‘Miss Wentworth, may I have this dance?’
Amy turned to her rescuer with an overwhelming feeling of relief and then she froze. Frederick Skelmersdale was holding out his hand to her. As she looked into his eyes she could no longer be in any doubt as to the damage to her reputation. His smirk told her all she needed to know.
She longed to run from the room, but pride came to her rescue.
‘I thank you, but I do not dance this evening,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now if you will excuse me…?’ With her head held high, she passed the line of chaperons and dowagers who sat about the ballroom and made her way to the entrance hall. The lump in her throat seemed about to choke her and her eyes were bright with tears, but she forced them back as she opened the door to the anteroom.
James looked at her face and hurried towards her. He was all concern.
‘What has happened, Amy? Why are you so distressed? Have you suffered insult? Tell me, and I will deal with it!’
‘You can’t!’ she said dully. ‘It is all my fault. I seem to have succeeded in ruining your reputation as well as my own.’
‘What nonsense!’ He led her to a chair, sat beside her and took her hands. ‘Perhaps you have mistaken some remark—’
‘There is no mistake!’ Her eyes were brimming as she turned her head away. ‘I have just received the cut direct from Lady Hirst!’
His face darkened. ‘How can that be? My dear, your reputation is beyond reproach—’
‘That is the case no longer. By now the whole of Bath society knows of my folly yesterday, and if I know anything of the Countess of Laverstoke the tale will have lost nothing in the telling.’
‘Amy, what tale is this?’
‘Have you not heard? I so far forgot myself as to throw my arms about a gentleman who was naked to the waist. Then I informed him of my love for him in the hearing of at least a dozen witnesses! It cannot be considered other than the behaviour of a wanton.’
James was silent for a moment. ‘You had had a shock!’ he said at last. ‘Allowances must be made for your natural distress… At such a time one is not always in full command of one’s senses.’
‘I was in full control of mine!’ she cried in desperation. ‘Oh, James, I am so sorry! I did not mean to embarrass you, especially in front of Charlotte.’
‘But what has Charlotte got to do with this?’
‘Well, I thought she was in love with you, and you with her, but now Sir William has offered for her and her father has refused his suit, and Charlotte is unhappy because she loves Sir William dreadfully.’
Troubled though he was, James was tempted to smile. He shook his head at her. ‘Did you not guess, my dear? It has been obvious for some time.’
‘No, I didn’t! Oh, James, are you very unhappy about it?’
He reached out for a straying curl and twisted it about his fingers. ‘No, I am not. What gave you the idea that I was interested in Charlotte?’
‘You said that you admired her and that although she was not pretty she looked…er…distinguished.’
‘And that, you feel, would be enough to persuade me into making an offer?’ He looked so amused that Amy felt ashamed of herself.
‘No, of course not!’ she said quickly. ‘Forgive me, I should have realised that Anne is always present in your mind.’
He gave her a steady look. ‘I shall never forget her, Amy, but life must go on. I cannot bring her back again, and the pain grows less with time.’
Amy considered her next words carefully. ‘Then possibly, in time, you feel that you might marry again?’
James released her hands. He realised at once that they were upon dangerous ground. ‘It is possible,’ he told her quietly. ‘Perhaps some lady close to my own age.’
Amy knew what he was trying to say, but she had gone too far to retreat. ‘Have you someone in mind?’ she asked.
It would have been kinder to lie, but he could not do so. ‘No, I have not,’ he said.
‘And you would not think of me? We are good friends. I know that you do not love me, but I do love you. Would not that be enough for a successful marriage?’
‘My dear child, you do not know what you are saying. I am in my thirties and you are barely out of the schoolroom. You have seen nothing of the world, or of other men—’
‘I have!’ she cried. ‘I’ve had a Season, James! I liked some of those who offered for me, but I did not love them.’
‘There will be others. You must allow yourself more time…’
‘I know what I want. Oh, James, I thought that you were fond of me. Don’t you love me just a little?’ Amy lifted her face to his and he was sorely tempted.
Her lips were quivering and a single tear sparkled upon her eyelashes. She had never looked more vulnerable or more desirable. He longed to take her in his arms, to kiss her brow, her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth and to claim her as his own.
Almost involuntarily his arms went out to her, but then he stopped, though it took all his self-control to do so.
‘I care for you too much, my dear, to allow you to ruin your life. Consider, Amy! In ten years’ time I shall be a middle-aged man, but you will still be young. There will be others of your own age who will grow along with you.’
‘So you would have me wed some boy who has not yet reached the age of twenty?’
‘No, I would not! You misunderstand me! I would not have you wed at all just yet. In less than a year you might be with child—’ He stopped, unable to continue.
At last Amy understood him. ‘You are thinking of Anne,’ she said in gentle tones. ‘My dear, your scruples do you honour, but life cannot stop because of a possible risk. Women have children every day, and most of them survive. If I am willing to face such risks, you have no right to deny me.’
‘I must! Oh, Amy, won’t you give yourself time to live?’
She did not answer him direct. ‘Tell me that you don’t love me and I will abide by your decision.’
‘I can’t do that! I love you dearly, but not in the way that you would wish.’
He was lying, but Amy was not to know it. She straightened her back, and her chin went up. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I shall not press you further. I have suffered enough humiliation for one evening. Will you be kind enough to leave me now? We must not return to the ballroom together.’ Her mouth felt stiff with pain.
‘My dear—?’
‘Please don’t say anything more.’
He bowed his head and left her.
He was cursing inwardly. What man would take a young girl’s love and throw it in her face? He had done so, but he had meant it for the best. Amy was little more than a child. How could she know her own mind? Better by far to leave her now. In freeing her from what he could only consider a child-like infatuation, he had done her a service, hadn’t he?
The memory of her stricken face returned to haunt him. To return to the ballroom would be impossible. Instead he strolled through the entrance hall and sought the cooling influence of the night air.
For the moment all was quiet in the darkened street, but he paid little attention to his surroundings. The sight of a closed carriage interested him only slightly. His lips curled. It was doubtless intended for some assignation later that evening. He had not the least desire to discover the owner of the carriage, nor the name of the gentleman’s paramour. For a time he paced the street, lost in thought. Then, at last, he reached a decision. He could not leave things as they were. He would return to Amy and make yet another attempt to explain his feelings for her.
Amy knew nothing of his plans. She stayed as he had left her, deeply shocked and unable to form coherent thoughts. Had she really proposed to James? She could not believe it of herself. Well, she had been repaid in full for her unseemly behaviour. He had rejected her in no uncertain terms. She buried her face in her hands as the hot colour flooded her skin. She had not imagined that humiliation could go so far. Now she longed for the earth to open and swallow her. Death could take her now an
d she would not complain. Then she sensed that she was not alone.
‘Well, miss, you certainly ain’t backward at coming forward,’ a familiar voice announced. ‘If you need a man, why not take me? I’ll not turn you down.’
Amy spun round to find that Frederick Skelmersdale was leering down at her. He was so close that she could smell the wine upon his breath.
‘Why, you loathsome creature, you have been eavesdropping?’ she accused. ‘That was not the action of a gentleman!’
Frederick took another pace towards her and attempted to seize her hand. ‘Well, these fine gents ain’t doing you much good, my dear. You turn up your nose at the likes of me, but it don’t stop you from taunting and teasing us.’
‘I have never encouraged you!’ Amy cried hotly. ‘You are not yourself, sir. I fear that you have taken too much wine—’
‘Or not enough! Why, you little bitch, you come here in your low-cut gowns and with all your airs and graces! Let me tell you, miss, that after tonight you won’t hold your head so high. The gossips have seen you for what you are…a woman of such strong desires that she don’t trouble to hide them.’
‘Why, you…you cur! If I were a man I’d thrash you senseless.’
He laughed. ‘For speaking the truth! I don’t see it as a criticism, Amy. What man would not prefer a hot-blooded woman in his bed?’ His eyes were glittering strangely, but Amy did not see the danger.
‘I do not recall having permitted you to use my given name,’ she said in icy tones. ‘Please leave me, sir. You are disgusting!’
He did not move, but his laugh was chilling. ‘Orders, ma’am? They won’t serve with me. I want you, Amy, and I intend to have you.’
With the speed of a striking snake he reached out for the bodice of her gown and wrenched at the fastening which held her overdress in place. There was a rending sound and the buttons flew in all directions.
For a moment Amy was too shocked to move. Then she seized a small gilt chair and held it in front of her. He brushed it aside with one movement of his arm. Then he reached out again, and his hand closed upon the neckline of her satin slip.
Amy tried to scream, but the sound would not come. His other arm went round her waist and she heard the stitches give as he tore the fabric to shreds.
She was struggling wildly, but she was no match for his superior strength. The terror overwhelmed her as he bent his head to kiss her naked breasts. Was she to be raped, here in the Assembly Rooms, with her friends just yards away?
He’d managed to pin her arms to her sides, so she could not tear at the bent head, or scratch him with her fingernails. She was trying to fight a man who had become a predatory animal and she was losing the battle.
Amy closed her eyes. Perhaps if she pretended to faint he might release his grip. It seemed unlikely, he was making guttural noises as if he was far beyond the reach of reason.
Then suddenly the noises changed. Frederick seemed to be choking. She looked at him again and found his face upturned to hers. She screamed then, terrified by the bulging eyes and the livid colour of his skin. His tongue was lolling to one side.
Then his arms went limp and she was freed of his crushing weight. She heard a thud as he was flung roughly to the ground. Philippe de Vionnet was standing over him.
‘Get up, you dog!’ she heard her rescuer say. ‘Or must I kick you from this room?’
Frederick struggled to his knees, but he did not attempt to get to his feet. Instead he began to crawl towards the doorway. The Comte helped him on his way with a well-aimed boot and then he turned to Amy.
The attack had left her trembling uncontrollably and waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm her.
Philippe led her to a chair. ‘Sit down and put your head between your knees,’ he said. ‘The faintness will soon pass.’
He strode to the door, summoned a passing footman and ordered brandy, taking the glasses from the man at the entrance to the room.
‘Drink this!’ he ordered. ‘Are you hurt, Miss Wentworth?’
Amy was unable to speak, but she shook her head. She sipped a little of the brandy as she fought to recover her composure. Then she looked down and gave a low cry. She was naked to the waist. Frantically she tried to draw the edges of her gown together, but her efforts were in vain.
The Comte averted his eyes. ‘Let me find some pins,’ he said. ‘Do you wait here? I shall not be gone above a moment.’
‘Don’t leave me!’ In a panic, Amy gripped his hand. ‘Frederick may come back—’
‘I doubt it, Miss Wentworth. I was not gentle with him. For the next few days he will find it difficult to speak, since he was almost strangled.’
‘I want to go home,’ Amy whispered.
‘And so you shall, but not before we have paid some little attention to your toilette. Must I fetch your aunt to you?’
‘Oh, please don’t! I would not have her worried for the world. To see me thus would give her such a shock.’
‘Then perhaps if I mentioned to her that you have the headache?’
‘Oh, would you do that for me? Pray tell her that she must not disturb herself. It is nothing that cannot be cured with a stroll in the fresh air.’
‘Then promise me that you will not move from here? Do pray drink your brandy, Miss Wentworth. It will revive you. Just give me time to pass on your message and find some pins, or failing that, do you have a cloak that might hide the damage to your gown?’
Amy shook her head. ‘It was too warm to wear a cloak this evening.’
‘Then pins it must be. Let me beg you not to distress yourself further. All will be well, I promise.’
He was as good as his word, returning within minutes with a packet of pins. Amy did not ask where he had found them. For once in her life she was happy to put herself in the hands of another, especially as the Comte was proving to be so kind.
‘Now, ma’am, I am no hand at this. If I hold up the torn edges of your gown, are you able to fasten them together?’
His tone was respectful and Amy had no fear that he would take advantage of her unfortunate situation. He had kept his gaze averted from her bosom, so she had no hesitation in allowing him to help her fasten the edges of the fabric together.
The trouble was that she was feeling strange. Her normally deft fingers were refusing to obey her and her head had begun to spin.
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t feel quite myself,’ she whispered.
‘That is natural enough, perhaps you need to rest.’ Philippe sat down beside her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to rest her head upon his shoulder. He was still holding up the bodice of her gown, but the pins seemed to have taken on a life of their own. At last the packet fell from her nerveless grasp.
Amy’s head was spinning, but she raised it in alarm when the door flew open. James was standing there, frozen in disbelief.
Dazed as she was, his expression brought her to her senses for a brief moment. She could imagine what he was thinking. He had discovered her in the Comte’s arms, with her gown in disarray and the gentleman’s hands entwined in the fabric. Amy wanted to die when James bowed to her.
‘I beg your pardon!’ he said stiffly. ‘I had no intention of intruding.’
She wanted to call out to him…to tell him that he was mistaken, but she felt confused. Her limbs no longer seemed to belong to her. They felt leaden. She might have been struggling through a sea of mud that reached to her waist.
She tried to rise to her feet, but she needed Philippe’s help.
‘Just lean on me,’ he comforted. ‘You will soon be safe at home.’
Later she could not remember how she reached the street, but then she was seated in a coach and the world seemed far away.
Sighing, she slipped away into the darkness.
Her disappearance had not been remarked upon by many in the Assembly Rooms. Miss Langrishe noticed it first.
‘Where is Amy?’ she asked of Charlotte. ‘I have not seen her for this age.’
>
Charlotte blushed but she answered readily enough. ‘She was speaking to Sir James, ma’am. I believe they left the ballroom.’
‘Indeed? Then it is high time they returned! Why, there is Richmond now.’ Beatrice Langrishe summoned him with an imperious hand. ‘Where is Amy?’ she demanded. ‘She was last seen in your company, James.’
‘I believe she met the Comte de Vionnet,’ James replied in colourless tones. ‘Perhaps, ma’am, you should apply to him.’
‘I would if I could see him, but he is nowhere to be found.’ Miss Langrishe scanned the room. ‘You will find Amy for me, if you please. I wish to speak to her.’ Then she looked at his closed face. ‘Have you quarrelled with her?’ she demanded. ‘Pray tell me if you do not wish to oblige me by giving her my message.’
‘No!’ James almost shouted the word. ‘I’ll speak to her at once.’
He was gone for so long that Miss Langrishe grew uneasy. ‘I begin to wonder if Amy is unwell…certainly it is very warm in here… Charlotte, my dear, I wonder if you’d mind…?’
‘Of course not, ma’am.’ Charlotte hurried towards the cloakroom, but she did not reach it. On the way she met James and quailed before his thunderous expression.
‘Miss Langrishe is becoming anxious—’ she began timidly.
‘As well she might,’ he replied. ‘Amy is no longer in this building.’
‘You must be mistaken, Sir James. Amy would not go home alone without telling her aunt.’
‘I doubt that she has gone home, and most certainly she is not alone.’
Pink spots of colour appeared in Charlotte’s cheeks. ‘What are you saying, sir? If you mean to suggest that Amy has left in the company of some gentleman, even to take a walk, I can assure you that you are wrong. She would do no such thing.’
‘You seem very sure of that. How well do you know your friend?’
‘Better than you, it would appear!’ Charlotte had never spoken so sharply to a gentleman in her life, but now she did not hesitate. ‘You may be cross with her, but you shall not do her an injustice.’
The Matchmaker's Marriage Page 23
