Disgrace and Desire(29)

‘I—yes.’ Her voice was hardly above a whisper. ‘I never knew.’

The wonder in her voice made him smile.

‘You have been alone for a long time. Perhaps you have forgotten.’

‘No, not forgotten. I…that was the first time.’

He nuzzled her neck.

‘Then I am very honoured, although I am sorry for it if all your other lovers failed to give you such pleasure.’

‘No, you misunderstand,’ she murmured. ‘I am…was a maid. Until tonight.’

Jack grew still.

‘A maid? But Allyngham…’

‘Our union   was never consummated.’

In one swift movement he rolled over and sat up on the side of the bed.

‘A maid!’ He was still intoxicated with her, his mind in turmoil. Nothing made sense. ‘But you were married to Tony Allyngham for seven years! And in London, all those men—’

‘Nothing more than flirtation.’

‘Then by God, madam, you played your part well!’ he retorted, more sharply than he intended.

She said in a small voice, ‘I am sorry if I have deceived you.’

‘Deceived me! Aye, you deceived me!’ He put his hands to his head. It had always been a point of honour with him to avoid innocent maids. She had been so willing, so eager for his kisses, how could it be that he did not know? Confusion swirled within him. ‘By heaven, madam, I do not know what to say. Why in hell’s name should you wish to act in such a manner if you were not…?’

She gave a little sob and scrambled away from him, dropping off the bed on the far side.

‘Now you think me the very worst type of flirt,’ she muttered. He watched her scrabbling around for her clothes. His brain was still reeling, trying to make sense of everything. He had been so bewitched that he had allowed his desire for her to overwhelm him. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

‘A flirt, yes, but—Oh my God, I would never have taken you to bed if I had known you were a virgin!’ He dropped his head in his hands again. ‘I thought you a woman of experience, one who played by society’s rules. A discreet little affair while it amused us, then we could both walk away…’

‘Well, you need not be afraid. You can still walk away.’

He looked up. ‘That is not what I meant.’

He watched, bemused, as she made an attempt to find a way into her gown, but the flimsy material seemed to defeat her. Impatiently she threw it aside and pulled his banyan from the bed. The silk wrap was much too big and it pooled around her feet. She looked absurdly young and vulnerable.

‘I know exactly what you meant, Major Clifton.’ She threw the words at him as she tied the belt around her with angry, jerking movements. ‘It was never my intention to entrap you. I am only sorry that I confided the truth to you, although no doubt you would have realised it soon enough. The evidence on the sheets will be all too plain in the daylight!’ She ran to the door.

‘No—Eloise—wait!’

But she was gone.





Chapter Eleven


Eloise sped through the dim corridors and down the stairs, scarcely aware of the cold boards beneath her bare feet. She dared not cry and held back her tears until she was safely inside her own room with the door locked, then she threw herself on to the bed and gave way to harsh, gasping sobs that racked her body.

She had been a fool to give herself to Jack Clifton. It was mere weakness to blame the excitement of the night and her anxiety over Alex for her inability to keep the man at arm’s length. He had despised her when he had thought her wanton, and he thought even less of her now he knew it was all a charade. It was very lowering to know that he had thought her easy prey, someone to tumble into bed for a few nights’ amusement, but his reaction when she had told him she was a virgin was even more upsetting. He was outraged, as if she had deceived him on purpose. She beat her fists against the covers. Did he think she wanted to trick him into marriage? Hah! She would show him! He was nothing but a rake, a low rascal, and she would have nothing more to do with him.

At length her sobs abated and she lay exhausted on the covers, only the occasional hiccup interrupting her misery. She had felt so comfortable in his arms, so right. She had spent years listening to her married friends, smiling and nodding as if she quite understood when they complained of how tiresome it was to have to pleasure one’s husband, or giggled over the attributes of their latest lover, but until today she had never known just how exciting and enjoyable it was to be swept up by a man, to be kissed and caressed and…and loved until one’s whole being was convulsed with pleasure. More tears squeezed themselves between her closed eyelids. If only it had been someone other than Major Clifton!

Eloise pulled the banyan around her. The silk was cool against her skin, and in its folds she could smell the distinctive fragrance that was Jack Clifton. It was like being in his arms again. With a petulant cry she threw off the wrap and slid naked between the cold sheets of her bed. She had told Alice not to wait up for her, and the hot brick her maid had placed in the bottom of the bed was now a cool, hard lump and no comfort at all. Eloise reached out for the banyan and pulled it into the bed with her. Tomorrow she would be cold and distant when dealing with Major Clifton, but for the few hours that were left of the night she hugged the silk to her, curling her body around it. As sleep closed in and her acute unhappiness mellowed into a dull and aching despair, she found herself thinking that there was one tiny crumb of comfort to be found in all this: even if she was forced to marry Sir Ronald Deforge to secure the return of the journal, at least she would not be giving him her virginity.





A soft scuffling at the door roused Eloise. She lay, tense and alert beneath the covers, listening. Her straining ears detected the slight sound of footsteps padding away along the corridor. It was still dark, but the shutters of her window had not been closed and the faint glimmer of moonlight penetrated the room, leaving only the far corners in deep shadow. For the first time she noticed the pale shape of her nightgown spread out across the bottom of the bed and she quickly pulled it on, shivering a little as the cold cotton slid over her skin. Then she reached for her tinderbox. Once her bedside candle was alight she slipped out of bed and went to the door. It opened almost silently and she peeped out into the empty corridor. Looking down, she saw a grey bundle lying at her feet. She scooped it up, carrying it into the room. It was her cloak, still muddy and a little damp from her nocturnal ramblings. Wrapped inside it she found the rest of her clothes—shoes, stockings, her chemise and stays, the thin muslin gown with its muddy hem and traces of Alex’s blood on the front. It was all there, except the embroidered ribbon garters. She chewed her lip. It was possible that Major Clifton had overlooked them, but she doubted it. She thought of his handkerchief, lying hidden at the bottom of her drawer. Perhaps it was a fair exchange.





The talk the next day was all about the poachers who had so savagely attacked Mr Mortimer. Alice informed her mistress of the news when she brought in her hot chocolate that morning.

‘I have no idea what you and Mr Alex got up to last night and I don’t want to know,’ the maid told her mendaciously, ‘but when Mr Farrell announced this morning that poor Mr Alex was at death’s door it was as much as I could do to keep my lips sealed—and if I hadn’t peeped in and seen you sleeping so peacefully before I went down to the kitchen I think I should have run straight back upstairs to make sure you was in your bed! And now I finds this.’ The maid picked up the crumpled gown and held it out. ‘Don’t you try to tell me that’s mud on your skirts, Miss Elle, because I know very well it’s bloodstains.’

‘Well, it is not all blood,’ put in Eloise, sipping at her chocolate. ‘There are grass stains as well, where I fell on my knees beside Mr Mortimer.’

Alice gave a gusty sigh and shook her head.

‘Oh, my dear lady, I knew I should have waited up for you last night—’

‘And you know I ordered you to go to bed,’ retorted Eloise. ‘You would have been very much in the way. Now do stop scolding me, Alice, and tell me instead how Mr Mortimer goes on. Has Farrell sent for the doctor?’

‘No, ma’am: it seems Major Clifton bound up his wounds.’ The maid shot a fierce, searching look at her mistress. ‘Just what happened last night, Miss Elle? You told me you and Mr Mortimer was going out to put an end to those horrible letters that have been upsetting you.’

‘And so we were, Alice.’ Eloise hesitated, regarding her maid over the rim of her cup. Alice had been with her since she was a child, and it was impossible to snub her. Eloise never doubted her loyalty, but she dare not take her fully into her confidence. ‘Unfortunately the man attacked Mr Alex. He drew a sword upon him, although Alex was unarmed.’

‘Oh, mercy me, the villain!’

‘Quite. Thankfully Major Clifton was in the gardens and helped me to carry Mr Alex back into the house.’

‘Then we should inform the magistrate, my lady, and set up a hue and cry for the culprit!’

‘That would cause far too much of a scandal, Alice, you must see that.’

The maid sniffed.