The Notorious Mr. Hurst

by Louise Allen

  Maude found her fingers were laced in his hair, that romantic mane of black that gave him such an exotic appearance. Her breasts were pressed to his chest so that the swell of her bosom was chaffed by the brocade weave of his waistcoat and against hers his heart was beating, disconcertingly out of stroke with her pulse. But she was only peripherally aware of those tantalising discomforts. Her entire world was focused on what he was doing to her mouth and the devilish skill with which he was doing it.

  Should a kiss make the soft flesh of her inner thighs quiver and ache? Should the insolent thrust of his tongue send shafts of desire deep into her belly, setting going an intimate pulse that made her want to twine her legs around his and press herself hard against him?

  He growled, a warning she did not heed, was incapable of taking, then his hands slid to cup her buttocks and he pulled her up against him so that the ridge of his erection pressed into the delta of her thighs. Now she knew what her body was searching for. Roughly he pushed her back to the hard wall, letting the movement rock them intimately until she was moaning in total surrender against his mouth.

  And then, just when she would have gone to the floor with him, done anything if only his mouth had stayed on hers, he released her, all but one hand, and stepped back. He reached behind him to fling open the office door and the light spilled out across her face when he tugged her into its path.

  ‘Now let that be a lesson—hell and damnation,’ Eden Hurst said quietly, loosing her wrist. ‘You aren’t one of the Corwin girls.’

  ‘No, I am not.’ Thank God, I can still articulate. She reached out one hand to the wall beside her, unsure whether her legs would be as obedient as her voice. ‘I am Lady Maude Templeton, Mr Hurst.’

  ‘Then why the hell did you let me kiss you?’ he demanded with what she could only characterise as a total lack of reasonableness.

  ‘One, you took me by surprise; two, you are somewhat stronger than I am; three, you are very good at it,’ she said coolly. This was not the moment to cast herself into his arms and declare her undying love. Besotted she might be, but she had her pride. One of these days he was going to tell her he loved her, but he needed to find that out for himself.

  ‘Well, I thank you for that last,’ he said on a disconcerting choke of laughter. ‘You are not inclined to slap my face?’

  Maude very much doubted that her legs would allow her to take the two steps necessary to achieve that. ‘No, I do not think so.’ It was so long since she had been close to him that now it did not seem there was enough air to breathe. Or else that kiss had dragged the air from her lungs. ‘Perhaps I should explain why I am here?’

  ‘You want a job, my lady? I need a costume mistress and a scene painter. Oh, yes, and a couple of handmaidens for the farce.’

  He kept his face so straight that she could not decide whether he was totally literal or had a nasty sense of humour. ‘I doubt whether I would be suitable for any of those positions,’ she responded, deliberately matching his tone. ‘My sewing is poor, my painting worse and I would make a thoroughly heedless handmaiden. I have come to congratulate Madame Marguerite on her performance and to broach a matter of business with you, sir.’

  ‘Business?’ He studied her, expressionless. Maude was used to male admiration; this indifference piqued her, not unpleasantly. Her Mr Hurst was not in the common run of men. ‘Well, shall we start with Madame and then we can agree a more suitable time for a meeting tomorrow?’

  Maude would have thought him quite unmoved by what had just happened if it were not for the tension that seemed to flow from him, fretting her aroused nerves as though he had dragged a fingernail along her skin.

  ‘You are without an escort, Lady Maude?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, daring him with her eyes to make something of it. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to find me a cab later, Mr Hurst?’

  ‘You are a practical woman it would appear, ma’am. And one with strong nerves as well as—’ He broke off. Maude turned her head to follow his gaze. From the direction she had come there were soft footsteps and the sound of nervous giggling. ‘Hell.’ He caught her hand again and pulled her into the office, closing the door behind them.

  ‘Mr Hurst, I declare you appear quite hunted.’ Now she could see him clearly. The golden skin that always seemed lightly tanned, the dark brown eyes, the sensuous, sensual, mouth and the elegant, straight nose. She had been correct—those were diamonds in the pin at his throat and one old-fashioned cabochon stone in the barbarically heavy ring on his hand. And as he turned to face her, she saw another glinting in the lobe of his right ear. It should have looked effeminate, but it simply gave him the air of a pirate and she guessed that was quite deliberate.

  ‘Truer than you know, Lady Maude. Perhaps you would care to sit? I fear you are about to be the audience for a private performance of a farce.’ He gestured to a chair on one side of the desk and went to take the other, a great carved monstrosity of a throne with eagles on the back and lions’ heads on the arms

  The door inched open. More giggles, muffled, then a girl came in, her head turned to speak to someone outside. ‘Oh Calenthe, I am so nervous!’

  ‘But why should you be, Miss Corwin?’ Hurst enquired in a voice like sugar soaked in aloes. ‘You are amongst friends here.’

  The girl gave a shriek and dragged at the door to reveal her companion just behind it. Maude blinked at the sight of two thoroughly overdressed young women clinging together on the threshold.

  ‘Lady Maude, may I introduce Miss Corwin and Miss Calenthe Corwin to your notice? Ladies, this is Lady Maude Templeton. I fear I cannot offer you refreshment as Lady Maude and I are discussing business.’

  Maude, who was beginning to get some idea what was going on, enquired, ‘No doubt your mama is waiting for you close by?’ Their faces were so easy to read it was almost laughable. ‘No? Well, in that case I will take you home in my hackney, for you most certainly should not be out alone at this hour. Perhaps you would be so kind as to obtain one, Mr Hurst. I am afraid I must forgo the meeting with Madame this evening, but I do feel that seeing these misguided young ladies safe home must take priority. Shall we say eleven tomorrow to continue our discussion?’ She knew she sounded about fifty, but her tone was certainly having a dampening effect on the girls.

  ‘Certainly, ma’am.’ He might not be a professional actor, but the manager of the Unicorn could dissimulate like a master. His face showed nothing but a slightly obsequious attention to Maude and a faint irritation directed at the two younger women, as though at the antics of a pair of badly trained puppies.

  Maude swept out into the corridor, amazed to find her legs steady again. Who these two girls were she had no idea, other than that they were certainly not of the ton, but she had no way of knowing if they would gossip about her. It was imperative that she kept them on the defensive, more worried about their own position than speculating about what the daughter of an earl was doing unchaperoned in Mr Hurst’s office at eleven in the evening.

  He led them through a maze of corridors and out into the night. Maude drew her veil down over her face and raised the hood of her cloak to shield her face from the crowd of gentlemen who were milling around the stage door, inside and out, while the stage door-keeper produced a hackney with a blast on his whistle. She allowed Mr Hurst to seat her in the vehicle before he stood back to allow the Misses Corwin to scramble in unaided. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. Until eleven, then.’ He stopped to give the driver an address in the city, then turned away as the carriage rattled out into the late evening bustle of Long Acre.

  Maude waited with interest to see what her two companions would say now they were alone with her. In the gloom of the carriage they fidgeted, whispered and eventually one of them blurted out, ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you, Lady Maude?’

  ‘What exactly do you not wish me to reveal?’ she enquired coolly, finding herself irrationally annoyed with the pair of them. Why she should feel so p
rotective of Eden Hurst she had no idea. He was more than capable of looking after himself, if their encounter in the corridor was anything to go by. If he had pounced on one of these girls in that manner, she would have fled screaming, just as he intended, no doubt. They quite obviously had not got a tendre for him, either of them, so what on earth were they about, risking ruin like this?

  ‘That we were trying to…um, encourage Mr Hurst into making an offer,’ the shorter one ventured.

  ‘For which of you?’ Maude enquired, intrigued. Yes, he had known about this plot and had mistaken her in the gloom for one of these silly girls.

  ‘With any of us. Mama thinks he will, because he wants Papa to invest in his theatre, but we aren’t sure because he never takes any notice of us. We don’t understand it,’ she added naïvely, ‘because we are ever so well dowered.’

  ‘Perhaps Mr Hurst already has an attachment?’ Maude ventured, finding her irritation turning into something more like amusement until she realised that might very well be the case. She had no idea—Eden Hurst was a very private man.

  ‘Well, if he has, it isn’t anyone from amongst the merchant families. Papa would know,’ the taller sister offered confidently. ‘And he can’t marry anyone in society, because of being a bastard.’

  That was a relief. Then Miss Corwin’s words sank in. ‘A…a what?’

  ‘Bastard. Although Mama says not to use that word and say love begotten, instead. But it doesn’t matter really, because his father was an Italian prince or something equally grand.’

  That would explain his colouring, Maude thought hazily. Was Eden Hurst illegitimate? She had never heard a whisper, although it was not the sort of thing mentioned in front of unmarried ladies. Oh, Lord, if he was, that would be another obstacle to overcome. Trade was bad enough, the scandalous world of theatre even worse. Being the love child of an Italian prince was hardly going to make it any better. Papa was going to have palpitations, poor man, when he was finally presented with Eden Hurst as a son-in-law.

  The hackney cab stopped. ‘We’re home.’

  ‘And how do you propose to get in?’ Maude enquired. They did not appear to be too worried by the prospect.

  ‘Through the service area.’ The girl hesitated on the carriage step. ‘Thank you, Lady Maude.’

  ‘Well, don’t do anything like this again. If I were you, I would not talk about this little adventure to anyone,’ she added repressively. ‘And please tell the driver to take me to Berkeley Square.’

  Maude was deep in thought when the hackney came to a halt again. The door was stiff and the light from the flambeaux either side of the Standons’ house flickered wildly in the stiff breeze. She almost tripped getting down, then stood shivering while she fumbled in her reticule.

  ‘All right, m’lady, Mr Hurst paid,’ the man said, leaning round to slam the door shut.

  ‘Oh. How kind of him.’ Maude felt very tired all of a sudden. The shallow steps up to the front door seemed endless as she looked at them. Her hopes for the evening had been vague, beyond making contact with Eden Hurst, but she had not expected to be ruthlessly kissed and then find herself chaperoning two girls.

  ‘He’s come along to see you home,’ the man added over his shoulder as the horse moved off.

  As she stared across the corner of the square she saw another hackney drawn up, a tall figure standing by its open door. He raised a hand in acknowledgement as he saw her looking at him, then climbed back in. Maude drew her cloak around her and ran up the steps to Jessica’s house, no longer tired.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Lady Maude, your ladyship.’ Jordan, the Standon’s butler, managed not to appear shocked by her unannounced arrival on the doorstep at almost midnight without so much as a valise about her person.

  ‘Maude darling, I thought you said you couldn’t come tonight.’ Jessica put down her book, removed her stockinged feet from the fender and regarded her with mild surprise.

  ‘I was trying not to tell an untruth to anyone,’ Maude explained. ‘Thank you, Jordan, a cup of tea would be perfect. And one of the special ginger biscuits if Cook has made any,’ she added hopefully.

  ‘You intrigue me vastly.’ Jessica curled up in her chair and waved Maude towards the one opposite. ‘You have been exploring at the Unicorn, I surmise?’

  ‘How did you guess?’ Maude kicked off her slippers and tucked herself up in the depths of the chair.

  ‘Where else would you have slipped off to? Reveal all,’ she commanded, reminding Maude that her friend had once been a governess.

  ‘I told Papa that you had invited me and let him think I was coming back here with you directly after the performance. And I told you he was expecting me to go home with him, without actually saying that I did not intend to.’

  ‘There is a word for that sort of thing. Devious.’

  ‘I prefer to think of it as considerate. No one was worried.’

  ‘Go on—’ Jessica broke off as Jordan entered with a tray loaded with tea things, bread and butter, some tiny cakes and the famous ginger biscuits. ‘Thank you, Jordan, that will be all for tonight. His lordship will let himself in.’

  Maude waited patiently while Jessica poured two cups of tea and then pounced on a biscuit. ‘I’m famished. Well, my intention was to visit Madame Marguerite in her dressing room and congratulate her upon her performance and while I was at it, just happen to encounter Mr Hurst and make an appointment to discuss a business matter.’

  ‘And?’ Jessica nibbled a triangle of bread and butter.

  ‘I, er…encountered Mr Hurst first.’

  ‘And he threw you out? You do look somewhat flustered.’

  ‘He kissed me. Ruthlessly, indecently. Without mercy. Until I almost lost the use of my legs. The man is a complete rake.’

  ‘Oh, my dear! How frightful, you must be devastated—’ Her face full of concern, Jessica put down her cup and began to scramble to her feet.

  ‘It was wonderful,’ Maude finished. It was beginning to feel unreal, like an incredible dream. Only, her mouth still felt swollen and all those alarmingly wonderful sensations kept rippling through her whenever she thought about Eden’s body pressed intimately to hers.

  Jessica sat down again with a thump. ‘Is that all he did?’ she demanded. ‘Kiss you?’

  ‘Yes, although I don’t think all is quite the word. But he thought I was someone else. He was extremely courteous afterwards and sent me home in a hackney. He followed in another one to see I arrived safely,’ she added in an effort to reassure.

  That a number of questions were fighting for priority in Jessica’s head was obvious from her expression. ‘Who did he think you were?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘One of the Misses Corwin, apparently. I’ve never heard of them, but their father is a merchant and he is about to invest in the Unicorn. The daughters are determined that one of them is going to marry Mr Hurst. Two of them arrived moments after he let me go, apparently hell-bent on getting the elder one compromised. I was able to foil that and escort them home, adding a warning about their behaviour while I was about it.’

  ‘The pot calling the kettle black?’ Jessica enquired.

  ‘Not at all.’ Maude frowned. She had been worrying about that as she drove back. ‘I have no intention of entrapping Eden Hurst,’ she reassured Jessica, and herself into the bargain. ‘Only of giving him every opportunity to fall in love with me.’

  ‘How can he resist?’ teased Jessica, relaxing somewhat.

  ‘Well, your darling Gareth could, very easily,’ Maude pointed out.

  ‘It was mutual, was it not? And I won’t lecture you, I promise. How can I, given what I got up to disentangling you and Gareth?’

  ‘You made a perfectly captivating loose woman,’ Maude said, deciding she could, after all her adventures, manage a third ginger biscuit. ‘Whereas I have no intention of doing anything more forward than making sure I am very much in Mr Hurst’s life from now on. Sooner or later he will come to realise he cannot ex
ist without me.’

  ‘It did not strike him like a thunderbolt at your first encounter,’ Jessica pointed out. ‘I might have been heavily veiled at the time, but I could see quite clearly and I have never observed a less struck man in my life. I described him to Gareth as an icicle, but an iceberg would have been more accurate. And he appears to have survived kissing you without falling at your feet either,’ she added cruelly.

  ‘He is probably racked with desire, the more he thinks about it,’ Maude asserted. ‘Another cup of tea?’

  They drank in silence, the plate of biscuits mysteriously diminishing until Jessica said, ‘You are sure, aren’t you, that it isn’t just his looks? I know I described him as an icicle, but he is also the most exotically beautiful man I have ever seen. It would not be at all surprising if you fell for that.’

  ‘You mean, am I being extremely superficial?’ Unoffended by the question, Maude brushed crumbs off her skirt and got up to place some more coals on the fire. ‘You forget, I have grown up surrounded by men of character. Dearest Papa, Gareth, to name but two. I could not possibly love or marry a man without intelligence, drive, fine qualities. Yes, I was attracted to Eden Hurst because of his looks. But it was also his presence, his strength.

  ‘And then the more I found out about him, the more I admired him. He has revived the Unicorn’s fortunes in mere months in the face of the Patent theatres’ opposition, created a vehicle in England for Madame Marguerite when she was known only by reputation. And everyone says he managed one of the most successful theatre companies on the Continent—and that cannot have been easy under the circumstances of the past years.’

  ‘How old is he?’ Jessica asked. ‘Thirty, at least, I would have thought.’

  ‘I do not know.’ Maude frowned into the hot centre of the fire. ‘I can’t find out anything like that about him, who his parents are, where he was born, when.’ She was not going to mention the rumour about his father. Time enough to cross that bridge when she had to.