Never Trust a Rebel(16)

‘Yes, and I know why it is so busy,’ she replied, instantly diverted. ‘There is a masked ball at the Town Hall this evening. Would it not be entertaining to attend?’

‘Not at all.’

She pouted.

‘But I have been cooped up in the carriage for so long and I would love nothing better than to dance. It is not as if anyone here would know me, after all.’

He made a face.

‘But this is merely a local assembly, mainly yokels and tradesmen.’

She looked a little surprised.

‘I never thought you would be so top-lofty.’

‘I am merely looking out for you. We shall be in Bath in a couple of days, I am sure you will have as much dancing as you wish then.’

‘No, I won’t,’ she replied, sighing. ‘I am still in mourning.’

‘Of course you are.’ He frowned, berating himself for having forgotten Harry so soon. ‘So there is another reason why you cannot attend a ball.’

‘But it is so dull to do nothing but travel and sleep,’ she said. ‘I do not see there could be any harm in it. I am a stranger here, and in a mask and domino no one would have the least guess who I might be. Oh, Drew, do say we can go, just for a little while. No one need ever know.’

She laid a hand on his arm and looked up at him with such an appeal shining in her dark eyes that for a moment he wished he could give in and take her. But it would not do, not only would it be highly improper for Elyse to attend, he dare not risk it. They were within a day’s ride of Bath and he might be recognised.

‘I am sorry, Elyse, but it is not possible. You need to rest. We have another full day’s travel tomorrow.’

‘But I can sleep in the chaise tomorrow. Oh, please, Drew, let us look in, just for an hour. I will not dance, if you would rather not, but I should so much like to see everyone in costume and hear the music. Kitty, the serving maid, says the landlord can procure tickets for us.’

She had moved a step closer, eyes shining, her breast rising and falling beneath the soft folds of her the silk dressing gown. He could smell the light, flowery perfume, reminding him of warm summer days…and nights…

‘No.’ Hell and damnation it was all getting out of hand. He backed to the door. ‘Not another word, Elyse. When your maid returns you will dress and join me for dinner, do you understand?’

He left her then, ignoring her look of burning reproach. He resolved to coax her out of the sullens when they met at dinner. He had some sympathy, for her lively nature must find life very dull, obliged to mourn for a father who had been little more than a stranger to her. Yet it must be done, and he would assure her that life would be infinitely more enjoyable once she was living in luxury in Lord Whittlewood’s household.





Chapter Four

When Elyse joined Drew for dinner in the private parlour she had changed into an open robe of blue brocaded silk with a white quilted petticoat and white lace ruffles at her neck and sleeves. His eyes narrowed.

‘Very becoming, but I am still not taking you to the masquerade.’

‘I would not expect you to do so,’ she told him equably. ‘But I had to change into something, for my travelling dress is very dusty. Also, Kitty has taken away my ruffles to wash them ready for the morrow. Would you prefer me to sit here without any lace at all?’

Glancing at her, he thought the ruffles at her elbows might be dispensed with, but not the froth of lace around her shoulders. It covered the delightfully smooth skin of her neck and as his eyes shifted to where it was gathered and tucked into her embroidered stomacher he found himself thinking of the plump swell of her breasts concealed beneath the lace. With an effort he returned his gaze to her face and discovered she was watching him with a speculative look in her eyes. He grinned.

‘Do you think to charm me into doing what you wish? You will be disappointed.’

He was pleased with the way she accepted this. No sulks, merely a smile to acknowledge that he had been right. He invited her to join him at the table and they sat down to dinner in genial accord. The easy companionship lasted throughout the meal and when the covers were removed Drew knew a moment’s disappointment when Elyse said she would retire and leave him to enjoy his brandy alone.

‘You do not need to run away,’ he told her. ‘I will gladly take coffee with you, if you would like that—or even tea.’

Smiling she shook her head.

‘No indeed, sir, that is very kind of you but I find I am more fatigued than I had realised. I do not wish to meet my betrothed tomorrow with dark circles beneath my eyes. I shall take my leave of you, and will see you here in the morning for an early breakfast.’



She went out and he settled back in his chair to enjoy the surprisingly fine cognac that the landlord had supplied. This part of the journey was always going to be difficult, it was so close to his old home. He had known a moment’s alarm when the landlord had almost recognised him. Thank heaven he was travelling as Mr Bastion, for his own name would have been instantly recognisable. After all, Castlemain was an uncommon name. He would have been revealed as Sir Edward’s disgraced son, the rebel whose actions had dishonoured the family and caused his mother’s death.

Restlessly he shifted in his seat. Enough of that. What was done was done, he would live with it, as he had done for the past ten years. Better to think of the task before him, getting Elyse safely to Bath.

Settle’s sudden illness had struck him as odd and he had been on edge throughout their journey to Marlborough, but they had arrived without mishap. Yet tomorrow’s journey, the last stage on the road to Bath was the most dangerous, or it had been when he had lived here. The secretary had told him things had changed and he sincerely hoped that was the case, and that he would be able to hand Elyse over to Lord Whittlewood tomorrow. After that he would remain just long enough to see Elyse settled and hope to heaven no one recognised him.

He went to the door to call for more brandy, and when the waiter returned with it he requested the fellow to send someone up to Miss Salforde’s chamber and ask her if she had everything she needed for the night.

‘She might like a cup of hot chocolate,’ he added, recalling that there was no fire in her room. ‘The lady is to have whatever she wants, make sure she knows that.’

The servant gave a little bow and withdrew, returning a few minutes later to inform him that Miss Salforde was asleep.

‘Already?’ Drew looked at his watch. It was close upon eleven, later than he had realised.

‘Yes sir,’ affirmed the waiter. ‘I knocked quite loud, like, but there was no reply from the lady. Nor her maid. They must be sound asleep.’

‘Really? Both of them?’ Drew felt the first stirrings of unease.

‘Aye, sir.’ The waiter grinned. ‘Kitty—the maid—must be fair tired out ’cos she ain’t even snoring, which she usually does, enough to wake the dead. T’other maids is always complainin’ of it!’

Drew was out of his seat even before the waiter had finished speaking and demanding that the landlord be fetched immediately, and that he bring his set of keys.

‘It won’t do no good sir,’ protested his host, following him up the stairs a few minutes later. ‘Not if the lady’s shot the bolt.’

‘If she has then we shall know she is safe inside,’ retorted Drew.

It was the work of a moment to open the door. As he feared, the room was empty. One of Elyse’s trunks had the lid thrown back and a jumble of clothes lay over every surface.

‘My gawd, she’s been robbed!’ declared the landlord.

Drew’s mouth thinned. ‘No, I’ve been duped.’

Leaving the landlord gaping and with orders to lock up again, Drew went to his own room and hurriedly changed his dress. Then he set out for the Town Hall.



Prodigious amounts of arrack punch and strong ale had led to an excess of high spirits and the masked ball was becoming riotous. Elyse wondered if she had been wise to attend. It was all very well having Kitty waiting downstairs for her, but here in the assembly room she was alone and unprotected.

She had quickly discovered that a public ball was a vastly different affair to the select private balls she had attended in Scarborough. She was thankful it was a masquerade, although her pink domino was not all-enveloping and hung open at the front to display her brocaded silk skirts. Her gown was as lavish as anything to be seen at this provincial assembly and she had attracted no little attention when she had come in. At first she had enjoyed dancing, secure behind the anonymity of the silk mask that covered her face. Everyone she met tried to guess her identity and she was amused by the idea that she might be Lady So-and-So’s daughter, or Lord So-and-So’s wife, but along with the deferential attentions of those who thought they might be acquainted she was subjected to the unpleasant sensation of being ogled by perfect strangers. She had been ogled before, of course, but in Scarborough she had known she was amongst friends, and her aunt was always there, in the background.

Here she knew no one. Many of the gentlemen were thinly disguised with no more than a strip of black silk across their eyes, but some were swathed from head to toe, like the tall figure in the black domino who swept her away just as she had been about to dance with a ruddy-faced gentleman that she suspected might be a local farmer.