‘Well, then, you may flirt to your heart’s content this evening.’
Anne laughed. ‘I have a feeling that there are several officers keen to flirt with you, if their expressions are anything to go by.’
In this respect she was quite right and in a very short space of time Claudia was surrounded. She accepted all invitations to the ballroom floor, determined to put everything else out of her head. The music and the candlelight and banks of flowers were beautiful. The scent was wonderful. Two glasses of champagne added to her natural vivacity and wit ensured the attention of a crowd of admirers, all vying with each other to be the most entertaining. Many of the officers were striking figures. Their ardent expressions left her in no doubt of their thoughts; any encouragement from her would be eagerly received. You could always take a lover. It would be easy, she thought. Such things were commonplace and well understood in fashionable circles, especially here on the Continent. Provided that one used discretion there was no reason not to enjoy a secret liaison. I knew I was right. Madame Renaud’s mocking smile returned with force.
‘Are you all right, Lady Claudia?’
She looked up quickly and saw concern on the face of the captain of hussars by her side. ‘Oh, yes, perfectly. It’s just that I’m a little thirsty, that’s all.’
‘Then allow me to fetch you some refreshment.’
‘That would be most kind.’
She watched the tall, broad shouldered figure depart and turned back to the dancing, but this time saw nothing. How was it that a man she would have considered deeply attractive only a month ago should suddenly seem lacking? His attention was flattering but it did not set her heart beating faster; the thought of his kiss did not set her alight. Only one man had ever done that, but to him it had meant nothing. He had never loved her and never would. In spite of other masculine adulation, the rejection still stung. She had to put him out of her mind and move on.
Presently the captain returned with a glass of fruit punch. She thanked him with a smile. In fact, she hadn’t been untruthful when she’d said she was thirsty. With its numerous candles and the press of people the heat in the room was considerable.
‘I wonder, do you like to ride, Lady Claudia?’ her companion inquired.
She nodded absently. ‘Yes, when I can.’
‘Then would you do me the honour of accompanying me tomorrow? The countryside hereabouts is very fine.’
There it was, she thought, a casual prelude to a possible affaire. If she accepted his invitation and rode alone with him, he would take it as encouragement of a very particular kind. She could see it unfolding in front of her; the ride, the excuse to stop awhile, the first passionate kiss...
‘I’m afraid I have no mount,’ she replied, ‘and I have other engagements tomorrow.’
He concealed disappointment beneath a polite smile. ‘Some other time perhaps.’
She returned a non-commital smile of her own, and took another sip of her drink, her thoughts in turmoil. What was wrong with her? He was well-connected, good looking, good company...he clearly admired her. Why not enjoy his company for a while? And then Anthony’s face floated into her mind and she knew why.
Making a polite excuse she left the captain and went into the adjoining salon. It was cooler here and she took a few deep breaths to recover her equilibrium. She could see Anne in a group across the room and made her way over to join them. The group opened to admit her and then the conversation continued.
* * *
Anthony paused in the lighted hallway, letting his gaze travel up the staircase in front of him, already aware of the covert looks he was attracting from the guests on the landing above. His jaw tightened. Since Vittoria he had eschewed fashionable society, and in particular all occasions such as this, knowing that his appearance would inevitably mark him out. While he didn’t imagine that the men would be overly concerned, he dreaded the reactions of women. In the persona of Antoine Duval it hadn’t mattered; his work rarely brought him into contact with them, and never in a social setting. As Anthony Brudenell things were different and it mattered very much. Yet somewhere among the scented, candlelit chambers above was the fugitive he had come to find. No matter what the obstacles, he did intend to find her, but first he was going to have face down a demon. Squaring his shoulders he took a deep breath. Then, slowly, he began to climb the stairs.
* * *
Claudia listened to the conversation with only half an ear. Once she would have been entertained by the latest society news or whispered scandal, but now could summon little enthusiasm for it. However, good manners decreed that she should make an effort so she smiled and assumed an expression of rapt interest. And then, without warning, the conversation faltered and ceased and the ladies around her were no longer looking at each other but across the room instead.
‘Lord, who’s that?’ murmured Anne.
Claudia glanced round in idle curiosity, and then her heart leapt towards her mouth as she recognised the tall, elegant figure in the doorway. Anthony had always been physically imposing, but the austere black and white evening dress only strengthened that impression. However, it was his face that commanded attention; the handsome chiselled features lent added distinction by the scarred brow and the black mask beneath. Moreover, there was in his upright bearing just the faintest touch of arrogance, and it lent blatant virility a sombre and dangerous edge that was both forbidding and exciting—as though an eagle had suddenly appeared among a flock of gaudy parakeets.
The Earl scanned the room for a moment or two, apparently oblivious to the heads turned in his direction, or the excited, whispered conjecture that rippled outwards from behind myriad fans. Then he saw her. The blue gaze locked with hers, steely and quietly intent. Its expression sent a frisson down her spine. In that look she read many things, none of them in the least bit reassuring. He had found her and there would be a reckoning. There was no way of knowing what form it might take, but suddenly it was much harder to breathe and a rabble of butterflies took wing in her stomach. For a moment she stood transfixed as he made his way unhurriedly but inexorably through the throng towards her. It was effortless too; a word here, a touch there and the company parted to allow his advance. Claudia swallowed hard. Then, recovering some of her wits, she excused herself from the group and moved a few paces away, waiting.
And then he was in front of her, his gaze coolly appraising, taking in every last detail of her costume. In heart-thumping silence she watched him bow, then possess himself of her hand and lift it to his lips. The touch seemed to scorch.
‘I believe the next dance is mine, my lady.’
Strong fingers retained their hold as he led her away. Claudia lowered her voice. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you.’ He glanced down at her. ‘That dress becomes you very well, by the way.’
‘You didn’t come here to compliment me on my dress,’ she retorted. ‘What are you about, Anthony?’
‘Let’s just say your departure left many things unsaid.’
‘There’s nothing more to be said.’
‘I think there is.’
Their arrival in the ballroom precluded an immediate reply. He led her on to the floor as the orchestra struck up a waltz. Claudia had only performed the dance a handful of times since in England it was still regarded as rather shocking. The thought of performing it now filled her with apprehension that had nothing to do with remembering the steps.
‘Anthony, I’m not going to...’
He drew her closer. ‘Oh, yes, you are.’
And then they were gliding into the opening steps. It was the first time they ever danced together. However, it was certainly not the first time he’d ever danced a waltz. He moved with effortless assurance, leading her deeper into the whirling pairs around them. Claudia surrendered to the music and tried not to think about the strong fingers clasping her
s or the firm hand on her waist or the fact that only inches separated them. Her heart raced, but not with fear.
‘How did you find me?’
‘A little detective work, my sweet.’
‘To what end?’
‘I think you know that.’
The implications were infinitely disturbing, but not as disturbing as the treacherous knowledge in her heart. In confusion she looked away.
‘What are you afraid of?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then why did you run?’ he demanded.
Her gaze met his again. ‘I didn’t run. I left. There’s a difference.’
‘Is there?’
Unwilling to go further down that road, she changed the subject. ‘Where are you staying at present?’
‘In the Rue de Namur, my sweet. Where else?’
The dark eyes flashed indignation. ‘Oh, no, you’re not.’
‘I beg to differ.’ He paused. ‘Besides, if you think about it, there is no other possibility unless you wish to become the talk of Brussels.’
Her jaw tightened but she knew he was right. For a husband and wife to live apart would occasion endless gossip and speculation. ‘You think you have it all worked out, don’t you?’
‘Far from it. However, private matters should remain exactly that.’
She nodded reluctantly. ‘All right, I suppose a little more hypocrisy won’t make any difference.’
‘Hypocrisy? For a husband to live with his wife? Hardly.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘No, I’m not sure I do. You can explain it to me later. In the meantime, let’s enjoy this waltz.’
They whirled on around the floor. Claudia stopped trying to rationalise any more, and just gave herself up to the dance. She was enjoying it and despised herself for it; for wanting to be with a man who didn’t care for her. She wished she could feel as indifferently towards him, but she did not. That was the awful truth. His power over her had nothing to do with a marriage certificate or what the law said; it was about the way he made her feel now, about the memory of lying naked in his arms, about wanting to do that again.
Eventually the dance ended. She dropped a curtsey and turned away, anxious to be gone now before he read in her face what was written on her heart. A hand closed on her elbow, arresting her abruptly.
‘Where are you going, Claudia?’
‘I...this dance is taken.’
‘Not any more.’
‘Anthony, you can’t just...’
He evinced polite interest. ‘Can’t what?’
‘You can’t do this.’
As her next partner approached, the Earl stood his ground and fixed the intruder with a cool, quizzical stare. The younger man reddened a little, hesitated, then bowed and, stammering something inaudible, backed away. The Earl turned back to his wife.
‘Shall we?’
Torn between amusement and annoyance, Claudia surveyed him steadily. ‘That was outrageous.’
‘Yes, I suppose it was.’
‘You had no right...’
‘There I disagree.’
‘What justification can you offer?’
‘The right of a husband.’
Her chin came up at that. ‘You are quite shameless.’
‘You realise it, then.’
With that he took her in his arms and swept her into the next dance, and the next. Again she gave herself up to the music and the moment and the man, forgetting everything else, exhilarated by his nearness, aware of him to her fingertips. When at length the dance ended she felt sure that he would relinquish his claim on her. Instead he kept a firm hold on her elbow.
‘It’s warm in here. Let’s get some air.’
He steered her towards the French windows that gave on to the terrace. The latter was presently occupied by two other couples who had retired to talk, away from the heat of the ballroom. The Earl ignored them and drew her further off where there was no possibility of their conversation being overheard. Then he turned her round to face him. Her heartbeat accelerated dangerously.
‘Why have you brought me out here, Anthony?’
‘I wish to refute the charge of hypocrisy that you laid at my door earlier.’
‘And just how do you propose to...’
The sentence was never finished because she was drawn firmly against him and then his mouth was on hers making speech impossible. All attempts at resistance were ignored until resistance was abandoned, and then the kiss became gentle and lingering and infinitely persuasive, reviving the memory of their last encounter. The familiar spark leapt and became flame, filling her with shameful desires.
Eventually he drew back a little to allow breath, but his hold remained inflexible, his face only inches from hers. His expression was sufficient indication of his inner thoughts to send a frisson down her back. Recognising the danger she made an unsuccessful attempt to free herself, to get away before it was too late and weakness triumphed.
‘Please, Anthony, I...’
‘It’s no good, Claudia. You can’t run from me.’
‘All right. You’ve found me. Isn’t that enough?’
‘Not by a long way. We’re going to finish what we began, my sweet.’
Her heart turned over. ‘But...’
‘No buts. Fetch your wrap: we’re leaving.’
* * *
The journey home was short but for Claudia, trying to marshal her thoughts, it passed all too quickly. Every particle of her being was attuned to the man sitting opposite but the events of the last hour had not entirely seduced her mind. His presence tonight might have taken her unawares, like that calculatedly sensual scene on the terrace, but that didn’t mean he could take the outcome for granted. It would be all too easy to let the force of his personality sweep her away again; to succumb to the charisma he wore so effortlessly. To allow that would be to risk everything.
Sensing her unease, Anthony waited until they were within doors before he broached the subject. He followed her into the salon, closing the door behind them. For a moment they faced each other in silence.
‘Now, tell me. What is it, Claudia?’
‘Just what I was going to ask you? What is this really about?’
‘You leave without a note, or even a word, and you ask me that?’ His gaze bored into hers. ‘Did it ever occur to you that I might have been sick with worry?’
‘I could hardly be expected to think that, could I?’
‘Well, believe it now. You have caused me several sleepless nights.’
The intensity of his expression took her aback. ‘Anthony, I...’
‘No, you’re going to hear me out.’ He advanced until only a foot separated them. ‘I know how far I am to blame for the past. There are no recriminations you can heap on my head that I have not deserved, or any that I have not already accused myself of a hundred times over. I know that my actions have hurt you and, God knows, if I could undo them I would.’ He paused. ‘When I discovered that you were the wife I’d left all those years ago, I didn’t know if there could ever be a chance for us; all I had was a faint hope. I did not imagine the spark between us that night in Paris. More than anything I wanted to rekindle it.’
Claudia’s heart thumped uncomfortably hard. ‘You are the one who walked away, remember?’
‘I’ve thought of nothing else since.’
‘Why? You didn’t want me that night. You have never wanted me.’
‘That isn’t true.’
‘It is true. Why don’t you admit it? You think me a whore and you’ve thought so since Paris.’ Tears pricked behind her eyelids. ‘You as good as accused me of infidelity. That’s why you walked away. You couldn’t overcome your disgust.’
He paled. ‘Dear God, is t
hat really what you thought? You couldn’t be more wrong.’
‘If I’m wrong why did you do it?’
‘After Paris, after I’d tasted just a fraction of your passion, I knew that nothing else would do. So I waited and hoped, and then, one night, it seemed to happen.’
Her chin lifted. ‘Seemed?’
‘It did happen, but I allowed doubt to persuade me otherwise.’ He made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘I feared you had only yielded in the heat of the moment because my return had taken you by surprise.’
‘What!’
‘Well, I could not suppose you were attracted by my looks, could I?’
Claudia stared at him, dumbfounded. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I am well aware that my appearance is not calculated to inspire romantic thoughts.’
‘Oh, so you thought that it was just a casual liaison perhaps; that I would allow myself to be seduced in such a way?’
‘No, of course not, but...’
‘But you couldn’t help remembering Paris.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘God knows what I was thinking that night.’ He paused. ‘I wanted to talk to you afterwards, to apologise and to explain, but you wouldn’t let me in. I cannot blame you for that, but you should not have left without a word.’
‘There seemed to be nothing to say.’
‘Once you were away from Oakley Court I could not protect you, Claudia. Anything might have happened.’
‘If you had not walked away that night I would not have gone.’
‘I know.’ He took her by the shoulders. ‘Believe me, it’s not a mistake I intend to repeat.’
‘So you intend to claim your rights after all.’
His grip tightened a fraction. ‘If that was all I wanted I’d have done it long since.’
She tried unsuccessfully to free herself. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Do you think you could have prevented it?’ he growled. ‘I could have taken you the first night I returned to Oakley Court, and every night since if I’d wanted to.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
The Caged Countess Page 14