by Lucy Ashford
Because soon it would be over.
Sultry July had ushered in the closing days of the London Season. Lord Horwich’s ball was one of the final events. And any time now Adam would come to her and tell her she’d paid off her brother’s dues. He would cancel Edward’s gambling debt, inform her she’d kept him safe from the husband-hunters for long enough and tell her their betrothal was at an end.
He’d always reassured her that he was fully committed to the shop as a business venture; she did not doubt that he would retain his stake in it, for trade there was flourishing. But more and more she’d noticed that Adam was using his secretary Bernard Lowell to deal with the financial side and this surely was the shape of things to come.
Belle guessed with sudden bleakness that he’d found it more amusing than he’d thought, perhaps, to parade her round town as his intended. Besides, the cries of rapture he’d extracted from her night after night in his skilled arms must surely have obliterated for ever those insults she’d hurled at him on Sawle Down.
She’d always known she was merely a pawn in this powerful man’s finely calculated day-to-day activities, in his balancing of enjoyment, his consolidation of his position amongst the ton and the all-important business of making money.
Yes, she was a mere pawn; so what a fool she was to let her pulse race so every time he came near. To feel her heart jolt each time he paid her some light, meaningless compliment. She shook a little inside every time his fingers so much as brushed hers. And as for the dark, ravishing pleasure she experienced in his arms at night...
She was a stupid fool, because all this was for him simply a matter of extracting sensual enjoyment from a situation he’d initially designed as revenge against her family.
Pleasure and convenience combined.
‘If it weren’t for Adam Davenant,’ she scolded herself fiercely as they entered the grand house of Lord Horwich, ‘your brother would be a bankrupt and you would be struggling to make any sort of living from a stall in the Soho Bazaar!’
She lifted her head. She was Belle Marchmain, proprietress of one of the most fashionable shops in town, and at her side was one of the wealthiest, most eligible men in London. Yes, soon it would be over. But until then—she was going to enjoy herself.
* * *
There were hundreds of candles in each of the main reception rooms, reflected everywhere in the silver plate and gilt mirrors. Liveried footmen hovered with fine wines; a group of musicians were already playing in the ballroom and all the guests were wonderfully dressed. Everyone seemed to know everyone else...
Belle found herself clinging a little tighter to
Adam’s strong arm.
He smiled down at her. ‘Lift your head up. You look superb.’
She needed the compliment. Because soon they were surrounded—he was surrounded—by beautiful women trying to catch Adam’s eye; by beady-eyed matrons still hungry for gossip about Davenant’s unexpected betrothal and by the many male friends of Adam’s who seized yet again the chance to eye up Davenant’s prize.
Belle shrank instinctively back. But then the crowds parted because someone whom everyone knew, Lady Jersey, doyenne of Almack’s, was making her stately way towards them.
‘My dear Davenant!’ she exclaimed. ‘Here you are, you heart-breaker, looking, as usual, too wickedly handsome for words!’
Adam bowed over Lady Jersey’s hand with a smile; she looked at Belle. ‘So this is the beauty who’s at last broken your resolve never to marry, Davenant. Mrs Marchmain, is it not?’ Everyone watched and waited in breathless suspense—a mere comment from this woman could make or break her.
At last Lady Jersey clicked her pearl-encrusted fan and gave a little sigh. ‘I hate to admit it, but you’ve done yourself proud, Davenant. Not only a beauty, but a superb modiste, I hear.’ She turned back to Belle. ‘I am wary of new sensations in the fashion world—but you are building up such a reputation! And your gown—a truly unusual colour—is it made of silk?’
‘It’s actually made of faille, my lady—just a little softer, as you’ll see, than grosgrain.’
‘I do see. Wonderful! And the lace?’
‘Nottingham lace, my lady. I use English-made goods whenever I can.’
‘Excellent. I must call in at your shop—in Piccadilly, isn’t it?’ She gave something that was almost a wink. ‘They’ve been talking about you, you know, all the gossips, and not a single one told me how beautiful you are. But women being women, they wouldn’t, would they?’
Lady Jersey tapped Adam’s chest with her fan. ‘I’m holding a rout next week, Davenant. A last flourish, before I escape to the country for the rest of the summer. I’ll send you and your delightful fiancée an invitation.’
Adam bowed low again, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. ‘I’m sure we’ll accept it with pleasure, Lady Jersey.’
A cluster of eager women immediately surrounded Belle, anxious not to miss out on this latest sensation who had won the approval of Lady Jersey herself. But what meant most of all to Belle was the sight of Adam looking outwardly as calm as ever, yet in his sleepy grey eyes she thought she saw a flash of—pride.
And desire. Oh, God, desire.
She thought she was strong, but the sudden bolt of emotion that shot through her made her gasp for breath.
She ought to resist him. She should never, ever have submitted to him.
Because now she could not imagine life without him.
* * *
The dancing came next and Belle was overwhelmed with offers, though it was the cotillion she danced with Adam that she enjoyed most of all. Then came supper—but on their way Belle heard a piercing female voice just a few yards away.
‘Adam, darling. How are you?’
Adam had turned swiftly. ‘Lady Farnsworth. This is my fiancée, Mrs Marchmain.’
Belle froze inwardly at the sight of the beautiful Lady Farnsworth, who had once been Adam’s mistress. ‘Lady Farnsworth,’ she said coolly. ‘How do you do?’
‘Oh, I’m well enough,’ said the blonde beauty. ‘But I hear things. I hear, for example, Mrs Marchmain, that your brother is too fond of the card tables—but that you, my dear, have found a novel way to pay off his debts!’
Belle felt her pulse hammering. She moistened her lips to reply; Adam was there first.
‘You always were one for idle mischief-making, Lady Farnsworth,’ he said coolly. ‘But you’re rather scraping the barrel this time—even for you.’
Lady Farnsworth coloured, shot a look that held daggers in it at Belle and marched off.
Belle felt cold. She’d just been accused of selling herself to Adam for money—and wasn’t it true? The magic had suddenly gone out of the evening. She whirled on Adam. ‘If that woman knows about Edward’s debts, there’ll be more who will.’
‘And so?’ Something in Adam’s face frightened her. He guided her into a corner and said, ‘Listen. The last thing you do is run away from this, do you hear me? Someone’s been talking, yes, but you must face the gossips out with boldness. You’re not a whore, but she is.’
‘But she was your mistress!’
‘Believe me,’ said Adam grimly, ‘I got out of her clutches very quickly. Wait here—there’s someone I need to speak to, and meanwhile you can have a few moments of peace. You’re doing marvellously, Belle. I’m proud of you.’
* * *
He was gone for a long time. The minutes ticked slowly by; Lady Jersey and some of her friends came to talk to her, but all Belle wanted was to find Adam again. Seeing his tall figure on the far side of the crowded room, she started to make her way towards him.
Only to pull to an abrupt halt a few feet away when she saw he was deep in intense conversation with—Lord Jarvis. Jarvis looked furious and was gesticulating wildly. Adam appeared rigid with anger. Cold fingers of fear were for some reason travelling up and down Belle’s spine.
‘Getting rather too fond of the little widow, aren’t you, Davenant?’ she could hear Ja
rvis snarling.
Adam spoke more quietly than Jarvis; Belle couldn’t hear him. But whatever he said made Jarvis clench his fists in utter rage.
‘Everything’s at stake—do you understand?’ she heard Jarvis hiss. ‘Yes, you’ve seduced the Marchmain widow, you’ve coaxed her into a public betrothal, but you’re damned well not playing by our rules. And until I see you doing so you can’t expect me to keep my side of the bargain!’
Bargain? Rules? Belle’s world was spinning dizzyingly around her. She couldn’t hear anything else. She didn’t need to.
* * *
‘Why did you leave the ball without me, Belle? God damn it, I was worried sick...’
Belle had left Lord Horwich’s house immediately, asking a footman to summon a hackney. By the time Adam reached Bruton Street twenty minutes after her, Belle was in her bedroom and had packed half her clothes. He’d pounded up the stairs and flung the door open without knocking, only to look at the piles of clothes in disbelief.
‘You were worried?’ she breathed, turning her face to him. ‘Yes, I suppose you must have been anxious that Lord Jarvis might withdraw from the bargain you made with him. What was it—a wager?’
He’d run his hand through his hair. His white neckcloth was rumpled and he looked utterly, heartbreakingly handsome. ‘How much did you hear?’
She dragged air into her aching lungs. ‘Enough to know that he’d offered you something—no, I don’t want to know what!—to parade me as your fiancée.’ Dear Lord, she’d opened to his embraces as hungrily as a whore. ‘Would you mind leaving me on my own, Adam?’
Adam’s shoulders were rigid. ‘You didn’t hear anything else?’
Oh, God. This was bad. This had to be just about the worst moment of her life. ‘I’m heartily glad I didn’t,’ she answered. ‘I dread to think what else you had planned for me.’
‘Belle...’
She turned back to the pile of clothes on the bed, throwing them into the valises set out there; now she whirled to face him. ‘Do you really think I want to hear any more, Adam?’ Her voice was etched with pain. ‘Haven’t you put me through enough?’
He was silent a moment. Then, ‘What are you doing, Belle?’ he said softly.
Just his voice tormented her in a way she hadn’t believed possible. ‘I’m packing some things, so that I can go and live above the shop.’ Once more she faced him. ‘I know that these clothes and the shop are partly yours, but, my God, Adam, I’ll buy you out just as soon as I can. If I fail to raise the money, I’ll sell up and move out of London. Anything, believe me, rather than live under the falsehood of this arrangement any longer!’
He went very still. ‘Not everything was a falsehood, Belle,’ he said.
The blood rushed to her cheeks. She couldn’t answer. The incredible sweetness of his kisses. The tender power of his lovemaking, night after night. All an act. Oh, God...
‘Listen,’ he went on, gripping her arms and forcing her to face him. ‘Let me explain. I wanted some of Jarvis’s land. Needed it, for a railway I’m building in Somerset. He wouldn’t be bought with money. The railway means jobs and prosperity for my men.’
She was quite white. She breathed, ‘And Jarvis said he’d let you have that land, if—if you seduced me?’
‘What you heard at Lord Horwich’s tonight was only a part of it. Things changed between you and me. You know how very much they changed, Belle.’
‘Stop,’ she cried. ‘Stop. You mean you were to display me as your infatuated fiancée as part of a business agreement...’ Her voice suddenly faltered. ‘Those complaints,’ she whispered. ‘My landlord, suddenly doubling the rent...’
‘Not me, but Jarvis.’ His voice was tight; she saw he was clenching and unclenching his fists.
Her hands flew to her cheeks. ‘Then why didn’t you tell me? I think you’re lying again. I think you’ve lied to me from the day we met. Oh, there’s no need at all for you to suggest we end our betrothal—I’ll save you the trouble. I’m going to take myself completely out of your life.’
‘No, you won’t,’ he said. He’d started picking out the clothing she’d put in her valises.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she cried.
‘You can’t take these clothes. As you observed, I’ve paid for most of them. And I have to inform you it’s essential that you stay on here—at least for the time being.’
Her green eyes flashed with defiance. ‘No. Oh, no. That is impossible.’
‘I’m afraid you must make it possible. I will not force my company on you, but it’s essential for your own safety that you reside here under my protection for at least the next few weeks.’
‘Protection?’ She was almost laughing at the savage irony of this. ‘Protection, when as far as I can see the only person I’m in danger from is yourself? Anyway, how can you make me, without keeping me under lock and key...?’
Suddenly Belle needed to sit down, because her legs felt as though they wouldn’t hold her any more. ‘My brother. My brother still owes you all that money. And you will use his debt to force me to stay on, in this hateful situation.’ She gazed up at him steadily. ‘You’ve seduced me. You’ve humiliated me. You’ve used my brother’s debts—all for a railway. A damned railway. Get out. I know this is your house, but please get out of here. Yes, I will stay. But—you cannot make me endure your company!’
His firm jaw was clenched. ‘There’s just one more thing.’
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could control her shaking limbs. ‘More orders?’ she queried caustically.
‘I’m afraid so. I’ve already told you not to go anywhere around town alone—but I’ve reason to believe you’ve been disobeying me.’
She said bitterly, ‘My God, your spies have certainly been busy.’
‘Call them that if you must. Nevertheless you will oblige me by not going anywhere, unless one of my men attends you.’
She closed her eyes briefly. ‘For how long....?’
But he’d already left her.
Belle sat on her bed and stared into blackness. Oh, God. So cleverly, so subtly he’d entrapped her. She’d tried her damnedest to resist. But Adam had worked his dark magic on her until she had been desperate for him. She’d abandoned herself completely in his arms to his powerful yet tender lovemaking.
And all he wanted was—land for his damned railway.
The tears began to fall at last and this time she let them, though she told herself it was the very last time she would allow herself to cry for Adam Davenant.
* * *
Adam returned to his big house in Clarges Street. He went to his study and paced the floor. If only the night could be relived. If only Belle Marchmain had trusted him. Then he might have been able to make her listen to the truth.
For tonight, Adam had told Lord Jarvis to keep his damned land, because their bargain was off.
Adam had heard several days ago that Jarvis had taken up with Lady Farnsworth. So, when she’d come up to them at Lord Horwich’s house, Adam knew it signalled trouble. Indeed it did, for she’d blurted out what Jarvis, the fool, must have told her about Edward’s debts. Adam had cuttingly silenced her, then had gone in search of Jarvis.
‘We had an agreement,’ Adam had challenged him bluntly. ‘But I don’t remember an agreement giving you permission to give details of our private deal to your latest mistress.’
‘Getting rather too fond of the little Marchmain widow, are you?’ Jarvis had growled. And had proceeded to utter the warnings, the threats that Belle, God damn it, must have overheard. ‘You’re damned well not playing by our rules.’
‘That’s because I’ve changed my mind, Jarvis.’
‘You’ve...’
‘I’ve decided I’ll manage without your land for my railway. Understand? I’m not going to make a public spectacle of Belle Marchmain just for you.’
Jarvis’s mouth had worked furiously. ‘Then I will!’ he got out at last.
And Jarvis, in a fury of rage
and more than slightly drunk, had proceeded to issue specific threats against Mrs Marchmain. Spat out obscenities as to how Adam could damn well whistle for his railway land, and that he, Jarvis, would take Belle for himself—by force, if necessary—then turn her over to his grooms once he’d finished with her.
Jarvis only stopped when Adam seized him by his lapels, thudded him up against the nearest wall and warned the man that he would take pleasure in pummelling him to kingdom come if he so much as harmed one hair of Belle Marchmain’s head.
* * *
Now Adam paced his study. Belle’s pale, vulnerable face as she accused him of nothing but the truth—You’ve seduced me. You’ve humiliated me. You’ve used my brother’s debts—all for a railway!—would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He sat in the chair beside his desk, its surface scattered with maps and quarry plans. His efforts to remedy the damage done had come far too late. He should have warned Belle much earlier that it was Jarvis who’d endeavoured to ruin her Strand shop, but now that his treacherous bargain with Jarvis had been exposed she trusted Adam about as much as she’d trust a venomous snake.
She’d made up her mind that Adam was the villain in all this and who could blame her? He had agreed to Jarvis’s initial, vile proposition and there was no getting round that fact. He remembered her face just now. Pale, defiant, proud. But underneath, he guessed, so hurt. So desperately hurt.
For five years, she appeared to have kept herself away from men in honour of the memory of her dead husband—but Adam had broken through her defences. Quite possibly he’d broken her.
He cursed Jarvis, cursed that damned agreement, and most of all cursed himself.
* * *
Adam went to only one social engagement that week and wished he hadn’t. He missed Belle at his side. Missed her outrageous clothes, her humour, her mixture of defiance and vulnerability. He cancelled all invitations for the next fortnight—there were mercifully few anyway since the Season was all but over—and spent his days in meetings with bankers and businessmen, discussing the Sawle Down quarry’s prospects, negotiating contracts for this new and valuable supply of Bath stone.