‘It is,’ said Alex solemnly. ‘To love someone in that way, and to know that you are loved in return, it is the greatest blessing imaginable.’
Eloise was silent for a moment, considering his words.
‘And I could settle for nothing less,’ she said softly. She looked up and smiled. ‘But these are grave thoughts, and unsuitable for a party! Suffice it to say, my friend, that I am very happy to have you as my protector.’
‘Then you must also accept the gossip,’ he told her. ‘It is no different from when Tony was in the Peninsula and I escorted you to town.’
‘But it is, Alex. Somehow, the talk seems so much more salacious when one is a widow.’
He patted her arm.
‘You will grow accustomed, I am sure. But never mind that now.’ He looked around the room. ‘I cannot see Berrow here.’
‘No, I thought if he was going to be anywhere this evening it would be here, for Lord Parham is an old friend. Oh, devil take the man, why is he so elusive?’
‘You could write to him.’
‘My lawyer has been writing to him for these past six months to no avail,’ she replied bitterly. ‘That is why I want to see him for myself.’
‘To charm him into giving you what you want?’ asked Alex, smiling.
‘Well, yes. But to do that I need to find him. Still, the night is young; he may yet arrive.’
‘And until then you are free to enjoy yourself,’ said Alex. ‘Do you intend to dance this evening, my lady?’
‘You know I do, Alex. I have been longing to dance again for the past several months.’
He made her a flourishing bow.
‘Then will my lady honour me with the next two dances?’
Alex Mortimer was an excellent dancer and Eloise enjoyed standing up with him. She would not waltz, of course: that would invite censure. She wondered bitterly why she worried so about it. Waltzing was a small misdemeanour compared to the gossip that was spreading about her after only a few weeks in London—already she was being called the Wanton Widow, a title she hated but would endure, if it protected those she loved. Eight years ago, when Lord Anthony Allyngham had first introduced his beautiful wife to society everyone agreed he was a very lucky man: his lady was a treasure and he guarded her well. During his years fighting in the Peninsula he had asked Alex to accompany Eloise to town, but it was only now that she realised the full meaning of the knowing looks they had received and the sly comments. It angered her that anyone should think her capable of betraying her marriage vows, even more that they should think ill of Alex, but since the truth was even more shocking, she and Alex had agreed to keep up the pretence.
The arrival of the beautiful Lady Allyngham at Parham House had been eagerly awaited and Eloise soon had a group of gentlemen around her. She spread her favours evenly amongst them, giving one gentleman a roguish look over the top of her fan while a second whispered fulsome compliments in her ear and a third hovered very close, quizzing glass raised, with the avowed intention of studying the flowers of her corsage.
She smiled at them all, using her elegant wit to prevent any man from becoming too familiar, all the time comfortable in the knowledge that Alex was in the background, watching out for her. She was surprised to find, at five-and-twenty, that the gentlemen considered her as beautiful and alluring as ever and they were falling over themselves to win a friendly glance from the widow’s entrancing blue eyes. The ladies might look askance at her behaviour but the gentlemen adored her. And even while they were shaking their heads and commiserating with her over the loss of her husband, each one secretly hoped to be the lucky recipient of her favours. Eloise did her best to discourage any young man who might develop a serious tendre for her—she had no desire to marry again and wanted no broken hearts at her feet—but she was willing to indulge any gentlemen in a flirtation, secure in the knowledge that Alex would ensure it did not get out of hand.
It could not be denied that such attention was intoxicating. Eloise danced and laughed her way through the evening and when Alex suggested they should go down to supper she almost ran ahead of him out of the ballroom, fanning herself vigorously.
‘Dear me, I had forgotten how much I enjoy parties, but I am quite out of practice! And perhaps I should not have had a third glass of—oh!’
She broke off as she collided with someone in the doorway.
Eloise found herself staring at a solid wall of dark blue. She blinked and realised it was the front of a gentleman’s fine woollen evening coat. She thought that he must be very big, for she had always considered herself to be tall and yet her eyes were only level with the broad shoulder to which this particular coat was moulded. Her eyes travelled across to the snow-white neckcloth, tied in exquisite folds, and moved up until they reached the strong chin and mobile mouth. For a long time she felt herself unable to look beyond those finely sculpted lips with the faint laughter lines etched at each side. It was quite the most beautiful mouth she had ever seen. A feeling she had never before experienced thrummed through her. With a shock she realised what it was. Desire.
Summoning all her resources, she moved her glance upwards to meet a pair of deep brown eyes set beneath straight black brows. Almost immediately she saw a gleam of amusement creep into those dark eyes.
‘I beg your pardon, madam.’
He spoke slowly but did not drawl, his voice deep and rich and it wrapped around Eloise like a warm cloak, sending a tiny frisson of excitement running down her spine. Really, she must pull herself together!
‘Pray think nothing of it, sir…’
‘But I must, Lady Allyngham.’
She had been enjoying the sound of his voice, running over her like honey, but at the use of her name she gave a little start.
‘You know who I am?’
He gave her a slow smile. Eloise wondered if she had taken too much wine, for all at once she felt a little dizzy.
‘You were described to me as the most beautiful woman in the room.’
She had thought herself immune to flattery, but she was inordinately pleased by his words. She did not know whether to be glad or sorry when she felt Alex’s hand under her elbow.
‘Shall we get on, my lady?’
‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes still fixed upon the smiling stranger. ‘Yes, I suppose we must.’
Really, she felt quite light-headed. Just how many glasses of wine had she taken?
The stranger was standing aside. The candlelight gleamed on his black hair and one glossy raven’s lock fell forwards as he bowed to her. Eloise quelled an impulse to reach out and smooth it back from his temple.
Alex firmly propelled her through the doorway and across the hall to the supper room.
‘Who is he?’ she hissed, glancing back over her shoulder. The stranger was still watching her, a dark, unfathomable look in his eyes.
‘I have no idea,’ said Alex, guiding her to a table. ‘But you should be careful, Elle. I saw the way he looked at you. It was pure, predatory lust.’
She sighed. ‘That is true of so many men.’
‘Which is why I am here,’ replied Alex. ‘To protect you.’
She reached for his hand.
‘Dear Alex. Do you never tire of looking after me?’
‘It is what Tony would have wished,’ he said simply, adding with a rueful grin, ‘besides, if you had not dragged me to London, I should be alone in Norfolk, pining away.’
‘And that would never do.’ She smiled and squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you, my friend.’
When supper was over, Eloise sent Alex away.
‘Try if you can to discover if Lord Berrow plans to attend,’ she begged him. ‘If he does not, then we need not stay much beyond midnight. Although I think you must do the pretty and dance with some of the other ladies in the room.’
‘I must?’
His pained look drew a laugh from her.
‘Yes, you must, Alex. You cannot sit in my pocket all night. Several of the young ladies are already l
ooking daggers at me for keeping you by my side for half the evening. You need not be anxious about me; I have seen several acquaintances I wish to talk to.’
When he had gone, Eloise moved around the room, bestowing her smiles freely but never stopping, nor would she promise to dance with any of the gentlemen who begged for that honour. Her eyes constantly ranged over the room, but it was not an acquaintance she was seeking. It was a dark-haired stranger she had seen but once.
Suddenly he was beside her.
‘Will you dance, my lady?’
She hesitated.
‘Sir, we have not been introduced.’
‘Does that matter?’
A little bubble of laughter welled up. All at once she felt quite reckless. She held out her hand.
‘No, it does not matter one jot.’
He led her to join the set that was forming.
‘I thought you would never escape your guard dog.’
‘Mr Mortimer is my very good friend. He defends me from unwelcome attentions.’
‘Oh? Am I to understand, then, that my attentions are not unwelcome?’
Eloise hesitated. This encounter was moving a little too fast and for once she was not in control. She said cautiously, ‘I think you would be presumptuous to infer so much.’
His smile grew and he leaned a little closer.
‘Yet you refused to stand up with the last four gentlemen who solicited your hand.’
‘Ah, but I have danced with them all before. I like the novelty of a new partner.’ She smiled as the dance parted them, pleased to see the gleam of interest in his eyes.
‘And does my dancing please you, my lady?’ he asked as soon as they joined hands again.
‘For the moment,’ she responded airily.
‘I agree,’ he said, his eyes glinting. ‘I can think of much more pleasant things to do for the remainder of the evening.’
She blushed hotly and was relieved that they parted again and she was not obliged to answer.
Eloise began to wonder if she had been wise to dance with this stranger: she was disturbed by his effect upon her. Goodness, he had only to smile and she found herself behaving like a giddy schoolgirl! She must end this now, before the intoxication became too great. When the music drew to a close she gave a little curtsy and stepped away. Her partner followed.
‘I know I have not been in town for a while,’ he said, ‘but it is still customary to stand up for two dances, I believe.’
She put up her chin.
‘I will not pander to your vanity, sir. One dance is sufficient for you, until we have been introduced.’
She flicked open her fan and with a little smile she walked away from him.
Alex was waiting for her.
‘Our host tells me Lord Berrow has sent his apologies for tonight. He is gone out of town. However, Parham expects to see him at the Renwicks’ soirée tomorrow.’
‘How very tiresome,’ said Eloise. ‘If we had known we need not have come.’ She tucked her hand in his arm. ‘Let us go now.’
‘Are you sure? You will disappoint any number of gentlemen if you leave now: they all hope to stand up with you at least once.’
Eloise shrugged. If she could not dance with her dark stranger she did not want to dance with anyone.
‘There will be other nights.’
She concentrated on disposing her diaphanous stole across her shoulders rather than meet Alex’s intent gaze.
‘What has occurred, Elle? I mislike that glitter in your eyes. Did your last partner say anything to upset you?’
She dismissed his concern with a wave of one gloved hand.
‘No, no, nothing like that. He was a diversion, nothing more.’
‘He was very taken with you.’
‘Did you think so?’ she asked him, a little too eagerly.
Alex frowned.
‘Does it matter to you that he should?’
Eloise looked away,
‘No, of course not. But it is very flattering.’ She tried for a lighter note. ‘He was very amusing.’
Alex looked back across the room to where the tall stranger was standing against the wall, watching them.
‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘that he could be very dangerous.’
‘Hell and damnation!’
Jack watched Lady Allyngham walk away on Mortimer’s arm.
It would not have taken much to have Parham present him to the lady. That had been his design when he had first arrived, but the sight of Eloise Allyngham had wiped all intentions, good or bad, from his mind.
He had carried Allyngham’s locket with him for the past year and was well acquainted with the tiny portrait inside, but he had been taken aback when he saw the lady herself. The painting only hinted at the glorious abundance of guinea-gold curls that framed her face. It had not prepared him for her dazzling smile, nor the look of humour and intelligence he observed in her deep blue eyes.
He had intended to find the lady, to hand over the bequests and retire gracefully, but then Lady Allyngham had collided with him and when she had turned her laughing face to his, every sensible thought had flown out of his head. He had prowled the room until she returned from the supper room and by then his host was nowhere to be seen, so Jack seized the moment and asked her to dance. He should have told her why he was there, but he could not resist the temptation to flirt with her, to bring that delicious flush to her cheeks and to see the elusive dimple peeping beside her generous mouth.
He pulled himself together. It had been a very pleasant interlude but he had a duty to perform. He sought out his hostess.
‘Lady Allyngham?’ She looked a little bemused when he made his request. ‘My dear Major, I would happily introduce you to her, if it were in my power, but she is gone.’
‘Gone!’
‘Why, yes, she took her leave of me a few minutes ago. Mr Mortimer was escorting her back to Dover Street.’ She gave him a knowing smile. ‘He is a very attentive escort.’
Disappointment seared through Jack. He tried to convince himself that it was because he wanted to hand over Tony’s ring and locket and get out of London, but he knew in his heart that it was because he wanted to see Eloise Allyngham again.
Jack took his leave and made his way to St James’s Street, where he was admitted into an imposing white stone building by a liveried servant. White’s was very busy and he paused for a while to watch a lively game of Hazard, refusing more than one invitation to join in. Later he wandered through to the card room where he soon spotted a number of familiar faces, some of whom he had seen in Lady Parham’s ballroom earlier that evening. A group of gentlemen were engaged in a game of bassett. One looked up and waved to him.
‘Had enough of the dancing, Clifton?’
Jack smiled. ‘Something like that, Renwick.’
He looked at the little group: Charles Renwick was an old friend and he recognised another, slightly older man, Edward Graham, who had been a friend of his father, but the others were strangers to him—with one exception, the dealer, a stocky man with a heavily pock-marked face and pomaded hair. Sir Ronald Deforge. A tremor of revulsion ran through Jack. At that moment the dealer looked up at him from beneath his heavy-lidded eyes. Jack saw the recognition in his glance and observed the contemptuous curl of the man’s thick lips. As he hesitated a gentleman with a florid face and bushy red side-whiskers shifted his chair to make room for him.
‘Doing battle in the ballroom can be as hellish as a full-scale siege, eh, Major? Well, never mind that now. Sit you down, sir, and we’ll deal you in.’
‘Aye, we are here to commiserate with each other,’ declared Mr Graham. ‘Come along, Deforge, deal those cards!’
‘Oh?’ Jack signalled to the waiter to fill his glass.
‘Aye. There was no point in staying at Parham House once Lady Allyngham had left.’ Edward Graham paused, frowning over his cards. ‘Hoped to persuade her to stand up with me later, but then found she had slipped away.’
Ja
ck schooled his features to show no more than mild interest. Sir Ronald cast a fleeting glance at him.
‘It seems Major Clifton was the only one of us to be favoured with a dance.’
The whiskery gentleman dug Jack in the ribs.
‘Aye, Sir Ronald is right, Major. You lucky dog! How did you do it, man? Are you well acquainted with her?’
‘Not at all,’ Jack replied, picking up his cards and trying to give them his attention. ‘I know very little about the lady.’
‘Ah, the Glorious Allyngham.’ Jack’s neighbour raised his glass. ‘The whole of London is at her feet. She would be a cosy armful, for the man that can catch her! We are all her slaves, but she spreads her favours equally: a dance here, a carriage ride there—keeps us all on the lightest of reins—even Sir Ronald there is enthralled, ain’t that right, Deforge?’
A shadow flitted across the dealer’s face but he replied indifferently, ‘She is undoubtedly a diamond.’
‘Rumour has it she is on the catch for a royal duke.’ A gentleman in a puce waistcoat chuckled. ‘Ladies don’t like it, of course, to see their husbands drooling over another woman. They’ve christened her the Wanton Widow!’
‘So they have.’ Mr Graham sighed. ‘But I wish she were a little more wanton, then I might stand a chance!’
Ribald laughter filled the air, replaced by good-natured oaths and curses as Sir Ronald Deforge displayed his winning cards and scooped up the little pile of rouleaux in the centre of the table. There was a pause while a fresh hand was dealt and the waiters leapt forwards to refill the glasses.
‘Where did Allyngham find her?’ asked Jack, intrigued in spite of himself.
‘She was some sort of poor relation, I believe,’ said Graham. ‘Caused quite a stir when Allyngham married her—family expected him to make a brilliant match.’
‘Caused quite a stir when he brought her to town, too,’ remarked Renwick, pushing another pile of rouleaux into the centre of the table. ‘We were all in raptures over her, but Allyngham was careful. He made sure no one became overfamiliar with his new bride.’
Disgrace and Desire Page 2