‘Hah! What do I care for that now?’
Even through her unhappiness she smiled at that.
‘But you do,’ she said. ‘You are a man of honour.’
And I love you for it.
‘But I will fight for what is mine.’
She said impatiently, ‘Is that how you think of me, a chattel to be fought over and possessed?’
In two strides he was across the room and dragging her into his arms.
‘You know it isn’t. I think of you as my wife!’
She dug her nails into the palms of her hands to stop herself responding to him.
‘No.’ She forced out the words. ‘I am tired of fighting the inevitable. I am going to marry Sir Ronald. It is agreed and I will not go back on it.’
‘Not even for me?’
‘Not even for you.’
His arms dropped away from her and the leaden band about her heart squeezed even tighter.
‘I see.’ He turned away and walked to the fireplace. For a few moments he stared moodily down into the flames. ‘Does Mortimer know?’
‘Yes. I told him this morning.’
‘And he does not object?’
She hesitated, remembering the strong words that had passed between her and Alex. At last she said, ‘Of course he objects, but he is still too unwell to do anything to stop me.’ She raised her head and directed a look at him. Her heart was breaking but she met his eyes steadily, determined not to show him how much this was costing her. ‘I have made my decision, Major Clifton. I…enjoyed our brief liaison, but it is over. Now we must say goodbye.’
She held out her hand. Jack stared at it, scowling blackly, then, without a word, he turned on his heel and left.
Chapter Sixteen
It was only to be expected that Sir Ronald Deforge’s party would be the crush of the Season. He brought in his cousin, a colourless little widow of impeccable birth, to act as hostess, and even the creditors who had been baying at his door for the past few weeks had suddenly disappeared, reassured by the news that he was about to become master of the Allyngham fortune.
Any hopes Eloise had that her forthcoming marriage would pass off with little comment were dashed as the carriages turned off Oxford Street and queued up outside Sir Ronald’s tall town house, waiting to disgorge their fashionable occupants. The interminable evening began with dinner. Eloise had tried to refuse but Sir Ronald insisted, pointing out that his cousin’s presence would prevent any hint of impropriety.
‘Although with your reputation I am surprised to find you worrying about that,’ he said, with a grin that made Eloise long to slap his face.
‘Until we are married,’ she said frostily, ‘we will observe every propriety.’
‘Of course, my dear. I can contain my impatience a few more days.’
The dinner was long and cold, despite the dining room being on the ground floor and not far from the kitchen. Sir Ronald’s cook was obviously unused to entertaining. The wine, however, was excellent, but she refused to take more than one glass. She was the only guest at dinner and her attempts to make conversation with her hostess could not be deemed a success. The widow was patently in awe of her blustering cousin and made no answer without first looking to Sir Ronald for approval.
‘Once we are married I shall expect you to take over the running of my household,’ said Sir Ronald, refilling his glass. ‘I have no doubt that you are a very capable housekeeper.’
‘I could certainly do better than this,’ she retorted, pushing a piece of tough and stringy beef to the side of her plate.
‘Well, we will not require two cooks when we are in town so I shall turn mine off,’ he said. ‘But what about the house—shall we live here, or would you rather I moved into Dover Street? You see, I am minded to be magnanimous about these things.’
The thought of Sir Ronald living in Dover Street appalled her. It had been her husband’s home, not to mention the memories it held of the night spent in Jack’s arms. She could not bear to think of it being desecrated by the boorish animal now sitting at the head of the table.
The meal dragged on, the covers were removed and she was wondering how soon it would be before her hostess gave the signal to retire when Deforge said suddenly, ‘Time is getting on. Our guests will be arriving soon and I have something for you. Come along to my study. Oh, don’t mind Agnes,’ he added, as Eloise’s eyes flickered towards her hostess. ‘She should be off now to make sure everything is in readiness for our guests. Should you not, Cousin?’
‘Oh. Oh, yes, Ronald, immediately.’ The thread-like voice could hardly be heard above the scraping back of her chair, and the little woman scuttled away. Sir Ronald picked up a branched candlestick and walked to a door at the far end of the dining room. Eloise hung back.
‘How do I know this is not a trick?’
‘What need have I of tricks? In three days’ time you will be mine, you have given me your word. Now, if you please, madam.’
He led her up the stairs and past the main salon to a room at the back of the house. At the door he stopped.
‘No one enters here without permission,’ he said, fishing in his pocket for a key. ‘Not even my valet.’
The room was very dark, and Sir Ronald held the candles aloft as he entered. The light flickered over a large wing chair and across a number of tall bookcases. Eloise glanced about her nervously: a tall chest of drawers stood against one wall with a wooden-framed mirror and a number of small objects on the top. In the dim light she thought perhaps they might be snuff-boxes and scent bottles. She edged back towards the open door.
‘This is your dressing room.’
‘It is used for that purpose, yes, since it adjoins my bedchamber. Perhaps you would like to see where we will spend our wedding night?’
She fought down her panic.
‘With the first of the guests about to arrive I think we should return to the salon with all speed,’ she retorted.
Sir Ronald shrugged and moved towards the large mahogany desk by the window.
‘I realised I have not given you a ring to seal our betrothal,’ he said. He put down the candlestick and unlocked the centre drawer. Eloise watched as he pulled out a small leather box. ‘I have no family heirlooms to give you, so I have bought you this.’ He laughed. ‘Let there be no secrets between us now, my dear. To tell you the truth I have it on credit, the jeweller knowing that I shall pay him just as soon as your fortune passes into my hands!’
He opened the box and held it out to her.
‘There, I knew you would like it. Never met a woman who could resist a trinket.’
Eloise’s gasp was genuine, but it was not the large diamond ring winking in the candlelight that had caused her exclamation. She had watched Sir Ronald pushing aside the contents of the drawer to get to the ring box, and nestling amongst the clutter she had seen a small, leather-bound book bearing the Allyngham crest.
Quickly she raised her eyes and gave Sir Ronald what she hoped was a warm smile.
‘It is quite…breathtaking,’ she said, moving around the desk. ‘May I wear it now?’
‘Of course.’ Delighted, he pulled the ring from the box and slipped it on to her finger.
‘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.