A Lady of Notoriety (The Masquerade Club)

by Diane Gaston - A Lady of Notoriety (The Masquerade Club)

  He reached her door and knocked.

  Carter answered. ‘Mr Westleigh!’

  ‘I know it is unforgivably late, Carter, but would you ask if Lady Faville will see me?’

  ‘She is in the drawing room awaiting dinner,’ he said. ‘One moment, please.’

  Hugh stopped him. ‘Wait, Carter. Might I go in unannounced?’

  The footman thought a moment. ‘I suppose you might.’

  Hugh did not give him a chance to change his mind. He gave him his hat and gloves and crossed the hall to the drawing room. When he opened the door, her back was turned. Probably thinking it was Carter, she did not turn around right away.

  ‘Daphne?’

  She whirled around. ‘Hugh!’

  He could not find words to speak.

  ‘What is wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘I come from my mother’s house. She gathered the family to tell me not to see you again.’

  She flinched, as if stung. ‘Then you should not be here, should you?’

  Why had he put that burden on her? It was cruel. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her and spoke the truth. ‘I realised there was nowhere else I wanted to be.’

  He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her as though he’d been starved of her kiss for too long. She flung her arms around his neck and gave herself to the kiss, melting against him.

  When he finally took a breath he said, ‘May I stay with you?’

  ‘For dinner?’ she responded. ‘Of course you may.’

  ‘Not for dinner,’ he murmured, his lips still on hers. ‘For tonight.’

  * * *

  Hugh woke to Daphne’s warm body nestled against him, her golden hair splayed across his chest. He swept it back so he could see her face. In dawn’s first glimmer she appeared like a Raphael Madonna, heavenly in her beauty.

  What a change to gaze upon her now. He could hardly remember seeing the despised Lady Faville when he’d first unmasked her. Now she was Daphne, warm and giving and kind, words he would never have used to describe her when she’d glided through the Masquerade Club trying to make Xavier desire her.

  She stirred and opened her eyes. Her eyes, gazing into his, reflected wonder and yearning.

  The yearning he understood. His body flared with need for her, need to join her in lovemaking once more, this time in daylight, this time when he could see her as well as touch her, hear her, taste her lips, be enveloped by her rose scent.

  He pulled the bed linens aside and rose above her, gazing at her smooth creamy skin, her full breasts, her narrow waist. Her hair fell upon her shoulders and on the pillow like a golden halo. He gazed upon her face that now resembled his Daphne, the woman with whom he made love in a cottage in Thurnfield.

  His eyes were open now, in more ways than one. He loved her no matter who she’d once been. He loved the woman she was at this moment, a woman ready to give herself to him. He covered her with his body and kissed her, joining his tongue with hers, mingling their tastes. Breaking from the kiss, he entered her. The sensation of her body closing around him increased his arousal, and he wanted to savour the moment for as long as he could.

  He moved in slow, languid strokes, relishing the quickening of her breathing, the rise of her hips to meet him. He could increase her pleasure by moving slowly, letting their passion build like smouldering ash can build into a raging fire. They’d originally come together in fire—let this be a blaze to meld them together for ever. He never wanted to lose this.

  Daphne was the answer to his wanderlust. It was not travel he needed, but a place like this, with her, where every moment was an adventure.

  His joy fanned the flames and he moved faster, revelling in the heat they created, letting it burn away all thought, leaving only emotion and sensation. Building. Building. Building.

  To release.

  He let out a primal sound and she cried out, her own climax joining with his. This was what he wanted. To be hers. To be forged together by the heat of their passion.

  Hugh’s muscles relaxed and he lay beside Daphne again. ‘I should get dressed. Your maid will be in to tend the fire in a moment. Perhaps I should not be here.’

  She held on to him. ‘I do not want you to leave.’

  He pulled her into another kiss. ‘I do not want to leave you. Ever.’ He sat up and gazed down at her, excitement invigorating him again. ‘Travel with me, Daphne. Let us go somewhere else in the world, just you and me—and whomever of the servants you want to bring along. We could travel to Paris. Or Rome. Or Venice. We could sail to America. Or India. Wherever you wish.’

  She rose as well, and wrapped the linens around her. ‘What about your family? The Masquerade Club?’

  ‘I have devoted enough of my life to my family’s needs.’ He took her face in his hands. ‘Tell me you will come with me. Tell me you will marry me.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Marry you?’

  He released her. ‘Yes. Marry.’

  She leaned towards him. ‘Hugh, I cannot marry you. Your family despises me, and rightfully so.’

  ‘They do not know you as I do.’ His high spirits fell more sensibly to earth. ‘But give them no thought. I cannot live my life merely to please them.’ He moved around her and embraced her from behind. ‘I want to be with you, Daphne. Say you will marry me.’

  Her muscles were taut and she was silent for several tortuous seconds. Finally she said, ‘I want to, Hugh.’ She sighed and gave herself to his embrace. ‘Very well. I will marry you, because I cannot bear not to.’

  He twisted around and kissed her again, a joyous kiss that threatened to arouse him all over again. Instead, he released her and bounded from the bed. ‘I’ll dress and be off for now. Let me see what I can do about covering the Masquerade Club. It is still my family’s livelihood.’

  She stiffened again. ‘And if you do not find a way to deal with the Masquerade Club?’

  He leaned down and brushed a kiss on her lips. ‘I will.’

  He put on his clothes, hoping they did not appear too wrinkled from lying in a heap on the floor all night. Daphne rose from the bed and tied his neckcloth into a quite decent knot.

  With one more kiss he said goodbye. ‘I’ll be back this evening or I will get word to you, never fear.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Daphne felt as if she were floating on clouds as Monette helped her dress and arranged her hair.

  Monette smiled at her. ‘You do not need to tell me why you are so happy, my lady. We know that Mr Westleigh shared your bed last night.’

  Daphne grinned. ‘I am not saying he did.’

  ‘There is not much about a house a servant does not know.’

  Daphne gave her an amused glance. ‘You sound as if you have been in service your whole life, Monette, instead of a few short months.’

  The girl sobered. ‘The abbey was not much different than a house in that way. We always knew the secrets.’ She nodded decisively. ‘I prefer being a lady’s maid, though, because soon I will have a man, too, when Toller comes.’

  Daphne stilled her hand. ‘Monette, you must not bed Toller, not unless he marries you. It is different for me. I was a married lady, but you are a maiden and you must guard your maidenhood until a man marries you.’

  Monette’s brow furrowed. ‘But I can have kisses, can I not?’

  The role of duenna was new to Daphne. ‘You may have kisses, but you must be very careful that there is nothing more.’ A thought struck her. ‘Monette, do you know what takes place between a man and woman? A man and wife, I mean.’

  ‘I know, madame,’ Monette assured her. ‘The novices talked about it all the time. And we watched the animals, you know.’

  ‘It is a little different than what animals do.’ Daphne’s heart filled with fondness—a
nd anxiety—for the maid. Was this how it felt to be a mother? She felt very protective. In fact, she must have a good talk with Toller when he came. She would not see Monette misused or hurt, not by anyone.

  * * *

  When Daphne walked down to breakfast, Mr Everard was waiting in the hall and Carter stood at the foot of the stairs.

  ‘Mr Everard wishes to speak with you, m’lady,’ Carter said with a barely detectable disapproving glance at the man.

  She nodded her agreement and turned to Everard. ‘Come in to breakfast and tell me why you are here again.’

  ‘I do apologise, my lady.’ He bowed. ‘I will take up very little of your time.’

  He followed her in to the breakfast room. She went directly to the sideboard and selected a slice of ham and some cheese.

  ‘Do help yourself,’ she told him.

  ‘I will not stay so long.’ He did not choose food this time, but rather paced the room. ‘I fear my effort to assist you by sending my wife with her recommendations for cabinet makers has had unforeseen consequences.’

  Something so dire? She sat and poured herself some tea. ‘What consequences?’

  ‘My wife believes I have—have an attachment to you that is beyond—beyond what a man of my position ought to have.’ His wife was obviously more astute than he, if he did not see what was readily apparent. ‘She thought it a contrivance that I sent her here and not a true need on your part.’

  ‘Mr Everard, I did not ask you to call or to send your wife. That was your doing. You cannot blame her for finding it a strange matter.’

  He rubbed his forehead. ‘Yes. Yes. I know. It was a grave error.’

  ‘I hope you apologised to her.’

  He paced again. ‘I did. Many times, but she thinks I see her as plain and dull in comparison to you....’ He paused and shook his head. ‘Of course, there is no comparison to you. I mean, I do not compare you with my wife—’

  And Daphne would wager he didn’t tell his wife she was beautiful or skilled or valued in any way.

  He looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps I have talked of you too much. Of—of your affairs. Your financial affairs, I mean.’ He seemed to reconsider that. ‘Not that I divulge details, for that matter. I merely talk of my work, you see.’

  How much had he told his wife about her? Had he told her of her time at the Masquerade Club? Did his wife know her as a woman who had tried to break up marriages? If so, no wonder the poor woman worried.

  ‘Mr Everard, if your wife is concerned about your attachment to me, you should not call upon me so frequently, but only if there is a matter of great importance.’

  ‘This is of great importance,’ he wailed. ‘I cannot have a wife who threatens to leave me.’

  ‘I do not have the power to influence your wife.’ His wife was clearly among the many people who despised her.

  ‘But I beg you will do me one service.’ She feared he would go down on his knees. ‘It will not be difficult and you will benefit as well, I promise.’

  Her egg was getting cold. ‘What can I possibly do?’

  He leaned towards her, his hands folded as if in supplication. ‘Write her a letter. Implore her to meet you at the cabinet-maker’s shop. Say you need her to advise you what to buy.’

  What could it hurt? Perhaps Mrs Everard would know better what furniture would suit her tenants. Besides, she’d used Everard shamelessly two years before. She could at least humour him in this way. She had no illusions, though, that writing this letter and forcing this meeting would suddenly make Mrs Everard cease to despise and be jealous of her.

  ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I will do it, but you must do something for me and you must promise.’

  His face turned worshipful. ‘I will do anything you ask, my lady. I always have.’

  She spoke to him as if he were a child using what Hugh called her governess voice. ‘You must never talk about me to your wife. You must tell her once a day that she is beautiful. You must thank her every day for the kindnesses she does for you, even if you think them ordinary, like planning meals, seeing to your laundry or the cleaning of the house.’

  His brows knitted. ‘That is what you wish?’

  She nodded emphatically. ‘And you must encourage her to purchase pretty gowns and pretty hats, and if she has a pretty dress made for herself, you must tell her she looks lovely in it.’

  These were all things her husband had done, she realised, things that had flattered her vanity, but she’d learned later that she’d needed other things more.

  ‘And talk with her,’ she went on. ‘Ask her opinion. Ask what is important to her.’ Until the abbess—and Hugh—no one had ever asked what was important to Daphne.

  Everard looked very sceptical.

  ‘Promise me or I will not write your letter or meet your wife at the cabinet maker.’ She spoke this like a stern governess.

  ‘I will do it,’ Everard said in a desperate voice. Unfortunate that he could not hear the wisdom in what she said, but perhaps he’d realise when he experienced the results.

  ‘Ask Carter for pen and ink and I will write your letter.’

  He rushed out to do her bidding.

  When the time came she would order the carriage and ask Smith to drive her and Carter to Cheapside, to Jeffers Cabinetry Shop. She hoped she would not miss Hugh if he called while she was away. She must leave word for him to wait for her.

  * * *

  That afternoon, Hugh sat in the gaming room with MacEvoy, Cummings and some of the croupiers, seeking their opinion about running the gaming house without him. No one saw any difficulties. A monthly visit from a member of the family would be sufficient, MacEvoy thought, to ensure the place was being run in a manner that suited them. Perhaps they could find a gentleman to stand in for him, someone like Sir Reginald, who was a frequent visitor to the club, but who could use some additional funds.

  Hugh could not wait to present the plan to the family. They would have to accept it, because he was declaring himself free of the obligation.

  The door to the gaming room opened and Xavier stepped in.

  ‘Xavier! Come in.’ Hugh waved his arm. ‘I want you to hear what we’ve been discussing.’

  Xavier nodded to everyone. ‘Good to see you all.’ He frowned at Hugh. ‘May I speak with you alone first, Hugh? Out in the hall?’

  Hugh stood. ‘Of course.’

  Something was wrong. Was it to do with a member of the family?

  To his surprise, Phillipa waited in the hall. They stepped away from the gaming room door.

  ‘What is it?’ Hugh asked, his alarm growing. ‘Is someone ill? Injured?’

  ‘Nothing like that,’ Phillipa assured him.

  Xavier pulled a paper from his pocket. ‘I received this a little while ago. We thought you should see it.’

  Hugh took the paper from his hand and immediately recognised the handwriting. He’d been handed a similar note at the cottage and had read it enough times to be familiar with the script.

  Would you be so good as to join me at Jeffers Cabinetry Shop at three o’clock this afternoon? After our meeting yesterday, I realised that I greatly need you and no one else to settle my plan.

  Please set aside any misunderstandings and do me the honour of keeping this appointment.

  Yours, etc,

  Daphne, Lady Faville

  Hugh crushed the note in his hand.

  ‘A boy delivered it to me a short time ago,’ Xavier explained. ‘He told us a lady paid him to do it.’

  Phillipa touched Hugh’s arm. ‘I am so sorry, Hugh.’

  Hugh’s throat grew tight. ‘No.’

  Daphne set up a meeting with Xavier? What had happened? Had she started thinking of Xavier after Hugh had left her that morning? Or had she already planned a meeting wi
th Xavier even before he proposed marriage to her? Ned might have been right all along. Maybe Hugh had fallen into a trap intended only to allow her to be close to Xavier. Was that the plan she wished to settle with him?

  A sabre’s thrust could not be more painful than this betrayal. Hugh had been fooled by her once, when she’d played Mrs Asher, now he’d been fooled again.

  ‘What time is it?’ he asked.

  Xavier pulled out a pocket watch. ‘It is twenty past three.’

  He quickly gathered his hat and gloves. ‘She may still be there. I am going to meet her.’

  * * *

  Daphne was not surprised that Everard’s wife did not show up at the furniture shop. In fact, she was relieved. She could happily select her tenants’ gifts without any unpleasantness to intrude. On this day that Hugh had asked her to marry him, she wanted only happiness.

  She loved the cabinetry shop. She sensed it was a happy place with happy workers. The pieces they made were skilfully done, using good timber. Mr Jeffers, the proprietor, a rather frightening-looking man with a scar on his face, was friendly and obviously very proud of his shop’s work. He was more than delighted when she ordered ten oak-banded bureaus for her tenants and a dozen pine coffers for the stable and farm workers.

  She and Mr Jeffers had just finished the transaction when the shop door opened.

  Daphne looked over and broke into a surprised smile. ‘Hugh!’

  But the look he returned to her was like a knife. ‘Surprised to see me, Daphne?’

  Behind him walked in Xavier and his wife.

  ‘Mr Campion!’ Jeffers started towards him.

  Xavier gestured for him to stay back, and Jeffers disappeared behind the curtain that separated the workroom from the store.

  Daphne’s heart pounded with anxiety. Something was amiss, something terrible. Carter must have sensed it, too, because he moved from where he waited in the background to Daphne’s side.

  She glanced from Hugh to Xavier to Phillipa. ‘I do not understand.’