An Innocent Proposal

by Helen Dickson

  He frowned. “You are a complete contradiction in terms of appearance.”

  “A contradiction?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “Let me see the book that has caught your attention.” Reaching out, he took the book she had been flicking through from her hands. Reading the title on the spine, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Clarissa! It would not be my choice of good reading, but I can quite see why it appeals to the ladies.”

  “No matter what your opinion, Lord Dunstan, the book has met with considerable success and is a fine work,” said Louisa quickly, in defence of her favourite book. “I cannot understand why you should pour scorn on it.”

  He smiled. “Clarissa is a nervous young woman of excessive sentiment and sensibility. I confess to having read the book but she did not endear herself to me in the slightest.”

  “And how do you define sentiment and sensibility, Lord Dunstan?”

  “As expressions of intense human feelings—of which the heroine in question is in possession to excess. The two words are often confused. Sentiment is ruled by the human heart—which is the centre of all emotion—whereas sensibility is the key to bodily sensations—touch and such things,” he said softly, his eyes filling with amusement when she flushed and lowered her gaze at his definition and the hidden connotation of the words. He smiled, knowing exactly the effect he was having on her. “Clearly you enjoyed the book?”

  “Yes,” she replied, wishing she had not asked him to define the two words because she knew she was blushing at the intimacy of his tone. There was altogether something too explicit and intense in his eyes. However, she refused to be deflected. “So much so that I have read it several times. I confess I was much moved and felt a great deal of sympathy for Clarissa—being pursued and persecuted so cruelly by the abominable Lovelace.”

  “Ah, but she did throw herself on his mercy.”

  “She accepted Lovelace’s offer of help because she was quite desperate to save herself from a dreadful marriage, only to find herself in a worse situation than she was before.”

  “And you have an affinity to Clarissa, have you, Miss Divine?”

  Louisa smiled with a faint trace of cynicism. “Oh, I believe there is a Clarissa in most women, Lord Dunstan—just as there is a Lovelace in most men.”

  “Perhaps you are right, but we do not all have to resort to kidnap to engage the affections of the ladies we desire. You speak from experience, I think, Miss Divine?” he said slowly, meaningfully, in a voice low with seduction that made Louisa think improper things; it was a voice few women would be able to resist, especially not if the man speaking happened to look like Lord Dunstan—over six feet tall and built like a Greek athlete of old.

  She looked at him, suddenly beginning to feel out of her depth, unable to answer his question, and feeling a wave of hot colour burn her cheeks under his close scrutiny. She was relieved when Mr Brewster chose that moment to come shuffling along the aisle towards her.

  “I must apologise, my dear young lady, for taking so long. I thought I had a copy of Mr Collins’ poems but I was mistaken.”

  “That’s all right, Mr Brewster.” Louisa smiled. “Thank you for taking the trouble to look.”

  When he had moved away, Louisa looked up to see Lord Dunstan eyeing her with some amusement and a hint of mockery, his eyelids drooped down over his glorious blue eyes giving him a lazy, sleepy look.

  “William Collins! A book of sentimental lyric poetry that is fashionable and much sought after in some circles, I believe.” His smile widened. “I salute your taste, Miss Divine—a veritable catalogue of sensation. Perhaps Mr Brewster might order it for you if you are so desirous to obtain it.”

  “I am sure he would, but that would not be convenient.”

  “And why is that, pray?”

  “Because I do not intend remaining in London for very much longer, Lord Dunstan. That is why.”

  “You are not leaving before I have had the pleasure of receiving you at Dunstan House on Thursday evening, I hope?”

  In answer she took the book he was still holding and placed it back on the shelf, conscious as she did so that their fingers touched. She moved away from him quickly, disturbed by his close proximity but refusing to show it—although she strongly suspected he was aware of it and found it amusing. Assuming a calm, almost blasé expression, she smiled.

  “That all depends on Mr Fraser, Lord Dunstan.”

  “And you wish to visit the pleasure gardens that evening, as I remember. Ranelagh or Vauxhall?”

  “Why, I—we, that is—have not yet decided,” she stammered.

  “Good. Then you should not be disappointed if you have to put off going.” His expression suddenly changed and the lightness disappeared from his tone. He looked at her hard, moving closer. “Come, now, Miss Divine, let us cut the preliminaries, shall we? You strike me as being a sensible young woman—and a beautiful one—although from my experience the two do not always keep good company.

  “I find you extremely attractive and it is obvious we were made to know each other better—that our paths were destined to cross. Should Mr Fraser find he has another engagement tomorrow night, you could accompany Mr Hacket to Dunstan House or come by yourself. You will be well received and find it extremely rewarding.”

  Even though Louisa had spent all her life buried in the country, away from the sleaze and corruption of London, she would have had to be a simple, naive fool not to have known the implication of his words. Insulted, hot, angry colour flooded her cheeks again and she took a step back abruptly, gazing at him with pure loathing.

  “I think you are mistaken, Lord Dunstan. I am not for sale.”

  He arched his brow infuriatingly. “Oh! I thought all the ladies who attended Lady Bricknell’s parties were?”

  “I can assure you that this one isn’t. Goodbye, Lord Dunstan.”

  Louisa turned and marched out of the shop with all the dignity she could muster, never having been so insulted in her entire life. But what did she expect, she rebuked herself furiously, after brazenly showing herself at a party thrown by a notorious socialite of Lady Bricknell’s ilk? Lord Dunstan, along with every other man present, could not be blamed for believing her to be a whore.

  Alistair watched Louisa go with a brooding attentiveness in his eyes and not without a good deal of interest, extremely puzzled by her behaviour. Hostility from the likes of her was not something he had encountered before. Most young ladies were more than eager to be amiable to him.

  But in Miss Divine’s voice there had been something sincere which troubled him. She was not of a common kind, and there was also about her a mysterious, almost sweet and gentle allure. Could it be that she was different from the others? But no, he told himself harshly, striding out of the shop, angry that she had been capable of rousing in him a moment of weakness.

  He knew from harsh experience that a woman’s face could be deceptive. Why should Miss Divine be any different? If that was her real name, which he very much doubted, which gave him all the evidence he needed of how good an actress she was and how well practised in the arts of deception. But as he strode along Fleet Street towards the Mitre tavern he was unable to cast her from his thoughts, for every time he saw her—in surroundings so very different from the ones before—she succeeded in getting under his skin.

  She had the poise of a woman fully conscious of her beautiful face and figure, and his instinct detected untapped depths of passion in her that sent silent signals instantly recognisable to a lusty, full-blooded male like himself. The impact of these signals caused an ache to start deep inside him and brought a smouldering glow to his eyes as he imagined what it would be like to possess such a glorious creature—and that was the moment when he marked Miss Divine as his own.

  Somehow Louisa managed to turn in the direction of Henrietta Street, trying to still the angry trembling inside, her cheeks still burning with shame. Lord Dunstan was despicable, even more despicable than she recalled, and she detested him tho
roughly—for what he was, what he thought she was, and for what he had done to James. But with every step that took her further away from Mr Brewster’s bookshop a plan was forming in her mind, a plan so shocking she hardly dared enlarge on it. It caused her heart to pound so hard she could scarcely breathe, for it was a plan no gently bred young lady would dare think of, let alone consider.

  Yet as she walked with her head down, completely unaware of the people around her, she fixed her mind on the plan, and, with a cold logic, let it grow until she could think of nothing else. At one stroke Lord Dunstan had presented her with an answer to her problem. He was obviously attracted by her, assessing her for the possibility of an amorous affair. He had told her that he wanted her and would reward her well. By giving herself to him, it could wipe out James’s debt entirely.

  The thought of giving herself to Lord Dunstan sent a chill down her spine, but it did not shock her, the events of the past twenty-four hours having drained her of all feeling so there was hardly any emotion left in her. If her capacity to feel had been intact, everything inside her would have protested and rebelled against the plan forming in her mind, for she hated Lord Dunstan. But with her feelings and emotions deadened by the anxiety of the situation James had created her thoughts were entirely practical.

  Nevertheless, there was a battle taking place within her soul, a battle between right and wrong, as taught her by her mother and the religious teachings of the church in which she had been raised. What she was considering would have been wholly abhorrent to the gentle woman who had raised her, who had stressed time and again that fornication before marriage was a mortal sin which would result in hell fire and damnation.

  But, driven on by desperation, Louisa pushed these thoughts away. She and James had been impoverished for a long time, but had always managed to keep their heads above water. She was determined they would not become beggars. If there was a way of holding onto everything that was precious, of saving herself and James from homelessness and starvation, then she would do everything in her power to do so, and, if there was any understanding in heaven, perhaps her mother would forgive her for what she was about to do.

  However, she knew James would never agree to her plan, and told herself that he need know nothing about it until such a day when she might have to tell him. And as for Lord Dunstan, he would continue to think of her as Miss Divine, and, afterwards, when the retrieval of James’s IOU had been accomplished, she would disappear from his life as though she had never been in it and return to Bierlow Hall. There she would be able to pick up the normal threads of her life with no slur attached to her name. The shame would be something she alone would have to bear.

  Chapter Three

  By the time Louisa reached the house there was a curious lightness to her step and a freedom in her heart. She knew that what she was planning would place her in unfamiliar territory, but she could not bear to contemplate the alternative. The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced it was the answer to all their problems.

  She was surprised to find Timothy there alone, and disappointed to find that James, despite his circumstances, had left for the Somerset coffee-house in the Strand to meet up with some of his acquaintances, who usually gathered there in the mornings for breakfast and to converse.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Louisa,” Timothy said on a serious note. “When I arrived Alice told me both you and James were out, but that you would not be long. I’ve nothing doing today so I thought you and James might care to take a stroll in St James’s Park with me this afternoon. It’s a pleasant day and we could watch the soldiers on parade at Horse Guards. Afterwards we could take tea somewhere pleasant and later you and James can be my guests for supper. Come, what do you say? It might be just the thing you need to help cheer you after the unfortunate events of last night.”

  Louisa gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Timothy. That’s extremely thoughtful of you. I must say it sounds like just what I need right now. However, I’m glad you waited. There is something I wish to discuss with you,” she said brusquely, handing her cloak to Alice and going into the sitting room, closing the door after Timothy had followed her inside. She stood before the fireplace, her hands folded quietly in front of her and her face set in lines of resolve. “Tell me more about Lord Dunstan, Timothy. Is he married?”

  Her question came as some surprise to Timothy. “No—not any more. He was once, I believe, but something happened and he and his wife parted. I don’t know the details exactly—in fact, I think there are few who do for certain. It all took place at his home—Huntswood, in Sussex. Bit of a mystery, if you ask me—it was all so secretive—but from what I remember of the gossip at the time, I think she ran off with someone else.”

  “I see. What else do you know about him?”

  “Alistair Dunstan is a very private man, Louisa, who is a regular attender at Westminster, taking his seat in the House of Lords. Apart from attending White’s—where he is often to be found playing cards well into the night, he is not often seen in fashionable society—and when he is it is always at the theatre or some event of Lady Bricknell’s. As you know, he is extremely wealthy—owning a large estate in Sussex and having inherited certain properties here in London from his wife—and by all accounts he is a shrewd man when it comes to investments. He has a finger in several industrial developments, both in England and abroad. He is always reticent about his personal, private affairs.”

  “And I can understand why, if his wife preferred being with another man.”

  “So tell me, why the curiosity?”

  “Because I think I know a way of clearing James’s debt, and it is important to me to know whether or not Lord Dunstan has a wife. It will make all the difference to what I am about to do.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Louisa faced him steadily, looking so young, so fixed and determined. “I have decided to become Lord Dunstan’s mistress.”

  Appalled and alarmed, Timothy stared at her. “What?” he gasped. “Louisa! Have you taken leave of your senses? You cannot be serious about this?”

  “I am deadly serious, Timothy,” she replied firmly. “It is not a matter I would jest about.”

  “But you can’t. You cannot sell yourself to pay off James’s debts. It—it’s diabolical. It—it’s obscene,” Timothy protested forcefully. “I cannot believe you are saying this—that I am hearing this. You! You and Lord Dunstan!”

  Louisa swallowed hard. “Yes. I have to. Timothy, Bierlow is not just my place of birth, it is my life,” she explained. “I have nothing else, don’t you see that? Do you think I have not anguished over this…what I have to do…on the chance I am taking? If James and I are to retain what little we have, then I have no choice—unless you can think of some other way.”

  “You know I can’t, Louisa. But if I had the money I would give it to you—you know that.”

  Louisa smiled, knowing he spoke the truth. As the younger son of a lord with a modest estate in Oxfordshire, Timothy had inherited neither title nor fortune. His position was not unlike James’s, except that unlike James, with his intemperate desire for pleasure, and who seemed to be hell-bent on self-destruction, Timothy knew how to control both his spending and his gambling.

  “I know, and thank you, Timothy,” she said. “You’re a good friend—none better—to both James and me. But this is something I am going to have to sort out myself. It’s just a pity James doesn’t feel the same way, instead of drowning himself in liquor and waiting for something to turn up. He’s always been like that. Ever since the death of our parents he has had so many misconceptions about life. The estate—such as it is now that most of the land has been sold and we are left with just the house and the tenant farms—makes demands on us that should, in all fairness, have been seen to before James allowed himself the luxury of pleasure.”

  There was sympathy in Timothy’s eyes which told Louisa he understood exactly.

  “I have to agree with you there,” he sai
d.

  “For a long time now I have lived a spartan existence at Bierlow, making do with just the bare necessities. The estate has never meant as much to James as it does to me,” she said with a trace of sadness. “I know that, and he’s always hated the country. When he did spare the time to visit he would cheer me and promise that everything would soon be all right again—and like a fool I wanted to believe him—but it never was. I love Bierlow, Timothy. It holds so many memories. It’s my home. I can’t see it go. You do understand, don’t you?”

  Timothy smiled with understanding. “Of course. But you’ll have to leave one day—when you marry,” he stated gently.

  “I know. I understand it can never be mine—not in the way it will be James’s—and I accept that, but I must keep it in the family. James may not appreciate it now, but I am sure he will in time—when he finds the right woman and marries and settles down to have children.”

  “James doesn’t realise how lucky he is to have you for a sister. But I cannot let you go ahead with this. I am on your side, first and foremost,” he said soothingly, “and you shouldn’t be worrying about this sort of thing. It is for James to get himself out of this mess. Believe me, Louisa, it’s for your sake I say this. If you go ahead with this crazy idea your reputation will be in shreds in no time at all. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course, but I do not place my virtue above retaining all that is important and dear to me—to me and to James, even though he doesn’t yet know it. The shame is something I shall have to live with, but what I am about to do countless women have done before,” she said quietly. “No one will know who I am. Lord Dunstan will think of me as Miss Divine. He need never know I am James’s sister. I shall disappear from his life just as soon as I have what I want.”

  Timothy frowned, his eyes piercing right through her. “You have seen Lord Dunstan since last night, haven’t you, Louisa?”

  “Yes, I have,” she admitted. “At Mr Brewster’s bookshop in Fleet Street when I was there earlier to purchase a book I wanted. We met quite by chance.”