The Notorious Mr. Hurst

by Louise Allen

  Damn it, there was that sensation of…dislocation again, of things shifting. It wasn’t dizziness exactly. Like many very fit men Eden found the prospect of being ill not just worrying, but irritating too. He’d go and get a check-up. He couldn’t afford to be unwell.

  ‘Would you like me to let you know when I audition for the ingénue part?’ he asked abruptly. ‘It will be next week, the advertisements have gone out.’

  ‘Thank you, yes, I would be most interested.’ She sipped some wine, then began to study the sweetmeats with close attention. ‘I must only have three, you understand, more would be greedy, so I have to choose carefully. Do you have your notebook, Eden? I imagine you never move without it.’ Maude popped a strawberry-shaped morsel into her mouth and regarded him limpidly.

  ‘Yes, I have my notebook.’ Was he that predictable? He dug in his breast pocket and produced it.

  ‘Then please make a note to help Miss Golding find another position.’

  ‘You, Lady Maude, are a very managing woman.’ He made a note and pushed the book across to show her.

  ‘And you, Mr Hurst, never do anything you do not want to,’ she retorted, closing the notebook and handing it back.

  ‘No,’ Eden said slowly, feeling the light brush of her fingers as he took it, inhaling the heady scent of gardenia and warm woman. ‘Not always.’

  The sudden jolt of physical desire took him aback. She was single, unobtainable, quite out of his reach in that way and he had thought, now he knew her, his own self-control would have ensured he was safe from the heat that licked like flame across his loins. He had learned the hard way not to yearn for what his birth debarred him from, to take his pleasures where he was in control without the inconvenience of either attachment or snubs.

  When he glanced at her, Maude was cheerfully waving at an acquaintance across the room. Hell, she’d flee screaming if she had any idea what he was thinking about. Then he recalled their very first encounter. She had not fled then; instead, she had dealt with the situation calmly and with humour. Which, Eden decided, resolutely ignoring the rising tension in his groin, meant she did not consider him a threat in that way, any more than she would fear that any of the professional men in her life—her doctor, her attorney, her banker—would press their amorous desires upon her. That was, he had to believe, a very fortunate circumstance.

  ‘He has agreed to join the committee.’ Maude swept into Bel’s drawing room, cast her bonnet and gloves on to the side table and bent to kiss Bel and Jessica, who were seated side by side on the sofa studying a pile of silk brocade samples.

  ‘Who?’ Bel enquired, with a wicked twinkle.

  Maude wrinkled her nose at her. ‘Eden, of course. And he will take some of the men.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Bel smiled. ‘Another really forceful man on the committee besides Ashe and Gareth will be so useful. And we can set him on all the rich widows to seduce money out of them.’

  Jessica raised an eyebrow. ‘Eden? Are you on first-name terms now, then?’

  ‘I agreed to call him Eden, and to allow him to call me Maude—in private, of course—in exchange for him agreeing about the charity,’ Maude informed them smugly.

  ‘So he is moving the relationship on to more intimate ground, is he? Oh dear, Maude.’

  ‘I thought it was a step forward,’ she protested. ‘But I have discovered what he likes about me, and it is hardly particularly flattering.’

  ‘What?’ They both regarded her with gratifying interest.

  ‘He likes my lack of feminine wiles. Apparently I do not wheedle or pout when I want something.’

  ‘Perhaps surrounded by thespian temperaments he appreciates something less dramatic and easy to deal with,’ Jessica suggested. ‘It is encouraging, I suppose—if you are really set on this. So, what is the next step?’

  Maude had been agonising over whether to confide in her friends about the dinner. It would be the sensible thing to do. The prudent thing. But they would doubtless try to talk her out of it. ‘I am to attend the auditions for a replacement ingénue for the company.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ Bel drawled. ‘Of course you’ll love that. Who in their right mind would want to go shopping, or driving or making calls when they can sit in a dusty theatre watching auditions?’

  ‘Me,’ Maude stated. And realised it was not just the prospect of Eden’s company that made her so eager—she was looking forward to watching him at work. Would he listen to her opinions or would he tolerate only her presence? ‘I enjoy shopping too,’ she added, in case they thought she had undergone a complete change of personality. ‘What do you think of this hat?’

  ‘Delicious,’ Jessica pronounced, leaning over to pick up the black straw bonnet with its high poke, tall crown and row after row of looped and ruched green ribbon. ‘You don’t wear this sort of thing to go behind the scenes at the Unicorn, do you?’

  ‘No, there’s dust everywhere and people rushing about with pots of paint, or gesticulating with a handful of greasepaint sticks.’ And she did not want to look too obvious. Eden was going to wonder at it if she turned up in the latest fashions. ‘I’m wearing last year’s walking and carriage outfits mainly.’

  ‘Oh, those old things,’ Jessica teased. ‘You won’t catch a man by wearing last year’s fashions.’

  ‘You caught one dressed like a governess,’ Bel pointed out.

  ‘And I changed into garments fit only for a courtesan very soon after we met. I have a strong suspicion that Gareth rather preferred the latter.’

  ‘I am not sure Eden notices what I wear,’ Maude said, anxious. ‘He seems not to be interested in unmarried ladies.’

  ‘Really?’ Both Bel and Jessica looked relieved.

  ‘No, nor actresses, as far as I can see. But according to Lady Wallace he goes through married ladies like a knife through butter, just as you said.’

  Her friends regarded her with wide-eyed interest. ‘I knew I was right about his reputation,’ Bel said. ‘What else does Lady W. say?’

  ‘That he only stays with them the once, however much they plead. And that he is…um, spectacular.’

  ‘Spectacular?’

  ‘In bed,’ Maude mumbled, wondering just what spectacular involved in practice.

  ‘Really? Rich, handsome and a spectacular lover—you certainly have good judgement, Maude,’ Bel remarked.

  ‘He is also in business and illegitimate,’ Jessica reminded her tartly. ‘And the last thing we want is for Maude to be seduced—however wonderful the experience—and then abandoned after one night. Do we?’

  ‘Well, no, of course not. But Maude is very levelheaded…’

  Jessica snorted. ‘Not about this man, she isn’t. You forget, I was there when she first saw him. We were standing in Mr Todmorton’s shop and in he walks, looking like a dark angel from the chillier regions of Hell, and Maude just stood there gawking.’

  ‘I am here, you know,’ Maude interjected, annoyed. ‘You do not have to speak about me as though I was somewhere else. And I didn’t gawk, I was merely struck dumb with desire. Dark angel, my foot!’ The fact that it perfectly described Eden when he was in one of his frostier moods was neither here nor there; she refused to believe that was the real person. Behind that façade was someone much warmer, someone who needed her love as much as she needed his.

  ‘Yes, exactly: desire,’ Bel said seriously. ‘You do know what happens when a man makes love to you, don’t you, Maude, because we don’t want you being swept out of your depth through ignorance.’

  Maude retreated into one corner of the sofa, clutching a cushion against her stomach defensively. ‘Of course I understand what’s involved. And I have been kissed and—’

  ‘I mean the bit between him kissing you and the point of no return.’

  ‘Not precisely.’ Maude rather suspected that the point of no return would be reached rather rapidly if—when—Eden kissed her again, but she was not going to say so or her two friends would probably insist on chaperoning her every
where.

  ‘Are you going to talk to her about it, or shall I?’ Jessica asked Bel. ‘Someone ought to, she doesn’t have a mother—’

  ‘I am going,’ Maude declared, leaping to her feet and snatching up her bonnet. ‘You are talking about me in the third person again and I have no intention of sitting through a hideously embarrassing lecture on lovemaking. I will work it out as I go along.’ Bel moaned faintly. ‘I am serious, you know,’ Maude said, halfway to the door. ‘I love him. I always knew there was someone, somewhere, who was right for me; that’s why I wouldn’t marry Gareth, even though I love him dearly. It isn’t the right sort of love. I know I might not ever be happy with Eden, I know what the obstacles are, but I am not going to give up without even trying.’

  Her friends were on their feet, hurrying across the room to embrace her and reassure her. Maude let them fuss, allowed herself to be drawn back into the room to be seated on the sofa and apologised to, and all the time a little voice was nagging in her mind. What if he does not learn to love you? What if he never does?

  Tuesday night approached with the speed of a runaway horse when Maude was worrying about it, and like treacle when she talked herself out of the megrims and started to look forward to it. There was no excuse to go to the Unicorn before Tuesday, try as she might to think of one, and no word came from Eden to tell her where they would dine together.

  Maude drove Anna distracted on Monday by having all her evening clothes out, trying on one gown after another, and then declaring that she had not got a thing to wear.

  ‘For what engagement, my lady?’ the maid asked after an hour.

  ‘A dinner party,’ Maude said fretfully, staring down at the heaps of gauze, tulle and flounces. She wanted to look wonderful for Eden, but she did not want to look as though she was trying too hard and she did not want to stand out, wherever they were going.

  ‘There’s the dark blue watered silk,’ Anna suggested, lifting it out of the back of the press. ‘Only you don’t like the under-sleeves.’

  They spread the gown on the bed and studied it. It fell into full folds from a high waist, the skirt ornamented by swags and bows in a matching tulle. The neckline was boat-shaped, front and back, with cream lace peeping out to add a little modesty, and full white silk under-sleeves reaching to the wrist from beneath the short puffed sleeves.

  ‘Can you cut them off? They make me feel like a bishop.’ Then it would be perfect, Maude mused. Elegant and charming, it would show off her bosom and the whiteness of her arms while at the same time it was dark and simple enough for discretion. ‘I will need it for tomorrow night,’ she added, hoping Eden had not changed his mind.

  The note came that afternoon. I would appreciate your opinion on some changes we have made to To Tease, Eden had written. I trust it is not too late for you to find suitable companions to accompany you tomorrow evening. I would, of course, be more than happy to arrange for them to be escorted home afterwards so your carriage would not have to make any detours.

  So, they were to go on after the play. Maude frowned in thought. Who to invite? She could hardly sit in the box alone and Jessica or Bel would be impossible to shake off. Of course, Miss Parrish! Maude took her old governess out every month, but she had not invited her to the theatre for some time. This would be perfect, if she could just manage to work out how to get them both there, and Miss Parrish home again afterwards, without worrying Paul the coachman.

  In the event everything worked so smoothly that Maude had an uneasy twinge of conscience. The primrose path was certainly straight and even…

  Miss Parrish was delighted at the thought of the play, Paul Coachman quite reassured by Maude’s explanation that he should take the governess back to Somers Town afterwards while she went on to supper with friends who would send her home in their own carriage, and Papa departed for his own meeting at his club with jovial good wishes to pass on to Miss Parrish.

  Her old governess, now employed from her own home teaching young ladies French and Italian, was pleased, as always, with the luxury of the box and the refreshments Maude had ordered. Her enjoyment of the entertainment was so great, her affectionate thanks for the treat so fulsome, that Maude was positively wincing with guilt by the time she had seen her off and slipped back up to the box.

  It was strange, watching the theatre change after the audience had gone. The boxes emptied, as did the stalls and galleries, the noise ebbing away until only the murmur of it from the entrance reached her. Maude sat in the shadows and watched while the curtain was hauled up and stagehands began to restore the set to order for the morrow. The cleaners, she knew, came in first thing; soon she was going to be alone in this echoing space.

  One by one the gas lights dimmed and went out, leaving only a few. Where was Eden? The tap on the door behind her brought her to her feet, unsure whether to shrink back into the hangings or call Come in! As she hesitated, the door opened and a complete stranger walked in.

  ‘Good evening, ma’am. I’ll just sort the furniture out if that’s all right with you.’ Without waiting for her response he gathered up all but two of the chairs and walked out, to be replaced by two men struggling with a small table and a third laden with a pile of linen and a basket of flatware, porcelain and glasses.

  They were going to dine in the box? Maude felt the delighted laughter bubbling up and bit her lip to contain it. How clever of Eden—she was not breaking her promise to Papa not to go behind the scenes at night and she was somewhere private where they could dine with discretion.

  And still the men hurried in and out, now with flowers, wine bucket on a stand, bottles, candles…And were as suddenly gone. Now what? Where was the food going to come from?

  The door opened and there was Eden, regarding her in the soft glow of the dimmed lamps and the flicker of the candlelight. He was still in his dramatic black evening clothes with the theatrical ruffles and the watery glint of diamonds at ear and throat. Maude realised, with a sickening jolt in her stomach, just how nervous she was and then, just how happy she was also. The laugh escaped as a half-suppressed gurgle and he smiled, and everything was all right.

  ‘What amuses you?’

  ‘You really should have a drum roll to announce you, you look so dramatic in that costume.’

  ‘And you look—’ He broke off, frowning, then came fully into the box and closed the door behind him. ‘You look quite lovely.’

  ‘Why, thank you, sir.’ He held the chair for her and she sat, studying him candidly as he took the place opposite. ‘This is a very clever solution to the problem of where to dine.’

  ‘I enjoy problems.’ He seemed content to sit and watch her, his long fingers interlaced on the white table cloth, his relaxed body elegant in the dark clothes.

  ‘But I was wondering where the food was going to come from.’

  ‘You are hungry? You have not already eaten one supper so you may pick daintily at what I provide?’ he enquired, mock-serious.

  ‘No, I have not. Do not tease me, Eden, I am positively ravenous. You have no idea what an effect nerves have on my appetite. I know they should put me off my food, but I seem to react quite differently. If I am subjected to much more stress, I will end up as round as Prinny.’

  Eden smiled and shook his head at her exaggeration. ‘Are you nervous, Maude?’ He seemed not displeased that she should be, which puzzled her for a moment until she realised that he saw it as a purely feminine response to being alone with him. And that, she thought, aroused and flattered him. Not that there were any overt clues to that. It was more something she sensed, something just glimpsed in the dark intensity of his eyes as he watched her, the deep purr of his voice.

  ‘Of course,’ she said lightly, smiling to hide the effect the thought of his arousal had on her. ‘It was not easy to arrange to be here like this.’

  ‘You may relax now, then, and eat. My cook is ferrying an entire dinner from my house and, provided there has been no accident to the carriage, we may expect it at any moment.�
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  ‘Eden, that is—ridiculous! You cannot expect the poor man to cook dinner and then deliver it hot and in one piece after driving halfway across London.’

  ‘How do you know where I live?’ He seemed interested.

  ‘A figure of speech,’ Maude said repressively. She knew exactly where he lived, had caused her carriage to be driven past his home, now and again, but she was certainly not going to admit it to him.

  ‘And the poor man is highly paid to produce my dinner when and where I want it, so you may save your sympathy. Ah, here we are.’

  The door opened to admit two footmen bearing a tureen, small dishes and a basket of rolls, which they deposited and bowed themselves out.

  Eden lifted the lid of the tureen. ‘See? Steaming. All done with hay boxes.’

  Maude sipped and exclaimed, ‘This is delicious!’

  ‘I am glad it meets with your approval. Maude, may I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course.’ She put down her spoon, happy with any excuse for looking openly at him, and found his eyes dark and thoughtful on her face.

  ‘You are very frank with me. You let me into the secret of young ladies’ lack of appetite, you share your opinions about matters that I know full well we should not be discussing. Are you as frank with any man?’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘I am not sure I quite understand.’ Maude’s heart sank. He thought her unattractively fast? She had thought him amused, if anything, by her unconventional attitude. But perhaps he merely found her eccentric.

  ‘I have heard that ladies are extremely indiscreet with their hairdressers. Are you simply refreshingly free from silly notions about what is proper, or do you regard me in the light of your hairdresser?’ He is smiling, thank goodness. In fact, he is teasing me…