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.’
Noyes 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!’