by Jane Feather
“What is it?”
“Nothing, except that your pleasure gives me pleasure.”
She yearned to stop, to touch his face, to kiss his eyelids, to hold his body close. She yearned to tell him how she truly felt, how she loved him with every fiber of her being. For a moment there was a hesitation in his step, as if he sensed her need, as if he was waiting for something, and then when she said nothing, did nothing, he continued down the path, her arm firmly held in his.
“Where are your friends? You said you would be making up a party.” It was not the question she wanted to ask. The words seemed as dull and leaden as a shovel of mud. But it was all she could trust herself to say.
“They’ll be waiting for us in one of the boxes, where I have ordered supper. I hope it pleases you. Vauxhall is famous for its wafer-thin slices of ham, but at Ranelagh we have breast of pigeon in truffle sauce.” His voice was light and inconsequential, as if that instant of intensity had never happened.
Clarissa was aware of a sense of loss, but that moment couldn’t be repeated, and she told herself it was better this way, but she couldn’t quite convince herself. They entered the Rotunda. The huge circular space was warmed by fireplaces, lit by thousands of candles, and the domino-clad butterflies circled to the music of the orchestra on a high dais.
“Do you care to dance, ma’am?” He offered his hand. The orchestra was playing a country dance and Clarissa’s toes were already tapping.
She took his hand and he led her into the dance. Clarissa had loved to dance since she was a small child and for the half hour of this country dance she lost herself completely. All the terrors, the anxieties, the dreadful knowledge of her deception, the dreadful acknowledgment that that continued deception would eventually deprive her of the one thing that would ensure her happiness, faded into the background. Jasper was a worthy partner, light on his feet, sure of his steps, and he knew what every good partner knew, that his task was simply to enable his lady to show herself at her best.
When the music died Clarissa took a moment to catch her breath, fanning herself. “Thank you, it’s been a long time since I’ve danced like that.”
Jasper wondered how long it would take her to realize what she had said, what she had revealed. He tried to tell himself that her guard kept slipping because trust was simply seeping in, like the first trickle of water through a pinhole in a Dutch dike. If he was patient, soon it would swamp the low ground and her defenses would finally crumble. Unless, of course, that was pure wishful thinking, which, knowing this woman as he was beginning to, struck him as not unlikely.
He pushed the grim reflection aside. “Shall we go to the supper box now? I think you will enjoy the company. I have invited my brothers, and several others whom you’ve met. You may not have met all the ladies, but I think you will find them congenial.”
The supper box was warmed with a brazier, serviced by liveried footmen, and entertained by a small group of musicians. Three couples were seated at the round table, sipping champagne; Jasper’s two brothers strolled up just as Jasper and Clarissa entered the box.
“Well met, Mistress Ordway.” Sebastian bowed. “It is I, Sebastian . . . should you not recognize me in this disguise.”
“Mask and domino or not, I would recognize you as either yourself or your brother,” she said with a smile. “So, as usual, sir, I am grateful for the early identification.” She turned to his companion with a curtsy. “Good evening, sir. The Honorable Peregrine, I presume.”
Peregrine for a moment said nothing, his gaze fixed upon the diamonds sparkling in the candlelight. Then he recovered, bowed over her hand. “Just so, Mistress Ordway.”
Clarissa curtsied and murmured greetings to the rest of the assembled company, and they sat down for supper. She found herself between the twins. “So, have you set the date, Miss Ordway?” Peregrine asked.
“I don’t understand. What date?” Once again she was back in the world that governed her. She tried a smile over her wineglass.
“You happen to be wearing the Blackwater diamonds,” Sebastian said with a lazy grin. “And damme, how they suit you. Could have been made for you. Thing is, Jasper wouldn’t have given ’em to you if he didn’t intend to pop the question.”
She took a sip of wine and considered her answer. These two weren’t supposed to know that she knew all there was to know and was a willing participant. It would be simpler if she could just admit it and they could enjoy each other’s company without all this subterfuge. But Jasper had decreed secrecy, so secrecy it would be.
“Your brother has not made me an offer, gentlemen. Or perhaps I should say, he has not made me an offer of marriage.” She smiled at them both. “It probably pleased him to set tongues wagging with the diamonds. You know how much he enjoys a game . . . they will be returned to the vault in the morning, I’m sure.”
“He does enjoy playing people for fools,” Peregrine said doubtfully. He met his twin’s quelling eye and fell silent. It would seem that Jasper had not progressed as far as they’d thought with turning his whore into a wife.
“I think we should dispense with this formality,” Sebastian announced, lifting his glass in a toast. “You’re in some part family, so I intend to call you Clarissa. You shall call me Seb . . . or Sebastian if you insist. And on your other side is Perry . . . or Peregrine if you insist.”
“It will be my pleasure, Sebastian.” Clarissa lifted her own glass. “Peregrine.” She drank to the man on her other side.
Jasper was a little surprised to find how much it pleased him to see the way his brothers and Clarissa seemed to enjoy each other. He hadn’t thought he cared much one way or the other about his brothers’ opinions of his own life, but now it seemed that he did. His younger brothers were important to him, their well-being something he had always looked out for as a simple matter of fact and family.
On the death of their father he’d somehow assumed in their eyes the role of protector and authority on all matters of importance. Their mother had been their nominal guardian but, always ailing, had had little or nothing to do with the day-to-day upbringing of her sons. Jasper managed to haul himself to adulthood, but he nurtured his brothers and ensured they had as near to a normal boyhood as was possible.
They’d followed him to Harrow when he was in his final year there and he’d made sure they were protected from much of the gratuitous violence that was unilaterally doled out to the young newcomers. He’d had to fight his own battles, and for the most part had won them, and he now used that dominion within the strict and brutal hierarchy to cloak his brothers until they were good and ready to look after themselves.
They’d responded by according him absolute loyalty, respect, and an affection he knew he could not endure to see diminished.
“We should go to the Rotunda for the midnight unmasking,” the Honorable Percy Sutton declared as fireworks began to light up the sky. He reached for his mask, which, like the others, he had discarded as they sat down to supper.
“Allow me.” Jasper tied Clarissa’s mask for her before tying his own. “Are you ready for the grand finale, my dear?”
She nodded, rising to her feet. “Indeed, sir, I’m eager for it.” The group spilled out of the box and onto the gravel walk leading to the Rotunda. Fireworks exploded around them, brightly colored lights whirling, swirling, dancing, then falling from the sky.
Jasper tucked Clarissa’s hand into his arm as they joined the stream of people entering the Rotunda. The orchestra was playing one of the fashionable French dances and couples joined the thronged floor as they came into the Rotunda. They slipped into the line of dance just as every light was extinguished and the space was plunged into blackness. There was a moment of disorientation when Clarissa reached for Jasper. Her hand encountered a sleeve that felt unfamiliar. She turned in the darkness, people pressing on her from all sides, their breath permeating the darkness, and then the torches were lit again and light flooded the space as laughing people untied their masks and
those of anyone close enough to them.
Clarissa felt someone’s fingers on the ties of her mask, assumed it was Jasper, and when the mask was lifted from her eyes found herself laughing into an unknown face. “Oh, forgive me . . . I thought you were my escort.”
She turned, looking around for Jasper or one of her own group, and stared straight into Luke’s cold brown orbs. Her uncle was standing about ten feet from her, his own mask hanging from his fingers. He looked at her. Incredulity was chased by rage. He took a step towards her, his hands reaching for her. She turned to run and found herself up against Jasper’s chest.
He looked at her expression and said swiftly, “There’s no need to panic, I know it’s bewildering for a moment. Come, we’ll get out of this crowd.” He swept her ahead of him in an encircling arm and somehow carved a path through the throng out into the cold night air.
Clarissa looked over her shoulder. She could see no sign of Luke. He must be lost in the mass of people behind them. She should never have agreed to attend such a public event when she’d be mingling at close quarters with half of London. At the theatre, or the opera, she was insulated in a box, far enough away from ordinary folk in the pit, but even that she now realized had been an unacceptable risk.
She looked over her shoulder again. Still no sign of him. She had a sudden wild hope that if they could get out of there without his seeing them again, maybe he wouldn’t be certain he had seen her in that instant when the lamps were relit. Everyone was confused, dazzled by the sudden illumination.
She was too busy looking over her shoulder to watch where she was going and her foot caught on a stone. She stumbled and would have fallen if Jasper hadn’t caught her up. “Steady now. Did you have too much champagne?”
“Maybe,” Clarissa said. “I was enjoying myself so much I might not have noticed how many glasses I had.”
“Well, the carriage is under the trees. We’ll have you home and in bed in no time.” The words were a caress, a promise, weighted with desire, but for once Clarissa couldn’t match them. She glanced over her shoulder yet again. There were people following them down the lit path. Still no sign of Luke.
Jasper handed her into the carriage, and she shrank into a far corner away from the lighted window. She told herself again that Luke could never be sure he had really seen her as long as he didn’t see her again, but she knew she was fooling herself. She’d seen the look on his face when he’d looked at her. He had known exactly who she was, regardless of diamonds and domino. Would he know how to find her?
A great black cloud of dread enveloped her, and even as she forced herself to respond to the slight pressure on her shoulder and turned into Jasper’s embrace, she knew it would be a constant companion until she could get her little brother out of London.
Luke, lost in the crowd, moved with its flow, managing to keep the blue domino in his sights. Who was the black domino? He couldn’t see the man’s face, only the back of his head. His clothing was covered by the plain black domino. Whoever he was, he had a very possessive arm around Clarissa. He watched them climb into a closed carriage and he ducked through the crowd to see the coat of arms on the panel.
He frowned, trying to identify the insignia. And then it came to him. They were the arms of the Earl of Blackwater. What was Clarissa doing with an earl? It was ridiculous, insane even. Had he really seen her? But that hair was unmistakable, made even more dramatic by the glint of diamonds. And unless they were fakes, his niece had been loaded with a king’s ransom of gems. It beggared belief. It was too fantastic. What had happened to her in the weeks since she’d disappeared?
He stood immobile, staring after the carriage, heedless of the crowd bubbling around him. “There you are, Luke. We lost you at the unmasking.” A man with a raddled complexion and heavy-lidded eyes hailed him, pushing his way through the crowd. His scarlet domino hung open over a substantial belly. “What’s the matter with you? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He swayed slightly on his feet, and his gaze was unfocused.
“I thought I saw someone I know,” Luke said, frowning. “But in this rabble it’s hard to be sure.”
“Rabble’s the word.” The man looked around disdainfully. “Not a decent doxy amongst ’em. Time was, a public ridotto would be crawlin’ with ’em, ready and eager for a tumble. Couldn’t find nary a one tonight.”
Luke shrugged. “If it’s a harlot you want, let’s visit the Piazza. Where are the others?”
“Lost ’em too.” The corpulent gentleman pursed his lips and hailed a hackney from the line of waiting carriages. “Come on, Astley. I’m in need of brandy and a woman, not necessarily in that order.”
Luke followed him into the carriage. “D’you know anything of Blackwater, Arnet?” He pulled the door to behind him and sat in the near corner, nervously pushing a thumbnail between his front teeth.
“The Sullivan family, you mean? Jasper Sullivan’s the fifth earl. A bit high in the instep for the likes of us, my friend. Why d’you ask?”
“No particular reason. I just happened to see him get into his carriage. He was with a woman.”
Arnet nodded sagely. “That’ll be his new mistress. I heard tell he’d finished with the Mallory woman; she got a little too friendly with Henry Lassiter. Blackwater set up a new gal in that cozy little house of his on Half Moon Street. Saw her at the opera the other night. Quite a striking redhead. Not in the usual way at all.”
So he hadn’t been mistaken. Luke settled back into his corner and smiled grimly in the swaying darkness. Half Moon Street. If Clarissa was there, surely she would have Francis with her. He could go there and remove them both with the full force of the law. Clarissa might be the mistress of an earl, but she was first and foremost his own ward, subject to his authority in every way. He could get a signed warrant from a Justice of the Peace and take a representative of the watch to enforce the law. Not even the Earl of Blackwater could gainsay him.
But did he want to tangle with such a powerful member of Society? The Earl of Blackwater could make life very unpleasant for Master Luke Astley if he so chose. Maybe the straightforward approach was not the best.
“It’s very mortifying, but I don’t seem to be holding your attention.” Jasper raised his head from between her thighs and looked at Clarissa with a quizzical frown. “Why are you distracted, Clarissa? You’re jangling like an out-of-tune pianoforte.”
“I’m not,” she denied. “Please don’t stop.” She reached down to twine her fingers into his hair.
He circled her wrist with his fingers and firmly removed her hand, then came up the bed to lie beside her. His eyes were filled with concern as he examined her averted countenance. He could feel her distress almost as if she were in physical pain. “What is it, my love?”
The endearment brought a lump to her throat. It was the first time he had ever used the term, and he didn’t seem aware that he had spoken it now. She longed to give it back to him, to show him how it warmed her with the deepest pleasure, but all she could manage was a tight smile. “I think I must have had too much champagne. I feel a little strange.”
“Ah.” He rolled onto his back, gazing up at the embroidered tester. A nugget of cold anger began to expand deep inside him. “I can’t dispute that, of course. But I have to tell you, I don’t find it convincing. However, if you won’t tell me the truth, there’s really nothing I can do.” He sat up. “I’ll leave you to sleep and hope that you feel better in the morning.”
“No, don’t go . . . please, Jasper.” His voice was cold, the words clipped, and it frightened her. She put out a hand to him as he got off the bed. “Couldn’t we just sleep tonight? I like to feel you beside me while I sleep.”
He stood naked beside the bed, staring down at her, his jaw set. Anger flickered in the dark gaze. It had gone far enough and he could no longer keep up the pretense. She was edging deeper and deeper into his heart, and he was getting nothing back. How long could she go on assuming that he didn’t know she was lying to him, had b
een lying to him from the first moment they met? He just didn’t know why.
She offered him a cajoling smile, and his anger became cold steel. He didn’t want the bit of her she was willing to share, he wanted all of her, and if she wouldn’t give him that, he wanted none of her. He shook his head. “I wish you’d stop playing me for a fool, Clarissa.”
“I . . . I’m not,” she stammered, taken aback. “I . . . I don’t know what you mean, Jasper.”
“Oh, I think you do.” He bent and flicked the covers back over her naked body, then turned away, dressing swiftly.
Clarissa looked at him helplessly, tears pricking behind her eyes. He was going to leave her like this, and she didn’t know how to stop him. She knew he wanted more from her, and she had been intending to give it to him that night, but that had been before Luke had seen her. Now she could take no risks. Even if the risk was minuscule, she dared not take it. She had to play this through; it was the only hope of keeping free of Luke.
Dressed, he came back to the bed and stood looking down at her again. “Very well, we’ll play this your way. Bear in mind that I have paid, and paid well, for your services. But your confidence was never part of the contract, and I accept that. We will go through with the marriage, as agreed, but you need have no fear that I will burden you unnecessarily with my presence. After a certain interval, I will arrange for the annulment and you’ll be free to go anywhere you wish. Until that time, it will suit us both if as you once requested you continue to act as my mistress without taking on any of the more intimate aspects of the role. Sleep well; I trust you’ll feel better in the morning.” He turned on his heel and left the chamber.
Clarissa lay immobile, paralyzed by shock, unable to grasp what had just happened . . . the suddenness of his fury, the bitter cold of his anger. Even the dread that had filled her since she’d seen Luke was diminished by the dreadful knowledge of what she had just lost.
