by Louise Allen
‘So where does that leave us?’ Sir Clement had his head in his hands, his fingers spearing through the thick sandy hair.
‘I think I would like to make the acquaintance of Lord Welney,’ I said. ‘I want to see what he is like and we need to find out who was at that gathering.’
‘He is holding another of his parties tonight,’ James said. ‘I can get you in to that.’
‘No.’ Lucian brought his hand down on the table. The cups clattered and Garrick jumped up to steady the milk jug.
‘Why not? Do you think it might alert him to our suspicions?’
‘Because I am not having you anywhere near that man.’
‘Do I need your permission?’ I asked levelly.
It took a moment, but Lucian seemed to realise that he was on thin ice. Even so, he did not back down. ‘Yes. Yes, you do.’
‘Because why, exactly? And what makes you think you have the right to dictate my movements?’
Garrick cleared his throat, stood up and went out, soft-footed. James also got to his feet. From of the corner of my eye I saw him jerk his head at Sir Clement and when that hint did not work he took him by the arm and steered him towards the door.
‘The man is a rake with an unsavoury reputation.’ Lucian took no notice of the others leaving.
‘That does not answer either of my questions.’
‘You are not safe with him. It is highly likely that he would offer you some insult.’
‘Then he will get insulted right back. Lucian, I can look after myself, I am not some naive, sheltered virgin and Arabella, who is, may be in danger. Welney is hardly likely to be indiscreet about his behaviour with women with you – and certainly not with Sir Clement.’
‘That is true, but, damn it, Cassie, you are a woman.’
‘But not your woman,’ I pointed out, perhaps more gently than I might have done. If Lucian was provoked into swearing in front of me and didn’t even notice and apologise, then he was certainly agitated.
He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and looked directly at me. ‘But I could wish that you were.’
‘You want an affair?’ He was watching me with an intensity that was both unnerving and arousing. ‘I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to make love with you, Lucian. But if we do, it will not commit me in any way, it will not make me your woman, any more than it would make you my man. It would take a long time to explain the nuances of sexual relationships in my time and I don’t know if you would ever understand them from a distance of two hundred years anyway.’
‘You sleep with many men? You are a courtesan?’ I couldn’t work out whether he was shocked or intrigued.
‘No. When I come from women and men might become lovers for a short period or a long while. Sometimes they will choose to live together for the rest of their lives, sometimes they marry.’ I was not going to try and introduce the concept of the one-night stand. ‘Yes, there are professional sex workers – prostitutes – and the kept women of some rich men, who are courtesans, I suppose.’
‘It seems very… permissive.’
‘In some ways, yes, very. It puts the decision with the individual. But it is illegal to have sexual relationships with anyone under the age of sixteen, male or female. Forced sex is against the law and the definition of rape is far stricter than it is here, now. Domestic violence is unlawful – a man has no right to strike his wife. That doesn’t mean that rape and sexual exploitation of children and domestic violence don’t occur, of course they do. Human nature doesn’t change.’
‘I see.’ It was clear that he was very far from seeing, but at least he did not appear to be judging. ‘You might want us to become lovers?’ he asked after some thought. ‘But you do not want me to protect you.’
‘I do not want you to think you own me in some way,’ I amended. ‘And I do not know whether I want to take that step, to become your lover, not in the situation we are in. I am out of my time, out of my depth.’
We sat in silence for a while. I drank tea, Lucian frowned at the sugar basin. After a bit I said, ‘You trust James to look after me, don’t you?’ The looking after was a concession to his need to protect, even if he could not do it himself.
‘Yes.’ Lucian spoke without hesitation. ‘But do not stray far from James and if anyone attempts anything – ’
‘I will put him on his back,’ I promised. ‘But I’ve just realised I do not have a thing to wear.’
Lucian opened the door. ‘Garrick!’
‘My lord?’
‘We require evening dress for Miss Lawrence.’
‘I have already dispatched a note to Madame Vernier with the request that she sends a semptress with the clothes so that any alterations can be made, my lord.’
‘I thought ready to wear clothes were not available,’ I said, dredging around in my inadequate knowledge while Lucian gave his valet the sort of look that promised retribution later. Garrick had obviously put his money on me winning that round. ‘But, of course, she sent me a day dress, so there must be some.’
‘For his lordship Madame will take something awaiting another client as she did the other morning,’ Garrick explained.
For the sake of tact I swallowed the observation that Lucian must put a good deal of valuable business in Madame’s way. ‘Thank you, Garrick.’
‘Jewels, my lord?’
‘Of course. Let us see what Madame sends round first.’
Chapter Twelve
James came to collect me at half past ten, by which time Madame herself had sewn me into a gown of gold net over amber satin, high under the bust and with what felt like a mere inch of bodice between me and a major wardrobe malfunction. What with being unable to breathe because of the stays, and not daring to do anything that might dislodge my boobs from their inadequate anchorage, I found I was moving in a sort of stately glide that did wonders for my deportment.
When I emerged Lucian produced a stack of leather boxes and selected a yellow diamond necklace, ear drops and a pair of bracelets to clasp over the long white evening gloves.
‘Are those real?’ His fingers were warm on the nape of my neck as he fastened the necklace and the stones were cool on skin that was becoming heated by his closeness.
‘I sincerely hope so,' James said, studying the effect from across the room, head on one side. ‘That is part of the Pemberton Parure. Great Grandmama Pemberton brought them into the family. If they turn out to be paste then she will come back and haunt us.’ My gulp was probably audible in the next room. James grinned. ‘You look very fine, Cassie, does she not, Luc?’
‘Very fine,’ Lucian agreed, still standing behind me. I felt his breath stir my hair. For a moment his hands rested on my shoulders, titling me back against his body.
I found some breath to speak with. ‘So do you,’ I told James who swept me a bow. He was wearing the severest of black and white with a sapphire stick pin in his neckcloth and what looked like an antique intaglio signet on his finger.
‘We will go and raise the tone of Welney’s party by several degrees if you are ready, Cousin.’
‘Take care,’ Lucian said flatly. ‘You are not dealing with a gentleman, whatever his rank.’ He came round to face me as Garrick brought in a cloak and placed it over my shoulders. ‘Damn it, I ought to come with you.’
‘We will get nowhere in that case,’ James said. ‘He knows you and Clement are close friends and if he has anything to hide concerning Arabella he will become exceedingly cautious. He hardly knows me.’
‘How will you get us in then?’ I asked.
‘A friend of a friend,’ James said vaguely and Lucian became expressionless. Ah.
We went in the carriage, of course, even though it only felt like a five minute journey, but there were our evening shoes to consider, to say nothing of a king’s ransom of diamonds hung about me to tempt any passing footpad.
‘There will be no receiving line, no respectable hostess and the whole thing will be exceptionally relaxed,�
� James warned. It sounded wonderful to me.
We found a press of carriages close to the wide-open front door which was lit by half a dozen flambeaux. Couples and single men were entering and we joined them with me clinging to James’s arm while I managed my skirts and the cloak.
However lax the entertainment, the staff were certainly on the ball. My cloak was removed, James’s hat and cane whisked away and I was ushered into the, ‘Ladies’ withdrawing room, Madam,’ before I had a chance to enquire.
I checked that my neckline was more or less decent, fluffed my hair, blotted at my nose with a despairing wish for some decent foundation, and exchanged smiles with one woman and a cool stare with another who looked as though she would feel quite at home in any twenty first century nightclub.
James was waiting for me, chatting to a group of men who, I guessed, might share his particular preferences. Certainly their eyebrows lifted when he gave me his arm and took me off without offering to introduce me to any of them.
We drank champagne, strolled around, James steering me away from some of the men who were already the worse for drink and a couple who, he said, had tentacles like octopuses.
‘For both sexes,’ I observed, seeing a young man shove an elbow into the ribs of one of them to escape a hand on the buttock.
‘Er, yes.’ James slid me a sideways glance.
‘I suppose they feel safe enough in this company,’ I said. ‘It is quite a shock to remember that it is a criminal offence to follow one’s preferences at this time.’
‘And it is not when you come from?’
‘No. Not at all. Where is our host?’ I asked before he could question me further. It wouldn’t do him any good to know that I had gay friends who were married. At least, I wasn’t going to break it to him in the middle of a party.
‘Over there.’ He sounded rattled and I cursed myself for saying anything about the young man. ‘Welney – excellent party!’
The tall, dark man who turned at the sound of his name nodded. ‘Franklin, heard you were back. Glad you could come. And who is this?’ His assessing, confident, gaze slid over me.
He probably had some cause to be confident with women – he was good-looking in a saturnine manner, old enough to intrigue and flatter the young ladies, with the flashes of silver at his temples and his air of confidence, and sophisticated enough to handle the more experienced.
Handle was probably the word. His look was like a touch. I smiled back and took a deep breath, drawing his eyes down to my diamond-embellished cleavage.
‘Cassandra, allow me to introduce you to the Viscount Welney. George, my American cousin, Miss Lawrence. She has just arrived in London, so I am taking her about a bit.’
‘Miss Lawrence.’ He took my hand and bowed over it but didn’t do anything as obvious as kiss it. I was beginning to appreciate his technique. ‘Allow me to take you around a bit here, see to whom I may introduce you.’
James stepped back and I put my hand on the proffered arm. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘Call me George, my dear, everyone does,’ he said. ‘And I will call you Cassandra.’
‘Cassie, please.’
We strolled about the room while George introduced me to perhaps a dozen people, all of whose names I promptly forgot, I was focussing so hard on not putting a foot wrong with him. A fine undercover cop I’d make. I forced myself to concentrate and then became even more alert when he swept me into an alcove. It was partly screened from the room by a hooked-back curtain that only needed a twitch to give the occupants total privacy as they sat on the chaise longue. Of course, it had to be a chaise longue – those spindly little gilt chairs would be no good for seduction.
I sat down, but I choose the side nearest the curtain tie-back: I had no intention of suddenly finding myself alone with him in private. Another glass of champagne appeared as if by magic and I wracked my brains for a way to introduce the subject of the missing Arabella.
‘This is a lovely party, but I confess I feel a trifle out of place here,’ I said. ‘There do not seem to be any unmarried ladies like me.’
‘Not very young ones, no.’ His heavy-lidded eyes regarded me as though watching for signs of affront. ‘When I say young I mean… inexperienced in the way of the world.’
‘I would have thought that they would want to come – the more daring ones, that is. I gather you have a certain reputation, George. A rather naughty one.’ I unfurled my fan without, by some miracle, dropping it, and used it to create a bit of space between us while making eyes at him over the top. ‘I should think that gate-crashing your parties must be akin to sneaking out of the house to attend some masquerade.’
‘Hmm.’ The sensual mouth twisted. ‘But those who might make good wives should give both my entertainments and a masquerade a wide berth.’
‘Wives? Are you venturing into the Marriage Mart, George?’ And presumably looking for some innocent miss while you reserve the right to screw your way round London with anyone you please, you hypocrite.
‘Sadly I am, I confess. Getting oneself leg-shackled is a depressingly serious undertaking, but duty calls. There’s the title to consider.’
Presumably duty called in the form of a fat dowry attached to the innocent miss in question. He had obviously sized me up as a miss without the innocence because he was making definite progress along the chaise towards me. I furled my fan and fetched him a playful, and probably painful, tap on the thigh with it and he smiled and stopped, accepting the rebuke for the moment.
‘You made your come-out in America, Cassie?’
‘Yes, in Boston. But my branch of the family is not in Society in the way that my cousins Lucian and James are.’
‘More… mercantile interests perhaps? Boston being such a fine trading city.’
‘Very modestly,’ I said, fanning myself and pretending not to notice the fishing.
‘Now you are bamming me, Cassie, sitting there with that exquisite necklace around your lovely neck.’
‘Oh, this? Borrowed from Cousin Lucian. He is so good to me.’
‘Indeed, it would appear so. Ah, I see Colonel Winstanley. Now, I know you would enjoy meeting him.’
Very efficiently I was removed from the intimacy of the alcove and propelled more or less into the arms of a tall blond man of military bearing who showed a great deal of interest in my cleavage. My host prowled off in search of new prey.
Talking to the Colonel was not going to get me very far, I could tell that at a glance. He was already well on the way to being drunk and as he moved in closer, crowding me against a pillar, I said, loud and clear, ‘If you do not take your hand off me, Colonel, I am going to break your fingers.’
He recoiled, mouth open, and heads turned. I stepped away from him, smoothed my skirts down and headed for the ladies’ retiring room. As I reached the door so did the lady I’d exchanged cool looks with when I had first arrived.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked abruptly when we were inside.
‘Perfectly, thank you. I can deal with men like that easily enough.’
She sat down at one of the little dressing tables and leaned forward to study her reflection with clinical intensity. ‘They do cease to be amusing quite quickly,’ she remarked. ‘I am Genevieve Collinson. Lady Collinson. You have just arrived from America, I gather.’
‘Yes. I am Cassandra Lawrence.’
‘This is not a good hunting ground for unmarried ladies, Miss Lawrence. Much more fruitful for widows such as myself.’ Was I being warned off or simply warned?
‘I am not hunting,’ I said. ‘My cousin James Franklin brought me to see a little of London life. Our host is searching for the right person though, or so I gather from what he said.’
‘Yes.’ Her reflected gaze rested on the diamonds.
‘Borrowed,’ I said.
‘Ah.’ Some of the ice thawed, just a little around the edges.
‘To be frank, this party is not what I expected. The other evening I overheard two young
ladies giggling about an invitation to attend, which they were obviously tempted to take up, even though I can quite see they would be risking far more than they would by attending a forbidden masquerade. There are no masks for one thing. On the other hand, if imprudent and innocent young ladies are invited, one would expect to see some of them here.’
Lady Collinson smoothed the lace at her neckline and stood up. ‘As you so acutely observed, dear George is hunting. Or, perhaps, that should be shopping. And one does like to test the quality of the merchandise. One would not want anything shoddy, would one? If the chits take his lures then they are, by definition, unworthy of him. Enjoy your stay in London, Miss Lawrence.’
‘Thank you.’ But she was gone. And I had had quite enough of this atmosphere.
The behaviour had degenerated even in the short time I had been out of the salon. Couples were touching, some were kissing, and in one corner a card game was degenerating into something akin to strip poker.
I looked around for James and saw him in conversation with two other good-looking gentlemen of about his age. Behind me someone said, ‘That is Franklin, over there with Pemberton, is it not? You know, I never see him with a lady on his arm. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’
‘What?’ another man replied. ‘That he is – Oh, I don’t know, seems a decent young fellow, not that you see him at the club much, but I have never heard a whisper. Well, not since school days, but then, who didn’t in those days?’
Right. I sailed across the floor, dodging a determined attempt to swing me into a dance, and linked my arm through James’s.
‘Darling James, may we go now?’
He blinked at the endearment, but came willingly enough. I steered him towards a potted palm, just in front of where the two men still stood, and turned into his arms. ‘Kiss me, James,’ I whispered.
‘What?’
‘It’s all right, just pretend. I’ll explain in a minute.’