A Date with Dishonor

by Mary Brendan

  ‘There’s no time to lose,’ Hugh insisted, noticing he finally had Alex’s full attention.

  Suddenly Alex propelled him away from their group so they might speak privately.

  ‘I’m due to meet Lady Lonesome at nine o’clock and it’s almost that now.’ Hugh plucked out his watch to check the time.

  ‘For God’s sake, you’ve got eyes in your head,’ Alex ground out in irritation. ‘If you’re determined to carry on with this lunacy, you can see for yourself if she’s a fright.’

  ‘Well, yes, I can do that,’ Hugh admitted readily. ‘But I’m not a good judge of character where women are concerned...as you well know.’ The corners of his mouth drooped in self-mockery. ‘Lady Lonesome might be a bewitching beauty, up to no good. I’ll get taken in as I did with Sophia and end up in a worse mess than I am in already. If she’s got a sob story prepared, I’m done for. You know I have a soft heart.’

  ‘Soft head, more like,’ Alex snapped, jerking his eyes heavenward. But he couldn’t argue with his friend’s self-confessed incompetence with the fairer sex. A good few gentleman who’d had previous dealings with Sophia Sweetman had told Hugh that she was a mercenary madam out for all she could get. He’d not heeded warnings and had acceded to her demand to set her up in style, not casting her off until he’d been almost down to his last shilling.

  ‘Whereas you...you are pretty clued up about the petticoat set and I’d trust you to spot a fraud a mile off.’

  A sour smile acknowledged Hugh’s compliment. Alex pivoted on a heel to glance back towards his mistress and gauge her mood.

  Celia was watching them, in between chatting to Sidney Roper. The young Hussar, resplendent in his brocaded uniform, was one of her admirers and had dared to approach her first before Alex had moved far from her side. Aware he was under observation, the young officer jerked him a nod. Alex leisurely returned the salute with a quirk of the lips intended to allay the boy’s fears and stop his Adam’s apple bobbing so violently. Alex’s smile strengthened as he transferred his attention to Celia. He wanted her to know her flirting didn’t bother him.

  And it didn’t. He just wished she would allow him similar licence. Their relationship was only six months’ old, yet Alex was already thinking it had run its course. She’d irritated him several times by being too possessive and flouncing over to find out what he was up to if he left her side for too long.

  ‘I’ll take care of Celia for you,’ Hugh again promised, having noted the direction of Alex’s gaze. He imagined his friend to be, understandably, enthralled by the sultry lovely. Celia was known to be very selective about the gentlemen she allowed to woo her and liked rich influential lovers. She’d be hard pressed to improve on Alex Blackthorne on either count in Hugh’s opinion. Added to which his friend had the broad physique and rugged dark looks that made females flutter and fawn as soon as he entered a room.

  ‘I’ll have a scout around and have a brief conversation with your blind date—if she’s turned up.’ Alex’s eyes swerved to Hugh, gleaming with mordant humour. ‘But that’s all I’ll do. If you decide to go ahead and meet her, you can charm her yourself.’ He took a prowling pace away, then pivoted and walked backwards while muttering, ‘If Celia cross-examines you...I’ve spotted my mother and have gone to speak to her.’ It was a valid excuse; he’d caught sight of Susannah Blackthorne parading with Lord Mornington about twenty minutes ago. He wanted a word with his mother, although it needn’t have been this evening that he brought up the subject of Miss Winters.

  His widowed mother’s long and happy marriage had made her convinced her only child must hanker after the same blissful state of union. But Alex had no intention of being paired off by his doting mama and he wished she’d stop matchmaking him with Rachel Winters or any of the other nubile young women she thought suitable to be his wife because they were her friends’ daughters.

  ‘Where have you agreed to meet her?’ Alex retraced a few steps to get that vital information. He jammed his clenching fists into his pockets. If Hugh hadn’t been such an old friend, he might have throttled him on the spot for making him feel obliged to get involved in this farce.

  Having told Alex in which direction to head, Hugh grabbed his friend’s elbow before he could stride away. ‘I made up a name to catch her attention. I guessed she’d get a lot of replies to her advert and I wanted to stand out.’ He smiled bashfully. ‘She is to meet a Mr Best,’ he whispered, significantly poking a thumb against his chest.

  ‘Ingenious...’ Alex muttered caustically, stalking off.

  * * *

  ‘You promised me you would not contact those gentlemen!’ Elise’s angry astonishment caused her to stop dead on the path. A woman who’d been strolling behind bumped into her and glared, prompting her to apologise.

  Beatrice linked arms with her sister, urging her on. But a guilty colour stole into her cheeks as she felt Elise’s stony stare on her profile. They had been walking beneath twinkling globe lights strung in the trees in Vauxhall Gardens when she’d dropped her bombshell and let Elise know she’d contacted one of her respondents and arranged to meet him that evening.

  ‘I know I said I wouldn’t and I’m sorry for the deceit, but I have to be sensible and make the most of this time in town. We only have a few days left before we return home.’ It was an earnestly made case. ‘So far we’ve been out and about every evening with the Chapmans, yet no gentleman has shown much interest in me.’

  Elise knew that wasn’t quite true. Last night Bea had collected several admirers when they’d attended a soirée held by the Chapmans’ neighbours. She, too, had attracted a fresh-faced young fellow who had loitered by her chair and courteously fetched her drinks and titbits from the buffet. But when they had retrieved their coats to leave, no gentleman had seemed keen to further an acquaintance with them.

  Seven years might have passed since their parents separated and their father had left town in disgrace, taking his two teenage daughters with him, but Elise had noticed a sharp glint in the eyes of some individuals on discovering their identities. Mrs Porter and her friend had last night distanced themselves quickly once the name Dewey had been mentioned. Elise had watched them whispering behind their gloved hands while sliding sly peeks their way.

  ‘Where are you to meet this fellow?’

  ‘A pavilion by the lake.’

  ‘And where on earth is that?’ Elise curtly enquired.

  ‘As I recall, it is somewhere over there...’

  ‘You don’t even know the location?’ Elise sounded exasperated, snatching at her sister’s wildly gesturing hand to prevent her attracting attention.

  ‘I can’t recall exactly; it’s many years since I was last here,’ Bea stated defensively. ‘I only had one trip here before we got carted off to the countryside by Papa.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, in any case, where it is as you shall not go and meet him.’ Elise tightened her grip on Beatrice’s fingers to physically restrain her. ‘If you are spotted dawdling about on your own, or, worse still, with a stranger, it won’t only be Mrs Porter and her friends who are shredding our reputations.’ Elise nodded at two middle-aged ladies who were strolling just yards away. Mrs Porter raised a gloved hand, letting them know she’d got them in her sights.

  Huge crowds were thronging the pleasure gardens that evening to enjoy the music. People were already milling about the stage, jostling for a prime position as the orchestra tuned up.

  ‘I’m not daft, you know!’ Beatrice protested. ‘I have arranged to meet him when everybody else will be occupied listening to the concert.’ She dimpled a smile, pleased with her strategy.

  ‘You shall not go!’ Elise vowed through gritted teeth. ‘And that’s final.’

  ‘I want to go home and tell Papa a gentleman is soon to come and speak to him,’ Bea announced defiantly. ‘I know you think me brazen for using such tacti
cs, but who is to say that we might not suit well enough to make a go of it.’ She pressed back against the hedging, allowing people to pass them, obstinately refusing to move despite Elise’s tugs on her arm. ‘A marriage of convenience brokered by a couple’s parents for property and pedigree is equally distasteful.’

  ‘Not in the eyes of polite society,’ Elise hissed in frustration. ‘Anyway, you might yet meet a gentleman without resorting to sneaking about. Mr Whittiker claims his friends are here in abundance this evening.’

  That comment elicited a grimace of mock horror and Elise sympathised with Bea’s sentiment. If Mr Whittiker’s friends were even a little like him then the stranger by the lake might indeed be a better bet.

  ‘I hope I do meet a fellow in the customary way,’ Bea said with asperity as they started to walk on. ‘But—’

  ‘Do you even know your blind date’s name?’ Elise interrupted crossly before her sister could again bombard her with reasons to act rashly.

  ‘He calls himself Mr Best.’ A little chuckle escaped Bea. ‘I imagine that is not his real name.

  ‘I imagine you are right!’ Elise acidly concurred. ‘Just as he knows full well you are not actually Lady Lonesome.’

  ‘It is quite dramatic is it not?’ Bea’s eyes were alight with excitement.

  Despite her grave misgivings, Elise felt a twinge of the thrill enlivening her sister. Her compressed lips softened slightly. ‘Maybe...but you cannot go through with it because you will get us both hung.’ She gazed sombrely at her sister. ‘Promise me you will not go there and risk disgracing us all.’ When Bea remained silent Elise demanded more forcefully, ‘Promise me, Bea, or I will never forgive you for your selfishness.’

  ‘I promise...’ Bea sighed. ‘I shall try and make another arrangement to meet Mr Best in the daytime. And you can come along, too.’

  ‘Papa has found us a wonderful spot, very close to the stage.’ Verity had been walking ahead of them, with her parents, but had skipped back towards her friends to impart that news. She linked arms with them, urging them to hurry.

  Chapter Four

  Battling against a flow of revellers was forcing Elise to dodge nimbly to and fro to avoid sharp shoulders and elbows. But she couldn’t escape those people’s sly looks and she understood what prompted them.

  Generally only one class of female went about Vauxhall Gardens unaccompanied and they were usually touting for business. Mortified as Elise was to be mistaken for a doxy, she nevertheless knew that finding Beatrice before she disgraced herself was more important than fretting over strangers’ hateful imaginings. Finally the throng thinned out and she settled into a fast walk along the shadowy path.

  Elise felt her lungs burning with exertion, yet despite her discomfort she longed to hurtle on at an even faster pace. It was her first outing to Vauxhall and she hoped she had correctly remembered her sister’s vague indication of where the lake was situated. If she were heading the wrong way, she and Beatrice would both be in grave trouble. She’d be too late to drag her sister away before dratted Mr Best arrived for their tryst. Elise knew she mustn’t dash like a hoyden hither and thither and risk drawing further attention to herself. The entire matter had to be dealt with as discreetly as possible.

  Inwardly she berated herself for letting Bea slip away from her side. At one moment they had been in a conversation with Mr Chapman, offering opinions on the talent of the musicians, at the next Elise had turned to find Beatrice had vanished. At first Elise had felt furious that her sister had gone back on her word; then she had striven to conceal her panic from the others in their party. Fortunately Mr and Mrs Chapman had seemed oblivious to any change in her. Fiona appeared quite serene, as she always did, waiting for Mr Whittiker’s return with some refreshment. Only Verity had interpreted her frantic glances.

  Rightly or wrongly Elise had, on the day they’d arrived in London, confessed to Verity that she’d angled for an invitation because her sister was yearning to escape the gloom of the countryside and find a husband. She’d gone on to admit that Bea had been foolish enough to advertise for a mate.

  Verity was a true and trustworthy friend. Despite being quite scandalised a few moments ago when Elise had whispered her fears over Bea’s sudden disappearance, Verity had promised she would try to concoct a plausible tale for their absence, if asked about it.

  On the periphery of her vision Elise was again vaguely aware that someone else was striding away from the entertainment on a parallel path to the one she was taking. From beneath the brim of her bonnet she swung a discreet glance at him. He was tall and swarthy and imperious looking and from his sternly set profile she guessed he might be in a similar black mood to the one burdening her. Despite the vital nature of her mission she felt an odd compulsion to slacken her pace so she might study him more closely. He had an aura of such angry hauteur that, even at a distance, she felt a frisson of alarm ripple through her.

  Suddenly he turned his head, glancing over before dismissing her. Just as abruptly his gaze snapped back and it narrowed on her as though an idea had struck him.

  At the same time something struck Elise. The idea seemed so ludicrous that her eyes spontaneously widened on his handsome face and her steps faltered. He slowed down, too, calculatingly, so he was now behind her and able to watch her whilst she must twist her head awkwardly and obviously to see him. Before he’d slipped from her eye line Elise had noticed a subtle unpleasant change in his expression.

  Despite her now sedate pace Elise felt her heartbeat increase tempo until the thud beneath her ribs seemed to quake her body. Her eyes darted along the prickly hedging to one side of her. But there was no gap, no escape route through which she might plunge to avoid that sardonic stare she sensed was boring into the back of her head. Yet, tense with anxiety as she was, an inner voice continued scoffing at her suspicion that such a gentleman might be Mr Best. From the glimpses she’d had of his distinguished bearing he certainly didn’t look to be on his uppers and in need of a spinster’s modest inheritance.

  He was probably judging her, as had others she’d encountered whilst racing through the dusk, and had concluded she was hunting for customers. Her insides knotted as she realised he might be studying her from behind to assess whether he liked enough of what he saw to approach her. That notion inflamed Elise’s indignation to such an extent that she came to an abrupt halt and turned towards him, chin up, eyes sparking anger and defiance.

  He stopped, too, and Elise felt ice shiver her spine. There was no longer any doubt that she interested him and he seemed undeterred by her hostile glare. She’d hoped to embarrass him into moving on, but he turned fully towards her, plunging a hand in his pocket. The other was abruptly raised and he beckoned her with a crooked finger.

  At first Elise felt too astonished by that curt summons to react, then her pride surged to the fore. How dare the arrogant man assume she’d go to him!

  But she did; stumbling in her haste and with every intention of giving him a piece of her mind. Having marched diagonally across grass and cobbles she came to a halt with the breath hacking at her throat and stared up into a lean angular face. She read from his expression that he was still amused...unpleasantly so.

  ‘Why are you following me?’ she demanded in a shaky voice.

  ‘I’m not. I suspect I’m just heading to the same place as you.’

  ‘And...and where is that?’ Elise demanded in a suffocated voice.

  ‘The lake pavilion.’ Having provoked the response he needed to satisfy himself he was talking to Lady Lonesome, Alex gave her a cynical smile. ‘We needn’t bother traipsing the whole distance, my dear. Here will do.’

  His tone had sounded insultingly familiar and Elise guessed that was exactly his intention. But her shock at knowing this was Mr Best momentarily deprived her of speech. She had been correct in her assessment of him from a distance. Everything a
bout his deportment, from the top of his stylishly cut dark hair to the tips of his expensive shoes proclaimed him to be a man of wealth and breeding. His bored drawl could not disguise the culture in his voice any more than the lengthy black lashes, low over his eyes, could conceal that he was looking her over very thoroughly. But his saturnine features remained impassive; there was no indication if he liked what he saw.

  ‘Come...let’s not draw out the charade longer than necessary,’ he said curtly. ‘There’s a spot close by that’s secluded enough for us to get to know each other a little better. It’ll serve while I determine whether Lady Lonesome’s to my liking.’

  A firm grip on her arm was immediately propelling Elise towards another wall of hedging. Before she’d gathered wit enough to forcibly shake him off she was being steered through an arch and towards a bench set at the apex of converging dark paths. A single light above the seat was undulating in the breeze, casting eerie shadows over his features. At that moment Elise would sooner have been alone in twilight with the devil himself.

  ‘Let go of me at once! There’s been a dreadful mistake...’ Elise shoved at him, attempting to slip past and speed back whence she’d come.

  Alex easily barred her flight with his body. ‘I’m afraid that won’t quite do, my dear. You instigated this little tryst. Having lured me here, the least you can do is give me a few minutes of your time...if nothing else is on offer.’

  Elise recognised the throaty lust in his voice and glanced about to spot someone who might come to her aid should the hateful brute make a lunge for her. But the only sight was a wall of shrubbery, the only sound the soughing of a million leaves and strains of a faraway melody. She slowly moistened her parched lips with her tongue tip.

  Alex felt a stirring in his loins at her teasing little trick. She was good, he acknowledged sourly, the outraged innocent act was convincing and erotic. She even looked the part. Now he’d got a closer look at her he could see she had an unusual, fresh-faced beauty and her abundant hair looked to be a shade of dark blonde. Her quietly stylish clothing betrayed a hint of a sweetly curvaceous figure beneath her cloak. But he’d sooner she stopped acting coy and owned up to the game immediately so they could get down to business. She’d betrayed herself straight away by allowing guilt to show in her eyes when he’d mentioned a tryst by the lake. If she were a harlot—and no genteel young woman in possession of her sanity would be out alone—he guessed she was new to the profession to have made such a basic mistake.