No Place for an Angel

by Gail Whitiker

  ‘A delightful performance, Miss Jones,’ Lord Tantemon said. ‘The music is as beautiful as its mistress.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ Catherine said, avoiding his gaze. Tantemon was one of her more persistent admirers. He had never strayed beyond the bounds of polite behaviour, but neither was he reluctant to make his feelings known.

  ‘I heard Valbourg say he was going to arrange for a carriage, but mine is already waiting close by,’ he said now. ‘Perhaps you would allow me the pleasure of taking you home.’

  ‘I say, steady on, Tantemon,’ Lord Styles objected. ‘I brought Miss Jones supper, so I claim the right to take her home.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Styles. This is not a supper dance. Doing one does not entitle you to the other.’

  ‘I am grateful to both of you for your offers,’ Catherine intervened, ‘but since Lord Valbourg has already gone to the trouble of arranging a carriage, I do not intend to offend him by leaving with someone else.’

  ‘You are gracious, dear lady, but Valbourg won’t care,’ the ever-dapper Mr Brinkley said. ‘He is only seeing to your welfare because his sister asked him to. I, on the other hand, would welcome the opportunity of spending time alone with you.’ He leaned down and whispered in her ear, ‘My offer still stands. You have but to say the word.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Brinkley, but so does the answer I gave when first you made it.’

  Catherine heard a guffaw from one of the other gentlemen. ‘I told you you were wasting your time, Brinkley. The lady has better taste than that.’

  ‘Obviously,’ the barrister snapped. ‘She refused you!’

  ‘Now, gentlemen, you are unkind to pester Miss Jones in this manner,’ Lord Hugh Nelson said, strolling across the room to join them. ‘Can you not see that the poor girl is trying to eat? I suggest you all go away and leave her alone.’

  ‘What, so that you can proposition her with no one around to listen?’

  ‘You malign me, sir,’ the gentleman said, affecting a look of injury. ‘My intentions towards Miss Jones are strictly honourable.’

  ‘Fustian, you’ve never had an honourable thought in your life,’ Styles said. ‘And standing so close to the Angel, I doubt you’re having one now!’

  Ribald laughter followed the inappropriate comment, and knowing it would only get worse, Catherine put down her glass and stood up. ‘Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse me—’

  ‘Oh, no, sweet angel, you cannot leave yet,’ Lord Tantemon objected. ‘We so seldom have the opportunity of enjoying the pleasure of your company in such a private setting. Surely you would not be so cruel as to deprive us of it now?’

  ‘I’m afraid she would,’ Valbourg said coldly from the doorway. ‘Miss Jones, are you ready to leave?’

  It wasn’t really a question and, grateful for the timeliness of Valbourg’s return, Catherine stood up. ‘I am, my lord.’ She wanted nothing more than to turn her back on every one of the powerful men gathered around her, but aware that she was still performing and that it would not be in her best interests to alienate any of them, she added with forced affability, ‘Though the company is very pleasant, I am exceedingly weary.’

  A number of polite objections and expressions of sympathy greeted her remark, but Valbourg merely stepped forward and offered his arm. For a moment, their eyes met...and Catherine’s widened in surprise. He knows. Despite his chilly demeanour, he knows how uncomfortable I am and he is offering me a dignified escape.

  Humbly, she placed her hand on his arm, gratitude warring with pride as she lifted her chin and walked out of the room with him. She had no wish to feel indebted to him. Valbourg had made his feelings about her quite clear, both by his attitude and his remarks. But at the moment, his position and authority offered her the protection she needed and for that, Catherine was grateful.

  At the top of the staircase, she swept up her skirts and, with one hand on his arm, gracefully began to descend. Heads turned in their direction. Some guests even called out to them, but Valbourg did not stop. He just kept on walking, leading her towards the front door and freedom.

  It seemed, however, that her departure was to be delayed further.

  ‘My apologies, Miss Jones. I thought the carriage would have been here by now,’ Valbourg said after a glance outside assured him that such was not the case. He hesitated, then led her into a small chamber that opened off the hall. ‘If you would be good enough to wait here, I will go and see what is keeping it.’

  Catherine nodded, suddenly too weary to do much more. Lily was right. Two performances in one night were exhausting, especially given the emotional overtones of the latter part of the evening. She wasn’t used to dealing with men like Valbourg and having to pretend a lack of interest drew heavily on her emotional reserves. How fortunate that after tonight, she would have no reason to see him again.

  The room in which she waited was beautifully decorated. Silk wallpaper festooned with exotic flowers and birds covered the walls, while more birds were painted on the domed ceiling. Catherine walked around, stopping to admire an exquisite tapestry hanging on the far wall when an all-too-familiar voice said, ‘Well, well, what’s this? A beautiful bird trapped in a gilded cage. How...appropriate.’

  Catherine turned around, not at all pleased to see one of her more troublesome admirers leaning against the now-closed door. ‘Good evening, Lord Lassiter.’

  His eyes widened. ‘You remember me?’

  ‘How could I not? You made quite an impression when you appeared at my dressing-room door with a diamond the size of Gibraltar dangling from your fingers.’

  ‘Sadly, it did nothing to tempt you into my bed.’

  ‘It would have taken a great deal more than a diamond to do that, even if I had been interested,’ Catherine said. ‘Which I was not.’

  ‘Feisty Miss Jones,’ Lassiter said, pushing away from the door. ‘Still playing hard to get. But I rather like that in a woman. It makes the eventual capitulation all the more exciting, don’t you think?’

  ‘I couldn’t say.’ Catherine’s smile was cool. ‘I don’t play hard to get because I am not interested in being caught. By you or anyone else.’

  ‘Really. So you prefer to live alone, scraping by on the pittance you earn on stage rather than being able to enjoy the many pleasures life has to offer.’

  ‘I enjoy life well enough,’ Catherine said. ‘As I told you at the time, I’ve no need of help from you.’ She wasn’t afraid of Lassiter, but neither did she wish to cause a scene in Lord Alderbury’s house. Pity she hadn’t seen him come in. She could have made a dash for the door—beyond which the sounds of the reception were now decidedly muted. As, no doubt, would be any sounds that might emanate from this room.

  ‘I fail to see why you persist in playing this ridiculous game, my love,’ Lassiter said, beginning to circle her like a hungry wolf stalking its prey. ‘I am a wealthy man and a generous one. You could have anything you wanted. Jewels, gowns, a carriage at your disposal day or night. All yours simply for the asking.’

  ‘If I agree to become your mistress.’

  ‘Of course. One must be prepared to give in order to receive,’ Lassiter said, narrowing the distance between them. ‘And surely giving yourself to me would not be such a hardship. I am not unattractive, nor nearly so old as Crosby, whom I understand you also sent away.’

  ‘Yes, with the same answer I gave you,’ Catherine said, backing up until she felt the edge of the credenza against her lower back. ‘At least he was gentleman enough to accept my decision.’

  ‘Only because he found another mistress.’ Lassiter leered at her in a way that made him look even more like a wolf. ‘I, however, have not and I am willing to overlook your earlier error in judgement. So, what do you say? Is it to be your bed tonight...or mine?’

  He was so close Catherine could see the network
of veins on his nose and smell the staleness of his breath as he opened his mouth, his tongue flicking suggestively, obscenely, over yellowed teeth. ‘Come, sweet angel,’ he murmured, ‘give me but a taste of those honeyed lips.’

  He placed his palms against the wall on either side of her head, his body angled in such a way that if Catherine brought her knee up and connected in just the right place, he would drop like a felled tree, giving her the time she needed to bolt for the door. It wouldn’t have been the first time she had employed such methods, but she had learned that success was all in the timing. If she didn’t get it right, she would find herself in an even worse predicament.

  She closed her eyes and counted it down in her head. Three...two...one...

  Suddenly, there was a muffled curse, a screech, and the weight of Lassiter was gone—but not because of anything Catherine had done. She opened her eyes to see the viscount sprawled on the floor on the other side of the room, while a few feet away, with his legs firmly planted and his arms crossed over his chest, stood Valbourg.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Lassiter demanded. ‘I wasn’t accosting the wench.’

  ‘Mind your language, Lassiter. There is a lady present.’

  ‘Lady? She’s no—’

  ‘Miss Jones, are you unharmed?’ Valbourg interrupted, all the while keeping his eyes on the fallen peer.

  Catherine swallowed. The question, like the threat, had been quietly spoken, but there was no mistaking the rage simmering just below the surface. ‘I am. No harm done.’

  ‘How fortunate for you, my lord,’ Valbourg murmured. ‘Otherwise you would have found yourself in a very unpleasant situation. Now remove yourself from my father’s house before I forget I am a gentleman and give you the thrashing you so richly deserve.’

  Lassiter blanched. The threat, all the more dangerous for the silken tone in which it had been uttered, left no room for discussion. He clambered to his feet and bolted, leaving the door open behind him.

  Valbourg walked over and closed it. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

  His back was towards her, giving Catherine a moment to regain her composure. She was shaken—because she hadn’t expected to be attacked in a house like this by a man whose upbringing should have prevented it. ‘I am, my lord, though I don’t think I was in any real danger. I was about to give Lord Lassiter his comeuppance.’

  ‘You were?’ He turned around. ‘You will understand if I say it didn’t look that way from where I was standing.’

  ‘No, I suppose not. But in truth, I was just waiting for...the right moment.’

  ‘The right moment,’ Valbourg repeated with a smile. ‘So despite the fact he had you pinned against the wall so tightly the outline of his fob is likely imprinted on your skin, you still felt there was going to be...a right moment.’

  ‘Yes.’ Catherine raised her chin. ‘I can explain how if you like. I can even show you—’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said, holding up a hand to forestall the demonstration. ‘It’s time we got you home. Your carriage awaits, my lady.’

  My lady. Valbourg’s words brought the blood rushing to Catherine’s cheeks far more than Tantemon’s innuendos or Lassiter’s advances. If his intention was to humiliate her, he had more than succeeded. She was not a lady and never would be. She was an unwed mother and actress. And tonight she had been on stage, just as when she was performing at the Gryphon. She had appeared in costume and walked into Valbourg’s world as though she belonged there—but she did not. The fairy tale had come to an end. It was time to go home, where there were no costumes to hide behind or masks to disguise who and what she really was.

  She walked out to the carriage in silence, a few steps ahead of Valbourg. It wasn’t the magnificent barouche in which she had arrived, but a smaller, more intimate carriage drawn by two gleaming black horses and with a single driver up top. A carriage that was still very much the property of a gentleman.

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said, turning to face him. I had...a most enjoyable evening.’

  ‘I doubt that, but it is kind of you to say so.’ Valbourg handed her an envelope. ‘I hope this makes up for what you suffered tonight.’

  Catherine took the envelope, but did not open it. She had no reason to suspect the marquess of short-changing her. Instead, she climbed into the carriage and immediately became aware of the lingering scent of lavender, making her wonder who had been in the carriage last. Lady Mary, perhaps, or another equally elegant lady of commendable family and high birth? The sort of lady Valbourg would be expected to marry.

  Chiding herself for allowing her thoughts to drift in that direction, Catherine turned to bid him goodnight—only to gasp when she realised he was climbing into the carriage after her. ‘My lord?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Miss Jones, you are perfectly safe with me,’ Valbourg said, settling on to the seat opposite and pulling the door closed. ‘But if you think I intend to let you drive through the streets of London alone at this time of night, you are mistaken.’

  ‘But I am perfectly safe in a closed carriage!’

  ‘That was what I thought when I left you in the music room and then again in the Chinese Salon,’ he said drily. ‘I will see you safely home if for no other reason than to assure myself a good night’s sleep.’

  * * *

  They travelled without speaking for a time, Valbourg keeping his attention on the street, his expression remote, his eyes as dark as the night that surrounded them. Catherine took advantage of his distraction to study him. When she had first seen him walking towards her on the steps of Alderbury House, she had thought him older. But now, having spent time in his company, she realised he couldn’t have been more than thirty, despite the fine lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes—

  ‘Why haven’t you taken a lover?’

  The question made her jump. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘A lover. Forgive me if you find the word offensive, but I doubt the topic is one with which you’ve not had some experience.’

  Catherine bristled. ‘If by experience you mean I have been approached about such things, you’re right. If, however, you refer to my having accepted such offers—’

  ‘I do not...because I know you have not. But let there be honesty between us, Miss Jones,’ Valbourg said. ‘You admit the subject has been raised in the past, in which case I hardly expect you to suffer a fit of maidenly outrage when I bring it up.’

  No, she wasn’t likely to do that, Catherine acknowledged. But the fact he felt free to talk to her about the subject told her exactly what he thought of her...and that did bother her.

  ‘I fail to understand why you would ask such a question, my lord. What possible interest can it be of yours?’

  ‘I should think what happened to you this evening would be a more than sufficient explanation.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘If you were under someone’s protection, you would not have been taken advantage of the way you were earlier.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Catherine retorted. ‘Being someone’s mistress would entitle me to a greater degree of respect than what I currently enjoy.’

  ‘Come, Miss Jones, we both know being a gentleman’s mistress earns you no more respect than being an actress does,’ Valbourg said. ‘But it does come with certain advantages. For one, you would be better taken care of.’

  ‘Indeed. I would be given food and lodging in exchange for pleasures owed to my keeper whenever and wherever he chose to exact them,’ Catherine was stung into replying. ‘Forgive me if I do not find that preferable to the situation in which I currently find myself. Now, if you don’t mind, I would rather not continue this conversation. As surprising as it may seem, I find it...degrading.’

  Valbourg shook his head. ‘I do not find that surprising
at all. And it was not my intention to offend you, Catherine. I know you haven’t taken a lover, and while I do not know what your circumstances were before you arrived in London, I doubt they were all that much different from what they are now.’

  Catherine raised an eyebrow at the casual use of her first name. Did he think to disarm her with familiarity? ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘Because the opportunities you have in London would be far superior to any you might have been offered in the country. If you were willing to become some shop-owner’s mistress, you would not hesitate to become the mistress of a much wealthier man here.’

  The implication stung. ‘You flatter me, Lord Valbourg. Obviously, your opinion of me is very high.’

  ‘Actually, it is,’ he said quietly, ‘which is why it pains me to have to ask you the question.’

  It was surely one of the strangest conversations Catherine had ever had. A gentleman, asking her why she hadn’t become some other man’s mistress...but not because he seemed to have any interest in making her his. ‘For what it’s worth, I choose not to be a mistress,’ she said. ‘Singing is my passion and I am grateful to Mr Templeton for having given me the opportunity to do what I love night after night in his beautiful theatre. And to pay me for the privilege.’

  ‘Granted, but what of your future? There will come a time when the public tires of you. Or when the work becomes too demanding. What will you do then? Retire? Move away? Marry?’

  ‘I will never marry,’ Catherine said. ‘I have a career. One I love and that I intend to pursue. If I were to marry, all of that would change. A husband would not allow me to appear in public.’