glorious place and buy every book she could.
“Yes,” he replied, as he carried on down the stairs and she scurried after him. “I’m going to buy it.”
He stopped abruptly and Dinah ploughed into the back of him. He turned, steadying her with his free hand, his blue eyes grave for once.
“It’s a gift, Miss Osborne.”
Dinah stared at him, the strangest sensation in her chest. No one had ever bought her a gift like that before. Oh, Joe had always given her a birthday present. He was a lamb for things like that, but … somehow, this felt different.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, frowning at him and feeling wrong-footed. This wasn’t how he was supposed to behave. He was supposed to pretend to be nice … not actually be nice. It was all a part of his plan, a spiteful voice shrieked in her head. He was just trying to gain her trust, to get her into his bed and have his revenge. The cost of a book might be vast to her, but to him, it was nothing. Nothing at all. Yet the strangely hopeful sensation still fluttered in her chest.
“I know I don’t have to, Miss Osborne,” he said with a laugh, his expression full of warmth now. “But I can see how much you want it, and I want you to have it.”
Before she could say another word, he walked off and the book was bought and wrapped for her. Lord Lancaster carried it for her as they walked back outside. Dinah turned to see Dot trailing them, a mutinous look on her sour face. She scowled back at the woman who was being well paid to follow her about. Enough to drink herself into a stupor for several months once this affair was done with.
“Thank you, Lord Lancaster,” Dinah said, hoping he could see she appreciated the gesture. She knew in her heart it was more than likely part of his grand scheme, but the gesture had meant something to her and she wanted to thank him for it.
He looked down at her then, studying her face as though he was searching for something. “You’re very welcome,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “But I think you should call me Ben, in private, at least. We are to be married after all,” he added, giving her a mischievous wink.
Dinah huffed out a breath of laughter and laid her hand on the arm he held out for her. “I suppose I must invite you to call me Dinah, in that case,” she retorted,
wondering why the idea unsettled her. It was quite natural, of course, if they were to be on intimate terms, that he should use her given name.
“Dinah,” he repeated, and her name sounded different on his lips. She’d only ever heard Joe or Dot call her by her name, and it was a harsh sound when they said it. When Lord Lancaster … when Ben said it, it sounded altogether different, softer.
“It means judgement,” she said, the words rather hard and said in a rush, perhaps to remind herself of what was going on here.
Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, isn’t that apt,” he said, turning to grin at her. “As I was certainly judged and found wanting.”
Dinah frowned, staring down as her toes appeared and disappeared from beneath the hem of her gown as she walked, uncomfortable all at once. His words were true enough. She had judged him. She’d seen a man with every opportunity at his fingertips, squandering his life on loose living and dissipation. If she were honest, it disgusted her. Here she was, fighting to cling to the shreds of respectability, and forced to break the law to do it, when he threw away money for such a frivolous and sordid way of life. It didn’t seem fair.
“Come, come, don’t look so serious,” he scolded her. “I’m only teasing you. I know I deserved it well enough. I’m not ignorant of my reputation, you know.”
“Why do you it?” she demanded. “Why do you spend your nights sunk in such … such dissipation?” Dinah blurted the words out before she’d thought about them, and she braced herself for a strong rebuff. His way of life was not her affair, and yet she was curious. He didn’t tell her to mind her tongue, however. Instead he paused, standing and staring down at her with a startled look in his eyes. Surely, she wasn’t the first person to ask the question?
“What?”
Dinah hesitated, torn between saying what she wanted to and begging his pardon. She really ought to change the subject.
The Last Man in London Page 6