Twisting her close, his grip on her wrist as vicelike as steel, he forced her against him. A small cry of pain escaped her before his lips were over hers, bearing down with such a force that it almost stopped her breath. She could feel the hardness of his body through the soft muslin of her gown. His heart was beating close to hers. The kiss offered her no quarter; it was brutal and demanding, sending a dizzying, bewildering weakness flooding through her veins. She wanted to surrender, to succumb to him right there on the dark, secluded beach, but a harsh sanity called to her from beyond the bonds of passion and desire which coiled so irresistibly around her. Reaching into the depths of her being for the strength to withstand the almost overwhelming temptation, she at last managed to wrench herself free.
‘No!’ she cried, her heart thundering in her breast and a bright flush staining her hot cheeks.
He gave a thin smile, not attempting to touch her again. ‘You’ll come to me, Jane,’ he said softly, ‘and you’ll do so on my terms.’
‘Never!’
‘You’ve got too much passion in your soul, Jane Derwent, and it’s a passion which only I’ve aroused. Charles Moncarm could never stir your blood as I do, and you know it. I can reach into that soul at any time and rouse that passion, but I’m not going to any more. I’m not even going to try to meet you halfway. You’re going to be treated with all the cool distance you’ve been claiming you want, and I don’t think you’re going to find it at all to your liking.’
‘It will be very much to my liking, sir!’ she replied coldly, but inside her pulse was still racing with treacherous excitement. She was confused and upset, and striving with all her might to hide the fact from him. He spoke of allowing her back on his terms, but he hadn’t once mentioned loving her. Did he really think his skill as a lover would convince her to accept his lies? But, oh, how she wanted to accept them, how she wanted to reach out to him…. Her heart was close to betraying her, and she turned abruptly away toward the sea, where the waves broke gently against the sandy shore.
‘Behave as you wish from now on, madam, for as I’ve said, I don’t intend to offer any assistance to your monstrously misguided pride.’ He spoke in an almost detached way, toying with his cuff and glancing back toward the town, where the lights shimmered against the looming shadow of the downs beyond. ‘However, in one way I shall indeed still offer my assistance, and that is in connection with horsing the Swan. As I said earlier, I respect your reasons for going ahead with the race and I stand by what I said. Maywood’s horses are at the Swan’s disposal.’
‘Thank you.’ She said the words so quietly that they were barely audible.
‘Saying that evidently pinched your pride to the quick.’
She turned back to face him then. ‘I said thank you, and I meant it.’
‘Good. Then we both know where we stand, don’t we?’ he replied, his voice still cool and detached. ‘Now then, I’m going back to the inn, so unless you wish to remain here on your own, I suggest you accompany me.’ Without waiting for her to reply, he turned and walked away.
She stared after him. A breath of night wind stole in from the sea, touching her hot skin and making her shiver. Drawing her shawl a little closer, she followed him across the beach.
As they had left the inn earlier, so they returned, without a word passing between them. His manner was distant and chill; he was like a stranger. At the inn’s entrance, he seemed to change his mind about going in. ‘Good night, madam, I trust you sleep well.’ With a slight bow he left her, walking away toward the town. She saw the flare of a lucifer and the curl of smoke from a cigar; then he turned a corner and was gone.
She stood where she was for a long moment. Quite suddenly, the thought of the return to London in his private carriage was too much to contemplate. How could she sit there with him for all those hours now that this had happened?
Taking a deep breath, she went into the inn, ringing for the landlord, who came hurrying into the hall straightaway. ‘Yes, Miss Havers?’
‘I will require a post chaise first thing in the morning, to convey me back to London.’
‘But I was under the impression that you and Mr Havers were returning together.’
‘There has been a change of plan. I’m now returning early.’
‘Very well, Miss Havers. At what time did you wish to leave?’
‘Six o’clock.’
‘I will see that a chaise is ready at that time. I’ll send a man around to the posting house straightaway.’
Jane informed Ellen of the change of plan, but didn’t explain her reasons – she couldn’t bring herself to discuss what had been said on the beach, not yet anyway. She climbed the little flight of steps into the vast bed and the maid drew the heavy curtains around her. Ellen withdrew then, extinguishing all the candles and closing the door softly behind her.
Jane lay in the velvet darkness. She couldn’t forgive Lewis for the past, she just couldn’t. She still believed he’d been unfaithful. Tears stung her eyes and she hid her face in the pillow, her shoulders shaking as she wept.
EIGHTEEN
It was very late indeed when Lewis returned to the inn. Jane lay awake in her bed, her eyes dry at last. She heard his steps on the stairs and sat up, holding the curtain aside to watch the wavering candlelight beneath her door. He walked past and into his room; then there was silence again.
He was still asleep the next morning when she and Ellen left in the post chaise, which arrived promptly at six. It was a handsome enough vehicle which had until recently been a private carriage, and it was well sprung and comfortably upholstered. Its team of mixed bays and chestnuts moved along at a smart pace, urged on by the yellow-jacketed postboy riding one of the leaders. Jane gazed at the passing scenery. She felt unsure of herself. Half of her wanted to turn back, to rush to Lewis and tell him how much she really loved him; the other half, that proud side of her, bade her drive on. She lowered her eyes. It was to that second half that she must pay heed, because it was that half which gave her the strength and which reminded her of his betrayal; but it was so very hard when the memory of the kiss burned on her lips with a fire which warmed her still, as if a flame flickered deep within. She gave no order to turn back and the chaise drove on toward London, but she found herself confiding the whole story to the sympathetic maid.
Maywood looked very lovely in the early morning sunlight. The lakes lay like sheets of glass among the trees, and the sun flashed on the windows of the house, as if trying to attract her attention. She gazed at it as the chaise drove around the great loop in the road, and then her glance was drawn to the meadows to the east of the house, where several horses had just been released and were galloping with pure joy. She thought about Lewis’s insistence that he’d still horse the Swan. Would he really, especially after she’d fled from Brighton like this? It was a matter of conjecture now.
The return journey was uneventful. At Handcross, she remembered the informer Byers and wondered if any of Chapman’s other rivals would suffer today as the Venturer had yesterday. Two miles further on, she saw the spot where the Venturer had been so dangerously boxed in, and then the chaise was descending through Peasepottage Forest to Crawley. After Reigate, the road climbed steeply up to the North Downs, where the song of the larks tumbled sweetly through the warm air, and then they were in Sutton, where the day before the passengers of the Nonpareil had been so glad for a glass of sherry after the horror of the ox-wagon’s sudden appearance. As the chaise drove through the dell shortly afterward, Jane wondered again if her brother had had anything to do with it. She would have to find out somehow; she couldn’t rest until she knew.
Soon London stretched before them, its church spires rising toward a sharply blue June sky. It was a beautiful day, the sort of day when spirits should be light, but Jane only felt low, and so very tired that the last thing she felt like was a visit to the theater, which was what she’d agreed to that night.
On London Bridge, she saw the Swan. She didn’t know wh
at made her look out of the opposite window at that very moment, but something did, and she saw it pass, the only down Swan of the day, with Arthur Huggett at the ribbons. She lowered the glass then, leaning out to watch it. Will sat at his father’s side on the box, and she distinctly heard Arthur’s rather throaty laugh as he expertly tooled the old coach past a lumbering dray. The guard put his bugle to his lips and the notes of ‘D’ye ken John Peel?’ rang out over the river and the rooftops of Southwark. A strange thrill passed through her and she sat back again. On Midsummer Day her Swan was going to come into Brighton first; she was absolutely resolved that it would!
At the Black Horse, they had rather a long wait before Thomas was due to arrive with the traveling carriage. As she and Ellen sat in the coffee room, Jane wondered what her aunt’s reaction had been on reading her letter. Maybe it was all up already and a shocked Henry had been informed of his sister’s underhanded and unladlylike activities. Even as this awful possibility crossed her mind, it was pushed aside by a more immediate disquiet, for Chapman came into the crowded coffee room, pausing close to their table and looking around, evidently searching for someone. Suddenly he was looking directly at her. Her heart almost stopped. Could he see through the veil? He continued to look at her for a moment, but then, he left again, and a surge of relief rushed through her. If he’d recognized her, he’d have done his utmost to embarrass Henry with the story, seeing to it that the world knew that the Earl of Felbridge’s sister had been seen traveling incognito at the Black Horse! A titillating scandal could have been made of just that, but how much more of a stir could be provoked if he’d found out any more? The chaise she’d traveled in was still in the yard, and the postboy could identify her as the Miss Havers who’d been staying the night at the White Lion in Brighton with her ‘brother’! Jane closed her eyes, feeling almost faint at the thought of the ripples which would pass through society if such a story got out.
To her relief, Thomas was very prompt and they didn’t have to wait much more. He handed her a letter from her aunt, and then they were driving away, back toward Mayfair. Jane hurriedly broke the seal on the letter, her trepidation soon vanishing as she read of her aunt’s thorough approval. She smiled. Henry wouldn’t find anything out from Aunt Derwent, that much was certain, for that lady indicated that she thought he deserved to be taken to task for his odious conduct. Indeed, the general tenor of the letter was that Lady Agatha Derwent thought her niece’s actions so spirited and splendid that her only regret was being so far away from the area of excitement and intrigue. Jane folded the letter, silently agreeing with her aunt’s sentiments, for it would have been very good indeed to have had such a kindred spirit close at hand.
On arriving at South Audley Street, she wasn’t displeased to find that Henry was out at luncheon with Lord Sefton. She needed time to rest after so much traveling and so little sleep, to say nothing of the strain of her latest dealings with Lewis. She had to relax if she was to manage any sparkle at all at the theater. She sighed, for she wasn’t in the mood for Don Giovanni in London, or for Madame Vestris’s famous legs.
Before taking a long bath, she dashed off a quick note to Jacob, telling him about Lewis’s promise to horse the Swan, but not holding out too much hope that the promise would be honored. After the bath, she lay on her bed. What was Lewis doing now? What had he thought when he’d risen and found her gone? A wry smile touched her lips, for no doubt he’d put it down to yet more childishness on her part.
She sighed, remembering all that had passed between them on the beach the night before. He’d been so right about her, and he did know her too well to be fooled by what she said. She thought about the way he’d kissed her, and the memory stirred through her again. He was indeed the only man ever to have aroused her passion like that. She closed her eyes, for it was a passion she must learn to quench and she’d be a fool indeed to give herself into his hands again. But she’d find it easier to cope from now on, for if he carried out his threat to be distant with her, then surely she’d learn how to deal with her treacherous heart? She wished that he’d never chosen her as the bride required to please his dying father. The best thing would have been for him to have persuaded the Duke of Brantingham to grant his unfaithful wife her freedom so that she could marry her lover.
She was composed and refreshed when Henry returned, and was taking tea in the garden, seated on a cane chair close to the roses which were in such magnificent bloom this summer.
He sat down on the grass close to her, plucking a blade to place between his teeth before lounging back to survey her. ‘I trust Aunt Derwent was in fine fettle?’
‘As ever.’
‘And your visit went off well?’
Did he know something? She met his gaze. ‘Yes.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it, since such a short stay hardly merited the effort involved.’
She relaxed, for she sensed that he didn’t know what she’d really been doing. She hesitated then, for she wanted to broach the matter of the ox-wagon and the Nonpareil. ‘How – how is the Iron Duke going along?’ she inquired lightly.
He looked slightly incredulous. ‘Good God, I do believe you’re actually showing an interest!’
‘It merely occurred to me that the race is less than two weeks away now.’
‘I’m staggered that such an unusual thought should cross your mind. It so happens that the Duke’s going on very well indeed, clocking up a very handsome time on today’s trial run.’
‘Trial run?’
‘With the new coach.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m on to Chapman’s tricks. He’s been waiting for me on all my scheduled runs, so I confound the fellow by toddling off any old time in the new coach. He can’t be watching all the time and have his cronies waiting on every corner.’
‘Nor can you.’
‘No, but then there’s nothing I need to watch yet, since he hasn’t got his new coach. Besides, I know Sewell’s driving like the back of my hand; I know every command he gives on every corner.’
‘You sound a little too confident, Henry.’
‘Overconfident?’
‘Yes.’
He grinned. ‘Sewell’s a master, but predictible. If I’m confident, it’s because he’s made me so.’
‘I wonder if you dare be so sure.’
‘Sis, the day Sewell does something different, I will personally climb up the dome of St Paul’s and fling myself off.’
‘Yes, well they do say that pride comes before a fall,’ she remarked a little drily.
He picked another blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers. ‘I know what I’m talking about where Sewell’s concerned.’
‘But if Mr Chapman is so very devious—’
‘He’s a damned corkscrew, incapable of doing anything honest.’
‘What of you, Henry? How much of a corkscrew have you become?’
‘Oh, I’m a positive angel,’ he replied, grinning again and flicking the grass onto her skirt.
‘I find that hard to believe,’ she answered, sipping her tea and watching him closely.
‘Well, perhaps I do resort to the odd trick’ he admitted then.
‘Oh?’
He looked curiously at her then. ‘Why are you so interested all of a sudden? The last I knew, you couldn’t stand my coaching at any price. Now you’re all agreeability and questions.’
‘I thought you wanted me to be interested.’
He shrugged at the perverseness of women. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s true.’
‘So, what odd tricks do you get up to?’ she asked lightly.
‘As a matter of fact, I’ve started using informers.’
‘Like Mr Byers?’ she said without thinking.
He gave another incredulous laugh. ‘How on earth do you know about Byers?’
‘You must have mentioned him,’ she replied quickly, sitting forward to pour herself another cup of tea. ‘Would you like some?’
‘Tea? No, thank you. I
’m in the mood for something stronger.’
‘In the middle of the afternoon? That’s hardly the thing.’
‘I know, dammit.’
‘You were telling me about your informers. What do they do?’
‘The usual things, sneaking on license breaking, fixing passengers, and so on. Nothing horrendous, I promise you. I don’t use foul tactics on the king’s highway – unlike Chapman, whose latest efforts have paid off handsomely.’
‘In what way?’
‘He’s rid himself of another rival, the Venturer.’
She was very still then. ‘What happened?’
‘Two of his coaches boxed it in near Handcross yesterday, and caused an overturn. It was the last straw for Davey Williams, the Venturer’s proprietor. He’s caved in without any more resistance – just thrown in the towel and let Chapman win.’
‘Would you do something like that?’
‘Like what? Throw in the towel?’
‘No, box a rival in, or maybe put an obstacle in the road to slow it down.’
He stared at her with more than a little hurt indignation. ‘What do you take me for? I wouldn’t resort to such tactics, and I’m put out that you should even think it.’
She could barely hide her relief, for his injured expression was obviously quite genuine. He hadn’t had anything to do with the ox-wagon the previous day, and she was suddenly ashamed of ever wondering if he had.
‘Well, you might look contrite,’ he said then, ‘for whatever else you might have thought of me recently, I’m mortified to think you believe I’d sink so low.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So you should be.’ He lay back on the grass, his hands behind his head as he gazed up at the cloudless sky. ‘To go back to Davey Williams’s capitulation,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘I must admit that it took me by surprise. I thought he had more in him than that. Even Jacob Wheddle’s put up more of a fight.’
‘Jacob Wheddle?’ She was all innocence as she sipped her tea.
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