Disgrace and Desire

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Thank you, you may go now. And, Noyes…’

  ‘Yes, m’lady?’

  ‘You may go to bed. Major Clifton will see himself out.’

  ‘But the bolts, my lady—’

  She waved him away impatiently.

  ‘I am quite capable of dealing with those. Now go to bed, if you please. And on your way tell Alice I shall not need her again tonight.’

  There was no mistaking the butler’s look of mingled shock and surprise. Eloise caught Jack’s eye and blushed. She poured two glasses of wine and carried them across the room. Jack watched her, noting the way the wide skirts of her costume swayed with the movement of her hips as she walked. A smile tugged at his mouth.

  ‘That gown suits you, but I do not like your hair to be so artificially contained.’

  She stopped before him, a full wine glass in each hand but he made no move to take one from her. Instead he reached out and pulled off the headdress and tossed it aside.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Making you a little more like a king’s mistress.’

  Deftly he removed the pins and the gold curls cascaded over his hands. He spread his fingers and eased them into her hair, coaxing it to fall like a golden curtain around her shoulders. He nodded approvingly.

  ‘Much better,’ he said.

  A shy smile lit her eyes.

  ‘I do not believe Nell Gwyn ever appeared with her hair thus.’

  ‘Not in public, perhaps, but in private. For her lover.’

  She blushed profusely. Jack took the glasses from her and put them down on a side table. Time for wine later.

  She kept her eyes on his face as he began to unlace the bodice of her gown. Her breasts rose and fell, temptingly close to his fingers but he resisted the urge to run his hands over their soft swell. She stood statue-like while he undressed her. The heavy skirts sank to the floor with a whisper and he continued, slowly discarding her clothes until she stood before him wearing only her chemise and a pair of creamy embroidered stockings.

  ‘Now it is your turn,’ he told her, smiling.

  Shyly she reached out and began to unbutton his waistcoat. Despite the layers of material between them, her touch sent little darts of heat through his body. He experienced a jolt of excitement when she began to unfasten his breeches and, unable to restrain himself, he pulled her to him, his mouth seeking her lips. They finished undressing by the light of the guttering candles and then he drew her down on to the daybed.

  Jack gently pushed her back against the padded silk. She did not resist. She was so trusting he tried to put aside his own urgent desires and concentrate on pleasing her. His kiss was long and languorous and he felt her relaxing, responding to him. When at last he raised his head, his heart sang out at the message he read in her eyes. They were dark and luminous and as he sat up she reached for him, pulling him back down against her. She gave him back kiss for kiss, tangling her tongue with his. Then he released her mouth and began to explore her body with his hands while he trailed kisses over her breasts and down across her stomach. Her body arched beneath him, pliant and yielding, inviting his touch.

  Eloise closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sweet pleasure of his caresses. The past and the future were as nothing, she was aware only of the present: the crackling fire, the cool smooth daybed beneath her, Jack’s hard body above and the faint, masculine scent of his skin. There was such an excitement building within her, such a cresting wave of joy waiting to burst that she could not keep still. Her body moved of its own accord and her skin was sensitive to the lightest touch. Jack’s long fingers explored her, making her gasp with delight. At one point her body seized, and for one heady, heart-stopping moment she could not move, could not breath.

  Jack stilled. He raised his head.

  ‘Love?’

  ‘No,’ she whispered urgently, ‘Go on, go on!’

  She began to move against him, an instinctive, primal rhythm that she didn’t understand. She wrapped her arms about him, pulling him on top of her, gasping as they were united, their bodies moving as one, faster, harder, the excitement building until they cried out together as the wave finally burst and Eloise clung to Jack as they collapsed back on to the daybed, gasping and exhausted.

  Lying snug in the circle of Jack’s arms, with his breath ruffling her hair, Eloise was aware of a sudden tristesse. The certainty she had felt earlier was gone, replaced by the thought that she should have sent him away. It would have been better not to know the wonder of being loved by Jack Clifton. She stirred. His hold tightened and he placed a soft, sleepy kiss on her cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed herself against him. No, she could not regret it. The memory of this night would be with her, a constant comfort in the bleak future that stretched ahead of her.

  A cold, grey dawn was filling the London streets when Jack finally stepped out into Dover Street. His coat and waistcoat hung open and his neckcloth was missing but he didn’t care. He felt alive and ready to take on the world. A sudden gust of wind reminded him that winter was on its way and he threw the black domino around his shoulders. Heaven knew what his friends would think if they saw him now. He grinned to himself. They would most likely think he had just left his mistress, and they would be right. Only she was more than his mistress. She was the woman he was going to marry.

  When he reached King Street Jack ran up the stairs to his rooms, ignoring his man’s remonstrations as he opened the door to him.

  ‘Be done with your scolding, Robert,’ he said, throwing himself on to his bed. ‘I am going to sleep now, and I’d be obliged if you didn’t wake me until at least noon!’

  It was in fact some time past midday when Jack eventually awoke, and some hours more before he was bathed and dressed and Robert considered him fit to be seen. Having missed his breakfast, he was extremely hungry and decided to go off to White’s to find something to eat.

  As he turned into St James Street Jack spotted Sir Ronald Deforge descending the steps of the club. Jack frowned, the memory of the man’s dealings with Eloise darkening his mood. He wanted to force a quarrel upon him and put a bullet through his black heart, but the villain had her journal and until Jack knew just what it contained he must go carefully. And he had given her his word he would not force a quarrel. He was thankful that Deforge did not see him, and had strolled away up the road towards Piccadilly before Jack reached the entrance to White’s. There would be time enough to deal with Deforge later.

  Jack found several acquaintances in the card room; they greeted him cheerfully and invited them to join him.

  ‘Thank you, but no,’ he said. ‘I need to eat first.’ He nodded towards a thin young man sitting by the window, his face as white as his neckcloth. ‘What is wrong with Tiverton? He looks as if he is about to cast up his accounts.’

  ‘Dished,’ declared Edward Graham, shaking his head. ‘He’s just lost ten thousand to Deforge.’

  ‘You have to admit the man’s luck is in,’ wheezed a portly gentleman in a grey bag-wig. ‘Last night poor Glaister lost everything he had to him.’

  ‘Well they say luck goes in threes, let’s hope he’s had his share.’ Mr Graham slapped him on the back. ‘But it’s put paid to your hopes, eh, Clifton?’

  Jack smiled.

  ‘What’s that, Ned? I don’t understand you.’

  ‘The Glorious Allyngham.’ Mr Graham pointed to the newssheet lying upon the table. ‘Seems Deforge has beaten you to it, old man.’

  Bewildered, Jack picked up the newspaper, which was opened to display a large announcement. He stared at it, the letters dancing before his eyes.

  ‘Aye,’ said Mr Graham, resuming his seat at the card table. ‘So Deforge is to marry Lady Allyngham next week. Damme if I’d have put money against his winning that trick! Waiter, bring me another pack of cards, will you?’

  Slowly Jack folded the paper. Then, his appetite forgotten, he turned and walked out of the club.

  ‘Major Clifton, my lady.’

  Noy
es barely had time to finish his announcement before Jack burst into the morning room. Eloise put down her embroidery and folded her hands in her lap. She had been expecting him, but she was not prepared for the violence she saw in his eyes. Her mouth went dry and she had to moisten her lips before she could speak.

  ‘Won’t you sit down, Major?’

  He ignored her, and waited impatiently for the butler to close the door upon them before he spoke.

  ‘What the hell is all this about?’

  ‘All what?’ She feigned surprise.

  ‘This.’ He threw the newspaper into her lap. ‘The announcement of your marriage to Deforge. Will you tell me when that was agreed?’

  She swallowed nervously and looked away from his furious glare.

  ‘Yesterday. At Lanchester House.’

  “And why did you not tell me?’

  ‘Because I knew you would be angry.’

  ‘Hell and confound it, woman, of course I am angry! Even more so because of what happened here last night.’

  She rose from her chair.

  ‘Pray lower your voice, sir. Would you have the whole world know our business?’

  He laughed harshly.

  ‘Your blatant actions last night can have left your people in no doubt of our business.’

  She flushed and looked down at her hands. He came towards her and grasped her shoulders. She tensed herself for his tirade, but it did not come.

  ‘Why did you do it, Elle?’ His quiet tone flayed her even more than his anger. ‘I thought that we understood each other. I thought you loved me.’

  Too much to marry you!

  The words pounded, unspoken, in her head. She shrugged off his hands and turned away.

  ‘I…forgot myself.’

  He pulled her round to face him.

  ‘You must not do this! Send another notice, refute this and announce that you are going to marry me.’

  Even as she raised her eyes to look at him in her mind she could see Deforge’s men closing in, daggers drawn.

  ‘I cannot. I gave him my word. Besides, there is the journal.’

  ‘Ah, yes, that blasted book.’ He let her go and took a hasty turn about the room. ‘What is it, Elle, what have you done that is so bad you cannot tell me?’

  She turned to stare out of the window. It was a bleak day, matching her mood. She said quietly, ‘There are others involved: I cannot break faith with them, even for you.’

  ‘So you would give yourself to this, this monster to protect other people. Hand over your fortune to a man who spends most of his day at the card table! Damnation, woman, he has already lost his own fortune and that of his first wife—he may even have driven her to her death! I will not allow it.’

  She turned quickly.

  ‘You cannot stop me.’

  ‘I could put a bullet in him!’

  ‘No!’ she cried, alarmed. ‘You gave me your word!’

  ‘Hah! What do I care for that now?’

  Even through her unhappiness she smiled at that.

  ‘But you do,’ she said. ‘You are a man of honour.’

  And I love you for it.

  ‘But I will fight for what is mine.’

  She said impatiently, ‘Is that how you think of me, a chattel to be fought over and possessed?’

  In two strides he was across the room and dragging her into his arms.

  ‘You know it isn’t. I think of you as my wife!’

  She dug her nails into the palms of her hands to stop herself responding to him.

  ‘No.’ She forced out the words. ‘I am tired of fighting the inevitable. I am going to marry Sir Ronald. It is agreed and I will not go back on it.’

  ‘Not even for me?’

  ‘Not even for you.’

  His arms dropped away from her and the leaden band about her heart squeezed even tighter.

  ‘I see.’ He turned away and walked to the fireplace. For a few moments he stared moodily down into the flames. ‘Does Mortimer know?’

  ‘Yes. I told him this morning.’

  ‘And he does not object?’

  She hesitated, remembering the strong words that had passed between her and Alex. At last she said, ‘Of course he objects, but he is still too unwell to do anything to stop me.’ She raised her head and directed a look at him. Her heart was breaking but she met his eyes steadily, determined not to show him how much this was costing her. ‘I have made my decision, Major Clifton. I…enjoyed our brief liaison, but it is over. Now we must say goodbye.’

  She held out her hand. Jack stared at it, scowling blackly, then, without a word, he turned on his heel and left.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was only to be expected that Sir Ronald Deforge’s party would be the crush of the Season. He brought in his cousin, a colourless little widow of impeccable birth, to act as hostess, and even the creditors who had been baying at his door for the past few weeks had suddenly disappeared, reassured by the news that he was about to become master of the Allyngham fortune.

  Any hopes Eloise had that her forthcoming marriage would pass off with little comment were dashed as the carriages turned off Oxford Street and queued up outside Sir Ronald’s tall town house, waiting to disgorge their fashionable occupants. The interminable evening began with dinner. Eloise had tried to refuse but Sir Ronald insisted, pointing out that his cousin’s presence would prevent any hint of impropriety.

  ‘Although with your reputation I am surprised to find you worrying about that,’ he said, with a grin that made Eloise long to slap his face.

  ‘Until we are married,’ she said frostily, ‘we will observe every propriety.’

  ‘Of course, my dear. I can contain my impatience a few more days.’

  The dinner was long and cold, despite the dining room being on the ground floor and not far from the kitchen. Sir Ronald’s cook was obviously unused to entertaining. The wine, however, was excellent, but she refused to take more than one glass. She was the only guest at dinner and her attempts to make conversation with her hostess could not be deemed a success. The widow was patently in awe of her blustering cousin and made no answer without first looking to Sir Ronald for approval.

  ‘Once we are married I shall expect you to take over the running of my household,’ said Sir Ronald, refilling his glass. ‘I have no doubt that you are a very capable housekeeper.’

  ‘I could certainly do better than this,’ she retorted, pushing a piece of tough and stringy beef to the side of her plate.

  ‘Well, we will not require two cooks when we are in town so I shall turn mine off,’ he said. ‘But what about the house—shall we live here, or would you rather I moved into Dover Street? You see, I am minded to be magnanimous about these things.’

  The thought of Sir Ronald living in Dover Street appalled her. It had been her husband’s home, not to mention the memories it held of the night spent in Jack’s arms. She could not bear to think of it being desecrated by the boorish animal now sitting at the head of the table.

  The meal dragged on, the covers were removed and she was wondering how soon it would be before her hostess gave the signal to retire when Deforge said suddenly, ‘Time is getting on. Our guests will be arriving soon and I have something for you. Come along to my study. Oh, don’t mind Agnes,’ he added, as Eloise’s eyes flickered towards her hostess. ‘She should be off now to make sure everything is in readiness for our guests. Should you not, Cousin?’

  ‘Oh. Oh, yes, Ronald, immediately.’ The thread-like voice could hardly be heard above the scraping back of her chair, and the little woman scuttled away. Sir Ronald picked up a branched candlestick and walked to a door at the far end of the dining room. Eloise hung back.

  ‘How do I know this is not a trick?’

  ‘What need have I of tricks? In three days’ time you will be mine, you have given me your word. Now, if you please, madam.’

  He led her up the stairs and past the main salon to a room at the back of the house. At the door he stopped.
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  ‘No one enters here without permission,’ he said, fishing in his pocket for a key. ‘Not even my valet.’

  The room was very dark, and Sir Ronald held the candles aloft as he entered. The light flickered over a large wing chair and across a number of tall bookcases. Eloise glanced about her nervously: a tall chest of drawers stood against one wall with a wooden-framed mirror and a number of small objects on the top. In the dim light she thought perhaps they might be snuff-boxes and scent bottles. She edged back towards the open door.

  ‘This is your dressing room.’

  ‘It is used for that purpose, yes, since it adjoins my bedchamber. Perhaps you would like to see where we will spend our wedding night?’

  She fought down her panic.

  ‘With the first of the guests about to arrive I think we should return to the salon with all speed,’ she retorted.

  Sir Ronald shrugged and moved towards the large mahogany desk by the window.

  ‘I realised I have not given you a ring to seal our betrothal,’ he said. He put down the candlestick and unlocked the centre drawer. Eloise watched as he pulled out a small leather box. ‘I have no family heirlooms to give you, so I have bought you this.’ He laughed. ‘Let there be no secrets between us now, my dear. To tell you the truth I have it on credit, the jeweller knowing that I shall pay him just as soon as your fortune passes into my hands!’

  He opened the box and held it out to her.

  ‘There, I knew you would like it. Never met a woman who could resist a trinket.’

  Eloise’s gasp was genuine, but it was not the large diamond ring winking in the candlelight that had caused her exclamation. She had watched Sir Ronald pushing aside the contents of the drawer to get to the ring box, and nestling amongst the clutter she had seen a small, leather-bound book bearing the Allyngham crest.

  Quickly she raised her eyes and gave Sir Ronald what she hoped was a warm smile.

  ‘It is quite…breathtaking,’ she said, moving around the desk. ‘May I wear it now?’

  ‘Of course.’ Delighted, he pulled the ring from the box and slipped it on to her finger.