‘How could it be? The entire arrangement was about money.’
‘Nevertheless, it offered the opportunity I had been seeking with regard to a career in the army.’
‘You agreed to the marriage in exchange for a commission.’
‘Exactly.’ He met her gaze. ‘I’m not proud of my actions, Claudia.’
She sighed. ‘Well it’s all water under the bridge now, isn’t it?’
They rode on in silence for a while. Claudia had no difficulty in identifying with what she had heard, or with the emotions beneath. She had been terrified to learn of her father’s plans for her future; terrified by the thought of leaving her home to live among strangers to whom she meant nothing more than a financial package. So much so that she had found the courage to confront her father.
‘I don’t want to be married yet. I’m not ready.’
‘Ready or not, you most certainly shall be married,’ he replied. ‘This match is more than I could ever have hoped for. It allies us with one of the oldest and most respected families in the land.’
‘I don’t care about that.’
‘You will learn to care, you silly girl. In the meantime you will be guided by me.’
‘If I must marry let it be later; when I am seventeen or eighteen.’
‘It cannot be later. The Earl’s financial problems are pressing and must be resolved as soon as may be. Besides, the contracts are signed and sealed. The wedding will go ahead as planned.’
And so it had, regardless of tears and entreaties. The marriage ceremony had been brief and confusing, the groom distant and grim-faced. He’d rejoined his regiment almost immediately afterwards, abandoning her at Ulverdale. Claudia swallowed hard. Her feelings had counted for nothing. But then nor had Anthony’s. He too had been a pawn in a larger game. The only difference was that he had found an escape route, of a kind.
* * *
These thoughts occupied her until their return to the stables. She was abruptly jolted out of them when her companion dismounted and, having handed his horse to a groom, came to help her. Claudia feigned nonchalance but, as always when he was near, it was much harder to maintain an outward show of calm. Strong hands closed on her waist, lifting her without any apparent effort and then set her down gently. The hands lingered on her waist.
‘I wonder, would you like to see the other horse I brought back with me?’ he asked.
Keenly aware of this prolonged proximity and of its potential danger to herself, Claudia hesitated. Caution vied with curiosity and lost. ‘Is he another Diablo?’
‘It’s not a he this time, and she’s not in the least like Diablo.’
‘I’d like to see her.’
He relinquished his hold then and they went together into the stable. In a stall at the far end was a pretty grey mare. Standing at 15.2 hands, she was a little bigger than Spirit, but she had the same dark, intelligent eyes. Claudia regarded her with quiet delight.
‘She’s beautiful.’ Moving quietly to the horse’s head she let the animal breathe her scent. ‘What do you call her?’
‘Jarilla: she’s named after a white flower that grows in the mountain regions of Spain.’
‘It suits her.’
‘I think so.’
‘May I try her sometime?’
‘Whenever you like. She’s keen but she’s well-mannered.’
‘You have an eye for a good horse,’ she said.
‘Yes, but fortunately one eye is enough.’
Claudia looked up quickly and catching his expression, smiled too. ‘So it would seem. After all, it was no impediment to Nelson.’
‘Hmm. Perhaps I should point out that Nelson is dead.’
‘All right, the Norse god, Odin, then. Did not he give an eye in exchange for wisdom?’
‘So the story goes. I cannot claim to have done the same.’
She lifted a hand towards his face. He tensed, holding his breath, forcing himself to remain still as her fingertips came to rest lightly on the leather patch.
‘You lost yours in the service of your country. To my mind that’s a far nobler thing.’
For an instant a shadow crossed his face, a shadow composed of pain and horror. Then it was gone. He smiled wryly. ‘There was nothing noble about it, believe me.’
‘There is from where I’m standing,’ she replied.
His smile faded a little and the gaze holding hers became intent. Her pulse quickened. He stepped a little closer, and his hands slid round her waist drawing her to him. That sudden, unexpected contact sent a charge through the length of her. His face drew nearer her own, its expression unmistakeable, and then his mouth brushed hers, gentle, tentative, seeking her response and then, when she did not pull away, becoming more assured. Her breath caught in her throat and deep inside a familiar spark leapt into being. She forgot to resist; forgot that this was folly; forgot everything except the man and the knowledge that she wanted this. As her mouth yielded to his the kiss grew deeper, his tongue seeking hers, tasting its sweetness, his hands caressing her back, warm and strong and sensual, sending a delicious tremor along her spine. He felt it and the hold tightened, pulling her closer. The response was an immediate flood of heat in her pelvis, fuelled by the faint spicy scent of sandalwood on his coat and beneath it the scent of the man, erotic and exciting. Her arms slid around his neck, her body moulding itself to his. At once the spark leapt into flame and the kiss became passionate and hungry and dangerous.
Every bodily instinct was to yield herself up to the fire and to be consumed, but, in the back of her mind, it also illuminated disturbing memories of Paris. Anthony might desire her but he didn’t love her. To him she was a means to an end as she had always been. Once it had been about money, now it was about getting an heir, and, seeing his opportunity, he meant to see his will met. Ashamed of her collusion in that design, she tensed, turning her head aside so that his lips grazed her cheek.
‘I’m sorry, I...I should never have...’
The effect was like a bucket of cold water and he drew back a little, regarding her averted face. His heart sank. It was impossible to mistake the expression there. Desire ebbed and he slackened his hold. For a second or two, neither one moved or spoke. Then he stepped back and she was free.
‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to get carried away like that.’
Heart pounding, she turned her head to meet his gaze, unable to form a coherent reply. However, the look on her face was far more eloquent.
He surveyed her steadily but his expression was cool now, almost mocking. ‘I should have remembered that your preference is for intimacy in the dark.’
With that he turned and walked away. Speechless and trembling with reaction, Claudia stared after him in disbelief. And then, slowly, disbelief gave way to appalled realisation. How could she have been such a fool? After everything that had gone before, after all that experience had taught her about marriage, how could she have allowed herself to be so easily seduced? Yet when he kissed her she hadn’t been able to help herself; worse she hadn’t wanted to help herself. Her entire body still resonated to the touch and scent and taste of him. A few minutes more and he’d have taken her right here in the straw like any common trollop and she would have yielded. Even the dread of pregnancy would not have swayed her at that moment. Was physical desire so strong a passion that it swept all other considerations aside, or was this really about her moral frailty? He must have recognised that and been disgusted by it. Cringing inwardly, Claudia wondered how she was ever going to face him again.
* * *
The Earl strode back to the house, his expression grim. It hadn’t been his intention to touch her, but somehow he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d wanted her so badly it almost frightened him. He only had to be in the same room for passion to awaken. Having then indulge
d it, he should not have been surprised by her response. While she managed to conceal her distaste most of the time, she could never entirely do so when intimacy beckoned. When it became clear that his feelings were not returned he had concealed shame and embarrassment with a cool set down. The memory burned, fuelled by self-disgust. What woman could regard him now with anything other than repugnance? Rather than risk rejection, or worse, pity, he had always avoided putting himself in that situation, throwing himself into his career instead. Having broken that rule he should have been prepared for the consequences. Once, not so long ago, he had told Claudia that he intended to be a husband. He wondered now how he could have spoken with such confounded self-assurance.
Chapter Ten
Claudia was tempted to stay away from the dining room that evening. After all that had passed between them the thought of meeting Anthony filled her with dread, but, short of taking every meal in her chamber from now till kingdom come, there was no way of avoiding it. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror she smoothed a small wrinkle from the bodice of her gown. It was one of her newest, and already one of her favourites, a confection of white crepe with an overdress of lace. It was both modish and, with its deep décolleté, exquisitely feminine. She knew it became her well and, just then, needed every boost to self-confidence that she could get. Goodness knew it was little enough. She sighed and, turning from the mirror, slid her feet into white satin slippers. A touch of perfume completed the toilette. Then, gathering the shredded remains of courage, she went down to dinner.
* * *
Hearing a light footstep he looked round and then came slowly to his feet. He must have breathed, though it seemed to him that he could not. He hadn’t expected her to appear at all this evening, perhaps not for several days. After what had happened earlier, most women would have taken refuge in hysterics and smelling salts. He might have known that she would do exactly the opposite. Not only did she have the nerve to face him, she managed to look completely unruffled. Butter wouldn’t melt. As for that gown...One look was enough to fire a man’s blood. Had that been deliberate too? A taunting reference to what had passed? He wouldn’t be surprised; she had mettle enough. It ought to have increased his ire, but what he felt instead was more like admiration.
‘Good evening, my dear.’
‘Anthony.’
She inclined her head in acknowledgement of his presence. Recollecting his manners he made her a belated bow. As she moved past him he caught a faint whiff of her perfume; heady, exotic and fascinatingly elusive. In spite of himself his lips quirked. He had to hand it to her, when Claudia went to war she gave no quarter.
They dined in silence for the most part. In truth she had little appetite and her stomach seemed knotted, but she would rather have died than let him see it. The brute looked so completely at his ease. When at length he had finished eating, he leaned back in his chair, surveying her steadily, his hand toying with the stem of his wine glass.
‘I am planning to leave for Ulverdale in the morning.’
Her heart sank. She had temporarily forgotten about the arrangement, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think the timing a coincidence. It was clear that he couldn’t wait to be away from her now. With an effort she recovered her self-possession.
‘Will you be away long?’
‘A week or two, I imagine. There will be much to re-
acquaint myself with.’
‘Yes, I expect there will.’
‘If I need to remain longer, I’ll write and tell you.’
‘Very well.’
‘Is there anything you need before I leave?’
‘No, I thank you.’
‘I’m planning an early start.’
‘Then I had better not detain you.’ She rose from her chair. ‘I’m sure you must have many things to do.’
He rose with her. ‘Yes.’
‘Goodnight then, Anthony.’
‘Goodnight, Claudia, and goodbye—for the time being. I shall probably be gone before you rise tomorrow.’
‘I wish you a pleasant journey.’
With that she turned and walked away, unaware of the gaze that followed her every step of the way.
* * *
He left in the grey light just after dawn. Tendrils of mist floated round the trunks of the trees across the driveway and clung to the hollows, investing the landscape with a strange eerie quality. Claudia stood by the drawing room window and watched the Earl’s tall familiar figure descend the steps to the carriage. He paused for a moment to say something to Matthew who was on the box with the driver, and then climbed in. The door slammed shut behind him. She heard the coachman speak to the horses and then the carriage pulled away. She watched until it disappeared round a bend in the drive. Feeling strangely forlorn, she drew the shawl closer about her shoulders and made her way back to her room.
The maid had not been in to light the fire yet and the air was chill. Claudia climbed back into bed and huddled under the covers to get warm, trying to think positively. The house was hers again now; independence too. She could do as she pleased; see whom she pleased; go where she pleased and all without reference to him. She would have a week at least, without being subject to Anthony Brudenell’s authority. It ought to have filled her with unalloyed delight. She closed her eyes, trying to blot him out, but that only served to reproduce his image in sharper focus. She turned over and thumped the pillow. There were plenty of things to think about that didn’t involve him.
* * *
A brief diversion arrived later in the form of a letter from Anne Harrington informing her that it was her friend’s intention to go to the Continent for the Season this year: ‘...for I am persuaded that, since Wellington is to be recalled from Vienna and is to set up his headquarters in Brussels, most of the ton will be there, and London very flat as a result. Do say that you will come too, dearest Claudia. It promises to be such fun and a complete change of scene...’
Claudia looked thoughtfully at the missive. If Wellington had been recalled it was because he meant to gather an army. He would need as many men as he could get, especially veterans who had served with him in the Peninsular Campaign. That meant young men would flock to his banner, bringing their wives and sweethearts with them. Everyone who was anyone would be in Brussels this year. It was an appealing notion and deserved serious consideration. Once she wouldn’t have hesitated to follow it up and send a letter to her friend affirming her intention to come. However, now things weren’t so simple. Now there was Anthony to contend with. Everything came back to him in the end. If he gave his permission she might go to Brussels. If not...She crumpled the letter in her hand.
‘Damn it!’
For a minute or two she paced the rug, trying to put her thoughts in order. What was happening to her? She hardly recognised the woman she was becoming. No, she amended; she didn’t recognise the woman she was allowing herself to become. Once upon a time she wouldn’t have tolerated this. Why was she doing it now? Their marriage was a sham. Indeed Anthony had just voted with his feet. She didn’t need his permission to go to Brussels or anywhere else; she had only deluded herself into thinking she did. In short, she had let him assume control. Genet will not approach you again. Perhaps not, but that didn’t mean she could not approach Genet.
Now that matters abroad were coming to a head, the Intelligence services must be stretched to the limits. He had once thought highly of her abilities; it shouldn’t be too hard to persuade him that he could still utilise them. She would go to London tomorrow. It was an easy journey and she could be there and back in forty-eight hours. If Genet was taken by surprise he would be more likely to accede to her request. When he did she would reclaim her independence.
However, that wasn’t enough. Before she could truly be herself again she needed to regain emotional independence, to be out of Anthony’s sphere and free of his
influence. To do that she had to face facts and stop pretending that he held no attraction for her. It had been there ever since that fateful meeting in Paris. Instead of denying it she needed to admit it and then, having identified the real problem, overcome it. Only then would she be able to regain the focus she had temporarily lost.
Chapter Eleven
Genet surveyed her from across the desk. ‘Ordinarily I would be delighted to offer you another posting, my dear, but as things stand I cannot.’
Claudia met his gaze and held it. ‘As things stand?’
‘You had a lucky escape from Paris. Only two others got out in time.’
‘I heard as much. They fled to Antwerp, I believe.’
He nodded. ‘Initially. From there they made their way to Brussels and reported in again.’
‘Then they’re still in the employ of the service.’
‘Yes, I’m glad to say. They’re good men. I could ill afford to lose any more. I have since heard that Poiret is dead, along with five others.’
‘Do you know who betrayed them?’
‘Not yet, but I mean to find out.’
‘Let me help you.’
‘I already have experienced operatives in place.’ He paused. ‘Besides, your husband has made his views quite clear.’
Claudia’s fingers tightened on the reticule in her lap. ‘He has made his views clear with regard to my taking on any dangerous missions. What I seek is something quite different; something useful but low key.’
‘My lady, I cannot...’
‘The situation in Europe is escalating. The department must be stretched to the limits. You need good people to work for you.’
‘That is true and, as I said, ordinarily I’d be grateful for your offer, but...’
‘You fear my husband’s response.’
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