The Ruthless Rake

by Barbara Cartland

  “You do not answer,” she said provocatively. “Why do you not kiss me, my Lord, and then I show you how happy we can be together.”

  “My apologies,” the Earl said slowly, “but I have to leave.”

  “You have to – leave.”

  The question was incredulous.

  “I wish to do so!” the Earl replied.

  He rose to his feet as he spoke and, moving slowly and without a hurry through the dancers, walked towards the door.

  As he reached it, there was a sudden shrill scream of excitement from a dishevelled little dancer who was being pursued by two bucks. She was heading straight towards the Earl and he stepped adroitly on one side to avoid her. She ran past him still screaming, the bucks in hot pursuit.

  The Earl glanced towards the gaming table, the Prince absorbed in his cards had not even raised his head at the noise, nor had Charles James Fox.

  The Earl opened the door and let himself out.

  His coach was waiting and he drove back to Berkeley Square, asking himself as he went why the evening had proved so boring and why such antics no longer amused him.

  He had to admit that he had been progressively disenchanted for some time with the excesses and orgies that the Prince of Wales’s friends found so entertaining.

  The Earl had never been promiscuous in his love-making. When he had a mistress, he kept her discreetly in a house where he visited her when it suited him.

  The idea of a rough and tumble in public such as he had just witnessed at The White House disgusted him.

  As far as he was concerned, he would not so lower himself.

  A mistress from the Corps de Ballet was one thing, but Lady Elaine was another and driving him, the Earl admitted to himself, to conclude that, as far as he was concerned, the affaire was now over.

  She had excited him, he had desired her and he had certainly paid heavily for such delights as she could give him.

  But he had no wish to continue with a liaison which no longer gave him any pleasure and which he was beginning to find irksome.

  Lady Elaine presumed too much. She was in and out of Rothingham House as if she already owned it.

  She was possessive in public, she was deliberately indiscreet about their relationship, wishing everyone to know of their love affair so that eventually, the Earl thought grimly, he would be forced by public opinion into declaring himself.

  ‘She will be disappointed,’ he vowed. ‘I have no intention of marrying her!’

  The only difficulty was how he was to make it clear to Lady Elaine that she no longer had any claim on him.

  He stepped out at Rothingham House to find lights blazing, a number of the carriages outside and half a dozen footmen in attendance in the hall.

  He then remembered that his grandmother had said she was entertaining that night.

  It probably was a dinner party, the Earl thought, with some young people for Syringa and a few of the Dowager’s special cronies to play cards afterwards.

  It was an hour after midnight, but there were still a large number of hats and cloaks in the hall.

  The Earl handed his own hat to Meadstone and walked upstairs to the salon.

  There were two card tables still occupied by the more elderly guests.

  There were several younger people sitting talking on sofas and Lady Elaine and Ninian Roth were playing piquet at a table near the door.

  Lady Elaine saw the Earl first and threw out her arm in a welcoming gesture.

  “Ancelin, how delightful!” she exclaimed. “When I heard you were dining at Carlton House, I despaired of seeing you this evening.”

  “I left early,” the Earl explained briefly.

  He sat at the table and glanced round the room.

  “Where is Syringa?”

  “She retired a little while ago,” Lady Elaine replied. “She told us she had a headache and did not realise that it was the oldest and most hoary excuse in the world!”

  “An excuse?” the Earl questioned.

  “You must not be angry with her, Ancelin,” Lady Elaine smiled. “Syringa is young and like any young girl she is an incurable romantic.”

  “May I ask what you are talking about?” the Earl enquired in his most uncompromising voice.

  “Oh, dear! Have I said too much?” Lady Elaine asked affectedly. “I would not like to betray Syringa’s little secret.”

  “What little secret?”

  “Now, Ancelin, you are looking angry,” Lady Elaine said.

  “Syringa is very young and, of course, very innocent. She does not realise, I am sure, that she might damage her reputation or indeed annoy you. So you must forgive her and be understanding.”

  “About what?”

  There was a note of thunder in the Earl’s voice.

  Lady Elaine looked over her shoulder as if she suspected that someone might be listening.

  “Ninian and I were just wondering who the fortunate gentleman might be,” Lady Elaine said softly. “I cannot believe that he is someone you would really disapprove of, but at the same time it seems strange that she invariably meets him outside the house.”

  “If you don’t make clear to me what you are hinting,” the Earl said sharply, “I shall ask my grandmother for an explanation.”

  “I am sure that she would not be able to give you one,” Lady Elaine replied. “I only heard of Syringa’s clandestine visits by chance and, of course, it was not likely that you would ever learn of them.”

  “Do you know where she goes?” the Earl asked.

  “I have no idea,” Lady Elaine answered with a shrug of her shoulders. “But, when she makes an excuse to retire early as she did tonight, I know that she creeps out of the house.”

  She sighed.

  “Oh dear! I wish I was young again, young enough to enjoy meeting someone in the shadows! Secret notes, assignations, stolen kisses, oh how enchanting it used to be – !”

  Her voice died away as she realised that the Earl was already out of hearing.

  He had risen from the table and, walking quickly across the room onto the landing, was climbing the staircase to the second floor.

  Lady Elaine gave a laugh of sheer excitement.

  “This is our opportunity, Ninian,” she said in a low voice. “We shall never have a better one.”

  Ninian Roth looked agitated.

  “Is everything arranged?”

  “Everything!” Lady Elaine replied. “The carriage has been waiting these last two nights. Leave now and do your part. I will see to everything here. Afterwards I shall not sleep at home as his Lordship might try to question me.”

  “You are certain it is safe?”

  “Are you chicken-hearted?” Lady Elaine asked scornfully. “I promise you that if you don’t go now it will be too late. I have seen the way he looks at her and he has not been near me since he has returned to London.”

  Her voice was bitter and she continued,

  “He will marry her and she will give him half a dozen sons and you will lose your inheritance. Is that to your liking?”

  “No, indeed!” Ninian Roth replied. “But what if you marry him as you wish to do?”

  “I have told you before that I cannot have a child,” Lady Elaine answered. “Now go and go quickly! You know exactly what to do. It’s all a question of timing.”

  It seemed as if Ninian Roth hesitated for one more moment.

  Then he moved quickly across the room to make his farewell to the Dowager.

  *

  Syringa came slowly up the back stairs of Rothingham House.

  Her feet in their low-heeled satin slippers made no sound on the soft carpet.

  With the dark cloak over her shoulders, its hood pulled low, she might have been only a shadow in the flickering light of the guttering candles.

  She reached the second floor and paused for a moment before she passed from the servants’ quarters into the part of the house occupied by the family.

  The wall of the great staircase was in fr
ont of her and she noted that most of the candles had been doused in the hall and there was no sound of voices.

  The guests must have gone, she thought, and realised that she was later than usual. She slipped across the landing and opened the door of her bedroom.

  As she did so, she pulled the heavy cloak from her shoulders and threw it down on the chair just inside the door.

  With her hand to her hair, she turned and saw the Earl in the light of the candles burning on the dressing table.

  For a moment she was too astonished to speak or to move.

  Then, as she stared at him, she realised that she had never before seen a man in such a rage. His face was grim with anger, there was a white line round his mouth and his eyes were as hard as agates.

  “So it’s true!” he boomed and his voice seemed to thunder across the room. “I did not believe what I was told, I thought it impossible! I could not credit that you of all people would deceive me and behave in such a manner. I trusted you, Syringa!”

  “I can – explain – ” Syringa began.

  “Don’t tell me a pack of lies,” he interrupted harshly. “I have no wish to listen to them! I have seen enough! I know now that you are like all other women, lustful for the darkness and for someone who is beneath you or who would not gain my approval. Why could you not be honest? Why could you not be frank about it?”

  “It’s not – ” Syringa cried.

  “I believed you to be innocent! I believed you when you said you had no beaux, but I suppose like all other women you have been corrupted by London. God, I have been such a fool! To have thought for one moment that you were as pure as you appeared!”

  “No – no,” Syringa cried, “you must – hear me!”

  “What do you want me to hear?” he asked roughly.

  Walking towards her he seized her by the shoulders, his fingers biting into the soft skin of her arms.

  “Do you think I want to listen to your confessions? Do you think I want to hear you drooling about love? It merely disgusts me, as you disgust me!”

  He shook her as he spoke, shook her so that she gave a little cry at his roughness.

  “I thought you were different!” he continued. “I could have taken you and made you mine. After all I had bought and paid for you! But I believed you innocent. God! How could any man be so easily deceived!”

  He shook her even harder and then suddenly pulled her close against him, his arms like bands of steel round her trembling body.

  “Have you had enough love-making for tonight?” he enquired.

  His voice was bitter with mockery.

  Before she could catch her breath to reply he bent his head and his lips were on hers.

  He kissed her brutally.

  She tried to push him away to save herself from his violence and then, as suddenly as he had taken her, he threw her from him.

  “Do you think I want another man’s leavings?” he snarled.

  She fell against the bed and slipped onto the floor.

  “Listen – please – listen – ”

  She forced the words between her lips, but she was too late.

  The Earl, his face contorted into the visage of a devil, looked down at her for one moment and then went from the room slamming the door behind him.

  For some seconds Syringa stared after him unable even to cry out, unable to do anything but feel stunned and bewildered by what had happened.

  Then slowly she put a trembling hand to her lips and, as she did so, as she felt them bruised and painful to her own touch, she knew that she loved him!

  This was love, this streak of fire that had swept through her even as he had held her so roughly in his arms and kissed her so brutally!

  It was almost like a blinding light to realise that what she had felt for him all along was not the affection of a friend but the love of a woman for a man!

  She loved him! She loved him completely and absolutely and – he was incensed with her.

  She picked herself up from the floor.

  “I love – him,” she whispered. “I must go to him – I must explain – I must tell him that I was not – doing what he thought.”

  She gave a little sob. How could he have doubted her? How could he have believed for a moment that she was meeting another man?

  “I love him – I love him.”

  She found herself repeating the words over and over again just beneath her breath.

  She had to find him, she had to tell him now at once that he could still trust her and that she was still all he had believed her to be.

  She put her hand to her forehead trying to think. Would he have gone downstairs to the library or would he have gone to his bedroom?

  It would be impossible to visit him there – for whatever would the Dowager say? And yet Syringa knew that she could not leave things as they were.

  Then, as she stood torn by anxiety and irresolute, the door opened.

  She looked up eagerly.

  Perhaps it was the Earl returning – perhaps after all he realised that he had been unjust and unkind! But then to her astonishment she saw not the Earl but Lady Elaine.

  “Quick, Syringa!” Lady Elaine called in a low voice. “His Lordship wants you at once.”

  “His Lordship?” There was a lilt in Syringa’s tone.

  “Yes, hurry, he does not like to be kept waiting.”

  “No, of course not!”

  Lady Elaine looked round and saw a cloak by the door.

  “Put on your cloak,” she said. “We are going out,”

  “Out?” Syringa questioned. “Is his Lordship not in the house?”

  “No, he wants you to meet him somewhere else,” Lady Elaine replied.

  “Somewhere else?” Syringa repeated in surprise.

  “Ask no questions, he will explain everything,” Lady Elaine replied. “Come, we must go.”

  Surprised but obedient, Syringa let Lady Elaine drape her cloak over her shoulders and then the older woman preceded her out of the door.

  “We will go down the backstairs,” she said. “His Lordship’s carriage is waiting at the side door.”

  “But why?” Syringa asked.

  “He will explain everything to you,” Lady Elaine answered. “Come along, we must hurry.”

  She led the way along the almost dark passages and down the two flights of stairs that led eventually to the basement.

  On the ground floor there was a door leading into Charles Street.

  Lady Elaine unlocked it while Syringa stood aside wondering where the Earl had gone and why he wished her to join him.

  The door opened and Lady Elaine stepped onto the pavement.

  Outside there were two coaches.

  “Get in,” Lady Elaine said as they reached the first one. As there was only a coachman on the box, she herself opened the door.

  “After you, my Lady,” Syringa said politely.

  “No, you first,” Lady Elaine said insistently and Syringa stepped into the coach.

  When she was half way through the door, she felt Lady Elaine give her a hard push that sent her tumbling onto the back seat.

  The door was slammed and the horses started forward.

  Syringa gave an exclamation realising that she was not alone in the coach.

  For one moment she thought it might be the Earl.

  Then in the dim light of a candle-lantern she saw a Gentleman of Fashion leaning back in the far corner in what she felt was a somewhat negligent attitude.

  “Who are you?” she cried, “and why am I here?”

  “It’s all right, fair charmer,” he said and his voice had a cultured tone. “You need not be afraid of me.”

  “Where are we going?” Syringa demanded. “I was told the Earl of Rothingham wanted me. Are you taking me to him?”

  “I regret, most entrancing stranger, at the moment I can convey no information as to our destination.”

  “Are you a friend of his Lordship?” Syringa insisted.

  “Indeed no! To
be honest, I have not the honour of his Lordship’s acquaintance.”

  “Then who are you?” Syringa asked.

  “As you are interested, my name is Daniel Neame. Most humbly at your service,” the gentleman replied.

  He bowed eloquently from the waist.

  “And I am Syringa Melton,” Syringa said shyly. “I am sorry to trouble you, sir, with questions, but I am indeed extremely bewildered.”

  “You are very young.”

  Syringa gave a little laugh.

  “That is what everyone says to me,” she said, “but I shall grow older – everyone does.”

  “Yes, alas,” Mr. Daniel Neame said with feeling. “When I was your age, I felt that the world was there for me to plunder. When I was twenty, I had my first success on the boards. I felt then that nothing could stop me from reaching the top of my profession.”

  “On the boards?” Syringa questioned. “Do you mean, sir, that you are an actor?”

  “I was one, my dear lady. No, indeed, I am still one! I can still play a part, I can still convince an audience that I am who I wish to be.”

  “Have you played in Shakespeare?” Syringa asked.

  “Many times,” Mr. Daniel Neame replied. “Once I believed I would be a great Shakespearean actor, but alas I thwarted my own ambitions, thwarted them carelessly and recklessly.”

  “And how did you do that?”

  “Shall I tell you the truth?” he enquired. “There is no reason for us to deceive each other. I drank away my chances and my dreams, as many a better man than I has done.”

  Syringa thought of her father.

  “How sad!” she sighed. “It is such a pity to waste one’s life wantonly.”

  “I agree with you,” he said mournfully.

  Syringa realised by the tone of his voice that, although he was not drunk, he had been drinking.

  “I am sorry for you, sir,” she said, “but please be kind enough to explain – what is happening to me. I think now it was rather foolish of me to believe Lady Elaine when she said that the Earl had need of me. I have a feeling – I may be wrong – that we are not driving towards his Lordship.”

  “Lady Elaine?” Mr. Daniel Neame said reflectively. “Is that a lady you have offended? Well, I can understand it. Even in the light of this greasy candle I can see that you are very beautiful.”