by Mary Brendan
‘Whittiker and I have no liking for one another—actually, that’s understating the matter. I despise him and I imagine he returns the sentiment,’ Alex ruefully admitted. ‘He thinks to blackmail me into paying for his silence.’
Elise’s soft lips parted in a soundless denial of such villainy. ‘How much does he want?’ she asked in a squeak of indignation.
‘It’s the cost to your reputation that bothers me.’
‘Tell me how much he wants to keep quiet!’ Elise insisted on knowing, her voice and delicate features turning fierce.
‘Three thousand pounds.’
‘That is outrageous!’ Elise’s initial anguish was being overcome by anger. ‘Will you set the authorities on to him for such criminal behaviour? The odious swine should end in court! No...better he go straight to prison!’
‘Do you want the sorry tale reported in the papers, Elise? Do you want your family name smeared and salacious gossip to spread in such a way that it will affect the Chapmans and your aunt, too?’ Alex pointed out the likely outcome of such public scrutiny.
‘No...of course not!’ Elise murmured, slowly shaking her head. She knew all he had warned of might come to pass. She had heard of genteel young women who had had their lives ruined by a single slip that sent their kith and kin with them into exile. ‘But it is unfair!’ she raged beneath her breath. ‘We did nothing wrong...’ She felt his smouldering eyes roving her face and the memory of his mouth moving magically on hers, his hands stroking her body, made her again seek his phaeton as support.
‘That’s not how polite society sees it,’ he murmured. ‘I kissed you and—’
‘And that was not my fault!’ she spluttered, interrupting him before he could elaborate and make her blush deepen. But, embarrassment apart, she’d detected a light teasing in his voice and it infuriated her that he could jest at such a time.
‘My memory serves me differently,’ he responded throatily. ‘You were lucky you stumbled across me and not some lecherous rogue or you’d not have escaped so lightly.’
Despite his self-mockery Elise knew he spoke the truth. She had wanted him to kiss and touch her and had, at first, felt heady with delight when he did, but thank goodness he’d been gentleman enough to stop when she told him to. She’d seriously misjudged the situation and might have been ravished or murdered by a miscreant posing as Mr Best. She had got off lightly...or so she’d thought. But now all manner of calamity could ensue not just for her, but for people she cared about. As much as she was grateful for Alex’s concern, she could understand why he felt able to banter about it. If the story broke, he would face tuts and reproofs for a while, but still be welcomed socially by top hostesses and his adoring mistress. Opprobrium for her would last a lifetime.
‘I didn’t mean to be facetious.’ Discreetly he touched together their fingers in apology. ‘I’m aware it is a serious matter and we must find a solution.’
‘If you manage to deal with Mr Whittiker...what of his friend? Will he then come forwards to blackmail you, too?’ Elise’s mind was attempting to grapple with the extent of the awful possibilities lying in wait.
‘It was a woman who saw us together. She approached and spoke to me that night, so I’m afraid it is not a bluff. We were under observation.’
Elise knew he was hinting that a soliciting harlot had accosted him. On casting her mind back to that fateful evening, Elise did recall glimpsing a woman in a flashy hat moments before she’d sped back to join her party. A large number of the people she’d hurried past on her way to meet Mr Best had glanced at her with contempt, believing her to be a trollop. No doubt the genuine article thought she’d been a rival. Elise felt like wailing her innocence. But it was pointless brooding on injustices. She’d taken a stupid risk and now the damage was done she must take the consequences.
‘Do you trust me to put things right?’
‘What can you do?’ Elise answered in a despairing voice. ‘If you were to pay him, he would surely come back to swindle more money.’
‘There’s not much a man can do when he compromises a young woman and a fellow threatens to expose the matter. He can call for seconds or call on her father.’
‘But it might yet come right! I beg you will not tell my papa about it, even to apologise,’ Elise whispered.
‘Apologising wasn’t my intention...’
Elise bristled. ‘I accept it is more my fault than yours, but you are not free of blame. I only made you stay with me when you would have gone on your way that night because I believed Bea was loitering by the lake and in danger of ruin... Oh...we’re going home!’ Elise remembered the vital news and immediately blurted it out with a protracted sigh of relief.
Once James Whittiker realised his quarry was miles away he might reconsider his actions. She raised her head, meeting Alex’s earthy dark eyes. ‘We had already decided to go earlier today. Beatrice understands that there is no hope of receiving Hugh’s proposal and is adamant nobody else will do. If Mr Whittiker has no victim to torment, surely he will leave you alone.’
‘Your disappearance won’t put Whittiker off the scent, Elise,’ Alex softly disabused her. ‘In fact, such a tactic might fuel the fire. Once rumours have spread people will believe you’ve bolted out of town to escape the scandal.’
‘What else can I do?’ Elise demanded tightly.
‘Marry me,’ Alex said.
Chapter Fourteen
‘You have just apologised for being facetious...don’t you dare repeat the offence.’
‘I’m not joking.’ Alex’s steady gaze captured her anxious amber eyes. ‘I know such a proposal is not ideal or romantic, but there is no necessity for either in such a situation.’ He cursed below his breath as he glimpsed Beatrice and the older ladies emerge from the shop and immediately approach them. ‘Our time has just run out,’ he muttered. ‘When are you to leave for Hertfordshire?’
Elise simply stared at him, stunned into speechlessness on realising he’d meant his proposal. She sensed the tension in her limbs melting away, warmth and calmness coming over her.
‘Tell me when you intend quitting town! Your sister and aunt are almost upon us!’ Alex insisted.
Elise jerked to attention beneath his rasping authority, sure his frustration meant he was already reconsidering his spur-of-the-moment solution to their dreadful predicament. A welcome pride swelled in her chest, overcoming the warring emotions clogging her throat. If he were worried she would tie him to his word, he need have no fear on that score! A moment ago a spark of blissful optimism had put a glow in her eyes, but it had only briefly flickered before dying.
‘I have asked you before not to order me about,’ Elise quickly croaked, very aware of her kith and kin coming within earshot. ‘I appreciate the great sacrifice you’ve indicated you’re willing to make to protect my reputation, but you may rest assured it will not be necessary,’ she continued rattling off. ‘As for quitting town—if we can get our places booked on the coach we will leave the day after tomorrow.’
Alex’s mouth thrust in sardonic acknowledgement of her icy rebuff, but there was no time left to continue the battle. ‘We’ll speak further about this another time. For now...I’ve no doubt you will be required to account for my urgent interest in you.’ His mouth pursed in consideration. ‘I might have felt compelled to apologise to you about my friend’s poor behaviour towards your sister. But I’m in no way ordering you to use that excuse—’ Alex broke off his ironic speech to politely nod to the ladies.
‘It is a fine day, is it not, Lord Blackthorne?’
‘Indeed it is, Mrs Pearson. Unfortunately I have to forego enjoying the rest of the afternoon outdoors. I’m on my way to visit my attorney in a stuffy office.’ His manner was suave and encompassed them all. Then in an agile spring he was on the phaeton and soon steering the greys away from the kerb.
&n
bsp; ‘Oh...he is so wonderfully distinguished,’ Edith Vickers breathed. ‘Hugh is lucky indeed to have such a friend.’
Elise became aware of three sets of eyes on her.
‘Well?’ Dolly Pearson prompted, keen to know what was making her younger niece look shell-shocked. ‘What made him take you out of the shop like that? What has he said?’ She tapped Elise’s forearm to hurry an answer.
‘Such a masterful gentleman...’ Edith sighed, recalling the incident.
Elise was unable to formulate a better excuse than the one Alex had supplied, so reluctantly used it. ‘The viscount wanted to say sorry for Mr Kendrick’s unwise attention to Beatrice.’ Her voice sounded high and unnatural, but she retained sense enough not to want to upset her sister.
Beatrice pulled a forlorn little face, then peeked inside her paper bag containing her purchase of ribbon.
‘I’m not sure the viscount should have blamed all of that on Hugh.’ Edith’s loyalty to her nephew caused her to review his good fortune in having a turncoat for a best friend.
‘It certainly isn’t an innocent young lady’s fault if a gentleman singles her out for particular attention.’ Dolly took up the cudgels on behalf of her niece. The two older women exchanged combatant stares. Edith sallied forth first, leaving Dolly to trail in her wake.
Elise linked arms with Beatrice and urged her on. Her heart was still racing from the vital news received from the viscount. Putting aside his marriage proposal, she knew there were other momentous facts that she must set her mind to. But not yet. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. ‘Let me see what you’ve bought.’ She took Bea’s paper bag and discovered inside a coil of thin turquoise velvet. ‘It would look very fine stitched around the hem of your new lemon dress,’ Elise said, handing back her sister’s purchase.
‘Oh...what is the point? There will be nobody to see it.’ Beatrice sighed dolefully. ‘Not that I care about going out now...’
‘Oh, do cheer up, Bea!’ Elise said with an impatience born of anxiety. ‘I have had enough of your sulks and will be glad to be home!’
* * *
‘It is good to be back, Papa.’
Walter Dewey patted at the slender white fingers resting on his shoulder. ‘And it is good to have the two of you home again. I have missed your company, my dear.’ Walter put down his pen on the ledger and turned stiffly. He had been logging household accounts when Elise softly approached to stand behind his chair.
The sisters had alighted from the mail coach at noon and been brought back on the pony and trap by their manservant, Mr Francis. Shortly after they had trooped tiredly up the steps to their home, their father, leaning heavily on his cane, had come into the hallway to fondly welcome them. Following a refreshing drink of lemonade and some newly baked buns, eaten in the sunny parlour, the young ladies had immediately retired to their chambers to remove their dusty travelling clothes and bathe in cool scented water provided by Mrs Francis, their housekeeper.
Beatrice had then rolled herself in her eiderdown and fallen into a deep sleep. Elise, also attired in just her linen underclothes, had snuggled into the comfort of her own bed. The window had been wide open and she’d luxuriated in the feel of balmy air sweeping her clean skin. She’d drowsed until the roiling thoughts ever present in her mind stole away the comfort and even the somnolent rustle of a million leaves couldn’t give it back. Drawing up her knees beneath her chin, she’d stared out at green pasture and fields turning gold beyond their boundary wall.
Now it was early evening and in an hour’s time they would dine. Having prepared their supper, Betty and Norman Francis had set off for their tiny cottage close by. In the kitchen a mutton stew bubbled on the stove, wafting mouthwatering aroma into the atmosphere. But Elise had no appetite. For the duration of the journey home she had been torn over whether to prime her father that dreadful rumours might even now be circulating in London because she’d disgraced herself. Beatrice was also unaware their world might come crashing down about their ears. Elise was determined to shield the two people who meant most to her from unnecessary alarm, so still held her tongue on it. Subconsciously she clung to her belief that Alex Blackthorne was worthy of the trust she’d put in him and would somehow bring everything right.
She hadn’t seen him again after their meeting in Regent Street. She’d been convinced he’d find a pretext to call on the Chapmans the following day so they might discuss what to do. But he had not.
‘Now...have you had a good rest and a bite to eat?’
Elise nodded as her father’s concern broke into her troubled introspection. ‘Mrs Francis gave us some buns before we went to freshen up and have a snooze. Bea is still fast asleep. The journey was very warm and tiring.’
‘Indeed, it is too close.’ Walter took a hanky from a pocket and mopped his perspiring brow. ‘So...did you have a nice time in London with your friends and has your sister returned in a better mood?’ He took off his spectacles and placed them on his desk, his features crinkling in a smile.
‘We had a fine time, Papa,’ Elise confirmed rather huskily. ‘And must thank you for your generosity in providing us with new clothes and for allowing us to stay with the Chapmans longer than was planned.’
Walter waved aside his daughter’s gratitude with a mottled hand. ‘It is no great sacrifice if good might come out of it.’ He cocked his sparsely thatched head, watching Elise. ‘Has Beatrice found herself a beau? Have you?’ His tone was as poignantly optimistic as the look in his pale eyes.
Elise walked to the window and looked out over a small garden filled with lupins and foxgloves and trellises tangled with roses and honeysuckle. She hated having to disappoint her father with the truth. ‘Bea met a gentleman she liked very well. But...he is unfortunately not in a position to court her.’
‘Is he spoken for as was the other fellow?’ Walter had learned from his sister Dolly that Beatrice had settled her heart on a newly betrothed gentleman last time the girls had gone to town. Walter had written to the scoundrel to give him a piece of his mind when he discovered from Dolly that Mr Vaughan had cruelly encouraged Beatrice, laying her open to ridicule.
‘It is Hugh Kendrick’s financial position that is the stumbling block,’ Elise explained.
‘The Kendricks, eh? I do recall the family. I thought the younger son, Hugh, nice enough...better than that brother of his with his tight fists and airs and graces.’
Walter sighed, picked up his spectacles and fitted the wires over his ears. He knew the drawbacks of being a younger son with few prospects. He’d been the second of three boys and of necessity had gone into the City to earn his way in the world rather than enter the clergy. It had taken him much time and toil to get to a position where he could afford a wife. He had been in his late thirties, Arabella barely twenty, when they married. Inwardly he sighed. Had he only acquired a loyal spouse and better business acumen things might have been very different...
He felt guilty for not securing dowries for his daughters, then putting the cash out of reach of grasping creditors. They were both good girls and deserved to be happy, but with only their pretty looks and personalities to recommend them they would need to find wealthy suitors, unfazed by the Deweys’ lack of money and standing. Walter knew that he and Arabella must share equal blame for having disadvantaged their daughters by besmirching the family’s reputation at great financial cost.
Arabella had followed her heart rather than her duty to her family and thus had caused dreadful gossip. Walter knew he, in vainly trying to buy her back, had been equally guilty of neglecting his children in favour of his own needs; he had never stopped loving his errant spouse. Now his wife was dead and buried and his girls were the most important things in his world, but it was too late to be lavish for he had nothing left to give them but his love.
‘No gentlemen will be coming to visit.’ It was a melancholy mumbl
e beneath Walter’s breath as, done with reflection, he picked up his pen and recommenced inking a column of spidery figures.
Elise gazed quietly into the distance, aware of a floral scent wafting through the open casement. Adding to the rhythmic tick of the wall clock was the sound of summer as bees gathered nectar from lavender swaying beneath the sill.
But her mind was far away, back in London, with Alex Blackthorne. She wished it were not because she realised she missed him and yearned to see him for more reason than he had the power to protect her and her family from a miserable future. Now she was out of sight, was she out of mind, too? Would he simply tell Whittiker to do his worst when the evil swine returned to harass him for payment?
Instinctively Elise was sure the viscount was a courageous and an honourable man. Thus, he would not pay Whittiker his ransom; neither would she want him to. Bullies had to be faced down or never would they leave their victims alone.
So what course of action was left? Only the one Alex had mentioned: a forced marriage.
‘I know such a proposal is not ideal or romantic, but there is no necessity for either in such a situation—’
The damning words would not quit her head, even if he might have forgotten them. If he were to come here to see her father and repeat his reluctant proposal because he had divined no other solution to their quandary, Elise knew she must decide whether she could endure a marriage to a man who didn’t love her...and might eventually grow to despise her as an unwanted encumbrance.
Walter Dewey’s sudden dry cough brought his daughter pivoting to face him. ‘You sound unwell, Papa.’
‘Oh...it is nothing much. You know how the summer months affect my lungs...all the seeds blowing about...that’s what it is...nothing to worry about.’ He took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. ‘The doctor might be by later. He comes sometimes to see me if he is travelling in this direction.’