by Stella Riley
There was an unexpected lump in her throat but she swallowed it and said awkwardly, ‘I left a play script in the parlour. If it’s not too much trouble …?’
‘I might possibly manage that – but only if you stay where you are. And that’s an order.’
Athenais managed a feeble grin. ‘Yes, Colonel.’
By the time he came back with the brick and a cup of mulled wine with honey, her feet had started to thaw but her brain was still refusing to work properly. Indeed, when he lifted the bed-covers to slide the flannel-wrapped brick in by her feet, rational thought became totally impossible.
Ashley handed her the cup, dropped the script in her lap and said, ‘I’ll make up the fire and then leave you in peace. If you’ve any sense, you’ll finish the wine and go to sleep. The play will still be there tomorrow.’
She watched him deftly banking coals and raking off ash, as if it was something he did every day. She tried to make sense of him and couldn’t. He might be poor but he was a gentleman – and, as such, as far out of her reach as the moon. Unfortunately.
He finished his task and stood up, dusting off his hands. Before he could speak, Athenais said shyly, ‘Thank you, Colonel. I don’t know why you’ve been so kind – but I’m very grateful.’
‘Good. I’d hate to have put myself to so much trouble for nothing,’ he retorted. And, with a sudden smile that turned her bones to water, ‘And my name, should you wish to use it, is Ashley.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
TWO
Ashley spent the next hour cursing himself for offering her his given name and wondering what the hell had possessed him. Under the circumstances, it had been unbelievably stupid. In the space of an hour, he had progressed from dislike to desire and, finally, to something more dangerous than either. Worse still, for a fleeting second, he’d caught a look in her eyes that suggested the attraction might be mutual.
For both their sakes, there was only one thing to be done. He had to restore his barriers and try, as far as it was possible, to stay out of her way. She had built a life. It might not be totally secure or particularly lucrative … but, in time, those things could change. And even if they didn’t, she was already able to put a decent roof over her head and food on the table, all paid for by work she enjoyed and was good at. She most assuredly did not need a penniless would-be-lover complicating her ordered existence. And that, Ashley realised, was all he could ever be. He had nothing to offer her now and no prospects for the future. Also, she already had one millstone round her neck in the shape of her father. She couldn’t afford another. So the best thing he could do for her was to leave her alone and wait for time to gently eradicate what, if anything, had happened between them in the kitchen.
The knowledge made his head hurt but he had sufficient experience to know that life was full of disappointments and impossibilities. He’d had enough of both to last him several lifetimes and had no intention of courting more. Neither for himself nor for Athenais.
* * *
Returning later that afternoon from a visit to Celia, Francis threw his hat to one side and said conversationally, ‘What’s the penalty for fratricide? Never mind. Whatever it is, it’s probably worth it.’
Ashley looked up from the bundle of month-old English news-sheets he’d been scanning.
‘What has she done now?’
‘Nothing new. She wants to know why Eden hasn’t replied yet – and am I sure he’ll have received my letter – and shouldn’t I write another? Do I not see how important this is? And so on and so on – and tediously, irritatingly so on.’
‘Are you going to write again?’
‘No. My letter may have taken its time – but it will certainly have arrived by now and I sent another note when we moved here so Eden knows where I am. If he hasn’t replied, it’s because he’s chosen not to and writing to him again will do more harm than good. Celia, of course, can’t understand that.’
Ashley leaned back and folded his arms behind his head.
‘Do you think she’s worried that Verney is less than eager to marry her?’
‘It’s possible. Not that I’d know what he thinks. He leaves the house as soon as I enter it.’ Francis sat down and stared meditatively at his well-worn boots. Then, glancing up again, he said, ‘On a completely different note, Celia tells me that the lovely Athenais has caught the eye of the Marquis d’Auxerre but is leading him a merry dance. Apparently people are laying bets on how long – and how much – she’ll hold out for.’
A tiny frisson of something he didn’t care to identify slid through Ashley’s veins.
‘D’Auxerre? Isn’t he one of Mazarin’s satellites?’
‘Yes. He’s also one of the biggest rakes in France and reputedly amongst the most depraved – or perverted, depending on who you listen to – which considering the competition, is no mean feat. Then again, he’s indecently rich and neither decrepit nor a gargoyle … so I don’t imagine he gets too many refusals.’
‘Fortunate fellow,’ remarked Ashley dryly. And, unable to help himself, ‘On the other hand, perhaps Mademoiselle prefers not to sell her body. Or perhaps she’s heard the same rumours you have.’
‘Both of those things may be true,’ replied Francis cynically, ‘but she and Madame are plainly in need of money. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t be living here. And, at the end of the day, Mistress Athenais is an actress – so I’d be amazed if she wasn’t open to offers.’
Once again, something unpleasant shifted in Ashley’s chest but he concealed it and said, ‘You’re saying she’ll sleep with anyone who can afford her?’
‘One would hope not.’ A mischievous grin dawned. ‘Shall we give d’Auxerre a run for his money? We could, you know. He may be rich and influential – but we have charm, address and a certain threadbare panache. What do you think?’
‘That it’s a remarkably silly idea.’
‘Spoilsport. Or is it just that you don’t want to play if you might not win?’
‘I don’t want to play at all. But if you think you can outclass – if not outbid - the Marquis, by all means go ahead. You’ll be risking Madame Fleury removing your bollocks – but that’s your problem.’
‘I’ll find a way round her.’
‘Don’t count on it.’ Thoroughly irritated – as much with himself as with Francis – Ashley prowled to the window. ‘This is a singularly asinine conversation. If we weren’t so bloody bored, we wouldn’t be having it at all.’
‘Oh – I don’t know,’ murmured Francis provocatively. And, when no response was forthcoming, ‘All right. What do you suggest we talk about?’
‘Nothing. I’m sick of talking. It’s all you or I – or anybody else, for that matter - does these days.’ He paused, remembering the promise he’d made to Athenais. ‘Speaking of which … Mademoiselle asks that we treat her father’s jug-bitten maunderings with absolute discretion. Do you think you can manage that?’
‘I’ll do my poor best,’ retorted Francis absently. And, sitting up, ‘Wait a minute. You’ve spoken to her?’
‘This morning. She’s got a --’
‘You devious bastard! You’ve stolen a march on me – and after all that righteous indignation, too.’ Francis met the Colonel’s eyes and, recognising the expression in them, threw up one hand in a gesture of surrender. ‘All right – all right. I take it back. So what are the revelations we’re supposed to keep locked in our manly bosoms?’
‘You’ll know them when you hear them,’ returned Ashley. And, with a mocking smile, ‘Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on your point of view – I’m not a gossip.’
* * *
Ashley wondered if Francis really would lay siege to Athenais … and decided that, knowing Francis, he probably would but that, being a gentleman, he was unlikely to go beyond snatching a kiss if the opportunity presented itself. Even this, however, was sufficient to stir up feelings to which Ashley knew he had no right. Then again, this Marquis fellow sounded both unpleasant and dangero
us; and sort who took what he wanted simply because he could. To this, Francis was infinitely preferable. And if Athenais fell victim to his charm, at least she’d be getting a Viscount.
Never one to be kept in the dark, Francis soon made sure he knew everything that Ashley knew. Then, armed with a posy of flowers and an arsenal of imaginative compliments, he embarked on his frivolous campaign of eclipsing the Marquis d’Auxerre.
It didn’t go quite as he’d hoped. He found Athenais by the fire in the parlour with a book on her knee, looking more like a respectable tradesman’s daughter than a siren of the stage. Jettisoning all his witty speeches, Francis bowed over her hand and laid the Michaelmas daisies in her lap, saying, ‘I understand you’ve been ill, Mademoiselle and wished to express the hope that you’re feeling better.’
‘Thank you. Yes, I’m much better now. Well enough to return to the theatre.’
Since there were shadows under her eyes and her nose was still rather pink, Francis said, ‘Isn’t it perhaps a little soon?’
‘Pauline thinks so. But it was only a chill, you know. And having been shut up for four days, I’ve conned my part for the next play and read two others and am now reduced to twiddling my thumbs. In short,’ she sighed, ‘I’m bored.’
He grinned. ‘Dear me. You sound just like Ashley.’
‘Do I?’ Her tone expressed no more than polite interest but she waved him to a chair and said, ‘The Colonel dislikes being idle?’
‘Let’s say he’s unaccustomed to it and not adjusting well. I, on the other hand, am enjoying having time for reading and civilised conversation – and all the other pleasures one doesn’t find in the army.’
‘You’ve been fighting in the English wars since they began?’
‘Give or take the odd few months here and there – yes.’
‘Both of you?’
‘Again, yes – but, until last year, not together. Oddly enough, prior to the King’s coronation in Scotland, our paths had never previously crossed.’ His mouth curled almost imperceptibly and he added, ‘In actual fact, we’ve known each other less than two years. It just feels a lot longer.’
She smiled. ‘Does it? Why?’
‘Mostly because we’ve been living in each other’s pockets for the last twelve months and have shared numerous unpleasant experiences.’ Francis’s shrug was a masterpiece of elegant self-mockery. ‘After Worcester, we ditched, dug, hoed and furrowed. We chopped wood, cleaned stables, picked fruit and polished other men’s boots. Worse still, we were forced to let Jem shear us in the Roundhead style … a sacrilege from which neither of us have yet entirely recovered.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘But I don’t repine. It has enabled me to sit here with you rather than in a dismal cell with Ashley.’
Athenais eyed him thoughtfully for a moment and then, shaking her head, ‘I can’t imagine either of you doing menial work.’
‘Considering the state of my coat, I’m relieved to hear it.’
She laughed a little but asked curiously, ‘Do neither of you want to return to England?’
‘We both want to – but, unless we don’t mind facing imprisonment, it isn’t an option.’
‘Imprisonment?’ Her brow wrinkled in an effort of memory. ‘I thought … didn’t your Parliament pass a law? A sort of pardon?’
‘The Act of Oblivion,’ nodded Francis. ‘Yes. Sadly, amongst many other caveats, it excludes those of us who fought at Worcester last September – so it’s of no help to Ashley or myself. Then again, unless things change, neither of us has anything to go back to.’
‘Nothing at all? No home or wife?’
‘Nor even a sweetheart, I’m afraid.’ Aware that, thus far, the conversation had revolved as much around Colonel Peverell as it had around himself, Francis added wickedly, ‘At least, I haven’t. I can’t speak for Ashley.’
Athenais continued to smile and immediately changed the subject.
Francis noticed and drew his own conclusions. He ought to have found these irritating – or at least disappointing. Instead, he was mildly amused. If the girl had conceived a fancy for Ashley – and Ashley was either not interested or not inclined to seize his advantage, the resulting situation was fraught with intriguing possibilities. Entirely without malice but with a good deal of characteristic devilment, Francis decided to exploit them.
Something else tugged at his brain. A notion he’d had before but done nothing about. Perhaps this time, he would.
* * *
It wasn’t long before Pauline noticed that the man she didn’t know whether to call Major Langley or Lord Wroxton was taking every opportunity to flirt with Athenais. She also noticed that Athenais wasn’t doing anything to discourage him. Given his lordship’s looks and easy manners, this wasn’t surprising. Girls probably dropped into his lap like ripe plums. But, despite seeming to enjoy his company and happily listening to him quote poetry by the yard, Athenais showed no sign of infatuation and, as often as not, appeared to be treating him the same way she treated Etienne Lepreux. Odder still, the Viscount-Major didn’t seem to mind. Pauline decided to keep a discreet eye on the situation and let matters take their course. Certainly, on present showing, it didn’t look as if castration would become necessary.
* * *
Three days after Athenais’s return to the theatre, Ashley sauntered through the house to the small rear courtyard which, for the past few days of fine weather, Francis had taken to occupying whilst working on some mysterious project of his own that seemed to involve a good deal of scribbling.
He wasn’t there.
Instead, book in hand, Athenais was walking to and fro, muttering. It was the first time he’d seen her since her illness and he was totally unprepared for the smile of undisguised delight that illuminated her face when she caught sight of him. His heart turned over and he had to concentrate on keeping his own expression perfectly neutral … particularly when he saw that radiant smile falter into uncertainty.
He said, ‘Forgive my interruption, Mademoiselle. I thought the Major might be here.’
She shook her head, wishing he seemed just a little bit pleased to see her and wondering why he looked so forbidding.
‘He’s out, I think.’ She struggled to find something else to say that might keep him there and was visited with what she recognised could either be divine inspiration or a prelude to total disaster. ‘And you’re not interrupting. I’m in despair with this scene.’ She waved the book at him. ‘Do you think … could you possibly spare me ten minutes? Francis usually helps but …’ She shrugged helplessly.
Francis, is it? thought Ashley darkly. And, against his better judgement, let it provoke him into saying smoothly, ‘I suspect you’ll find me a poor substitute – but I’m at your disposal. I take it you’d like me to hear your lines?’
‘Not exactly. I need you to read in.’ She pushed the book into his hands and, giving him no time to demur, added, ‘I’m Eloise and you’re Raoul. Please begin from your first speech at the top of page twenty-seven.’
He stared at her, then glanced down at the script. And, half-way down the page saw an italicised direction for Raoul to sweep Eloise into an embrace. His brain told him this was a bad idea; his body disagreed. He said, ‘I’m not sure --’
‘Oh please, Colonel! Just three pages?’ She knew exactly what was on them. She also, she hoped, had an inkling of what might persuade him. ‘As I said, if Francis was here …’
Her eyes were wide and innocent but Ashley was fairly certain he was being manipulated. Putting both mind and body under rigid control, he decided to do what she wanted – and see how quickly she’d regret asking.
He grinned. ‘Three pages, then.’
He delivered Raoul’s first two speeches. And hauled her hard against his chest as he embarked on the third one. Eloise replied with a little huff of breath and a stammered reply. Raoul gazed down at her with a lazy lift of one eyebrow and a deliberately wicked half-smile as he murmured the next words in a low, seductive tone. This was the moment
when Eloise might reasonably be expected to free herself by means of a hefty shove. Instead, her body melted against his and her lips parted but no words came out … which left Raoul wishing he didn’t have the sodding book in his other hand.
It was perhaps fortunate that, at that moment, Fate – in the guise of the maidservant – intervened. The girl froze in the door way staring at Ashley and Athenais and then, bobbing a hurried curtsy, said, ‘Pardon, Mademoiselle Athenais. But Monsieur le Marquis d’Auxerre has called.’
Athenais tore herself from Ashley’s grasp and said rapidly, ‘I’m not here. I went out early and you don’t know when I’ll be back.’
‘But Mademoiselle, he said --’
‘I don’t care what he said. Just get rid of him!’
‘Well, I’ll try,’ said the girl dubiously. ‘But he’s settled in the parlour as if he’s got all day.’
Ashley looked thoughtfully at Athenais’s suddenly white face. He said, ‘Stay here. I’ll send him on his way – if that’s what you want.’
She gripped her hands together, relief warring with doubt.
‘What if he won’t go?’
‘He’ll go,’ returned Ashley calmly, moving towards the house. ‘If, as I assume, he’s been brought up with the rules of polite behaviour, he’ll have to.’
The Marquis was lounging in a chair by the empty hearth, idly swinging one booted foot. His coat was of superbly-cut claret brocade and his lace collar, the finest Mechlin lace. The body inside this finery, observed Ashley as the Marquis frowned and stood up, was of typical French build; some three inches shorter than himself and rather stocky.
‘Does Mademoiselle de Galzain permit her servants to roam the house at will and enter rooms without knocking?’ his lordship demanded coldly.
Having expected something of the sort, Ashley was less offended than he chose to appear.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he replied unsmilingly. ‘And you are under a misapprehension, sir. I am not a servant.’ His bow was correct, if somewhat brusque. ‘Colonel Peverell, formerly of His Majesty King Charles’s forces in Scotland.’