by Louise Allen
‘You’ve got to make him fall in love with you first,’ her friend added with brutal honesty.
Maude thought about confiding in Jessica. Perhaps she would understand what that strange, gentle kiss in the darkened alleyway had meant.
‘Oh, there’s the front door knocker, the committee is arriving.’ Jessica hopped off the desk and became, once more, a dignified countess. The moment was lost.
‘Go and greet people in the hall. I’ll stand under the portrait and try to get Eden to talk to me there so you can see,’ Maude urged as the Reverend Makepeace’s fluting tones reached them.
Eden was exactly on time. Several of the others, more familiar with the household and less on their society manners, had arrived earlier and were gossiping in the dining room. ‘Lady Standon, I apologise, I have kept you waiting.’ He glanced towards the open door and the sound of voices as he handed his hat and coat to the butler.
‘No, not at all, they are early, Mr Hurst. Ah, there’s Maude, she will show you the way.’ Jessica smiled, affecting just to notice Maude poised under the portrait. Maude smiled and held out her hand to him, turning so that he was forced to stop and stand in three-quarters profile to Jessica, just like the figure in the painting. Maude saw her friend’s eyes narrow and she nodded, just as her husband strolled downstairs.
‘Maude, good afternoon. Hurst.’ Gareth held out his hand and Maude slipped away to stand with Jessica, regarding the two men standing under the portrait.
‘I think you are right,’ Jessica whispered. ‘There is a resemblance. Are you going to tell the other cousins?’
‘How can I?’ Maude murmured back. ‘That is up to Eden and I have no idea whether or not he knows.’
Maude found herself watching Eden during the committee meeting. He was managing to control any surprise at Bel taking the chair, although she could read him well enough to see his impatience at Mr Makepeace’s long, and rambling, report.
There was no disguising the fact that Mr Makepeace and Lady Wallace were treating Eden with some reserve. Presumably neither really approved of his presence on the committee.
‘Now then, tactics for Lady Hethersett’s ball,’ Bel announced. ‘She tells me that several ladies who are on our list as potential sponsors, but who have so far eluded us, will be attending.’
‘And both I, and Dereham, will be absent,’ Gareth remarked. ‘So the duty of charming the ladies is, I am very happy to say, all yours, Hurst.’ There was the slightest edge to his voice.
Eden’s eyebrows rose. ‘That sounds hazardous. Might I remind you, Standon, that while you and Dereham are safely married, I am perilously single.’
‘We are not asking you to propose to them, Mr Hurst,’ Jessica said, with a dimpling smile. ‘Just flirt. You can flirt, can’t you?’
There was silence, broken only by Mr Makepeace’s faint cluck of disapproval. Eden regarded Jessica steadily. How he did it, Maude had no idea, but somehow those cool brown eyes gained heat, the severe lips softened and, ‘I never flirt, Lady Standon,’ he said, his voice somehow huskier than before.
Jessica, sitting next to her own husband, blushed like a peony.
It seemed to Maude that the committee held its collective breath, then Jessica burst out laughing. ‘Mr Hurst, that was outrageous! If you can make the toes of a happily married lady curl in her slippers like that, I shudder to think what havoc you can wreak on Lady Hethersett’s guests.’
‘Ma’am?’ Eden looked blank.
‘An excellent demonstration of just what is needed,’ Gareth commented, his tone steely. ‘I need hardly add that should you make my wife’s toes curl again, there will be hell to pay?’
Eden inclined his head gravely, Mr Makepeace looked shocked and Lady Wallace was seized with a fit of coughing. Bel consulted her list again, ‘There are also some gentlemen…I will distribute them amongst the ladies of the committee later and we can agree tactics over tea. Now, the next item on the agenda is our fund-raising event. Maude?’
‘Mr Hurst and I have a suggestion,’ Maude said, blithely ignoring Eden narrowing his eyes at her. ‘Mr Hurst is very kindly prepared to allow us to use the Unicorn for a gala evening with music and refreshments. The special attraction is that the entertainment will be provided by the guests themselves.’
She explained in detail, conscious of Eden sitting silent, occasionally jotting down a note as she expanded the idea far beyond the bare details she had sketched out for him. Was she going too far? she wondered, braced for him to protest.
But he made no complaint, sitting calmly while the others exclaimed and praised, enthusiastically joining in to identify those leaders of society who must be persuaded to take part in this novel entertainment in order to ensure that everyone would be clamouring for an invitation. It seemed the novelty of the scheme was enough to overcome their reservations about Eden, at least for the moment.
When they finally finished the meeting and tea was served, Gareth made his way over to where Maude was talking to Eden.
‘We have some skilled carpenters amongst the men—I have several employed renovating some houses I own,’ he remarked. Maude held her breath, hoping this was an olive branch. ‘I can bring them over, Hurst, give your men a hand. I’ll supervise, if that will free you up for anything more technical.’
‘Thank you.’ Eden’s voice was cool. ‘I would be grateful for the men, but I, and I alone, supervise anything that happens in my theatre.’
‘I wonder, then,’ Gareth remarked, his eyes flickering to Maude, ‘that you tolerate Lady Maude’s interference.’
‘I do not have to.’ Eden sounded, to Maude’s anxious ear, faintly amused. ‘Firstly, Lady Maude does not interfere, she makes interesting and constructive suggestions. Secondly, we have established very firm boundaries for our partnership.’
‘Amazing,’ Gareth drawled, helping himself to a macaroon. ‘You must be the first man, including her father, to impose any boundaries whatsoever on Maude.’ He sauntered off and began to talk to Lady Wallace.
Maude could feel the tension coming off Eden like the heat from a fire. ‘He presumes a lot on old acquaintance, does he not?’ he enquired, his dark eyes following Gareth’s progress.
‘No, not at all, he is simply teasing me.’ Maude blinked—a low sound, not unlike a growl, was surely emanating from Eden’s throat. It could hardly, since there was no large dog in the room, be coming from anywhere else. ‘I told you, we have known each other since childhood,’ she added hastily. ‘I tease him just as much.’ It was not jealousy, that was too much to hope for, but the very fact that he wanted to defend her filled Maude with a warm glow.
‘Would you drive me home?’
‘Unchaperoned?’
‘I happen to know you drove yourself in an open carriage,’ she said. ‘A curricle, perhaps?’
‘And how did you know that?’
‘You were cold when you came in. Colder than would be accounted for by being in a closed carriage—I was standing close to you in the hall, if you recall. And you were wearing a caped driving coat, which seemed a little excessive for a passenger.’
‘Admirable deduction. I was driving my new phaeton.’
‘Then, may I drive with you? It is quite unexceptional to be alone with you in an open vehicle, after all.’
‘You will be cold.’ But he was smiling, just a little.
‘I will borrow Jessica’s furs. Wait for me.’
‘What is it, Maude?’ She looked down at him in surprise from the carriage seat into which he had just helped her. She was not quite certain, for his eyes were shaded by the brim of his hat, but Eden was amused.
‘What?’
‘Whatever it is you want to quiz me about in private.’ Eden went round and climbed into the phaeton, took the reins from the waiting footman and gave the pair the office to start. ‘I can’t believe that you have just had a sudden fancy to drive through London in the chill of a February afternoon to take the air.’
‘I wanted to ask y
ou something highly personal,’ she confessed, watching the street unfold between the pricked ears of the bay leader.
‘Ask then.’ He glanced sideways. ‘I won’t promise to answer.’
‘Do you know your mother’s real name?’ There was no point in beating around the bush, and sooner or later, they would have to confront the issue of his family.
‘Yes.’ The leader shied at a yapping mongrel on the pavement and Eden collected him with his voice and a touch of the whip. ‘I suppose you are wondering if I know that I have just been sitting down with two of my cousins? Are they aware of who I am?’
‘No, only Jessica. She was with me this afternoon when I saw a portrait of her father-in-law and realised why you so often seemed familiar. I looked in the Peerage and found your mother,’ she added.
‘Will you tell them?’ Eden sounded merely interested, as though they were speaking of someone else.
‘No, not unless you wish to, and I will ask Jessica not to say anything. She is very discreet.’ Maude hesitated. He was not pouring out his confidences, but on the other hand, he had not rebuffed her. ‘How did you discover the connection?’
‘When we were packing to come to England, I found some papers that made me suspect. I have not challenged Madame on the subject. It would not be worth the effort—she always refuses to discuss the past. I do not think the resemblance is such that it is immediately obvious.’
‘No, it is something about the way you move, the way you hold yourself, I think. I know them very well, so perhaps it is more obvious to me.’ Still he did not react, yet Maude had the feeling she was walking on eggshells.
‘Would you not like some family?’ she persisted.
‘You think they would acknowledge me? I think not. Besides, the question is irrelevant. Unless Madame wishes to make known her identity, I cannot speak of it.’
‘Oh. I had not thought of that.’ Maude fell silent, brooding on this latest complication. They were almost in Mount Street. ‘Do you dance?’
Eden reined in the pair at her front door. ‘Do I dance? There are times, Maude, when I find yourself baffled by the workings of your mind. How do we get from my parentage to dancing?’
‘We do not. But there is no point in pursuing a topic of conversation you are obviously unwilling to discuss and I want to know whether you will dance with me at Lady Hethersett’s ball.’
‘Yes, I dance. And, yes, it will be a pleasure to dance with you at the ball, Maude.’ The front door opened and a footman appeared. Eden glanced at him and added, his voice lower, ‘But do not try to extend your campaign to make me admit the existence of love to a scheme to have me embrace all my family—they would not thank you for introducing a theatrical bastard to their fireside, believe me.’
‘They already acknowledge you for what you are, not where you came from,’ Maude said. ‘The Ravenhursts—the ones who are my friends—are more open minded than perhaps you believe.’ He made no response, and besides, James was already coming round to help her down. This was not the time to pursue it. ‘Thank you, Eden, I enjoyed my drive.’
Chapter Fourteen
The bays fidgeted, testing his control as though his own tension was reaching them. Eden turned them towards Hyde Park. It would be relatively free of crowds now and he could work out the horses’ fidgets and his own unsettled thoughts in privacy.
He had come back to England, settled into the fringes of society, confident that the secrets of his birth would remain just that. Secret. Lady Margery Ravenhurst had fled the family home at the tender age of nineteen—it was safe to believe that none of her family would recognise her now, a woman in her mid-forties.
Discreet observation of the myriad Ravenhurst clan had convinced him that with his Italian looks he had no reason to fear exposure either. Frowning, he realised how betraying that word was. There was nothing to fear from the Ravenhursts, not in the material sense. And yet it would hurt his pride, he realised, if there was the slightest suspicion that he was courting acceptance, presuming on the connection.
Eden swung the team in through the gates and let them extend their trot across the scuffed tan surface. Trust Maude to see a likeness that he was not even aware of himself. But then Maude looked deeper into him than anyone else ever had. She thought, bless her, that there was something about him worth humanising, worth teaching to love.
And he let himself be seduced and weakened by her friendship, her concern, just as he was constantly tormented by desire for her. She saw him as a crippled being to be rescued, taught love, sent out again into the world like a bird with a mended broken wing. But she assumed he wanted to feel love, that he was capable of it. Love was something you were born into, grew up with, surely? Not something you could learn.
The leader broke into a canter and was ruthlessly brought back to a trot. If he could control nothing else today, he could damn well control his horses. What would it be like to belong to a family like the Ravenhursts? So many of them and yet such a tight-knit clan, gathering in new members by friendship or marriage. It would be suffocating, he told himself. And weakening. And yet seductively warm.
Warm, like Maude. But Maude was special and he was not, he was all too bitterly aware, worthy of a woman like that. He could only hurt her, they were so different and he so scarred. He should send her money back, end their partnership, he knew that, but still he wanted to hold out cold hands to the glow of her smile and her honesty and her concern. Just for a little while longer.
‘Papa? Are you ready?’ Maude put her head around the door of her father’s study, surprised not to find him waiting in the hall, foot tapping, one eye on the clock.
The earl was sitting at his desk, a letter in his hand, staring at the fire. Maude pushed the door wider and he looked up. ‘Sorry, my love. Did you say something?’
‘I asked if you are ready to go to Lady Hethersett’s, Papa.’ Maude went up to the desk, anxious. ‘Are you unwell?’ He looked uncharacteristically melancholy and suddenly, frighteningly, older.
‘Unwell? No, my dear. Just rather…sad. That friend of your mother’s—you recall I told you she was ill? Well, now it seems she has died.’ He sighed, folding the heavy sheets of paper under his hands. Maude looked down at them, seeing for the first time how prominent the veins were becoming, noticing the age spots, and placed one of hers over his.
‘I’m so sorry, Papa. Let me go upstairs and change and we’ll spend a quiet evening together.’
‘What! Nonsense, you’ll do no such thing. It’s years since I saw her, we never corresponded more than a note at the turn of the year. No, I’m just a little melancholy, thinking of times long past, that’s all.’
Thinking of Mama, Maude thought, squeezing his hand. ‘Yes, but I will—’
‘No. You run along and enjoy yourself. I am going to go to the club, I’m not good company this evening, but I’m quite all right.’ He beetled his heavy eyebrows at her. ‘And I don’t want you sitting at home when you could be out there snaring that highly eligible son-in-law for me. You give my apologies to Henrietta Hethersett now.’
‘If you are certain, Papa,’ Maude dropped a kiss on his cheek. ‘But I’m not promising a highly eligible son-in-law, I’m afraid.’ Her conscience gave a painful twinge at the thought of just how ineligible the man of her dreams was.
‘You’re a good girl. Just go and find a good man—I only want you to be happy, Maude.’
Papa really meant it, she knew he did, Maude thought as she climbed, alone, into the carriage. But could he possibly conceive just who it might take to make her happy?
‘All by yourself, child?’ Lady Hethersett tut-tutted indulgently as Maude reached the head of the receiving line.
‘Papa is indisposed, ma’am.’ Maude dropped a curtsy and smiled back. ‘He asked me to give you his apologies. I will find Lady Dereham or Lady Standon at once,’ she added meekly.
However, an airy wave when she saw them on the other side of the great reception room that led on to the ballroom wa
s quite enough to fulfil her promise to Lady Hethersett, Maude decided. Just beyond a potted palm she could see Mr Worthington, an elderly gentleman who was on her list of potential benefactors for the charity. If she added him to her collection, she could relax and enjoy herself for the rest of the evening with a clear conscience.
Ten minutes later she was wondering if she was ever going to extract either money, or herself. ‘Disgraceful, the number of sturdy rogues sponging upon the Poor Relief,’ Mr Worthington was saying indignantly. ‘The charge upon property owners in every parish is outrageous!’
‘Exactly,’ Maude interjected. ‘And so many of these men are returning soldiers from the wars. Now, a very modest donation of one hundred guineas to our charity will prove a excellent investment in removing these men permanently from becoming a charge upon the parishes.’
‘Hmm.’ He eyed her dubiously. ‘Investment, you say?’
‘Absolutely,’ Maude said. ‘Of course, it takes a gentleman of experience and foresight such as yourself to appreciate that…’ Her mind went blank. Just the other side of the arrangement of greenery she could see a pair of broad shoulders and hear Eden’s trained voice.
‘Of course, Lady Lucas, I can offer inducements beyond my, no doubt, imperfect arguments as to why you should become a patron.’
‘Inducements? Why, Mr Hurst, you do interest me!’ Lady Lucas, the wife of a notoriously indolent and neglectful husband, was a sprightly blonde with a roving eye. And, Maude saw as she shifted her position slightly, those wide blue orbs were fixed on Eden’s face. Lady Lucas moved closer and rested one hand on his forearm. ‘Do tell—or should we go somewhere more private?’
