by Amanda Quick
Elenora sighed. “I understand that feeling very well indeed.”
“We cannot afford to go about very much.” Juliana shook her head. “I suppose it was very naïve of me, but I must tell you that I had no notion how much a simple ball gown and a pair of matching slippers cost until Roland and I found ourselves cut off.” She touched the folds of the domino she wore. “The only reason I was able to come here tonight was because a friend allowed me to borrow this costume. Roland does not know I’m here. He is in the hells again.”
“I am very sorry for your plight,” Elenora said.
“I fear that Roland is fast becoming desperate,” Juliana confided in hushed tones. “I do not know what he will do if his luck does not turn. That is why I have come to beg you for your assistance, Miss Lodge. Will you help us?”
20
Twenty minutes later Elenora made her way back in the lantern-lit ballroom. The crowd of cloaked and masked dancers was thicker than ever. She found an empty palm-shrouded alcove and sat down on the small, gilded bench that had been provided.
Absently she watched the throng of dancers, trying to spot Margaret and Bennett while she pondered her conversation with Juliana.
Her musings slammed to a halt when she saw the man in the black mask and domino coming toward her. Not again, she thought with a shudder. She would not allow him to touch her a second time. She could not abide the feel of his hand on her waist or the smell of his unwholesome excitement.
But a few seconds later she knew, with a sweeping sense of relief, that this was most certainly not the same man. True, he sliced through the crowd with the same gliding, sure-footed movements of a predator, but this man’s stride exuded power and control, not unnatural energy. The cowl of the domino was pushed back. Although his eyes were concealed behind a black silk mask, there was no disguising that proud nose or the manner in which his heavy, dark hair was combed straight back from his high forehead.
A fizzy anticipation that she could not suppress sparkled through her veins. She lowered her mask and smiled.
“Good evening, sir,” she said. “You are early, are you not?”
Arthur halted in front of her and bowed. “So much for my clever disguise. I arrived a few minutes ago. Found Margaret and Bennett straightaway, but they said they had lost track of you in the crowd.”
“I went into the conservatory to get some fresh air.”
“Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” She rose from the bench. “But I’m not sure that Margaret will want to go home this early. I believe that she is enjoying herself with Mr. Fleming.”
“That much is obvious.” He took her arm and steered her toward the door. “She just informed me that she and Bennett were off to drop in on the Morgan soirée. Bennett will escort her home later.”
She smiled. “I think they are falling in love.”
“I did not bring Margaret to London to have a romantic fling,” Arthur grumbled. “Her role was to act as your guide and to provide an acceptable female presence in my household so that your reputation would not suffer in the course of your employment.”
She silently debated whether or not to tell him the gossip that Juliana had reported was circulating among the ton. In the end, she concluded that it would only complicate the situation if Arthur learned that the Polite World assumed that they were involved in an intimate relationship. Such information might cause him to worry excessively about his responsibilities toward her. That was the last thing she wanted.
“Come now, sir. It is a wonderful thing that Margaret seems to have found a very nice gentleman who makes her happy. Admit it.”
“Huh.”
“And the most charming aspect of the situation is that you deserve all the credit for allowing the romance to bloom,” she could not resist adding. “After all, had you not invited Margaret to London, she would never have met Bennett.”
“It was not part of my strategy,” he muttered darkly. “I do not like it when things fail to go according to plan.”
He did not sound truly annoyed, she concluded.
She laughed. “Sometimes it is good to have our most carefully laid plans overset.”
“When in blazes have you ever known such an outcome to prove anything but disastrous?”
When I met you in the offices of Goodhew and Willis, she thought wistfully. She had been seeking a quiet post as a paid companion to someone like Mrs. Egan. Instead she had encountered Arthur, and now, no matter what transpired between them, she knew her life would never be quite the same again.
But she could not tell him that, so she merely smiled, hoping that she appeared mysterious.
When they reached the front steps of the Fambridge mansion, Arthur called for his carriage. A few minutes later Elenora spotted it as it swung out of the long line of vehicles waiting in the street. When it arrived at the bottom of the steps, Arthur handed her up into it.
He vaulted in lightly behind her, the black folds of the domino whipping out behind him like the dark wings of a bird of prey that hunted by night.
He closed the door and settled on the seat across from her. This was the first time she had ever been alone with him in the vehicle, she realized.
“Enough of this masquerade nonsense.” Arthur untied his mask and tossed it aside. “I fail to see the attraction of concealing one’s identity unless one is intent on committing a crime.”
“I have no doubt but that several crimes were committed in the Fambridge ballroom this evening.”
“Ah, yes. Indeed.” He lounged into the corner of the seat, mouth twisted slightly in amusement. “Most of them involved illicit liaisons of one sort of another, I suspect.”
“Mmm.”
He contemplated her with his dangerous eyes. “I trust you were not subjected to any indignities? It was Margaret’s job to ensure that you were kept safe from the wrong sort of attentions, but it has become obvious that she is not concentrating on her role. If any man made improper advances—”
“No, my lord,” she said hastily. “There was no trouble of that sort. But I did meet an old acquaintance of yours.”
“Who?”
“Juliana. Mrs. Burnley now.”
He grimaced. “She was present this evening?”
“Yes.”
“She sought you out?”
“Yes.”
He did not look pleased. “I trust the encounter was not unpleasant. She did not stage a scene, did she?”
“There was no scene, but the encounter, as you put it, was, shall we say, interesting.”
He drummed his fingers on the edge of the door. “Why do I have the impression that I am not going to like whatever it is that you are about to tell me?”
“It is really not so very dreadful,” she assured him. “Nevertheless, I suspect your initial reaction may be somewhat, ah, negative.”
“I suspect you are damned right.” He smiled in feral anticipation. “But you are going to try to make me change my mind, are you not?”
“In my opinion, it would be in everyone’s best interests if you could manage to achieve a positive reaction.”
“Out with it,” he growled.
“I think it would be better if I explained the situation first.”
“Now I am absolutely certain that I will have a negative response.”
She pretended not to hear that. “Were you aware, sir, that both Juliana’s and Roland’s families have cut the couple’s purse strings?”
He raised his brows. “I have heard rumors to that effect, yes. I am certain that it is merely a temporary situation. Sooner or later old Burnley or Graham will come around.”
“Juliana believed that at first, too, but she no longer places any faith in that possibility, and evidently neither does Roland. They are convinced that both families have turned against them forever. Juliana is quite distraught.”
“Is she?” He did not sound the least concerned about Juliana’s feelings.
“He
r mother gave her a little money, but that is not enough to sustain the couple. The threat of financial disaster has driven Roland into the gaming hells.”
“Yes, I know. I daresay he’ll soon learn that the hells are a good way to lose whatever little money he has left.”
“You knew that Roland is attempting to make his fortune at the tables?”
“It is hardly a secret.”
Of course he had been aware of the situation, she thought wryly, just as he had known that Ibbitts was stealing from the household accounts. Making certain that he was well informed of all the events in his world was Arthur’s way.
She decided to take a different approach. “Juliana is very frightened.”
Turning his head, he gave her his fierce profile. He looked out the window as though he was bored with the conversation and had found something of extraordinary interest to observe in the street. The lamplight etched his cheekbone and the line of his jaw, but his expression was lost in dark shadow.
“That does not surprise me,” he said.
She recalled once again the gossip she had heard concerning Juliana’s feelings toward Arthur. They say she was terrified of him.
Watching his averted face, she suddenly knew with great certainty that he had been very well aware that his fiancée feared him.
The knowledge that he was aware of how Juliana had regarded him did not surprise her, but the realization that he might have taken a silly young woman’s gothic imaginings personally, perhaps had even allowed them to depress his spirits, did astonish her.
“My understanding is that Juliana endured an extremely sheltered upbringing,” Elenora said briskly. “Her youth and lack of experience of the world no doubt caused her to fall victim to specters produced by a young lady’s naturally overheated imagination.”
He turned back to her. “Unlike yourself, Miss Lodge?” he asked mockingly.
She waved that aside with the hand in which she held her mask. “A lady who intends to go into trade cannot afford the luxury of possessing overly refined sensibilities.”
A flicker of a smile came and went at the corners of his mouth. He inclined his head in a gravely solemn manner.
“It is certainly true that delicate sensibilities can interfere with turning a profit.” He regarded her very steadily. “I learned that fact myself several years ago. As a result, I never allow sentiment to influence my decisions in such matters.”
That did not bode well, she thought. With his legendary, preternatural intuition concerning finances and investments, he had already guessed that she was about to ask him for a favor involving money. He was giving her fair warning that she might as well save her breath.
Nevertheless, she decided to press on, employing the tools that might sway him: logic and responsibility.
“Sir, I shall come straight to the point,” she said. “Juliana approached me tonight to request a favor.”
His eyes narrowed faintly. “Never say she had the nerve to ask you for money?”
“No,” she said quickly, pleased to be able to put that issue to rest.
His expression lightened somewhat. “I am relieved to hear that. For a moment there I thought she might have tried to convince you to give her a loan, although why she would think that you might be willing to do such a thing is beyond me.”
“She did not ask for a loan,” Elenora said very carefully. “At least not directly. But you will recall that you have put it about that you are supposedly in town to form a consortium of investors.”
“What of it?”
Elenora squared her shoulders. “Juliana pleaded with me to ask you to offer Roland a share in your new consoritum.”
For a moment Arthur just looked at her as though she had spoken in some unknown tongue.
Then he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“I must conclude that this is your eccentric notion of a joke, Miss Lodge,” he said.
She searched his eyes and knew that it was irritation, not rage, that she saw burning in his gaze. There was a difference between the two. When it came to Arthur, she was quite certain that only the second reaction was truly dangerous. The first could be dealt with if one applied reason.
“Kindly do not attempt to intimidate me, sir,” she said calmly. “All I ask is that you hear me out.”
“There’s more to this nonsense?”
“I comprehend that it is a lot to ask of you under the circumstances, but I feel that you would be well-advised to grant Juliana this favor.”
His smile was as cold as steel. “But I am not forming a consortium at the moment, if you recall.”
“No, but you do form them frequently, and we both know that sooner or later you will find yourself brewing up another financial venture. You could offer Roland a share in your next project.”
“I cannot envision a single logical reason why I should invite Roland Burnley into a consortium, even assuming that he possessed the funds required to purchase a share, which, as you just pointed out, he does not.”
“The matter of the funds he would require to purchase a share is another issue. We will get to that shortly.”
“Will we, indeed?”
“Are you attempting to intimidate me, sir? If so, it is not working.”
“Perhaps I should try harder.”
With an effort, she possessed herself in patience. “I am attempting to explain why you should consider allowing Roland to become a member of your next company of investors.”
“I cannot wait to hear this.”
“The thing is,” she continued, determined to finish her argument, “When one views the situation from a particular perspective, one could conclude that you are the reason that Juliana and Roland find themselves in their present extremely unfortunate financial circumstances.”
“Damnation, woman, are you saying I’m to blame for the fact that those two eloped?”
She squared her shoulders. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
He swore softly once again and sat back. “Tell me, Miss Lodge, do you feel that it was my fault that Juliana was so horrified by the prospect of experiencing a fate worse than death in my bed that she felt she had no choice but to flee into the night with another man?”
“Of course not.” She was shocked to the core by his conclusion. “I am saying that you are, in part, responsible for the outcome because you could have gone after Juliana and Roland that night and stopped them. Moreover, if you had given chase, I suspect you would have caught up with them well before the damage was done to Juliana’s reputation.”
“In case you have not heard the tale in its entirety, there was a ferocious storm that night,” he reminded her. “Only a madman would have braved it.”
“Or a man madly in love,” she amended, smiling slightly. “I have heard the story in several variations, my lord, and I must conclude that you did not fit that description. If you had been passionately in love with Juliana, you would have given chase.”
He stretched his arms out full-length on either side along the back of the cushions. His smile was as thin and sharp as the edge of a blade. “Surely by now someone has explained to you that I am a man who is motivated solely by money. People credit me with many attributes, Miss Lodge, but I assure you, strong passions are not among them.”
“Yes, well, I daresay that few people know you well enough to make such a judgment, and that, too, is no doubt your own fault.”
“How the devil can you place the responsibility for that at my doorstep?”
“I do not mean to give offense, sir, but you do not encourage—” She broke off abruptly, aware that the word she had been about to use—intimacy—was not quite the bon mot she was searching for to describe his aloof, self-controlled nature. “Let us say that you do not encourage close personal relationships.”
“And with good reason. Such associations frequently get in the way of sound business decisions.”
“I do not, for one minute, believe that to be your motive for keeping m
ost people at a distance. The truth, I suspect, is that it is your overriding sense of responsibility that makes it difficult for you to let down your guard. You do not feel that you can afford to take the risk of trusting someone else to take control for a while.”
“You possess an unusual view of my temperament,” he muttered.
“And in my unusual view, I am quite certain that you are a man of strong if tightly controlled passions.”
He gave her an odd look, as though she had just provided him with cause to doubt her sanity. “Tell me, Miss Lodge, do you really believe that I would chase after a runaway fiancée under any circumstances?”
“Oh, yes, my lord. If your passionate nature was involved, you would pursue her into the gates of Hell itself.”
He grimaced. “A very poetic image.”
“However, sir, you did not pursue Juliana that night last year. Therefore, we are left with the results of your decision.”
“Explain to me again why I should resolve the Burnleys’ financial difficulties,” he said grimly. “I do not seem to be able to grasp the crux of your argument.”
“It is really very simple, sir. If you had pursued the lovers that night, the chances are excellent that Juliana would be your countess today and would, therefore, possess no financial worries of any sort. For his part, Roland would still be in his father’s good graces and no doubt happily spending his plump quarterly allowance on tailors and boot makers.”
He shook his head in wonder. “Your logic leaves me quite speechless, Miss Lodge.”
“But you cannot fault it, can you?”
“Do you know what I think, Miss Lodge? I do not believe that you leaped to your conclusion through any process involving logic or sound reasoning.”
“No?”
“I think you are pleading Juliana’s case because of those damned delicate sensibilities you claim you do not possess.”
“Rubbish.”
“Admit it. Your soft heart was touched by Juliana’s tears.” He was amused. “As I recall, she has a talent for being able to cry on cue.”
“She did not cry.”
He raised his brows.
