Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife

by Sarah Mallory

  She tried to ignore this, but was aware of the flush creeping into her cheeks and the fluttering excitement in her stomach. ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘It is common knowledge in this area that the Chelstons take on more staff when they are entertaining. Once I learned that Lady Chelston likes to pick the servants herself, it was not difficult to be chosen.’ The wicked laughter was in his eyes again. ‘After all, I have all the attributes she looks for in her footmen.’

  ‘You would be well served if she was to select you for her favours tonight!’

  ‘It is the lady who would be well-served,’ he murmured.

  Eve gasped at his audacity. Nick merely laughed and swept her into his arms.

  ‘No, no, I am jesting, sweet heart. There is only room for one woman in my life now, and you know it.’

  His words and the feel of his arms about her sent Eve’s senses spiralling out of control. She had no time to gather her scattered wits and turn her head before he was kissing her, his mouth rough and demanding against her own. Her fingers clutched at his coat as she responded, urgent desire heating her blood.

  ‘Must you go in to dinner now?’ he muttered, covering her face and throat with warm, tender kisses.

  ‘We will be discovered,’ she whispered as reason threatened to leave her.

  He groaned. ‘You are right. You will be missed.’ He gripped her shoulders and possessed her mouth for one last, lingering kiss. ‘There. Go now before I forget that I am a servant and ravish you.’

  She did not smile as she stepped away from him. ‘Will we speak again?’

  ‘I shall find you later, trust me.’ He opened the door and cautiously looked out. ‘It is clear. Off you go now.’

  Still bemused with the shock of the en counter, Eve made her way to the drawing room. She was one of the last to arrive and her entrance went almost unnoticed in the noisy confusion. The room was packed with guests who laughed and chattered and exclaimed over each other’s masquerade costumes. Lady Chelston came up, looking magnificent in green and gold.

  ‘Persephone in Spring, my dear,’ she said, when Eve uttered a compliment. ‘Chelston had these yellow diamonds made up into the shape of a primrose cluster for my corsage—are they not ex qui site?’

  She hurried away and Eve watched her flit around the room, too distracted to spare more than a few words to anyone. A small group of house guests welcomed Eve in a kindly manner, then continued their discussion with no more than an occasional glance or word in her direction. This suited her perfectly, unlike the protracted dinner, which proved to be a sore trial.

  She was seated next to her cousin and she nearly fainted when Nick filed in with the other footmen to serve the first course. She kept her eyes resolutely lowered, praying that she would do nothing to give him away. Conversation ebbed and flowed; Eve had no idea what she said or what was said to her. The elegant and colourful dishes prepared for the delectation of Lord Chelston’s guests tasted of nothing in her mouth. Eve filled her plate and ate mechanically and all the time she was aware of the footmen gliding silently around the room, refilling glasses, clearing dishes and setting down fresh ones.

  ‘Cousin, let me help you to a little of the baked pike,’ said Bernard presently. ‘It is quite delicious.’

  ‘No, I thank you.’

  ‘You are still angry with me,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I should not have declared myself so soon. It was the violence of my regard for you that made me so precipitate.’

  Eve froze. Nick was directly before them, serving the gentleman seated on the opposite side of the table. Anxious that Bernard should not look up, she gave him a much warmer smile that she had intended, des per ate to keep his attention. ‘So you told me in your letter, Cousin.’

  ‘Your reply did not lead me to hope you had forgiven me.’

  ‘Your letter implied you thought your suit might still succeed,’ she countered.

  ‘And will it not?’

  Nick had moved out of sight and Eve relaxed slightly. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Never.’

  ‘Never is a long time, Cousin.’

  The complacent smile on Bernard’s face made her long to slap him. She re strained herself, regretting her earlier friendliness. She said with false sweet ness, ‘Then you will have plenty of time to recover from your disappointment.’

  Very deliberately she turned her shoulder and began to converse with the gentleman on her right. There, she thought. I have told him; I will not speak to him again, and Nick must look out for himself!

  The meal progressed with no oaths, no clatter of dropped dishes to draw attention to a clumsy servant. A glance at each end of the table showed Eve that Lord Chelston and his wife were both at ease and too engrossed in their guests to look at the footmen. When at last her hostess gave the signal for the ladies to withdraw, Eve knew a moment’s panic. What if some thing happened to Nick later, when she was not there? Reason told her there was nothing she could do to help, but she would have preferred to remain near him. As the ladies slowly processed out of the room she risked one swift glance along the line of liveried servants. She saw Nick almost immediately, but although he met her eyes for a brief moment, he gave no sign of recognition. A wild bubble of laughter welled up within her; he might be daring, but he was not so reckless that he would risk a look being intercepted. It gave her some comfort, but it was still a struggle to maintain her composure, knowing he was courting danger.

  After a brief word to her hostess Eve slipped away to her room. As she passed along the gallery she could hear the orchestra tuning up below. The notes reverberated around the empty hall, but Eve knew that once the vast space was filled with people the hollow echo would be replaced by a much more melodious sound. It would be very busy, she thought, all the footmen would be required to attend to the guests and Nick would not be able to slip away unnoticed.

  She paced around her bed chamber, her body buzzing with nervous energy. It was absurd for her to sit idly doing nothing. The idea nagged at her so much that after an hour she could bear the uncertainty no longer and she went back to the gallery. There were no servants now in the dimly lit upper corridors and she guessed that they had all been pressed into service down stairs. Eve peeped over the balustrade. The hall was packed with a noisy, colourful throng. Many of the guests were in elaborate costumes with silk masks over their eyes, but dotted between them were mysterious figures enveloped in swirling silk dominos. The liveried footmen moved through the crowd offering fresh glasses of wine. She walked round the gallery until she could see the entrance to the saloon that opened off the hall. The double doors had been thrown wide and more servants were busy setting out supper on long tables.

  ‘Mrs Wylder, does the noise disturb you?’

  She jumped and turned to find Lord Chelston beside her. ‘N-no, sir.’ She tried a wan smile. ‘I merely wished to see how the ball was progressing.’

  He held out his arm. ‘Let me take you down—’

  ‘No, no, my lord, I thank you.’ She shrank away. ‘My black gown does not lend itself to such gaiety, and it might make some of your guests un com fort able. Forgive me, I have seen enough and will retire now.’

  ‘Then allow me to escort you back to your chamber.’ He pulled her hand on to his arm and walked beside her through the dimly lit corridor. ‘To find you watching the dancers makes me wonder if you are perhaps lonely, ma’am.’

  ‘L-lonely, my lord? No, I assure you—’

  ‘Shawcross informs me that Makerham was your home for many years. It must surely be a wrench for you to leave it, to leave all your friends and move to Monkhurst, which I am well aware is very isolated. You are young, would you not prefer to be living in Tunbridge, or Bath, where you would find a little more society?’

  ‘I am very content at Monkhurst, my lord.’

  He stopped, his sharp eyes searching her face. ‘Are you sure?’ he said gently. ‘Are you not putting a brave face upon your plight? If it is money, madam, then perhaps I can help you. I could
buy Monkhurst. I know this country, Mrs Wylder; Monkhurst is not like to suit everyone. I would be happy to take it off your hands for a generous sum—and we need not wait for the legalities to be complete. I could make you an advance to allow you to move immediately to some where more suited to your nature.’

  She put up a hand. ‘Please, my lord, say no more. I assure you Monkhurst suits me very well. Perhaps, perhaps in a year or so, when my grief has lessened…’ She allowed the sentence to remain unfinished and lowered her eyes before his cold, piercing gaze. After a moment he bowed.

  ‘As you wish, madam. I shall take you to your room now. But do not be afraid to send your maid to me, if there is anything you require. Anything at all.’

  ‘You are very good, sir.’

  He escorted her to her door and when she entered she found Martha anxiously waiting for her.

  ‘Oh, Miss Eve, thank heaven you are back safe! I was that worried.’

  ‘And rightly so.’ Eve pressed her ear to the door, listening. ‘Lord Chelston discovered me on the landing. It is plainly not safe for me to wander the house like this.’ Excitement fluttered in her chest. She crossed to the linen press and opened the doors.

  ‘Whatever are you about, madam?’ Martha demanded. ‘We never put any of your things in there.’

  ‘I know it,’ Eve said, hunting through the cup boards. ‘But I saw some thing when we arrived…ah, here it is.’ She emerged from the cupboard, a triumphant smile upon her lips, and held up a cherry-red domino.

  ‘Lawks, miss, you are never going to join the dancing?’

  ‘No, but I saw several red dominos amongst the revellers, so no one will recognise me if I wear this tonight!’

  Creeping out of the room again a short time later and enveloped in cherry-red silk, Eve made her way along the empty corridor and slipped down the back stairs. As she reached the ground floor there was shrieking and loud laughter, and she flattened herself against one of the panelled walls as a lady dressed as Gloriana rushed past, dragging a puffing and be-whiskered Falstaff behind her. They paid no heed to Eve, shrouded in her domino, and once they had disappeared she moved on. Reaching the study, she tried the handle. The door opened easily, but the room was in darkness. Calmly she picked up a candle stick, stepped along the corridor and held the candle to the lighted ones burning in the wall sconces. With some small, detached part of her brain she marvelled that her hand was so steady, but she was aware that a show of nerves now could be her undoing. She slipped into the study and closed the door care fully behind her. Lifting her candlestick higher, she looked around the room.

  Eve was suddenly at a loss. She had no idea what she was looking for. Glass-fronted cup boards lined two walls, while shelves flanked the chimney piece and the window, where a large map-chest stood, its top level with the sill. A heavy mahogany desk occupied most of the floor space with a selection of stamps, inkwells and pens arranged neatly on the top, but it was clear of papers, as was every other surface in the room. She moved to the fire place and inspected the mantel shelf, but there were no invitations propped against the snuff-jars nor opened letters tucked behind the ormolu clock. Eve scolded herself for naïvety in thinking Lord Chelston would leave evidence of his wrong doing lying around for anyone to find. The sudden scrape of the door handle made her jump and she almost dropped the candlestick. She swung around, her heart leaping into her mouth, but it settled into a rapid tattoo against her ribs as Nick stepped into the room.

  ‘I saw the light under the door,’ he said quietly. ‘Chelston is dancing, so I knew that it must be you here. What have you discovered?’

  ‘Nothing yet.’ Eve put the candlestick down upon the desk. ‘I was about to try the drawers.’

  ‘A very good notion.’ He crossed the room in a few quick strides and slid open the top drawer. Eve watched him lift out a pile of papers and care fully flick through them.

  ‘But is it likely that he would keep anything here that could in criminate him?’ she asked.

  ‘No, but there may well be some clue for us.’

  ‘What sort of clue?’

  ‘I have no idea, but I shall know when I find it.’

  Eve stepped back. The glow from the single candle was barely enough to light the area where Nick was searching so she did not attempt to help. Instead she wandered over to the window. A half-moon was rising, bathing the gardens in a silver-blue light and casting a soft gleam on the top of the map-chest. Idly she pulled open the first drawer. The moon light illuminated a large and detailed map, but there was insufficient light to read the names. She lifted the document out of the case and held it closer to the window, but it was no use. She thought it might be a map of the Chelston estate, but the writing was too faint to read in the poor light. Eve was about to put it back when the next map in the drawer caught her eye. The outline of the coast was picked out with a bold, dark line and even in the pale moon light she recognised it immediately.

  ‘Nick,’ she whispered, ‘here is a plan of Monkhurst.’

  She pulled out the map and laid it on the top of the chest as Nick crossed the room. He held up the candle and its feeble glow was just enough to show the bright colours of the map and the care fully marked place names.

  ‘Look.’ She pointed to the map. ‘The River Rother, Jury’s Cut and the inlet leading up to the boat house. It is all picked out in a darker ink.’

  Nick peered closer. ‘Yes, but it is not primarily a map of Monkhurst. It is the neighbouring estate that is at the centre of this map.’ He moved the candle slightly and peered closely at the writing. ‘Abbotsfield.’

  ‘Nick,’ breathed Eve, her voice trembling with excitement. ‘Aggie told me that Lady Chelston’s father bought Abbotsfield from my sheltered Wingham. It might have been part of her marriage settlement.’

  ‘In which case Chelston might be using it. This shows Abbotsfield to have a substantial portion of woodland. Perhaps we have been looking in the wrong place for Chelston’s manufactory,’ said Nick slowly. ‘Perhaps it is not in Sussex, but in Kent!’

  Eve gripped his arm. ‘Earlier this evening Lord Chelston offered to buy Monkhurst from me. He offered to fund me to leave the house immediately.’

  ‘So there might well be a connection,’ said Nick. The little clock on the mantel shelf chimed repeatedly. ‘Midnight,’ he muttered. Carefully he placed the maps back in the drawer. ‘I must get back. And you should return to your room, now. The unmasking will take place soon and it would not do for you to be found out.’ He moved to the desk, checking that nothing was out of place, then he put down the candlestick and turned to take Eve by the shoulders. ‘I am sorry I must let you go again so soon. I—’ He froze, listening.

  Eve heard foot steps and a stifled giggle outside the door. As the handle rattled she hurled herself at Nick, throwing her arms around his neck.

  ‘Oh, we are too late—someone is here before us. A thousand apologies, madam, for intruding upon your…assignation.’ Eve recognised the voice as that of the man sitting on her right during dinner. She kept her face buried against Nick’s chest, thanking Providence that she was still covered from head to toe by her domino. The door clicked shut and Nick exhaled with a long, low whistle. He hugged her, giving a low laugh that rumbled against her cheek.

  ‘Quick thinking, sweet heart.’

  She leaned against him, suddenly weak. ‘This is too much excitement for me,’ she murmured. ‘I fear I shall faint.’

  His arms tightened. ‘Not you, my love. You are made of sterner stuff.’ He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. ‘Admit it,’ he said, his eyes glinting, ‘you are enjoying this adventure.’

  The familiar tug of attraction liquefied her insides. She was exhilarated, reckless. ‘When I am with you…’ she began.

  ‘Yes?’

  Eve closed her lips tightly. It would be madness to confide in him. ‘You bewilder me,’ she ended lamely.

  Nick held her eyes for a moment longer, then kissed her brow. ‘I wish I had time t
o ask what you mean by that, love, but you must go back to your room now.’ He snuffed the candle and took her hand as he led the way out of the study.

  The sounds of revelry coming from the hall were even louder than before. Shrieks and wild laughter echoed between the panelled walls of the dark corridor and several empty glasses had been abandoned on a narrow shelf. They approached the back stairs; grunts and sighs were coming from the darkness beyond and Eve tried not to think what might be going on there.

  Nick’s hand pressed in the small of her back. ‘Go,’ he whispered. ‘Quickly.’

  She turned for one last, fleeting look at him then picked up her skirts and fled.

  Nick watched her run up the stairs and disappear into the darkness without one backward glance. He had seen the spark of desire in her eyes when he held her, but he had also noticed her withdrawal, her lack of trust. She was not ready to give herself to him, not yet. But she would, for he had glimpsed in her a passionate spirit to match his own and he was determined to capture it.

  As he turned away from the stairs he heard heavy foot steps and voices and the butler appeared around the corner, talking to one of the regular footmen. They stopped at the sight of him.

  ‘Now, my lad,’ barked the butler, ‘what do you think you are doing here?’

  Nick scooped up some of the empty glasses. ‘Collectin’ these.’

  As another dance ended and the music in the hall died away, the heavy grunts and gasps from behind the staircase could be clearly heard. Nick grinned and jerked his head in the direction of the noise. It drew an answering grin from the footman, but the butler merely scowled.

  ‘Your place is in the saloon attending the guests, not skulking here in the passage! Get back there now. You can collect up the glasses when everyone has gone.’

  Nick dipped his head. ‘Aye, sir.’ He slouched away, grinning to himself as he heard the butler complaining to his com pan ion.

  ‘Heaven help us, the mistress takes on these extra hands for what they have in their breeches rather than in their heads…’