The Notorious Mr. Hurst

by Louise Allen

  ‘I can assure you, Eden, I most certainly do not regard you in the same light as Monsieur Maurice, as I hope you would realise if you ever met him. Unless…’ she frowned thoughtfully at the crow-black wing of hair he was pushing back from his forehead ‘…unless you too wear a toupee?’ His snort of laughter answered that. ‘When I am with young men at balls and dinners I act as they expect, because they do not have the flexibility of mind to cope with anything else.’

  ‘And I do?’

  ‘I hope so.’ She added more seriously, ‘I hope you realise that I am not dining with you alone like this because it seems amusing to be scandalous, or because I am fast and would do so with any man who asked me. It is simply that, with you, I find I can be myself.’

  Another man would have been taken aback by that comment, or teased her. Eden merely looked thoughtful. ‘Why is that, do you think?’ he asked, the piece of bread in his fingers crumbling, uneaten, as he studied her face.

  ‘Because I enjoy your company and I feel quite safe with you.’ And I wish I did not…

  ‘Despite the fact I kissed you the way I did, nearly took you in the corridor on our first encounter?’ he asked outright, almost making her choke on the spoonful of soup she had just lifted to her lips. And the reminiscent gleam in his eyes made her reconsider exactly how safe she felt.

  ‘It was an error,’ Maude managed to say calmly. ‘And if I had been someone you intended to kiss for the usual reasons…’ his lips twitched at her choice of phrase, but she pushed on, managing not to stare at them ‘…I imagine matters would have concluded in your office and not in the corridor. That was most excellent soup.’ She had not seen the little bell until Eden lifted it and rang. The footmen came in, cleared and replaced the tureen with more dishes.

  ‘Lobster, a fricassee of chicken, various vegetables. May I serve you?’ Maude nodded and waited while the plates were filled and white wine was poured. ‘So, you like my flexible mind, you admire my chef’s cooking, you covet my theatre and you are able to disregard my reputation. Is that all that brings you here?’

  ‘Are you fishing for compliments, Eden?’ Maude enquired, lingering a moment to savour the meltingly tender chicken. ‘You are also aware that you are considered a very handsome man. Perhaps that is why I am here.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He smiled as she shook her head reprovingly at him for assuming it was her opinion also. ‘I have looks that appear to strike some women as attractive. For which I must thank my father—it is hardly an attribute for which I can claim any merit. But you, I think, are not looking for something so superficial, or a trophy to shock your friends.’

  ‘Exactly. So you are quite safe,’ Maude said prosaically. ‘We may discuss matters of mutual interest and you need not worry that I am about to fling myself into your arms or tear off my clothing.’

  ‘I am sure I ought to say that is a relief,’ Eden said, cutting into his lobster. ‘But you must be aware that any man who is conscious and under the age of ninety would wish to find you in his arms, so you must give me full credit for my restrained behaviour.’

  It was the nearest he had come to open flirtation. Maude lowered her eyes to her glass to keep her expression hidden while she controlled the impulse to beam at him. ‘I do,’ she said after the merest pause. ‘You mentioned your father just then. Are you very like him in character as well as looks?’

  For a moment she thought he would not answer her. ‘I hope not.’

  ‘You did not get on well together?’

  ‘He never spoke to me. If it was necessary to decide something, he would speak of me in the third person to one of the servants.’

  ‘Perhaps he wasn’t very good with children,’ she suggested, chilled. ‘Some people aren’t.’ Eden merely looked at her, but the expression in his eyes said everything. ‘Oh.’ She swallowed. ‘Have you ever gone back, since you became a man?’

  ‘You are wondering if I created an ogre in my mind and it would do me good to confront him? Yes, I went back, once. I suppose I thought it would be amusing to see what he made of the scrawny little kitchen rat now I’d grown up to look like him, with good clothes and money in my pocket.’

  Maude flinched. ‘And?’

  ‘And I found it…interesting to see what I would look like in thirty years time, although I wondered if I would ever learn the self-control to stay that calm, that distant, in the face of an arrogant twenty-year-old. Or that contemptuous,’ he added, his lips thinning. ‘It was a lesson in the perils of sentimentality. I had thought, perhaps, to have made him proud of me; I learned that the only person whose opinion matters is my own.’

  ‘You have found no one else whose opinion matters?’ she asked, unable to find anything to say about the rest of that speech. Not and keep from weeping.

  ‘I had thought not,’ Eden said. ‘Now, let me tell you about the auditions.’ His explanations took them through the main course and into dessert. Maude listened and nodded, all the time conscious of the long fingers gesturing to mark a point, the intensity in his eyes when he was serious about something. She did not dare venture into anything more personal again. ‘There has been a considerable response to my advertisements, so I expect it to take all day,’ he concluded.

  ‘When will you start? I want to make sure I am here to see everything,’ Maude said, spooning a syllabub as light and rich as spun silk. ‘Mmm. This is heaven.’

  ‘You will be bored to death, Maude. I will be starting at nine, but you will hardly want to do more than drop in for half an hour or so, surely?’ He reached over and dipped an almond biscuit into the dish in front of her, licking syllabub off the tuile with sensual enjoyment.

  ‘You said you didn’t want any!’ Maude raised her spoon in mock aggression. ‘This is all mine and I will defend it to the death.’

  ‘But that was before I tasted it.’ Eden feinted with another little biscuit and Maude rapped him over the knuckles and they both laughed. Then their gazes locked and Maude found she was staring, the laughter dying on her lips as something happened, deep in the dark eyes fixed on hers. ‘Perhaps I am not as good with temptation as I thought,’ he said slowly. There was a long, breathless moment before he broke the gaze with an almost physical abruptness and reached for the platter of cheese.

  Maude got her breathing back under control. ‘I will be here for the auditions at nine, then,’ she said. ‘I would like to give you my opinions and I cannot compare one actress with another if I do not see them all.’

  Eden put down his knife, his face showing no signs of amusement or flirtation now. ‘The decision is mine. We made no agreement about casting or employment.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I am not claiming any privilege in the matter.’ What was it Jessica had called him? A dark angel from the chillier regions of Hell—yes, that was it. Well, he was not apparently angry, so Hell was presumably on hold, but his severe masculine beauty and the implacable expression certainly fitted the first part.

  She shivered, more unnerved than she liked to admit to herself at his rapid change from amused teasing to icy assertion of his rights. ‘I thought I would sit up here and watch, as though I was a member of the audience. My opinion may be of value to you, and if not, you will ignore it.’ She did her best to sound neither defensive, nor shaken by his territorial reaction.

  ‘Very well.’ Eden could not be said to have relaxed again, for his body had not noticeably stiffened in the first place, yet Maude sensed the moment of tension had passed. Don’t touch my theatre! He should have a sign hung up, she told herself, striving to find a lighter note. ‘Yes, that will be interesting,’ he added, ‘to see what you think of each from this vantage point.’

  ‘It is agreed, then.’ She risked further provocation. ‘And Miss Golding? What news of her?’

  ‘She has found a place at the Sans Pareil in the Strand. They specialise in burlettas; it will suit her well enough.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Maude said, warmly. ‘I am so happy that you did that.’

  �
�You are happier than Mr Merrick in that case, for he is short one week’s wages that I added to what was owing to Miss Golding.’

  ‘So you are not completely heartless, then?’ Maude watched his face from beneath her lashes, caught the wry twist of his mouth. ‘You did not tell me before that you had done so.’

  ‘It was no loss to me and it served as a lesson for Mr Merrick,’ Eden said coolly, disowning any motive of kindness. He must, surely, have a softer side?

  ‘You left me to think you were cruel enough to simply cast her out,’ Maude observed, ‘and you were not.’ Instinctively she reached out, laid her own hand palm down over his. ‘It isn’t a crime to admit to compassion, Eden.’

  He sat looking down at her hand, then turned his under it and lifted until her fingertips were an inch from his lips. He is going to kiss them…She could feel his breath, hot on the sensitive skin. Then he raised his eyes, watching her under the thick black lashes as he lowered her hand to the table and released it.

  ‘It is probably as well if you have no illusions about my character, Maude. I am not one of your society gentlemen, running tame in ballroom and parlour. I grew up differently and I know weakness is not gentility, it is danger.’ He did not appear to expect an answer to that, instead picking up a knife and looking at her questioningly. ‘May I tempt you to some cheese? A glass of port?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Maude shook her head, distracted by wondering how she was ever going to crack Eden’s defences.

  ‘Shall I see you to the carriage, then?’ She nodded, still not concentrating completely. ‘I would like to prolong the evening, but I have no desire to cause Lord Pangbourne any anxiety.’

  ‘Thank you. But he is engaged with friends until the early hours,’ Maude said vaguely. ‘Still, I should not keep my maid waiting up for me.’ Eden came and pulled out her chair for her to rise and she smiled her thanks over her shoulder as she did so.

  It happened so fast, came out of nowhere—there was no time to think. At one moment they were formal, she rising gracefully from her seat, he placing the chair to one side so her full skirts were unimpeded, the next she stumbled, her low French heel catching in the carpet rucked by the table, and she was in his arms.

  Instinctively her hands went up for balance, fastening on his lapels, and his arms were around her, swinging her away from the low edge of the balcony, folding her against his chest. Her overwhelming sensation was of the scent of him: clean, warm male with a hint of an exotic spice mingling with starched linen and that green earth smell of olive oil.

  ‘You’ve been oiling your hair,’ she said, such a foolish thing to be talking of when she was strained against his body and he was looking down at her as though he was still ravenously hungry.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, half-laughing at her, half-serious, with a kind of confusion that seemed alien to him. ‘Maude?’

  A question, a statement? A plea? She couldn’t tell. Nor, she realised with something like despair, could she pull away. He was going to kiss her. Too soon…

  Eden felt the sensations wash through him, searching with his mind for his self-control like a man who has dropped something precious into a fast-flowing stream. He was going to have to do this, he was going to have to be the strong one, the responsible one. Maude was simply too innocent to realise what was happening here. She probably thought he was going to kiss her, a light good-night kiss, perhaps.

  And instead she was a finger’s breadth away from being pulled down to the upholstered bench that ran around the box and ravished. He tried not to hold her so tightly, achingly aware of the force of his arousal, aware of the soft skin, the fragrance that rose from it, the primitive need to strip the silks and lawns from her body. What was it about this woman? He had never so much as flirted with a respectable single woman. She was a virgin, for God’s sake!

  Under his hands she quivered and he realised his big hands were gripping her shoulders, the fragile bones trapped under his palms. But she made no sound and the pansy-dark eyes were watching him with something he was quite unable to read.

  What had happened? He had thought after that first mistaken kiss that he was simply enjoying her company, the intelligent, amused comments, the sweet femininity surrounding him without any games being played, without any demands being made. Maude was a novelty, a woman he thought might actually become a friend and now—this.

  This overwhelming desire came out of nowhere, oversetting him just where he thought he was strongest. He had believed that his will was firm, that his self-control was absolute, that his life was ordered, controlled, planned. And now here was this society chit reducing him to a mass of screaming, mindless need without so much as a flirtatious glance.

  And this was not need he could take to some whore to slake. Oh, no, this was need for her, for Lady Maude Templeton, and he might as well desire the moon.

  He had done harder things than this, Eden told himself, gritting his teeth and forcing his hands apart. Harder things, more painful things, although just at the moment, in the grip of this madness, he could not recall what they were.

  Where had this come from? He was a sensual man, he knew that, knew he would never be celibate. But this lust for an innocent young woman he hardly knew? But he did know her, he realised, with the part of his brain that was functioning clearly. He knew her better already than any woman in his life, other than Madame Marguerite.

  He managed to let Maude go, then caught her elbow as she staggered slightly, as though her knees were shaking. How long had he been standing there, holding her, drowning in those lovely, wondering eyes? ‘I’m sorry, did you hurt yourself when you tripped?’

  ‘No. No, not at all. So clumsy of me.’ She stepped away, apparently steady on her feet now, which was more than he felt. That damned dizziness again. ‘That will teach me to drink two glasses of wine,’ she added, sounding ruefully amused.

  Did she not realise what had almost happened just then? Had she not seen how much danger she had been in? It seemed not. And he—what peril was he risking? He could not afford to find himself obsessed with the daughter of a peer, he could not afford the lack of focus that unrequited desire would bring. Or the retribution Lord Pangbourne would bring down on his head if his self-control slipped and he debauched the earl’s daughter.

  ‘Time to go home,’ Eden said, finding his voice emerged quite normally, not with the huskiness of the desperation he was feeling.

  ‘Yes, of course. My cloak…’ Maude gestured towards the shadows, then stood while he swung the heavy velvet around her shoulders. ‘Thank you. Now, where did I put my reticule? Ah, here it is.’ She seemed to Eden’s bemused eye to be quite calm, which could only mean she was very innocent, despite her assured air and her age, or completely impervious to whatever dubious attraction he had for other women, or both.

  He held the door for her, then followed her out into the wide passageway, resisting the urge to take her arm, knowing he could not trust himself to touch her. She did, however, seem unusually quiet. Perhaps some sixth sense was making her uneasy. Eden walked beside her, racking his brains for conversation and finding none. And finding no possible excuse for not sending her away, breaking their contract, never seeing her again.

  Eden seemed unusually silent, Maude thought as they made their way along the wide, deserted corridors and down the sweep of the stairs to the front lobby.

  She looked up, seeing the hard line of his jaw, the dark shadow of his beard just beginning to show. Beyond she could see the head of the unicorn, thrusting out of the wall, its horn lowered, its nostrils wide. It had never seemed fierce to her before, or threatening, but now it did.

  Someone materialised from the shadows, opened the door and whistled. Eden stepped out into the night, still not taking her arm, and the cold air struck her skin, making her realise just how heated she was. There were the sound of hooves on the cobbles and a carriage drew up.

  Eden snapped his fingers at the groom, who jumped down and hurried to let down the steps and help
her enter. ‘Eden?’ she queried.

  ‘I will ride on the box.’ He shut the door and she was alone. Shivering slightly, Maude fidgeted with her cloak and tied the cord at her neck. There were gloves in the pocket and she pulled them on, feeling the need to cover as much skin as possible, as though that flimsy warmth would stop the fine tremor running through her.

  Now she was alone she could think about those few crowded moments after she had stumbled and he had caught her in his arms. What had happened? She was not sure. She was not certain even how long he had held her, his strong fingers locked around her shoulders. She had stumbled, Eden had caught her—and for her the world had stopped on its axis.

  But for him? He had been so still, his eyes so intent, his breathing hard. Had he felt the sensual shock that had gone through her? Or was it simply that he had found himself, late at night, with his arms full of young woman and it had taken a moment for him to control a man’s natural reactions?

  But she did not want him to feel only desire, flattering though that was. She wanted his emotions involved, not his instincts. When they made love—she closed her eyes and shivered—she wanted it to be because he loved her. But Jessica and Bel had warned her that was not how men thought. And it seemed they were right.

  Maude was still wrestling with her desires and her ignorance as the carriage slowed and stopped. When the door opened Eden was standing there, his hand held out to help her down. It seemed he was prepared to touch her now. The groom was already climbing the front steps to knock.

  She made herself hold Eden’s gaze for a long moment, then pulled up her hood and put her hand in his. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you, I enjoyed your company very much.’ He kept his voice low, conscious, as she was, of the driver up on the box.

  ‘And I, yours. It was a delicious meal; please thank your chef for me,’ she responded, as though they were parting after a normal society dinner party. ‘I look forward to the auditions.’