The fellow standing beside him, a Mr Rudby, Max recalled, looked at Ellen in surprise.
‘Dash it, I thought you was not going to dance again tonight, ma’am.’ He laughed and threw a sly glance at Max. ‘I am glad you persuaded her, Your Grace, for now I can reserve the next for myself. And I’ll take no denials, madam, it would be dashed uncivil of you to refuse!’
Max saw the look of distaste in Ellen’s eyes at this forthright speech. She could not reject Rudby without giving serious offence and Max knew he could not stand up with her again. He silently cursed these rigid ballroom conventions; he would be obliged to invite other ladies to join him on the dance floor if he wanted to avoid speculation, even though there was only one woman he wanted to dance with.
There had only ever been one woman and that annoyed him more than all the rest.
* * *
Unbidden, the picture of Ellen in the desert came into his mind. She had been untrammelled by convention then. When he had first seen her she was dressed like a man in a fine silk shirt, scarlet waistcoat and long, loose trousers tucked into her riding boots. Very practical attire for riding a camel, he had thought, and with the scarlet khafiya covering her luxuriant golden hair she might have passed as a boy, although Max had never had any doubts about her sex, even though at first all he could see of her were those laughing eyes, blue as sapphire.
She had wanted to visit Giza and he had escorted her there, despite the risks of being discovered so close to Cairo by soldiers loyal to Muhammed Ali. It was night by the time they reached the pyramids, but the full moon provided light enough, although the shadows were black and sharp. The night air was balmy, the warm breeze a refreshing change from the oven-like heat of the day. Ellen had laughed and exclaimed at how ragged the pyramids appeared when one was close, and Max had challenged her to climb with him. She had not hesitated. He remembered how nimbly she had scrambled over the large stone blocks, how they had rested together in companionable silence on their high perch. How he had stolen a kiss.
* * *
Ellen smiled and skipped her way through the dance and when the music stopped she accepted Mr Rudby’s hand to join the next set. She had never felt less like dancing, but it was almost obligatory and besides, the alternative was a tête-à-tête with Max, which she wanted to avoid at all costs. With mixed feelings she watched the Duke lead out Mr Rudby’s previous partner. She would much rather he had taken himself off, but she could not help feeling a little grateful that he had taken pity on poor Miss Glossop. His attentions would go a long way to make up for the offence Mr Rudby had offered the poor girl in discarding her so quickly for the golden widow.
* * *
Ellen was exhausted. Her face ached with the effort of smiling and she felt sure her dance shoes were worn through. She had danced continuously since supper, putting off the evil moment when she would have to face Max alone. It would come, she knew it, and it must be this evening. There was no help for it. Even as she skipped and laughed and twirled she was planning how quickly she could remove her household from Harrogate.
When the last dance ended Ellen looked about for the Duke, steeling herself for a confrontation. She was a little surprised that she could not see him, because she had expected him to be standing at the side of the room, ready to pounce. She was even more surprised when Lady Bilbrough told her that the Duke had already left.
‘Although he has the advantage of us,’ said the lady, with a regal smile. ‘He is staying here at the Granby, so he does not have to wait for his carriage.’
Ellen was relieved, but that relief was tinged with anger. He had ruined her evening and now she had lost the chance to give him the verbal flaying he deserved. However, her natural common sense reasserted itself as she went off to collect her cloak and change her shoes. If he had grown tired of taunting her so much the better. She really did not want to relive all those painful memories.
But it was already too late. As she sat down to replace her worn slippers with more serviceable footwear, recollections of their last night together were already crowding in. She was once again in the luxurious and gaily painted cabin of the dahabiya, rocking gently at anchor on the Nile. She could feel the soft cotton bed quilt on her naked skin as she lay in Max’s arms, sleepy and replete from their lovemaking.
‘There is trouble coming, my love,’ he told her between kisses. ‘I cannot tell you more, but believe me when I say it would be dangerous for you to remain in Egypt. You must leave the country with all speed. I would escort you to Alexandria myself, if I could, but that is not possible, so tomorrow I will arrange an escort to take you there. Seek out the British Resident, Major Missett. He will arrange a passage for you back to England. Go to Portsmouth and wait for me there.’ She felt again the soft touch of his lips on her neck, heard his smooth voice in her ear. ‘Forgive me, love, but it will be safer if you travel as Miss Tatham. If the enemy learns you are my wife, it would put you in much greater danger.’
A tear dropped on to her shoe and Ellen quickly blinked the rest of them away. Honeyed words. Honeyed lies, all of it. Yet she had thought it perfectly sensible at the time, and then he had made love to her again and she had ceased to think anything at all.
What a besotted fool she had been! Angrily Ellen threw her cloak about her shoulders and went downstairs. In the entrance hall she met the Arncliffes and as they said their goodbyes she noticed the dark shadows beneath Frederick’s eyes.
‘You must be fatigued, Mr Arncliffe,’ she said quickly, her own concerns forgotten for the moment. ‘Look, my carriage is at the door, I could take you up, if you wish...’
He acknowledged and declined her offer in one wave of his hand.
‘That’s kind of you, m’dear, but the Duke has put his own chaise at our disposal. We are waiting upon it now. It will not be long behind yours, I am sure.’
He ended with a wheezing cough and Ellen noted how anxiously Georgie urged him to sit down. When he demurred Ellen took his arm and gently pushed him down on to the bench.
‘Yes, sir, rest yourself,’ she said. ‘Do not think I shall be offended. Quite the reverse; we are such old friends I shall be hurt if you do not sit down. It has been a long evening for you.’
‘Nonsense, I would not have missed it for the world. It does my heart good to see everyone enjoying themselves. And to see you dancing with my old friend Rossenhall was a high treat, I assure you, ma’am. And very good you looked together, too, although I warn you not to lose your heart to His Grace, for he is as good as promised to m’sister. Ain’t that so, Georgie?’
Ellen’s hand crept to her throat. Promised? Could Max be in love with another woman?
‘You would like it to be so, at all events, my love.’ Georgiana laughed, rolling her eyes.
Ellen tried to smile, wondering how much more her beleaguered spirit could take. She allowed Georgie to enfold her in a warm, scented embrace, promised to visit her very soon and at last she could leave. Torches flared on each side of the doorway, lighting up the hotel entrance and her footman, who scrambled down from the chaise to open the door for her. She climbed in and as the carriage jolted into motion she sank back with a sigh against the thickly padded squabs.
‘We are alone at last. Mrs Furnell.’
Ellen sat up with a gasp and peered into the velvety blackness of the far corner. There was no mistaking that deep voice and as her eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, she could make out his cloaked figure, although it was little more than a deeper black shadow against the gloom.
‘How did you get in here?’ she demanded angrily.
‘Once I had ascertained which was your coach, it was easy to slip inside.’
Max sat up, pushing away the black cloak. He wondered if its owner was even now berating some hapless footman over its loss. Little matter. He would hand it back to the hotel manager tomorrow and he could return it.<
br />
‘Do you expect me to fall into your arms?’ Ellen’s voice was scathing. ‘I am surprised you dare to approach me.’
‘Oh, I dare, madam.’
‘Then you are shameless.’
‘Hah, that’s rich indeed, coming from you. You were the one who put yourself under the protection of the French Consul. I suppose he was more to your taste than a poor major.’
‘How dare you? Monsieur Drovetti arranged safe passage for us out of Egypt—that is all.’
‘And why should he do that if you were not lovers?’
‘I told you at the time that he and Mrs Ackroyd had been in correspondence long before our visit to Egypt. They share an interest in antiquities.’
His lip curled. ‘Do you really expect me to believe that?’ Max scowled. ‘When I reached Alexandria I learned Drovetti had sent you off on a ship to France. I have always been intrigued to know why you did not go back to him, when everything settled down. Or did you play him false, too?’
She flushed, but ignored this taunt.
‘We never went to France. It was just...easier to let the world think it. I wanted to make a new life for myself.’ Her hands fluttered in her lap. ‘In the confusion of the British invading Alexandria it was not difficult. Monsieur Drovetti arranged passage for us on a French ship and from there we were smuggled back to England.’
‘Where you hid yourself away. I suppose you thought I would come after you.’
‘Why should you?’ she said bitterly. ‘You had had your pleasure.’
‘Had my pleasure? Confound it, woman, I married you!’
‘That was nothing but a trick. You had one of your friends impersonate a chaplain and I am ashamed I fell for it.’
‘Impersonate! Why the deuce should I do that?’
‘To trick me into your bed.’
He bared his teeth. ‘Unnecessary. You would have come there very willingly without marrying me. Admit it.’
Ellen would never admit such a thing, although she knew it to be the truth. She had been so in love she would have died for him. But not now. The carriage slowed and she looked out of the window. She said coldly, ‘I am home. My coachman will take you back to the Granby.’
‘Oh, no,’ he said, following her out of the carriage. ‘We have not yet finished our business.’
She gasped in outrage as he dismissed her coachman.
‘How dare you! I do not want you in my house.’
‘I think you will find, madam, that it is my house. As my wife, any property you own is mine.’
‘We were never married.’
‘Oh, yes, we were,’ he said grimly. ‘And I have the papers to prove it.’ He caught Ellen’s arm, marching her up the steps and past the astonished butler who was holding open the door. ‘Which way?’ he growled. ‘Or do you want to discuss this in the hall?’
For a long moment Ellen glared at him in silence before leading the way into the drawing room. Only two candles were burning and the butler followed them into the room to light the others. Ellen walked over to the mirror that was fixed above the mantelshelf. She pretended to give her attention to tucking a stray curl back into place, but all the time she noted what was going on behind her. While Snow made his stately progress around the room lighting the candles, Max took off his cloak and tossed it on to a chair before inspecting the decanters arranged on a side table. She pressed her lips together. If he thought she would be offering him refreshment, he was very much mistaken!
‘Will that be all, madam?’ The butler’s tone was perfectly polite, but she knew he was reluctant to leave her alone. Her servants were all very loyal and protective, but even if she asked them, they could hardly manhandle a duke from the house. She turned, hiding her anxiety behind a cool smile.
‘Yes, thank you, Snow. You may go. I shall ring when I need you.’ As soon as the butler had withdrawn she said coldly, ‘I will spare you five minutes, no more. It is late and I am very tired.’
‘You surprise me. I was informed the golden widow could dance until dawn.’
‘We are not dancing.’
‘Very true. Shall we sit down? But first, brandy, I think.’ She curbed her indignation as he turned away from her and pulled the stopper from one of the decanters. ‘Will you take a glass with me, or there is Madeira. I remember you saying you liked it, although we never drank it during our time together. The best I could offer you then was strong coffee and rose syrup. Or mint tea. I remember you liked that.’
Ellen sank on to a chair, trying not to shiver. She did not wish to remember those heady days, nor the nights they had spent together.
‘I want nothing,’ she told him. ‘Only for you to leave.’
‘I am sure you do,’ he said, taking a chair opposite her. He crossed one long leg over the other, very much at his ease, which irritated her immensely.
She stared at the fireplace, determined not to begin any conversation.
‘I was surprised when you did not write to me upon my brother’s death,’ he said at last. ‘I thought if anything might bring you back to me, it would be the knowledge that you were a duchess.’
‘I—’ She stopped and after a heartbeat’s pause she said icily, ‘You forget, I know we are not married.’
Max sipped his brandy, pretending to savour it although in truth he was too intent on controlling his anger to taste anything. Seeing Ellen again had shaken him to the core. He had thought he was over her, but to hear her laugh, as if she had not a care in the world, when for the past four years he had known nothing but grief and guilt and emptiness, had brought back all the bitterness of her betrayal. It took all his iron will to remain outwardly calm.
‘It certainly did not take you long to forget me,’ he remarked, swirling the brandy around in the glass. ‘By the by, what happened to your new husband? If he had been alive I should have had to tell him you had committed bigamy.’
She gave a bitter laugh. ‘You need not pretend any more that we were ever married. Do you think I did not make enquiries as soon as I returned to England? I had my lawyers inspect the regimental registers and they confirmed what Missett had told me, that there were no British soldiers south of Cairo at that time. Unless they were deserters.’
‘I explained it to you, my unit was on special duties that even the Consul knew nothing about.’
‘But why could I find no evidence? The men you were with, the chaplain—’
‘Dr Angus went to South America after we left Egypt. The others—’ pain twisted like a knife in his gut ‘—they are all dead. Killed in action either in Egypt or the Peninsula.’
All except me.
Max felt the bitter taste of his guilt welling up in his throat again. He had cared so little for life after Ellen had left him, yet he was the one who had been spared, time and again, however fearful the odds. He had seen his men, his friends and colleagues slaughtered in the field of battle, yet he had survived.
‘Why should I believe you?’ Ellen threw at him now. ‘When Major Missett told me only deserters could be south of Cairo I assumed you had taken a false name, too. Now it is clear that your desertion was concealed. After all, your family would not want their good name disgraced, would they? Any more than they would want you to marry a tradesman’s chit.’ There was something in her tone, something more than bitterness and it made him frown at her, but she waved one hand dismissively and continued. ‘But whatever your own situation, the marriage was a fraud. Dr Angus, the chaplain you say married us, was in Sicily at that time. Missett was quite clear about that.’
‘Confound the man!’
‘Do not try to blame the Consul, you tricked me!’
‘No, you wanted to believe that, because you had found yourself another lover.’
She flew out of her chair. ‘That is a lie.’
‘Is it,
madam? Why not admit that you decided to throw your lot in with the French? After all, they had the upper hand in Egypt at that time, I had told you as much. I was trying to negotiate alliances with the Mamelukes, but they were fighting so much amongst themselves that it was impossible to form a cohesive resistance to the Pasha. And despite losing the Battle of the Nile, Bonaparte looked set to conquer the world, so who could blame you for switching your allegiance?’
‘I did nothing of the kind. I merely deemed it safer to leave Egypt under the French Consul’s protection.’
‘And leave me to learn of it from Missett. Fine behaviour from my wife, madam!’
‘I am not your wife!’ She flung out her hand to silence him. ‘I was taken in once by your lies, it will not happen again.’
‘You need not take my word for it,’ he retorted. ‘If you check now you will find the records have been amended.’
‘I do not believe you. I made thorough enquiries when I returned to England. I even had my lawyers go through the Chaplains’ Returns. There is no record of our marriage.’
‘All the papers have now been returned to England. Send your lawyers to look again, if you do not trust my word.’ He saw the first flicker of doubt in her eyes and his lip curled. ‘You are my wife, madam, like it or not.’
* * *
Ellen felt as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice. She could still recall the hurt and disillusionment she had felt when she and Mrs Ackroyd had arrived in Alexandria and the English Consul had told them categorically that there were no British soldiers south of Cairo. He had waved a sheaf of papers at them, detailed information on ship and troop movements.
‘Believe me, ladies, if there were any British units in the area I would know of it. I am afraid you have been duped by deserters who have thrown in their lot with the Mamelukes.’
The Duke's Secret Heir Page 3
