Keeping Faith

by Beverley Oakley

  He jumped out and opened the door, but she remained on the cushion.

  “I’m really not sure this is such a good idea, Lord Harkom.”

  “Why, Faith? You considered it an excellent idea not so long ago.”

  She looked mutinous. “You helped ruin my reputation. And you and I have never been friends.”

  “But there is so much potential for us to be much more than that, eh Faith? Besides, I had nothing to do with the publication of the photograph, I assure you.” He took her hand and helped her out, while she went unresistingly. Like a lamb to the slaughter. Except it wouldn’t be hers. She was determined upon that.

  When he put his arm about her shoulders, taking advantage of his close proximity to caress her breast, she slapped his hand away.

  He laughed. “Oh yes, there are certain pretences to be kept up. I think that’s part of your charm, Faith. Now, let me help you up the steps. That’s a very tight skirt you’re wearing. Very daring but very delectable. I shall enjoy seeing the mechanics of how you get it to cling so alluringly to that lovely body of yours. Yes, I’m quite the lover, but quite the engineer too. One is never just the one thing, don’t you agree?”

  “I don’t promise I’ll stay, Lord Harkom,” she warned him as he led her through his sumptuously decorated townhouse. “You shall have to work hard to persuade me that there is any advantage in furthering our…acquaintance. If you do anything against my will, you will regret it; I promise you.”

  “Oh, I do love being threatened by a beautiful woman.”

  His chuckle chilled her to the bone. Faith sent him an arch look. “Don’t think you can treat me as you treated me before when I was naïve and vulnerable.”

  She dismissed his inevitable scepticism at her words with another warning. “I’m neither of those things though, of course, I won’t pretend I’m not looking for a protector. I doubt it will be you for more than this one night, but given time I shall find someone to my liking. Someone worthy of me, and someone who will punish you if you dare do wrong by me this evening. Do you understand?”

  Still chuckling as he nodded, he escorted her through the door, closing it behind them, catching Faith off balance as he pushed her against the wall, pinioning her like a butterfly as he covered her mouth with his.

  Faith brought her knee up with enough pressure to break the contact without hurting him excessively, saying brightly, “Too soon, my lord. What did I tell you? A little wooing to break me in is required, I thought I’d made that clear. Perhaps some champagne? My head is starting to clear and, increasingly, I think that coming here was a very bad idea.”

  To her relief, amusement replaced the scowl that she’d feared was the precursor to greater menace.

  He swept her an elaborate bow. “Of course, my dear, let’s bring out the champagne before we get down to business, if that’s what you want.” He gripped her forearm and led her along the passage towards the dining room where he pulled out a chair for her, before ringing the bell for champagne.

  Faith took the bottle as he was about to open it, her mind reeling with the risk of doing what she was about to suggest, rather than staying safely here.

  She sent him an arch look and, as he sank into the chair beside her, tickled his cheek with the feather in her headdress. “We don’t have to drink it here, my lord. I only wanted to make clear that I don’t expect to be hustled into any congress without the necessary preliminaries.” Rising, she pointed to the glasses before them. “Why don’t you take those, and I’ll take this, and we can remove ourselves from the proximity of the servants. We can partake of a glass while you compare me to the stars and the moon and the sun, and if your words are pretty enough, and I’ve consumed enough to make me insensible to what a bad idea I know in my heart of hearts this really is, then we can proceed from there. How does that please my lord?” She looked playfully at him, astonished to see the transformation. Charity was right. He truly did like being ordered about by a woman.

  But, of course, he’d got ahead of himself, and Faith could only hope she was able to reel him in, for once in his bedchamber, he marched her to the bed and tossed her down upon the counterpane, looming over her to kiss her throat and the swell of her breasts. Faith wriggled out from beneath him and stood with her hands on her hips.

  “Really, my lord; it’s all or nothing with you, isn’t it?” She moved unhurriedly towards the small sofa in the centre of the room where she settled herself, tucking her feet beneath her and waving the uncorked bottle towards him.

  “Now you can do the honours. I need a drink, Lord Harkom. Probably two if I’m going to enjoy what you have in store for me.”

  “But not so much that you’ll be in danger of not remembering such delights, my precious,” he murmured.

  Faith hiccupped as she took it, tossing back a long draft as he was in the process of sitting down.

  “There’s no danger of that, Lord Harkom, though I will need you to top me up.” She waved her half-empty glass in the air while indicating the champagne bottle on the sideboard adding with a suggestive look, “I’m referring to my drink, as I’m sure you understand.”

  He hesitated then visibly relaxed. Perhaps he liked what her double entendre suggested—that she was growing drunk and malleable, and he’d soon have her where he wanted her.

  “Well, well, you are in a delightfully pleasing mood tonight and very different from the last time we met, Faith,” he remarked, his back turned to her for the few seconds she needed.

  The less than two seconds it took for her to uncap the tiny vial around her neck and tip the contents into her glass.

  “Having London’s most beautiful woman in my bed was beyond my expectations when I set out this evening.” He brought them both a glass of fizzing liquid before settling close beside her on the sofa, placing his free hand on her thigh.

  She’d ignore it for now. The hand of a man on her person. A man she despised. It was intended as foreplay, but as God was her witness, Faith would do whatever was in her power to avert what Lord Harkom had in mind.

  She studied him over the rim of her glass. Did he suspect anything? Or did he imagine that her desire for material goods could overcome the deep loathing that he’d whipped up in her when he’d manhandled her so roughly a year before?

  It was a shock to realise that his experience must have seen the return of women whom he’d abused so that Faith’s behaviour tonight was not aberrant.

  And yet, to her it was so very aberrant.

  But then, wasn’t she the consummate actress?

  For a year, she’d played her role as demure governess so well she’d never been suspected for the fraud she was. For the woman of notoriety she was. For three years prior to that she’d been trained in the arts of seduction. She knew how to whip up a man’s desire, how to spur him on when he might have second thoughts, how to pleasure him in bed. In an academic sense, only, of course.

  And how to take control if a situation suggested danger. This was where her energies were being channelled now, for she had no intention of doing any of the former.

  She’d rather die than have to practise those bedroom skills she’d silently sworn would be reserved for the man she loved.

  Crispin.

  But did she love him enough, after all this time, that he deserved the ultimate sacrifice?

  Their love had been brief, passionate, and sincere. She still believed that.

  But how quickly he had dismissed her.

  Lord Harkom’s hand crept further up her thigh as he bent to refill their glasses at Faith’s mumbled direction.

  “When we’ve finished the bottle, we can begin the grand finale!” she declared.

  “Or the first act,” he responded with a throaty chuckle.

  Lord, neither if Faith’s plan came to fruition.

  But dutifully, and as her role required, she giggled, nibbling his ear as she leaned into him; distracting him with her pretence of embracing his overtures.

  “Oh, but you are kill
ing me with anticipation, my love,” he muttered, twisting his large body so that he suddenly seemed in danger of crushing her as he trailed kisses along her jawbone.

  “Let’s drink to that!” she declared with a raucous laugh, raising her glass high, offering it to him with an impish look while she relieved him of his empty glass.

  Obediently, he drained the contents of the glass before finding himself in possession of another glass filled with fizzing liquid while Faith declared with false joy, “Yes! Drink to tonight’s wild congress.”

  And without questioning, Lord Harkom drained that glass, too.

  Chapter 26

  Crispin had never desired visiting Madame Chambon’s when it was lauded amongst his set as a place of high revels.

  And certainly not after he’d learned it was Faith’s lodgings, for by then his heart had been eviscerated by her faithlessness, and Madame Chambon’s represented everything he despised. It had hothoused a woman who’d learned tricks to trap and entice a man when he’d thought himself so clever in sniffing out artifice.

  He’d thought Miss Montague so uniquely innocent and unaffected by the world around her; a fragile rose without thorns, and he was to have been the gallant who would rescue her and gently teach her the ways of the world.

  Now, surrounded by the far-from-innocent young women from whom he presumed Faith had learned the tricks of the trade, he felt out of place and deeply uncomfortable.

  Lord Delmore had placed him in an impossible position. Crispin had no wish to delve into the overinflated mysteries that an imaginative young Cyprian had been hinting at, for surely they did not endanger him, and surely she was merely fishing for Crispin’s involvement for reasons unknown?

  He suspected these reasons unknown had a very clear and calculating agenda.

  “Charity?” he asked, when an elfin-faced creature sat on the arm of the sofa he was sitting on, her chestnut hair brushing his cheek as she leaned towards him.

  “I heard you were looking for me, sir. Come along, shall we?” She took his hand and he rose, silent as she led him along a corridor and up a flight of stairs to a bedchamber on the first floor. “Now, where shall we begin?” Her smile was pleasant and helpful as she waved him towards the large iron bed that dominated the room. A lamp upon the side table bathed the room in a soft glow, and the red-velvet counterpane and plumped-up pillows filled his senses with unexpected desire.

  Not for Charity, who’d dropped one shoulder of her evening gown and who seemed pretty and pleasing enough.

  But for Faith.

  For all he knew, she was still here, and this was just the prelude for finding himself in the right bed.

  Her bed.

  Yes, he’d weaken if he saw her again. He knew he would.

  And he despised himself for it.

  Taking a seat on the edge of the counterpane, he said, “I want you to tell me what you know about Faith Montague.” He made no move to adjust his clothing, while Charity by this stage was hitching up her skirts to kneel on the bed beside him, one hand already insinuating itself inside his shirt.

  She withdrew it as if stung. “Good lord, you’re Mr Westaway, aren’t you?”

  With a scramble and a tugging of her clothing to appear more decent, she took up position at the end of the bed and regarded him, curiously. “I never thought you’d come here?”

  “Where else might I find her?” Amusement swept away his discomfort. She seemed horrified to be in the company of a gentleman he hoped Faith had painted as not using women in such a cavalier fashion.

  “Certainly not here!”

  “But this is the only address I have for her.”

  “She’s not lived here for a year. And before that, she never lived as one of us. You do know that, of course.”

  Before he could make any remark to this, she indicated the bed. “Faith lived in the attic like one of the servants. She didn’t have a bed for entertaining.”

  “But she lived here for…how long? Three years?” He didn’t care what she made of his scepticism.

  “Yes, Madame had instructions to teach her how to entice a gentleman, but Madame was instructed that she was to be kept pure.” Charity sighed. “It was difficult for Faith. Some of the girls were resentful of her because she was so beautiful, and because she didn’t have to do the things they had to do for money. They saw that she had lovely clothes, and that she was given learning from a tutor, and that she went to tea at the Dorchester once a month. She didn’t have many friends.”

  Crispin held up his hand. “Who made these instructions concerning Faith?”

  “Mrs Gedge. I remember the name only because Faith made up the saying that rhymed, “Working for Mrs Gedge was like living on a knife edge.”

  “Mrs Gedge.” Crispin rolled the name over his tongue as a bitter taste filled his mouth. “What did she look like?”

  Charity shrugged. “I never saw her. I only heard that she had bright-red hair. One of the girls saw her when she came in her carriage with Lady Vernon.”

  “Lady Vernon came here?”

  “Often. Though she always came in disguise. Sometimes she’d bring girls to Madame Chambon.”

  “Good lord.” He looked about him, horrified. “Lady Vernon brought girls here?” He couldn’t begin to imagine the humpbacked dowager stepping foot in a place like this. “And one of these girls was Faith? When was this? When did Lady Vernon bring her here the first time?”

  “About three years ago. I wasn’t here, then.”

  “But why was Faith brought here?” Crispin stared at the counterpane which must have seen so much action, then through the windows at the church spire outside, and tried to assimilate his thoughts. “If she wasn’t one of you, and if she lived in the attic, what possible reason did she have for being here?”

  Charity settled herself more comfortably on the end of the bed, tucking her knees beneath her chin as she looked at him. “You do ask a lot of questions. I hope they’re going to help Faith.” She raised her eyebrows and went on, “Faith had been a servant for Mrs Gedge, who accused her of stealing. She hadn’t, of course. Faith was always honest; I hope you know that. Always true to her word. But when a fine lady accuses a servant of something, whose word is going to be believed? So, after Mrs Gedge accused Faith of taking her daughter’s bracelet, she brought Faith here because she said Faith had to work off her debt to her.”

  “What proof did this Mrs Gedge have against Faith?”

  “None, of course. She simply found Faith holding her daughter’s bracelet in her daughter’s bedchamber, and when Mrs Gedge challenged her, Faith said the young lady had promised it to her for showing her a secret passage into a gentleman’s bedchamber.“ Charity shrugged again. “Being here wasn’t all bad, of course. Faith got a good education, and she loved her lessons in art and in history and politics. She used to teach some of us more interested girls, both because we liked to learn, but also because it helps pass the time with the gentlemen who don’t always want to do things in bed. And, then Faith got to go smart places. Like I said, sometimes she’d take tea at the Dorchester with Mrs Gedge.”

  “Tell me, was Mrs Gedge American?”

  Charity nodded. “It’s hard not to miss an accent like that. I never heard her but Grace, one of the girls here, said she heard an American accent coming from the carriage the night Faith was brought here. And Faith said the lady she’d worked for was an American.”

  “Do you remember Faith ever talking about Mrs Gedge’s daughter?” Crispin felt a tingle of apprehension run all the way down his legs as he realised the life of indenture Faith must have lived within these walls.

  “Yes, but the girl died. Killed herself, Faith said. Not that she knew her well as Faith had only been working for Mrs Gedge, or rather, Miss Constancia, for a little while before this grand house party.”

  “So, Miss Constancia asked Faith about a secret doorway?” He’d always wondered how the young woman could have slipped into his room without him knowing it.
/>   Then slipped into his bed.

  Lord, he’d never forget his horror. He’d overreacted though. He saw that, now. But to find a young woman, naked in his bed in the middle of the night in her own house, had been beyond traumatic.

  Charity sighed. “And then the young lady did herself in with the young gentleman’s razor in his bathtub. They found her in the bath. Not a sight one would forget, I imagine.”

  No, it had not been. Crispin’s stomach churned even now at the memory. But he’d hardly known the girl. Met her on one or two occasions only, before she’d set her cap at him.

  Crispin rose. It was too difficult to have to think about, though the vision of a young woman floating dead in his bathtub, her red-gold hair spread out about her, her face serene and deathly white in contrast with the blood-red water, often returned to haunt him.

  “Mrs Gedge was not only Faith’s benefactress; she was the anonymous benefactress of the grand art prize.”

  The prize that was to place Faith under his roof with instructions that she must make him fall in love with her.

  Why? So she could break his heart, of course.

  And what choices other than to obey would be available to a vulnerable young girl with a threat of prosecution hanging over her head?

  “Where will I find her?” he asked, and Charity cocked her head.

  “She’s gone to see Lord Harkom, of course. I thought you knew. But, I suppose you had to be told that Faith’s not the girl you thought her, otherwise you’d not want to rush over there now. Which you really ought to do.”

  “She’s with Harkom? By God, I ought to—!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “She’s with him…now, you say? Why not tell me this earlier!?”

  “I just told you, Mr Westaway. You came here believing Faith used you as an opportunity to better herself. You didn’t believe she loved you, which I assure you, she does. Otherwise, she’d not risk herself with Lord Harkom in order to salvage those letters he says are so damaging to you.”

  Crispin shook his head. “I have nothing to hide. No love letters that I’ve ever written which run the risk of sullying my reputation. I can’t imagine what Lord Harkom thinks he can hold over me. Unless…!” He moved quickly to the door. “Unless he was using it as a ruse in order to lure Faith to him. She refused him before so…”