Disgrace and Desire

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘There, now you have something to show the tabbies tonight.’

  He shut and locked the drawer again, slipping the key into his pocket. She heard the thud of the knocker, and the sound of feet running down the stairs. Sir Ronald looked up.

  ‘Now, shall we go and greet our guests?’

  Eloise stood between Sir Ronald and his cousin as a steady stream of people made their way up the stairs towards her. Her smile was pinned in place and she greeted them all mechanically. If she had not been so busy with her own thoughts she might have felt a little self-conscious of their stares. Everyone was curious to know what lay behind the sudden betrothal, but her mind was elsewhere, thinking about what she had seen in the study. By walking around the desk she had managed to take a quick look through the unshuttered window. A pale moon illuminated the night, showing her that the room looked out on to a narrow yard bounded by a high brick wall. Half the space was taken by a small outbuilding that butted against the wall of the house, its roof only a few feet below the window ledge. And the journal was in the desk drawer. For the first time in days she began to feel a glimmer of hope.

  ‘I am disappointed,’ said Sir Ronald as he escorted Eloise through the crowded rooms. ‘I know your friend Mortimer is indisposed, but I had hoped that Major Clifton would be here.’

  ‘I do not see why he should be,’ she replied shortly. ‘He is no friend to you.’

  ‘But I made sure to send him an invitation, because I know he is a special friend of yours,’ he purred.

  ‘You are mistaken.’

  He turned to look down at her, an evil smile curling his lips.

  ‘What is this, a lovers’ quarrel, perhaps?’ When she did not reply he laughed softly and patted her hand. ‘What a pity. I had hoped he would be here tonight: I wanted him to know just what he had lost. But never mind, my love, I may even allow you to take him as a lover again, if he will have you once I have done with you.’

  Disgusted, Eloise pulled her arm free and went her own way. The rooms were so crowded she thought it might be possible to spend the rest of the evening without talking to Sir Ronald. His comments about Jack Clifton had touched a raw nerve. She had heard nothing from him since he had walked out of Dover Street. A casual enquiry of Alex had elicited the information that Jack was preparing to leave town. Alex had questioned her closely, had asked if she and Jack had quarrelled and she had been at pains to laugh it off, but secretly she was forced to conclude that she had succeeded in driving Jack away.

  Nothing of her melancholy thoughts showed in her face as she circled the room, talking and laughing with everyone. By the end of the evening her cheeks ached with the effort of smiling. She was so tired she could hardly stand and there was no attempt at deception when she told Sir Ronald that she was too exhausted to remain another moment, once the last of the guests had quit the house.

  ‘If that is the case,’ he said, ‘then surely it would be easier to walk to my bedchamber than to take your carriage to Dover Street.’

  She had no energy to prevaricate. He merely laughed at her look of revulsion.

  ‘Very well, my sweet. Go home and rest.’ He placed her cloak about her shoulders. ‘I am engaged to dine at the Forbes’ tomorrow night: Mrs Forbes did send me a little note to say that, having seen the announcement of our engagement, I might bring you with me, but it is a long drive to Edgeware and I want you to be looking your best for Keworth’s party on Thursday.’

  ‘Thursday! But we are to be married on Friday. I need to prepare.’

  ‘No. You will accompany me to Keworth House. His lordship’s parties are always well attended. I want everyone to see you at my side.’

  She grimaced.

  ‘A card party! I have no interest in gambling.’

  ‘But I have, and I want you beside me. You need not play.’ He ran a finger down her arm. ‘You may stand by my chair and bring me good fortune!’ He laughed as she shrugged him off. ‘I want everyone to see that I am lucky in cards and in love!’

  With barely a nod she left him, and made her way downstairs to the tiled hall, where a vacuous-looking footman was waiting by the door.

  ‘Your carriage is sent for, m’lady, but it ain’t here yet,’ he mumbled as she approached.

  Eloise gave him a tired smile and moved towards a large button-backed arm chair. ‘Then I shall sit here and wait. Unless, of course, this is your seat?’

  The lackey jumped and looked a little flustered. She suspected he was unused to being addressed in anything but the curtest of terms.

  ‘No, m’m, that seat’s only used by Stevens, the master’s valet, when he waits up for Master to come in o’ nights.’

  ‘Well, it is very comfortable. I have no doubt Mr Stevens has a little sleep while he is waiting for his master, what do you think?’ She twinkled up at him and the lackey flushed, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Then he nodded.

  ‘Aye, m’m, I think he does. Ah, and here’s your carriage now, m’lady.’

  Eloise hurried out, relieved to be leaving the gloomy and oppressive house at last. But the depression that had enveloped her for much of the evening had lifted. She had a plan.

  Alex Mortimer was stretched out on the daybed in his morning room, struggling to eat his breakfast one-handed when Eloise was shown in.

  ‘Thunder and turf, Elle, you cannot come in here!’

  ‘Fustian,’ she replied calmly, pulling off her gloves. ‘Farrell told me you were going to get up today.’

  ‘Yes, but I am not yet dressed. It is most improper for you to walk in here as if we were related. I won’t have it!’ He gave her a quick, searching look from under his brows. ‘Unless you have come to tell me you’re not going to marry Deforge after all.’

  ‘No, I am not going to tell you that, although I hope now it might not be necessary.’ She could not quite keep the excitement out of her voice. ‘The journal is at his house, Alex! I saw it in his desk when I was there last night. I suppose he had his lawyer deliver it, ready for the wedding on Friday.’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘Or perhaps it has been there all the time,’ she mused, ‘and he only told me otherwise to make sure no harm came to him. It is in his study, which is at the back of the house, on the first floor.’

  ‘And what has that to say to anything?’

  ‘Well, it should not be too difficult to break into that room and take the journal.’

  Alex’s knife clattered on to his plate.

  ‘Are you out of your mind? You know the penalty for stealing!’

  ‘The journal is not Sir Ronald’s property, and once it is destroyed—’

  ‘Eloise, you know if I was fit I would do this for you, but it is as much as I can do to climb the stairs at the moment.’

  She looked at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

  ‘I thought, perhaps, you might speak to Major Clifton for me…’

  ‘Well, you thought wrong,’ he retorted brutally. ‘Jack has left town.’

  ‘L-left?’ A chill rippled through her, starting in her core and spreading rapidly throughout her body. ‘He’s gone?’

  ‘Yes. When he came to see me yesterday he said he was off to Staffordshire.’ Alex scowled at her. ‘I take it you quarrelled with him.’

  ‘Not, not quarrelled, exactly.’ She looked down at the gloves held tightly between her fingers. ‘He was very angry about my marrying Sir Ronald and I told him it was none of his business.’

  ‘What? After all he’s done for us?’

  ‘No, what he has done for you,’ she flung at him, angry colour burning her cheeks. She was filled with a disappointment as bitter as gall. ‘As far as I am concerned, Jack Clifton has been nothing but a nuisance!’

  ‘Oh, nuisance, is it? Well you had best look at what he’s left you, over there.’ He waved towards the side table. ‘I was going to bring it to you later today but since you are here you may as well read it now.’

  Eloise picked up the letter and br
oke open the seal. The thought flashed through her mind that Jack had written to her, but the hand was unfamiliar, and as that first flare of hope died away she had to concentrate to make sense of the words. Alex pushed aside his breakfast tray and waited for her to finish reading. At last she looked up.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said slowly. ‘This is from Lord Berrow, agreeing to the sale of Ainsley Wood.’

  Alex nodded.

  ‘Aye. Jack brought it round to me last night.’

  ‘But…but why did he not bring it to me?’

  ‘He said he didn’t want to see you again, and from what you have just told me I can’t say I blame him! He persuaded Berrow to sell you the land so you can build the road to your foundling hospital. Jack suggested you should get the papers signed today. Once you marry Deforge you will lose control of Allyngham and your fortune.’

  Hot tears pricked at her eyelids.

  ‘Oh. That was so very good of him.’ She hunted for her handkerchief.

  ‘You were a damned fool to turn Clifton away, Elle.’

  ‘What else could I do? Deforge threatened to kill him if he interfered.’

  ‘I would back Jack Clifton against a dozen men like Deforge.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I could not take that risk. Until last night I thought that any attempt to thwart Sir Ronald would result in the journal being published, and if M-Major Clifton was involved then he would be implicated in our disgrace.’

  ‘So you sent him away.’

  ‘Yes.’ Eloise wiped her eyes. ‘It is done, and that’s an end to it.’ She looked again at the paper. ‘But I do not understand: after my last…meeting with Lord Berrow I was sure he would not sell. What made him change his mind?’

  Alex grinned.

  ‘Jack saw him coming out of the house at the end of the street. Kitty Williams’s house.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘But Mrs Williams is a…’

  ‘Exactly. Jack made a few enquiries, found that for a price the fair Kitty was more than willing to divulge all the sordid details of Lord Berrow’s visits to her establishment. Then he went to see the old hypocrite and told him that if he didn’t want the whole world to know about his dealings with that Cyprian and her sisters, he should sell you Ainsley Wood.’

  ‘And Lord Berrow agreed?’

  ‘Aye, immediately, Jack said. It seems he was eager to protect his reputation. He was especially anxious that his friend Wilberforce should not find out about it, nor his wife.’

  ‘Then, then we can go ahead with the foundling hospital.’ She folded the paper and put it in her reticule. ‘That is wonderful news. I must write to the major and thank him—’

  ‘No.’ Alex interrupted her. ‘Jack said to tell you he wants no thanks from you. He is doing this for Tony, because he wants a lasting memorial for a fallen comrade. I think you have hurt him very badly, my dear.’

  ‘I know.’ She put her hands to her cheeks. ‘I know, and I am sorry for it. But it is not as if he l-loved me.’

  ‘No?’

  She heard the disbelief in Alex’s tone and she shook her head.

  ‘No. He told me himself that he was in love with Sir Ronald’s first wife. That is why he is so keen to challenge Deforge.’

  ‘That may of course be an added reason—’

  ‘It is the main reason,’ she interrupted him. ‘My reputation is sadly tarnished, Alex.’

  ‘But Clifton knows now it was all a lie—!’

  ‘But the world believes it, Alex! How could a man as good, as honourable as Jack Clifton live with that, when he has carried the memory of a sweet, innocent woman in his heart for so many years?’

  Alex did not answer and a long silence fell over the room. She struggled to smother her unhappiness. She had succeeded only too well: Jack Clifton had left town and he wanted nothing more to do with her. He was safe from Deforge and his henchmen. That was what she had planned, so she had no reason to feel aggrieved, and certainly no reason to be surprised. He was gone. Even now she could feel the loneliness settling over her like a heavy cloak. Eloise squared her shoulders: there would be time for tears later. Now she had to decide just how to proceed.

  She looked at Alex. He still had one arm in a sling and by his own admission he was unable to walk more than a few steps. He could not help her. There was only one solution. Having made up her mind, she looked up, saying brightly, ‘I had best take this paper to my lawyer and have him deal with it immediately.’

  ‘And what of the other business—the journal?’

  ‘You must not worry about that, Alex.’

  ‘I always worry when I see that look on your face.’

  She gazed at him, her eyes very wide.

  ‘What look?’

  ‘That innocent, butter-would-not-melt look. I insist that you tell me what you are planning, madam. No, don’t walk out on me—Elle—Eloise!’

  But she was already at the door and as she closed it behind her she heard his angry exclamation and the clatter as his breakfast tray slid to the floor.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jack was putting the finishing touches to his neckcloth when he heard voices on the stairs outside his rooms. He nodded to Robert.

  ‘Go out and send them away. Tell them I’ve already left town!’

  He shrugged himself into his waistcoat, scowling as he heard the low rumble of voices growing louder. Damn Robert, could he not even obey a simple order?

  ‘Sir, ’tis Mister Mortimer, and he says he knows you are here and he must speak with you.’

  Jack’s frown turned to a look of exasperation as he watched Alex limping into the room.

  ‘What the devil are you doing here?’ he demanded. ‘You are as pale as your shirt!’

  He quickly lifted the half-filled portmanteau from the chair. ‘You had best sit down.’

  Alex was leaning heavily on his stick and with a grimace he lowered himself on to the chair.

  ‘Yes, well, I wasn’t planning on coming this far today!’

  ‘You walked here? Damned fool.’

  ‘No, of course I didn’t walk! I took a cab, but just those stairs to get up here have taken their toll.’

  Jack waved his hand impatiently.

  ‘And what has brought you here? I don’t suppose you came to see me off.’

  ‘It’s Elle,’ said Alex without preamble. ‘I can’t help her, so I need you to do so.’

  Jack looked towards Robert, dismissing him with the slightest movement of his head. ‘Does Lady Allyngham know you are here?’

  Alex shook his head.

  ‘She came to see me this morning, and I did as you asked. I told her you had already gone.’

  ‘Thank you. Now I suggest you go home and let me get on with my packing.’

  ‘But this is important, Jack!’

  ‘Not to me! I am done with her. She does not want my help; she has made that very plain on more than one occasion.’

  ‘This is not about what Elle wants. I am afraid she is going to do something foolhardy.’

  Jack gave a bitter laugh.

  ‘There would be nothing new in that! No, she has chosen her path. God knows I tried to befriend her. I even thought—but she is done with me. She is going to marry Deforge. I won’t try to stop her.’

  ‘But the fellow’s a rogue!’

  Jack shrugged. ‘I have told her what I think of the man,’ he said coldly. ‘If she chooses to ignore it then I can do nothing to help her. I only hope she fares better than his first wife.’

  Alex waved his good hand.

  ‘I am not talking about her marriage,’ he said impatiently. ‘I think she has conceived some madcap scheme to recover the journal!’

  Jack looked at the pale face staring up at him and bit back a stinging retort.

  ‘Alex, tell me why I should put myself out any more for this woman? She is not at all grateful for anything I have done so far and at our last meeting she made it very clear that she wanted nothing
more to do with me.’

  ‘I thought you loved her.’

  Jack looked away. He picked up his brushes from the dressing table and threw them into the portmanteau.

  He said coldly, ‘It is impossible for me to love someone who is not honest with me.’ He turned, subjecting Alex to a fierce glare. ‘From the very beginning she has refused to share her secrets with me. I wanted to help her—hell and damnation, I wanted to marry her, regardless of the crimes she may have committed in the past, but I am convinced now that there is no future for us. She is determined not to confide in me. She does not trust me.’ He snapped shut the portmanteau. ‘All she will say is that the secrets are not hers to share.’

  ‘She is correct,’ said Alex slowly. ‘But they are mine. And I will share them with you.’

  There is an hour when the fashionable London streets to the west of the City are silent and deserted, between the night-soil cart rumbling through to collect the pails and the moment when the cook’s boy emerges, yawning, and waits to follow his master to the market.

  Eloise stood in the shadows, looking across the street at Sir Ronald’s imposing town house. The windows were dark and the only light from the house was the dim glow of a lamp shining through the fanlight. With her heart thudding heavily against her ribs, she slipped across the road and into the deep shadows of a side alley. She ran freely and realised with some little shock that it was more than ten years since she had last worn breeches. She had bought them that afternoon at one of the less fashionable bazaars off Bond Street. Her maid had been surprised at her purchases but she had explained that she was buying a set of clothes as a present for a young relative. Even as she counted along the windows to find the right house, part of her mind was thinking of what she might do with the clothes when this night’s work was over. If she was successful.

  The third set of windows from the alley belonged to Sir Ronald’s house. Everything was in darkness. She had been watching the house for some time, and thought that by now everyone would be asleep, even Sir Ronald’s valet, who would be dozing in his chair by the front door. She only hoped that his master would not come back early: it was well known that Josiah Forbes preferred dancing and theatricals to cards, but he and his wife were exceedingly rich and influential, so those receiving an invitation to one of their select little parties deemed it expedient to make the long drive out to Edgeware. For once she was thankful that her reputation as the Wanton Widow had so far spared her that treat.