by Amanda Quick
“And you did what you had to do for the sake of your family.”
“He was a good man,” Margaret said quietly. “And I came to care for him in time. The greatest difficulty was the difference in our ages. Harold was twenty-five years my senior. We had very little in common, as you can imagine. I had hoped to take comfort in my children, but we were not blessed with any.”
“What a sad tale.”
“But a very familiar one.” Margaret nodded toward the couples on the dance floor. “I expect there will be many similar stories repeated this Season.”
“No doubt.”
And the result would be any number of cold, loveless alliances, Elenora thought. She wondered if, in the end, Arthur would be obliged to make such a marriage. He had no choice but to wed, after all, whether or not he found a woman he could love with all the passion that was locked inside him. In the end, he would do his duty by the title and the family, regardless of his own feelings.
“I must say, you are right about this crowd,” Margaret said, fanning herself briskly. “It really is quite a crush tonight. It will take ages for Bennett to get back to us with the lemonade. We shall likely perish of thirst before he returns.”
The throng parted briefly. Elenora spotted the elaborately curled, old-fashioned powdered wig that was part of the livery worn by their host’s footmen.
“There is a servant over there by the door,” she said, standing on tiptoe to get a better view. “Maybe we can catch his eye.”
“For all the good it will do,” Margaret muttered. “This lot will have emptied his tray before he gets anywhere near us.”
“Stay here so that Bennett will find you when he returns.” Elenora turned to pursue the rapidly disappearing footman. “I’ll see if I can catch up with that servant before he runs out of lemonade.”
“Be careful you don’t get trampled underfoot.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”
With a few polite murmurs, Elenora slipped through a cluster of middle-aged ladies and made her way as quickly as possible toward the spot where she had last seen the footman.
She was only a few paces away when she felt the brush of gloved fingers on the skin of her bare back, just beneath the vulnerable nape of her neck.
An icy chill flashed down her spine. She suddenly could not breathe.
Just an accidental touch, she assured herself; the sort that could occur so easily when so many people were crowded together. Or perhaps one of the gentlemen had seized the opportunity presented by the tight quarters to take liberties.
Nothing personal.
But it was all she could do not to shriek out loud. Because her intuition told her that the touch of those gloved fingers drifting intimately across her naked skin had been very personal indeed.
It can’t be, she thought. Not here. He would not dare. Cold terror prickled her skin in spite of the heat. Surely she was mistaken.
But the villain had come to her the last time in the middle of a crowded ballroom, she reminded herself.
Whatever she did, she must not give any sign that she was aware that he was near.
Forcing herself to stay calm, she turned slowly on her heel, trying to appear casual. She unfurled her fan with a flip of her wrist and used it to cool herself while she searched the crowd.
There were several gentlemen nearby, but none of them stood close enough to have touched her.
Then she saw the footman; not the one she had been pursuing, she realized, but a different man.
He had his back to her, striding swiftly away through the throng of chatting, laughing guests. All she could see was the collar of his green-and-silver jacket and the back of his powdered and curled wig beneath his hat. But there was something disturbingly familiar about the way he moved.
She plunged into the crowd, trying to keep the footman in sight.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled to the people she forced out of her way. “Beg your pardon. So sorry about your lemonade, madam. Did not mean to tread on your toe, sir . . .”
Eventually she reached the fringes of the crowd and came to a halt. There was no sign of the footman, but she saw at once that the doors that stood open onto the gardens provided the only exit on this side of the ballroom.
She stepped out into the shadows. She was not alone on the terrace. There were a handful of couples engaged in soft conversations. No one paid any attention to her.
The footman was nowhere to be seen.
She crossed the stone terrace and went down the five broad steps that led to the night-shrouded gardens, trying to look like any other overheated guest who had decided to take the evening air.
A broad circle of large, marble statues loomed directly in front of her. Nothing moved in the deep shadows between the figures.
“Elenora.”
She was so tense that she almost screamed aloud at the unexpected sound of her name.
Spinning around, she saw Jeremy Clyde standing a short distance away.
“Hello, Jeremy.” She snapped her fan closed. “Did you happen to see one of the footmen go past a moment ago?”
“Why the devil would I take notice of a servant?” He scowled, moving quickly toward her. “I saw you come out here and I followed you. I’ve been looking for you. We must talk.”
“I don’t have time to chat.” She picked up her skirts and walked toward the row of statues, searching for some sign of the vanished servant. “Are you certain you did not see the footman? He was in full livery. I’m sure he must have come this way.”
“Devil take it, will you stop blathering on about a footman?” Jeremy hurried after her and seized her bare arm.
Impatiently she tried to get free of his grasp. He did not release her.
“Kindly remove your hand, sir.” They were out of sight of the couples on the terrace, but she knew that voices carried on the night air. She spoke in a sharp whisper. “I do not want you to touch me.”
“Elenora, you must listen to me.”
“I just told you, I don’t have time for this.”
“I came here tonight to find you.” He gave her a small shake. “My darling, I know everything.”
Startled, she forgot about his hand and looked up at his face. “What on earth are you talking about?”
He glanced uneasily back toward the terrace and then lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “I know that St. Merryn has employed you to be his mistress.”
Shocked, she stared at him. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“He is using you, my darling. He has no intention of marrying you.” Jeremy grunted in disgust. “Evidently you are the only one who does not know the truth.”
“Rubbish. I have no idea what this is all about, nor do I wish to find out. Release me. I must return to the ballroom.”
“Elenora, listen to me. Your name is in all the betting books in every club in St. James tonight.”
She could feel a distinct fluttering in her stomach. “I beg your pardon?”
“Every gentleman in town is placing a wager on what will happen when St. Merryn tires of you.”
“It is common knowledge that some gentlemen will place bets on anything that amuses them,” she said tightly.
“We are talking about your reputation. It is going to be in tatters soon.”
“When did you develop such a touching concern for my good name?”
“Damnation, Elenora, keep your voice down.” Jeremy glanced around again with an agitated air, assuring himself that there was no one within earshot. He leaned closer. “I would remind you that I am a gentleman. Unlike St. Merryn, I had the decency to protect your reputation while we were engaged.”
“Yes, your gallantry left me speechless, sir.”
He did not appear to notice her sarcastic tone. “St. Merryn, on the other hand, is using you. He intends to toss you aside in the most humiliating manner after parading you around town as his fiancée for a few weeks or months. When he is finished with you, you will be ruined.”
“From the sound of things, it is already too late for me, so I may as well enjoy the process.”
“Oh, my dear Elenora, it is not like you to talk that way. I can help you.”
“Indeed?” She was almost amused. “How do you intend to do that.”
“I will take you under my protection. I have the money to do that now. Unlike St. Merryn, I will be discreet. You will not be obliged to face the sneers of Society. I will keep you safely tucked away out of sight. We can be happy at last together, my love, just as we were meant to be.”
Outrage poured through her. Briefly she pondered sticking her fan in Jeremy’s ear.
“Allow me to tell you, sir,” she said through her teeth, “that the prospect of being ruined by St. Merryn is considerably more thrilling than that of becoming your mistress.”
“You are overset,” he soothed. “I understand. Your poor nerves have obviously been under severe stress lately. But when you think about it, you will see that what I am offering is the best solution. It will save you from the great humiliation that awaits you at St. Merryn’s hands.”
“Let me go, Jeremy.”
“I am only trying to protect you.”
She smiled coldly. “The last thing I want is to be under your protection, sir.”
“Do you prefer such an arrangement with St. Merryn because he is wealthier than I am? What good will his money do you when he is finished with you and you face the most complete and utter disaster? You will never again be able to show your face in Polite Society. Your future will be destroyed.”
“You know nothing about my plans for the future.”
“Elenora, you must hear me out. Then perhaps you will understand how dire your situation truly is. I just came from one of my clubs. I saw the entries in the book with my own eyes. This very evening young Geddings wagered two thousand pounds that St. Merryn will cast you off at the end of the Season. His bet was merely one of many. Some of the sums involved are quite enormous.”
“It never fails to astonish me that so many well-educated men can be such fools.”
“They are all wagering that the engagement is a sham. The only variation in the betting concerns the exact date when he will cast you aside. Most favor the end of the Season. A few believe he will keep you in his bed through the summer because the situation is so convenient for him.”
In a sense, Arthur was going to let her go when this business was finished, she thought glumly. It was decidedly irritating to realize that so many of the gentlemen of the ton who were placing wagers on her future would make a handsome profit at her expense. It was not at all fair.
At that instant, a stunning thought struck her with more force than a bolt of lightning could have done.
I know precisely how this affair will end.
She could, in fact, see her own lonely future far more clearly than any of the gentlemen in the clubs. As soon as Arthur caught the killer, she would be able to fix an exact date for the end of their association.
It was a very depressing thought, but she could not ignore the financial implications. She was the one person in this situation, aside from Arthur, of course, who could place a wager on how it would end with absolute certainty.
It would not be a simple matter, she reminded herself. She tapped her folded fan against her palm, thinking quickly. There were one or two obstacles that would have to be dealt with. After all, no lady could walk into a gentlemen’s club and ask to put down a bet. She required the assistance of someone who could be trusted to place the wager in his name on her behalf.
“Elenora?” Jeremy gave her a small shake. “Did you hear me? Wagers are going down all over town as we speak. Where is your pride? You cannot allow St. Merryn to treat you in this despicable manner.”
Pull yourself together, Elenora thought. She was supposed to be playing a part here.
“Nonsense, Jeremy.” She raised her chin. “I cannot believe that St. Merryn would be so callous as to toss me aside. Why does everyone believe that he would do such a thing?”
That, she thought, was actually a very good question. What had led to this sudden spurt of wagers this evening?
“They say he got you from an agency,” Jeremy told her.
At that news she relaxed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jeremy. That nonsense about selecting me from an agency has been a joke from the start of this affair. Everyone knows that. Have you no sense of humor?”
He squinted slightly. “Until tonight I and everyone else believed that the tale was, indeed, St. Merryn’s eccentric notion of an amusing jest. But now the gossip is going around that it is the truth, that he actually did obtain your services from an agency that supplies paid companions.”
“Why would he do that? With his money and title, he could take his pick of fiancées from among the young ladies of the ton.”
“Don’t you see? The word is that he went to an agency to hire an impoverished paid companion precisely because he has no intention of marrying. He merely wished to amuse himself with a mistress he could keep conveniently at hand under his own roof and parade in front of the ton. It is just another one of his infamous stratagems. The man is notorious for his clever schemes.”
“Well, this is certainly one of his more brilliant plans, if that is the case,” she said lightly, “because I am quite convinced that he intends to marry me.” It would not hurt to reinforce the notion that she believed St. Merryn’s intentions were honorable, she thought. It might help to drive up the stakes in the betting books.
“My dearest, you do not need to pretend with me.” Jeremy gripped her more urgently. “I told you, I know everything now. It is true that St. Merryn did get you from an agency. Do not deny it.”
“Rubbish.”
“Goodhew and Willis, to be precise.”
Dear heaven. He knows the name of the agency. To her knowledge this was the first time anyone had connected the supposed jest to Goodhew and Willis.
She swallowed hard, trying not to let him see that his knowledge had shaken her. She had to find out how he knew the name of the agency.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Jeremy.” Keeping her voice light and unconcerned took enormous effort but she managed it. “Where did you hear that odd name?”
“Oh, my poor, naïve darling. I can see that you really do believe that St. Merryn intends to marry you.” He squeezed her arm. “Tell, me, what promises did he make? What lies has he told you?”
“Unlike you, Jeremy, St. Merryn has been entirely honest and forthright with me.”
Jeremy’s fingers became a vise on her arm. “You mean you actually agreed to his scheme? I cannot believe that you would sink to such depths of depravity. What has happened to my sweet, innocent Elenora?”
“Sweet, innocent Elenora is about to become my wife.” Arthur glided out of the shadows of a hedge. “And if you don’t take your hand off her immediately, I will lose what little patience I have left for you, Clyde.”
“St. Merryn.” Jeremy released Elenora’s arm with blinding speed. He moved back warily as Arthur came to stand beside Elenora. “How dare you, sir?”
“How dare I ask Miss Lodge to become my wife?” Arthur took possession of Elenora’s arm. “Probably because the notion struck me as a very good one. Not that it is any of your business.”
Jeremy flinched but he stood his ground. “Have you no shame, sir?”
“That is almost amusing, coming as it does from a man who cast Elenora aside to marry another.”
“That is not what happened,” Jeremy said tightly.
“Actually,” Elenora said, “that is precisely what happened.”
“My darling, you misunderstood.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I certainly did not ask you to do anything so outrageous as pose to the world as my fiancée,” Jeremy turned back to glare at Arthur. “How can you justify using Miss Lodge in such a manner, sir?”
“You know, Clyde,” Arthur said, his voice going lethally soft
, “I find you extremely irritating.”
Alarmed by his tone, Elenora stepped nimbly between the two men. “Enough, Arthur, we have more important matters to attend to here tonight.”
He glanced at her. “Are you certain? This was just starting to get interesting.”
“Jeremy knows about Goodhew and Willis,” she said very pointedly.
She felt his hand tighten on her arm, the same arm he had just retrieved from Jeremy. At the rate gentlemen were seizing hold of that portion of her anatomy tonight, she was going to be bruised in the morning, she reflected.
Arthur did not take his eyes off Jeremy. “Does he, indeed?”
“It is common knowledge that you hired her from that agency,” Jeremy sputtered.
“There is, indeed, a tale going around that I made good on my vow to select a wife from an agency that supplies paid companions,” Arthur agreed. “But the name of that agency is most certainly not common knowledge. Where did you hear it?”
“See here, sir, there is no reason why I should explain myself to you—”
He broke off abruptly when Arthur, without any warning, released Elenora, grabbed the front of Jeremy’s expensive coat and shoved him hard against the bare backside of a marble god.
“Who gave you the name of Goodhew and Willis, Clyde?” Arthur asked again in an even softer tone than he had used a moment before.
Jeremy gaped, but he managed to utter a wobbly protest. “Unhand me, sir.”
“I’m more of a mind to call you out for spreading malicious gossip about my fiancée, just as I once promised to do.”
Jeremy’s expression in the moonlight was one of appalled horror. “You are bluffing, sir. The whole world knows that you could not even be bothered to call out the man who ran off with your real fiancée. You are hardly likely to risk your neck in a duel over a woman you consider to be merely a convenience.”
