Beth recognised the leap of desire in his eyes and quickly looked away, one hand nervously fluttering towards her neck. ‘I am a little out of touch with fashion, my lord. I hope this is not too plain…’
He caught her hands and raised one then the other to his lips. He said softly, ‘You look beautiful.’
Beth swallowed. She was hopelessly out of her depth with this man. Bit by bit he was stealing her heart. No time to worry about that, she told herself as he threw her cloak about her shoulders. He would help her to find the de Beaunes and that was all that mattered for now.
They arrived at Sir Henry Shott’s narrow town house and were shown into the crowded reception rooms, where Lady Shott greeted the earl with unfeigned delight.
‘Darrington, my dear sir, I had no idea you were in town!’ She held out her hands to the earl and he obligingly kissed them.
‘I hope you will forgive our uninvited appearance, madam.’ Beth observed her hostess almost purr under the charm of his smile. The earl drew her forwards. ‘Allow me to present Mrs Forrester, of Malpass Priory near Fentonby. She is newly arrived in town.’
Beth did not miss the speculative look in the lady’s eyes.
‘Indeed? One of the Wakeford gels, are you? I remember Lady Arabella very well—she was the terror of the ballrooms when I first came to town. Do you make a long stay, ma’am?’
‘I hardly know yet, Lady Shott.’
‘Mrs Forrester is in town to meet up with an old acquaintance,’ said the earl easily. ‘A French couple—in fact, you may know them. Name of de Beaune.’
Lady Shott’s finely pencilled brows drew together.
‘I do not recall the name, but that is not to say they are not here—we have any number of émigrés with us, as always! Henry may be able to help you further. He is over there somewhere…’ She waved an airy hand in the general direction of the crowded room before dashing off to meet more new arrivals.
The earl guided Beth across the room, nodding here and there but never stopping to speak to anyone.
‘We are attracting a great deal of attention,’ she murmured, trying to ignore the stares of an elderly gentleman in a powdered bagwig.
‘Why should you be surprised?’ the earl responded. ‘You are a beautiful woman.’
‘I think it is more the fact that I am with you,’ she retorted, pinning on a smile as the elderly gentleman approached.
The old man ignored her and fixed his angry eyes upon the earl.
‘So, you’re back are you, Darrington? Surprised you have the gall to show your face!’
‘Indeed, Kilton? Now why should that be?’
The earl’s voice was silky smooth, but Beth’s hand was on his arm and she noted how his muscles tensed beneath the sleeve.
‘You know very well, sir,’ blustered Kilton. ‘It may have been a decade ago, but—’
‘Not everyone’s memory is as long as yours, Kilton.’
The underlying menace in the earl’s careless drawl made the old gentleman draw back, eyes snapping.
‘Damn your eyes, sir,’ he hissed. ‘You are a disgrace to your name and your politics!’
Beth’s grip on the earl’s arm tightened. Was this the treason that Miles had disclosed to her?
‘My lord—’
‘Come, ma’am, we must not allow ourselves to be distracted.’ His faint, distant smile told her he would not discuss the matter, but as they made their way across the room she was even more aware of the stares that accompanied them. Some were merely curious, others blatantly unfriendly. However, there was no mistaking the welcome they received from a rotund gentleman with bushy side-whiskers. His jolly face broke into a beaming smile as soon as he spotted the earl.
‘Darrington, my boy!’
The earl introduced him to Beth as their host, Sir Henry Shott. She was encouraged by his obvious delight in seeing them and lost no time in asking him if he knew of a Monsieur de Beaune, recently arrived from France.
‘Beaune…hmm. Names rings a bell with me. Yes, I remember now. There was a Madame de Beaune came to see me a few days ago. Recently arrived from France and in need of money. I helped her sell some of her jewelry.’
‘And do you know where she is living?’ asked Beth.
Sir Henry shook his head. ‘She would not tell me, preferred to keep it a secret. Don’t be too disheartened,’ he added, observing her disappointment. ‘Many of these émigrés arrive here in desperate straits and anxious for their safety. Once they realise we mean them no harm they soon settle down.’
‘Perhaps some of your other guests might know of the de Beaunes’ whereabouts,’ suggested Guy.
‘It’s possible. Old Leclerc, for example.’ Sir Henry nodded towards a courtly looking gentleman in an embroidered coat and heavily powdered wig. ‘He’s been here for years now and makes it his business to take all the new émigrés under his wing. Go and renew your acquaintance with him, Guy, he should remember you, although he’s a bit deaf so you might want to take him to one side.’ He held out his arm to Beth and said with a twinkling smile, ‘You can leave Mrs Forrester safely with me!’
Sir Henry shook his head as they watched the earl walk away. ‘Sad loss to the country when that young man quit the government.’
‘Indeed?’ said Beth. ‘That was ten years ago, I think?’
‘Aye, all of that.’
‘Why did he resign?’ She tried to keep her voice casual.
‘Oh, some scandal or another,’ came the airy reply.
Beth hesitated. ‘We have just met someone—Kilton—who said—’
‘Now you don’t want to listen to old Kilton, He has been at odds with Darrington’s family for generations. Don’t believe all you hear about the earl, ma’am. He has his faults but he is a loyal Englishman, that I’ll vouch for! Now, madam, Darrington said you hailed from Yorkshire. Do you know Ripon? I have some very happy memories of that place…’
Beth resigned herself to the fact that Sir Henry was not going to tell her anything more about the earl’s past and she allowed him to rattle on as he pleased, only requiring the odd word from her to keep the conversation going. His attention was claimed by another guest and Beth quickly excused him with an assurance that she was happy to make her own way around the room. Many of the guests were newly arrived from France and she was glad that her excellent education meant she could communicate with the émigrés in their own language.
She was passing a little knot of ladies when she heard one say, ‘So that is Darrington’s latest flirt.’
‘And not a maid, this time,’ replied another. ‘Very wise, if he wishes to avoid another episode like the Brentry scandal!’
Their unkind laughter and knowing looks brought an angry flush to Beth’s cheeks. She turned away quickly, only to find her way blocked by her hostess. Lady Shott took her arm, saying quietly, ‘Come away, Mrs Forrester. ’Tis a pity some people have such a penchant for salacious gossip. And it is quite untrue, of course.’
Beth could not resist saying, ‘The scandal they spoke of—was it the Miss B—mentioned in the newssheets?’
Lady Shott nodded. ‘Lady Brentry was throwing the poor gel at Darrington for months and all the while she was pining for another. Not, of course, that a parson’s son could compare with the rich Earl of Darrington! Then her beau got her with child and married her, but not before Lady B. had tried to put it about that the child was the earl’s! Not a word of truth in it, of course.’
Beth’s eyes strayed across the room to where the earl was talking with a group of gentlemen. ‘How can you be so sure, ma’am? After all, so many rumours…’
‘Because I know Darrington,’ replied Lady Shott. ‘He would not take advantage of an innocent. Besides, he was at the other end of the country when the coupling must have occurred!’ She gave a little huff of exasperation. ‘Not that he helped matters by giving the couple a very generous sum as a wedding present! It looked for all the world as if he was paying them off! But Darrington was unrepentant
and the young couple were glad enough of the money. They have gone off now to live in happy obscurity in Wales.’ She glanced up and smiled as Lord Darrington came up. ‘Ah there you are, my lord. Any news?’
‘I’m afraid not. Leclerc has not seen the de Beaunes, although he did say he had been asked to look out for them.’
‘Madame de Beaune has family in England,’ said Beth slowly. ‘Perhaps they have contacted him.’
‘Aye, that will be it,’ nodded their hostess. ‘Everyone in town goes to Leclerc for information about the French.’ With another genial smile she wandered away.
‘Is there anyone else here we might ask?’ asked Beth, looking around.
‘I doubt it. I think we must wait to talk to your lawyer in the morning. Do you want to leave?’
‘As soon as may be.’ Beth shivered. ‘Everywhere I look I find people staring. I have never been the centre of so much attention before.’
He pulled her hand on to his arm and patted it.
‘One grows accustomed,’ he said lightly. ‘The women are wondering who you are and the men are all jealous of me.’
‘Is that all it is?’ She turned to him. ‘What about that man…Kilton?’
He met her glance with a bland, shuttered look.
‘Kilton is an old fool. Nothing for you to worry about, Mrs Forrester. Come along, let us make one full circuit of the room and then we may take our leave.’
Despite his words she could not be easy, and even as they made their way to the door she felt someone watching her. She turned quickly and caught the glimpse of silken skirts being drawn back into the shadows.
They spoke little on the journey back to Darrington House. Beth tried to make sense of all she had seen and heard at the Shotts’ house—should she be more or less wary of Lord Darrington? There was no doubt that both Sir Henry and his wife thought very highly of the earl, but Kilton’s venomous look and scathing words kept coming back to haunt her. She had no doubt that he was referring to the long-ago scandal that Miles had mentioned to her. She put her hands to her temples.
‘Tired?’
The tenderness in the earl’s voice only added to her confusion.
‘A little.’
The carriage came to a halt and she allowed him to hand her down. As the carriage moved off Guy took her arm ready to lead her up the steps and into the house, where the butler was already holding the door open for them.
Beth noticed a figure hurrying towards them, swathed in a voluminous satin cloak whose folds glinted as she moved. It occurred to Beth that it was unusual to see a woman alone on the streets in this part of town. As Guy led her to the steps, the cloaked figure put herself in front of them and they were obliged to stop.
‘Good evening, Darrington.’
The earl’s fingers tightened painfully on Beth’s arm. The woman raised her hands and gently lifted the hood back from her golden curls. Beth glanced at Guy. He was staring silently at the woman, who raised her brows, saying in a low, musical voice. ‘Are you not going to present me?’ She gave a little laugh and fixed her huge blue eyes upon Beth. ‘I can see you are curious to know who I am, and if he will not tell you then I shall. I am Darrington’s fiancée.’
And with that she crumpled silently on to the flagway.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Oh, heavens!’ Beth took a step towards the lifeless figure.
‘Leave her.’
She stared at Guy, unable to believe his harsh tone. ‘We cannot leave her lying here in the rain! She must be taken inside.’ Beth gestured to the butler. ‘Quickly, come and help your master.’ With Beth hovering about them, Guy and Burley lifted the unconscious woman and carried her into the house. Beth ran ahead to open the door of the morning room, which had been prepared in readiness for their arrival. ‘Put her on the sofa here, by the fire.’
‘Madam. Beth!’
She ignored Guy’s protest as she threw off her cloak and plumped up the cushions before the woman was laid gently down. Beth knelt beside the sofa, pulled off the woman’s gloves and began to chafe her hands. They were not as cold as she had expected and she looked closely at the woman’s face. Surely there was consciousness there, despite the closed eyes—could she be pretending? Her mind was racing with conjecture. Guy’s fiancée. The words lay heavily on her spirits, but she tried to push them aside and concentrate on helping the unfortunate creature to recover. The woman’s clothes were very fine, but there was mud around the bottom of the skirts and her satin slippers were dirty from the street. She wore her fair hair unpowdered, but her lashes had been darkened and there was an unnatural colour to her cheeks. Gazing into her face, Beth thought that she must have been very beautiful once. She was still very handsome, but in a showy way that reminded Beth of an overblown rose.
‘I have a glass of water,’ said Guy. ‘Let me splash her face with it. That will bring her round.’
‘No need,’ replied Beth. ‘She is stirring.’
‘How convenient.’
Beth ignored his cynical comment and spoke gently to the woman as she shifted restlessly. ‘Be still. You are quite safe now.’
The woman opened her eyes and stared at her for a long moment before she fixed her china-blue eyes upon the earl.
‘Am I safe, Darrington?’
The caressing tone was not lost on Beth. She rose and stepped away from the sofa, suddenly feeling like an intruder. ‘I will leave you…’
Guy caught her arm. ‘No, do not go. There is nothing she has to say to me that is private. Let me present to you Miss Clarice Bellington, and let me assure you that we are not betrothed—that ended ten years ago!’
‘And I am no longer Miss Bellington,’ replied Clarice, sitting up. ‘I am now Madame Cordonnier, a widow.’ She put one hand to her head. ‘Since you have a glass of water there, may I have some to drink?’
Guy handed her the glass and she sipped at it while her eyes were fixed on Beth.
‘Is this your latest flirt? I must say, Darrington, she is not just in your usual style. In every report I have had of you, your amours have been fair, very much like me…’
‘That is enough,’ barked Guy, a muscle working in his jaw. ‘Tell me what you are doing here.’
Beth retreated to a chair by the window. Guy seemed to have forgotten her existence. His attention was fixed on Clarice, who was now casting coquettish glances at him from beneath her lashes.
‘I saw you at the Shotts’ party and followed your carriage. I am glad it was not too far, because I had no fare for a cab and had to follow you on foot all the way.’
‘I thought you were in France.’
‘Out of the way, do you mean?’ Her lips smiled, but Beth could discern no warmth in her expression. ‘I was there until very recently. I married Cordonnier soon after I arrived in France. But he was a wastrel and gambled away all our money before blowing his brains out. That was not such a bad thing, for I had many admirers—comtes, vicomtes, marquises…but now it is not a good time to be the mistress of a nobleman. So…I came back to England.’
‘To my door.’
Clarice shrugged. ‘That was not my original intention, but times have changed. It seems my…friends…no longer acknowledge me.’
Guy’s lip curled. ‘Can you blame them?’
‘Perhaps not. I need money, Darrington. I have not a penny to my name.’
‘That is not my concern.’
‘That is why I have been going to Sir Henry’s house. I know he looks favourably upon the French and I am always sure of a meal there. But although they have not yet thrown me out of the house, it is obvious I am not welcome there.’
‘Neither are you welcome here,’ was the earl’s frank response.
‘I cannot even pay for my lodgings.’
‘Do not try to play your games with me, Clarice.’
She said tartly, ‘If you will not help me, I shall be obliged to offer myself to the nearest abbess!’
‘Then do so.’ His callous response made Beth s
tart forwards and Guy looked up, as if suddenly aware of her presence in the room. He said bluntly, ‘Do not waste your sympathy on her, madam. I assure you she is very resourceful.’
‘You cannot throw her out on to the street!’
‘I—will—not have her staying in my house.’
His tone was implacable, his words made all the more chilling since at that moment the squally wind hurled a clatter of raindrops against the window. Beth walked over to stand beside him. She said quietly, ‘Please, my lord. It is past midnight. No woman should be obliged to walk unprotected at this hour.’
He put his hand up and cupped her cheek, his hard, angry look softening. ‘Very well. I shall send for my carriage to take her back to her lodgings.’
‘My, my,’ murmured Clarice, watching this interchange. ‘Who is this angel of mercy?’
‘My name is Elizabeth Forrester,’ Beth replied. ‘And despite how it looks, I am not the earl’s mistress. He—he is helping me with a…family problem.’
‘You need tell her nothing!’ The earl crossed to pull the bell and the alacrity with which its summons was answered suggested to Beth that Burley had been standing just outside the door. ‘Send for my chariot to come back. As quickly as possible.’
‘And could I have a little food while we are waiting?’ asked Clarice, wilting elegantly on the sofa.
Guy nodded and the butler withdrew, to return moments later with a tray of bread and cold meats.
For Beth the evening had taken on a dreamlike quality. The events of the past few weeks had been so exhausting, so extraordinary, that she found herself wondering if any of it was real. And now, with the night-watch outside the window calling the hour, she was sitting in this elegant room, watching the woman who claimed to be the earl’s fiancée picking daintily at a supper. Clarice was completely at her ease, ignoring Beth and addressing her remarks to Guy, who answered briefly or not at all. At last she pushed aside her plate and sat back with a satisfied sigh.
The Dangerous Lord Darrington Page 14
