Disgrace and Desire(43)

‘Did your education include picking locks?’ he whispered.

‘Of course not.’

‘Then let me do this. If we are careful no one will know we have been here.’

From his pocket he drew a thin length of wire. It was bent at one end and he carefully inserted it into the drawer lock. He gently moved the wire until she heard a faint but distinct click and Jack pulled open the drawer.

‘Where did you learn that?’ she breathed, wide-eyed.

He turned his head to grin at her.

‘Some of the men in my regiment came from the stews and rookeries of London. They would have been very much at home here.’ He reached into the drawer and lifted out a small, leather-bound volume. ‘Is this what you have been looking for?’

With shaking hands Eloise took the book and ran her thumbs over the embossed cover. An ornate letter A was enclosed in a circle of acanthus leaves: the Allyngham family crest. Quickly she pushed the journal inside her jacket.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, fastening the buttons of her coat. ‘Let us go now.’

She watched Jack slide the drawer back into place and lock it again. He straightened, looking around him as he put the metal rod back into his pocket. Eloise touched him arm.

‘We must go,’ she hissed.

Jack raised his hand. He was looking towards the wing chair, where a shaft of moonlight fell upon a bundle of straps lying over one arm. He walked over and picked them up. Eloise thought at first it might be a belt, or a dog’s leash, but when Jack held it up she saw the straps were connected into an intricate webbing.

‘What is it? It looks very much like a pony’s head-collar, only it is far too small.’

‘This is no head-collar,’ murmured Jack, carefully draping the harness back over the arm of the chair. ‘It is something much more interesting than that.’

There was a thud from somewhere below and she froze, her heart beating so hard she thought it might break through her ribs.

‘The front door,’ hissed Jack. ‘It must be Deforge returned. Quickly!’

He pushed Eloise towards the window. She slithered out on to the roof and descended hastily to the yard with Jack close behind her. He threw her up over the wall and she huddled in the shadows until he joined her. As soon as he reached the ground he took her hand and they set off at a run out of the alley.

Jack did not stop until they had crossed Oxford Street and were out of sight and sound of the highway, where carts and wagons were beginning to make their way into the town. At last he slowed his pace and Eloise was able to catch her breath. She pulled her hand from his grip and leaned for a moment against the wall. She felt very light-headed. When she had set out that night she had been nervous, but determined upon her course of action: as soon as Jack had appeared her fear had diminished—in a strange sort of way she was even enjoying their adventure.

Jack was watching her, his hands on his hips and his feet slightly apart. She was pleased to note that he, too, was breathing heavily. In the dim light she realised that he had come dressed for the night’s work: he had replaced his modish jacket and light pantaloons with a tight-fitting black coat, black breeches and stockings, and instead of his snowy white neckcloth he wore a dark woollen muffler wrapped around his neck. She glanced down at her own apparel and a quiet laugh shook her.

‘We look like a couple of housebreakers!’

‘We are a couple of housebreakers.’

‘Are we safe now, do you think?’ she asked him.

He took her arm again.

‘As safe as one can be on the streets of London at this time of night,’ he retorted, making her walk on. ‘Of all the ill-judged starts! Don’t you know how dangerous it is to come out alone at night?’

She put up her chin.

‘How do you know I didn’t take a cab to Wardle Street?’

‘Because I followed you.’

She pulled her hand free and stared up at him. The flaring street lamp cast deep shadows across his face. Eloise could not see his eyes but she could almost feel the anger burning there.

‘Alex told me you had left town.’

He let out a long breath, as if controlling his temper.

‘That was my intention. I was finishing my packing when Mortimer came to tell me he was anxious about you.’

‘But he knew nothing of my plans!’

‘He knows you. Once he learned you were not accompanying Deforge to Edgeware this evening he guessed you were up to something. I merely had to watch your house until you made your move. I was not fooled when a slip of a lad emerged from the servants’ door in the middle of the night.’

He began to walk on again, and she fell into step beside him.

‘Then I am very grateful to you.’ She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. ‘I am very glad you came, Major.’

He put his hand up and briefly clutched the fingers resting on his sleeve and her spirits rose a little. Perhaps he was not quite so angry with her. She glanced around, suddenly anxious.

‘Sir Ronald’s men, the ones who were following you—’

‘No need to worry about them any longer. They are even now on their way to the coast where they will be pressed into service on one of his Majesty’s frigates.’ His wicked grin flashed. ‘Deforge is not the only one who has fellows willing to carry out his more—er—dubious orders.’

‘Oh.’ She digested this in silence for a few moments.

‘I shall write to Sir Ronald immediately,’ she said, ‘to terminate our engagement.’

‘No, do not write to him just yet. I was careful to close the window when we left so I hope our visit to Sir Ronald’s house will not be noticed, and if that is the case I do not believe he will discover the loss of the journal immediately. I understand he is attending the Keworths’ party tomorrow, that is, tonight. Do you go with him?’

‘Yes, I am engaged to join him there, but now—’

‘I want you to go, Eloise. Act as if nothing has changed. I have a plan to rid the town of Sir Ronald Deforge for good, but it will work best if he does not suspect anything.’

When they turned into Dover Street, Eloise noticed that the lights were still burning in Kitty Williams’s house.

‘I have not thanked you for securing Ainsley Wood for me,’ she said. ‘For making Lord Berrow agree to sell it.’

‘I want no thanks for that.’

‘You have been very good to me. It is more than I deserve, after I was so impolite in sending you away.’

‘Hush, now. We will talk later.’ They were opposite her house and Jack stopped. ‘When you get inside, make sure you burn that damned book.’

‘I will.’

He led her across the road and followed her down the area steps to the basement door. The scrape of the bolt told Eloise that her maid had been looking out for her. She looked back at Jack.

‘Will you not come in?’

‘No, dawn is breaking and I must get back. I would have no one guess just what we have been doing this night.’

She was disappointed, and her hand fluttered as if to detain him. He caught it and held it for a moment.

‘You have the journal now. Destroy it before it can cause any more harm.’ He raised her fingers to his lips. ‘And no sooner have we secured the good name of Allyngham than I shall be asking you to change it!’





Eloise sat before the kitchen fire, tearing sheets from the leather-bound book on her lap and feeding them into the flames.

‘Never seen anything like it, in all my born days,’ muttered Alice, bustling around behind her. ‘Running about the town dressed as a boy and breaking into houses! Why, miss, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Even Master Tony’s most outlandish tricks never included thievery!’

‘Enough, Alice,’ said Eloise, frowning. ‘I told you I was merely recovering my property, it was not stealing.’

‘And heaven knows what would have become of you if Major Clifton hadn’t been there to protect you. Still, all’s well that ends well, as they say, and now that you have burned that book you have no need to marry nasty Sir Ronald Deforge. I must say I was never in favour of that, even when you explained to me why it must be so. And unless my ears was deceiving me, it’s Mrs Clifton you’ll be before the year’s out. You couldn’t wish for more, could you, my lady?’

Eloise did not reply. She pushed the last of the pages into the fire and sat back. The euphoria of the last few hours had melted away, replaced by a heavy depression.

There was no mistaking Jack’s last words; he meant to marry her, but even if his plan worked and Deforge was no longer a threat, she must still tell him the truth about her marriage. He had not asked to read the journal: he was willing to forget her past but she could not. He had said he wanted no secrets. Well, there would be none.

An inner demon whispered that it was not necessary: Jack need never know. She clasped her hands together so tightly the knuckles showed white in the firelight. No. He had to know. If he loved her then perhaps it would not matter, but she was not sure how deeply he cared for her. He desired her, she knew that, but love—she dared not believe it. She was an obligation, the widow of a comrade, left to his care. And perhaps part of her attraction was the fact that in marrying her, Jack could thwart Sir Ronald. But could Jack really love her for herself? She found it hard to accept. She was so different from his first love, the incomparable Clara. She trusted him not to expose her, but once he had taken his revenge upon Sir Ronald, once he no longer needed her help, she must tell him the truth about herself, and give him the chance to walk away.