Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady

by Diane Gaston

  She walked solemnly, tears silently falling. When she crossed Southampton Street, a man coming from the direction of Covent Garden brushed against her, then caught her arm, and pulled her so she was facing him.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t little Nancy Vernon.’ The scarred face of Edwin Tranville looked malevolently down upon her. His breath smelled of whisky. ‘And walking the streets all alone.’ He laughed. ‘A street-walker. My lucky day.’

  ‘Let me go, Edwin,’ she snapped.

  But he did not let her go. Instead he dragged her against the wall of a building. ‘I want a kiss from the street-walker.’

  ‘Stop it, Edwin.’ Nancy squirmed.

  She lifted her leg and slammed her heel down hard on Edwin’s foot. He let go of her and she struck his face. With no gloves on, her nails scraped his scar.

  He gave a cry of pain and immediately cupped his cheek. Nancy gave him a hard push and he careened into the brick wall of the building.

  She ran, frightened now, because she realised how dangerous it could be to walk on the street alone. She heard Edwin shouting behind her, but she did not look back. She ran all the way to Somerset House and hid in one of the doorways before checking to see if he had pursued her.

  It did not surprise her that he was nowhere in sight. Edwin always ran away crying if someone fought back.

  Nancy leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath. She was afraid to emerge from the doorway, but afraid she would miss Michael if she did not.

  The sun had dropped low and the shadows had grown to ominous lengths. It should be near time for Michael’s instructor to release him. She stepped out of her hiding place.

  Students started to pour out of the building. Some of them eyed her as they walked past, making her frightened all over again, but then she saw Michael laughing at something a companion said to him. She could not see his blue eyes from this distance, but she was certain they twinkled with amusement and their corners creased with tiny lines. She knew she was safe.

  She waited until he was closer. ‘Michael?’

  Several eyes turned to her, all very speculative. Some of his companions made catcalls.

  ‘Nancy?’ Michael walked over to her. He turned to the others. ‘Stubble it, fellows. This is a friend.’

  There was more laughter, but Nancy did not care. She’d found Michael.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked with a worried frown. ‘Is something amiss?’

  ‘Will you walk me home, Michael?’ She was eager to get away from these spectators.

  ‘Of course.’ He waved to the others. ‘I shall see you all tomorrow.’

  ‘Have a good night!’ one of them called. The others laughed and hooted.

  He led Nancy away, but waited for her to start speaking. She would not tell him about Edwin. She’d pretend that had never happened. Taking a breath she began to explain why she’d braved the dangerous streets alone to see him. She told him everything, including what she’d heard Lord Tranville say about denying her mother financial support.

  ‘What else can I do, Michael?’ she asked him. ‘Do you think I am right in saying I’ll marry him?’

  ‘I cannot advise you about this.’ He answered in a voice she hardly recognised.

  His face was stiff and unfriendly. He looked so…different.

  ‘Do you want to marry him?’ he asked after another pause.

  She shook her head. ‘I had not even thought of marriage before this.’ Marriage had felt like a some day sort of thing, a distant dream, one or two years away, at least. ‘I think I must marry him for my mother’s sake.’

  ‘He is wealthy,’ was his only comment.

  They walked on, but Michael watched his feet more than where they were headed. Adam Street was only two roads away. Once inside her house again she would not be able to speak freely with him.

  He broke their silence. ‘I should beg off dinner tonight.’

  ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Why?’ She could not bear it if he were not with her when she had to face her mother and brother.

  ‘Your family has much to discuss.’ He pressed his lips together into a grim line. ‘I would intrude on your privacy.’

  She was suddenly afraid that if Michael said goodbye to her right now she would never see him again. Her heart beat as fast as when she’d been running. She could no longer breathe. Everything turned black and her legs gave way.

  ‘Nancy!’

  She felt his strong arms around her, holding her.

  ‘I need to sit down,’ she gasped.

  He kept her in his embrace. ‘We are near Savoy Chapel. We might sit there.’

  He helped her to the chapel, which was dark. The door was unlocked, however. They went inside and sat in a back pew.

  She tried to catch her breath. ‘Don’t leave me alone, Michael. Don’t leave me.’ Tears poured from her eyes. She tried very hard not to sob aloud.

  ‘I shall not leave you,’ he murmured consolingly. ‘I will see you safely home.’

  ‘No. That’s not what I meant.’ She could not speak until she caught her breath. ‘If…if I marry, will you still be my friend?’

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her very tight. ‘If you must marry—’ It seemed as if his voice cracked. He took a deep breath. ‘You shall always be in my heart.’

  His answer calmed her even though she was uncertain what it meant. To be always in Michael’s heart seemed a good thing, though, especially as her own heart was breaking.

  Jack tried returning to his studio to work. After Ariana had left, he’d made great progress on the new version of her portrait, but he could not continue now, not even if he lit every lamp and candle he possessed. There was too much disquiet inside him.

  He decided he would collect Nancy at the theatre. He needed to see Ariana, needed her comfort and optimism. Jack hurried out of the door and strode quickly to the Strand, but there were no hackney coaches in sight. He walked to Charles Street and the Drury Lane Theatre, thrusting away the internal rumblings of Badajoz.

  He entered the theatre through the back door and made his way through the labyrinth that was the backstage to the wings. No one questioned his presence.

  Ariana was on stage with Edmund Kean, rehearsing a scene from Act One. ‘…I’ll seem the fool I am not; Antony will be himself.’

  Kean responded, ‘But stirr’d by Cleopatra. Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours, Let’s not confound the time with conference harsh.’

  These were not soft hours, Jack thought. He glanced around and did not see Nancy, but he felt in control of himself again.

  Ariana saw him as she left the stage. She hurried up to him. ‘I did not expect you,’ she murmured. ‘What transpired with Tranville?’

  The pleasure of being with her surged inside him. ‘I confronted him and my mother. He did not like it. That is all really. Where is Nancy?’

  Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Why, she never came here. She had the hack take her back home.’

  He stared at her. ‘She did not come home.’

  ‘Oh, Jack!’ She looked away. ‘I should have stayed with her, but she seemed calm. And she was determined to return home.’ She grasped his arm and pulled him towards the door. ‘You should go back. Find Michael. I wager she went to him.’

  He wrapped his arms around her, not caring at the moment who might see them. ‘This has been a hellish day.’

  She hugged him back, holding him tightly. ‘I cannot help you search for her; I am in tonight’s performance.’

  ‘I know,’ he murmured. ‘Come tomorrow, as early as you like.’ He took her face in his hands and kissed her, hungry for her lips.

  When he moved his lips away, she caressed his cheek. ‘She will be at your mother’s home when you return. With Michael at her side, you can bet upon it.’

  He nodded, but could not believe it. Today he could only believe in unhappy endings.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning Ariana rose early and hurried to Ja
ck’s studio. She’d been so worried about Nancy and Jack, she’d slept little. It was odd to care so much about other people, to think of them before thinking of herself.

  She passed the door to Mrs Vernon’s apartment, hoping Nancy was safe in her bed and not in some terrible mischief. Ariana never should have let Nancy go home alone.

  She quickened her step to reach Jack’s door, letting herself inside with the key he had given her.

  He stood at his easel, in stockinged feet, dressed in his painting shirt, brush in hand. She’d almost forgotten about the portrait, so much had happened since she’d sat for him in a costume more scandalous than posing in one’s nightdress.

  He looked up at her entrance and smiled. ‘You did come early.’

  She pulled off her pelisse and hung it on a hook. ‘I could not sleep.’

  She rushed to him and was gathered into his arms, forgetting to care if paint got on her dress. His mere warmth, his scent, was comfort to her. ‘Tell me. I have worried so. Did you find Nancy?’

  He released her and nodded. ‘It was as you predicted. She was at my mother’s place by the time I returned there.’

  She released a relieved breath. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘Nothing. She took a walk, she said.’ He still held her.

  She examined his face and found only worry there.

  ‘She changed,’ he said. ‘Somehow between here and my mother’s house, she changed. She said she’d decided to marry Lord Ullman after all, giving as her reason a desire to be respectable and to wear pretty gowns.’

  Ariana was aghast. ‘But what did she say of Michael?’

  ‘She did not mention him, except to say he’d left word he would not be at dinner.’ His brow creased. ‘I must conclude you are mistaken about Michael and Nancy. He has not declared anything more than friendship to her, ever.’

  ‘Oh, I am not mistaken,’ Ariana insisted. ‘Nancy and Michael have a grand love for each other, although they may not know it yet.’

  ‘If so, it is a doomed one.’ He rubbed his face. ‘I must have argued with her for two hours. She would not hear anything I said. She just insisted she wanted to be a countess.’

  ‘I do not believe it,’ Ariana said.

  Jack frowned. ‘My mother dispatched a message to Tranville to bring Ullman to call this afternoon. Nancy will accept his proposal.’

  Ariana leaned against him again. ‘This is too dreadful.’

  Jack’s voice rumbled in his chest. ‘This is all Tranville’s doing and my mother is going along with it. Even after—’ He stopped.

  ‘Even after what?’

  He released her and picked up a brush. ‘Tranville plans to remarry.’

  Ariana’s jaw dropped. ‘Remarry!’ She could not be more surprised. There had been no talk at the theatre about him courting anyone.

  Jack turned back to the canvas and she looked at it for the first time since the previous day. ‘Oh, my!’

  He gazed at it as well. ‘What do you think?’

  The portrait was a long way from being complete, but already it was a vast change from the first one. She was Cleopatra lounging in the same pose as before, but the expression on her face simmered with sensuality, as if this image were indeed casting her gaze upon her lover.

  ‘It promises more than I ever dreamed,’ she whispered.

  He made a gratified sound. ‘There’s much more to be done. I need to work more on the transparent effect of the gown.’

  Jack had so vividly depicted a blush of skin beneath a thin wash of white pigment Ariana could almost feel the silkiness of the fabric. Because he’d draped it to conceal the dark pink of her nipples and her most feminine parts, the portrait did not look bawdy; it appeared reverent.

  ‘It is remarkable.’ She hugged him from behind. ‘You have done it!’

  He turned to her. ‘I need to finish the background, refine the rest. I wish I could use every bit of daylight, but I want to be present when Ullman calls on my sister.

  She touched his cheek. ‘Even if Nancy accepts Ullman today, she still can change her mind before marrying him.’

  He frowned. ‘I cannot see that as likely.’

  She gazed at the portrait again. She’d almost despaired of Jack ever transforming the work into a great painting, but he had done it. It seemed a terrible shame to cover over the sheer gown with the other one. It suited this sensual Cleopatra.

  She gave Jack a swift hug. ‘Let us not waste the day. Come and help me with my laces. I’ll change into the costume, and you can get back to work.’

  Never had a painting emerged from Jack’s brush more quickly. Exhilarated, he worked until the afternoon advanced, wanting to seize every second of time. The clock chimed the half-hour and he realised it was near the time to go to his mother’s. He wiped his brush and dropped it in a jar of turpentine.

  ‘I surmise we are done for the day.’ Ariana uncoiled herself from her posed position.

  ‘I wish it were not so.’ Jack covered his palette with a cloth. ‘But I am expected at my mother’s.’

  ‘For Lord Ullman to call,’ Ariana finished for him.

  He and Ariana had spoken very little the whole day. He’d been so absorbed by the work he’d almost forgotten to give her breaks. Time passed without his being aware of it.

  At this pace both the portrait and a copy could be ready to deliver in two or three weeks. If Tranville still wanted them, that is. His marriage plans might have changed matters. If so, Jack would willingly forgo the balance owed him.

  Ariana stretched. ‘I wish I could speak to Nancy. Maybe I could discover why she has changed her mind so completely.’

  Jack covered his palette to keep the paint moist for the next day. ‘I wish you could as well.’

  Ariana walked over to the canvas. ‘I am amazed.’

  He pulled off his paint-streaked shirt and put an arm around her. ‘It is as if I am transported. Nothing exists but the painting and you.’

  She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her kiss drove even the painting from his mind. Beneath the thin fabric of the costume she was warm and soft and he was consumed with desire for her.

  Her lips still touched his. ‘Do we have time?’ she murmured.

  ‘We have time.’ He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed.

  Their lovemaking was swift and sensuous and thrilling in its intensity. They were attuned to each other now, each expert in knowing the most arousing way to touch, the most erotic way to move. Rushing against the clock lent a new intensity to the lovemaking. When their passion was spent, Jack held Ariana in his arms, loath to release her and proceed on his undesired errand.

  The clock chimed the quarter-hour.

  ‘You must hurry,’ Ariana said. She slid from his arms and the bed and gathered their clothing from the floor.

  He groaned and rose to dress for the meeting with Ullman. They’d become as expert dressing each other as in making love. Ariana pulled fresh linens for Jack from the chest of drawers. He assisted her with her corset and the laces of her dress. While he donned his clean shirt and his good trousers, waistcoat and coat, she folded his painting trousers and her costume, putting it away neatly into the bandbox.

  He tied his neckcloth. ‘Will you be late to the theatre?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not at all. I have plenty of time.’ She pinned up her hair. ‘I would wish you good luck this afternoon, but I have no idea what good luck will mean in this situation.’

  They hurried out into the studio where a sudden cloud darkened the room. He closed the curtains. ‘Perhaps we will all be struck with lightning and our worries will be over.’

  She shook him. ‘Do not say that! Not even as a jest. I want nothing to happen to you or your family.’

  Jack felt a surge of tenderness for her. ‘Forgive me. It was not a good jest.’

  She squeezed his arm. ‘You must tell yourself that somehow things will work out well.’

  He gave her a sceptical look.


  ‘Do say it,’ she insisted.

  He kissed her again. ‘Somehow things will work out well.’

  She smiled approvingly and put on her hat.

  When they stepped outside, Jack said, ‘I’ll walk with you to get a hack.’

  She shook her head. ‘Go to your mother’s. I shall be fine.’

  When they reached Jack’s mother’s house, Tranville and Ullman approached in the opposite direction.

  ‘I’ll not leave you now,’ Jack said under his breath.

  Lord Ullman broke into a smile and quickened his pace. ‘Miss Blane! How delightful to see you.’ He glanced at Jack with a quizzical look.

  Ariana stepped forwards. ‘Lord Ullman, allow me to present Mr Jack Vernon.’

  Jack inclined his head to acknowledge the introduction.

  Lord Ullman broke into a smile and thrust out his hand for Jack to shake. ‘Of course. The portrait. I could not put together the connection. Delighted to make your acquaintance and I am delighted to be calling upon your lovely sister. Delighted.’

  Tranville’s expression was less than friendly. ‘You promised the portrait soon, Jack. When will it be done?’

  ‘Two weeks,’ Jack responded. So much for Tranville forgetting about it. ‘If you pay, that is.’

  ‘I’ll pay.’ Tranville glared at him.

  Jack nodded to Ullman. ‘I will be at my mother’s directly. As soon as I’ve seen Miss Blane to a hackney coach.’

  Tranville stepped to her side. ‘I will escort Miss Blane, Jack. You go with Lord Ullman.’

  Jack turned toward Ariana. ‘I think not.’

  ‘Do not cross me, Jack,’ Tranville snapped.

  Jack’s hand formed a fist. He was ready to do battle.

  Ariana stepped between them. ‘Go with Lord Ullman, Jack. See to your sister. Her needs take precedence this day.’

  Tranville smirked.

  Jack could not disagree with Ariana.