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He patted her hand.
‘No, I won’t leave. How could I, when my heart is here?’
Chapter One
It was more than a year after the decisive battle at Waterloo that Jack Clifton returned to England. As he rode away from his comrades and the army, which had been his life for more than a decade, there were two commissions that he had assigned himself before he could attend to his own affairs. One was to return Allyngham’s ring and locket to his widow, but first he would make a trip to a small country churchyard in Berkshire.
The little village outside Thatcham was deserted and there was no one to see the dusty traveller tie his horse to the gatepost of the churchyard. Jack shrugged off his greatcoat and threw it over the saddle. The rain that had accompanied him all the way from the coast had eased and now a hot September sun blazed overhead. He strode purposefully between the graves until he came to a small plot in one corner, shaded by the overhanging beech trees. The grave was marked only by a headstone. There were no flowers on the grassy mound and he was momentarily surprised, then his lip curled.
‘Who is there but me to mourn your passing?’ he muttered.
He knelt beside the grave, gently placing a bunch of white roses against the headstone.
‘For you, Clara. I pray you are at peace now.’
He rose, removed his hat and stood, bareheaded in the sun for a few moments then, squaring his shoulders, he turned away from the grave and set his mind towards London.
Eloise clutched at her escort’s arm as they entered Lady Parham’s crowded reception rooms.
‘I am glad you are with me, Alex, to give me courage.’
‘You have never wanted courage, Elle.’
She managed one speaking look at him before she turned to greet her hostess, who was sweeping towards her, beaming.
‘My dear Lady Allyngham! I am delighted to see you here. And honoured, too, that you should attend my little ball when everyone is quite desperate for your company! Some expected to see you in the summer, but depend upon it, I said, we will not see Lady Allyngham until the Little Season. She will not come to town until the full twelve months’ mourning is done. As the widow of a hero of Waterloo we should not expect anything less. And Mr Mortimer, too. Welcome, sir.’
Lady Parham’s sharp little eyes flickered over Alex. Eloise knew exactly the thoughts running through her hostess’s mind and felt a little kick of anger. Everyone in town thought Alex was her lover. Nothing she could say would convince them otherwise, so she did not make the attempt. Besides, it suited her purposes to have the world think she was Alex’s mistress. She had seen too many virtuous women hounded by rakes and roués until their resolve crumbled away. At least while the gentlemen thought she was living under Alex’s protection they might flirt with her but they would not encroach upon another man’s territory. Yet occasionally it galled her, when she saw that knowing look in the eyes of hostesses such as Lady Parham.
Twelve months of mourning had done much to assuage the feelings of grief and loss that had overwhelmed Eloise when she had learned of Tony’s death. Through those lonely early weeks Alex had always been there to support her and to share her suffering. He was a true friend: they had grown up together and she loved him as a brother. She did not want the world to think him a deceitful womaniser who would steal his best friend’s husband, but Alex assured her he was happy to be thought of as her cicisbeo.
‘If it satisfies their curiosity then we should let it be,’ he told her, adding with a rueful smile, ‘Much less dangerous than the truth, Elle.’
And Eloise was forced to admit it kept the wolves at bay. Now she fixed her smile as she regarded her hostess, determined no one should think her anything less than happy.
‘Mr Mortimer was kind enough to escort me this evening.’
‘La, but you need no escort to my parties, dear ma’am. I am sure you will find only friends here.’
‘Yes, the sort of friends who smile and simper and cannot wait to tear my character to shreds behind my back,’ muttered Eloise, when her hostess had turned her attention to another arrival. Angrily she shook out the apricot skirts of her high-waisted gown.
‘They are jealous because you cast them all into the shade,’ remarked Alex.
‘I did not think it would be so difficult,’ sighed Eloise, ‘coming back into society again.’
‘We could always go back to Allyngham.’
‘If I were not so determined to get on with fulfilling Tony’s last wish to build a foundling hospital I would leave now!’ muttered Eloise angrily. After a moment she squeezed Alex’s arm and gave a rueful little smile. ‘No, in truth, I would not. I have no wish to be an outcast and live all my life in the country. I am no recluse, Alex. I want to be able to come to London and—and dance, or visit the theatre, or join a debating society. But I could do none of these things if you were not with me, my friend.’
‘You could, if you would only hire yourself a respectable companion.’
She pulled a face.
‘That might give me respectability, but I would still be vulnerable. Even worse, it might make people think I was on the catch for another husband.’
‘And is there anything wrong with that?’
‘Everything,’ she retorted. ‘I have been my own mistress for far too long to want to change my situation.’
‘But you might fall in love, you know.’
She glanced up at him and found herself responding to his smile.
‘I might, of course, but it is unlikely.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I have some experience of a sincere, deep devotion, Alex. Only a true meeting of minds could persuade me to contemplate another marriage. But such a partnership is very rare, I think.’
‘It is,’ said Alex solemnly. ‘To love someone in that way, and to know that you are loved in return, it is the greatest blessing imaginable.’
Eloise was silent for a moment, considering his words.
‘And I could settle for nothing less,’ she said softly. She looked up and smiled. ‘But these are grave thoughts, and unsuitable for a party! Suffice it to say, my friend, that I am very happy to have you as my protector.’
‘Then you must also accept the gossip,’ he told her. ‘It is no different from when Tony was in the Peninsula and I escorted you to town.’
‘But it is, Alex. Somehow, the talk seems so much more salacious when one is a widow.’
He patted her arm.
‘You will grow accustomed, I am sure. But never mind that now.’ He looked around the room. ‘I cannot see Berrow here.’
‘No, I thought if he was going to be anywhere this evening it would be here, for Lord Parham is an old friend. Oh, devil take the man, why is he so elusive?’
‘You could write to him.’
‘My lawyer has been writing to him for these past six months to no avail,’ she replied bitterly. ‘That is why I want to see him for myself.’
‘To charm him into giving you what you want?’ asked Alex, smiling.
‘Well, yes. But to do that I need to find him. Still, the night is young; he may yet arrive.’
‘And until then you are free to enjoy yourself,’ said Alex. ‘Do you intend to dance this evening, my lady?’
‘You know I do, Alex. I have been longing to dance again for the past several months.’
He made her a flourishing bow.
‘Then will my lady honour me with the next two dances?’
Alex Mortimer was an excellent dancer and Eloise enjoyed standing up with him. She would not waltz, of course: that would invite censure. She wondered bitterly why she worried so about it. Waltzing was a small misdemeanour compared to the gossip that was spreading about her after only a few weeks in London—already she was being called the Wanton Widow, a title she hated but would endure, if it protected those she loved. Eight years ago, when Lord Anthony Allyngham had first introduced his beautiful wife to society everyone agreed he was a very lucky man: his lady was a treasure and he guarded her well. During his years fighting in the Peninsula he had asked Alex to accompany Eloise to town, but it was only now that she realised the full meaning of the knowing looks they had received and the sly comments. It angered her that anyone should think her capable of betraying her marriage vows, even more that they should think ill of Alex, but since the truth was even more shocking, she and Alex had agreed to keep up the pretence.
The arrival of the beautiful Lady Allyngham at Parham House had been eagerly awaited and Eloise soon had a group of gentlemen around her. She spread her favours evenly amongst them, giving one gentleman a roguish look over the top of her fan while a second whispered fulsome compliments in her ear and a third hovered very close, quizzing glass raised, with the avowed intention of studying the flowers of her corsage.
She smiled at them all, using her elegant wit to prevent any man from becoming too familiar, all the time comfortable in the knowledge that Alex was in the background, watching out for her. She was surprised to find, at five-and-twenty, that the gentlemen considered her as beautiful and alluring as ever and they were falling over themselves to win a friendly glance from the widow’s entrancing blue eyes. The ladies might look askance at her behaviour but the gentlemen adored her. And even while they were shaking their heads and commiserating with her over the loss of her husband, each one secretly hoped to be the lucky recipient of her favours. Eloise did her best to discourage any young man who might develop a serious tendre for her—she had no desire to marry again and wanted no broken hearts at her feet—but she was willing to indulge any gentlemen in a flirtation, secure in the knowledge that Alex would ensure it did not get out of hand.
It could not be denied that such attention was intoxicating. Eloise danced and laughed her way through the evening and when Alex suggested they should go down to supper she almost ran ahead of him out of the ballroom, fanning herself vigorously.
‘Dear me, I had forgotten how much I enjoy parties, but I am quite out of practice! And perhaps I should not have had a third glass of—oh!’
She broke off as she collided with someone in the doorway.
Eloise found herself staring at a solid wall of dark blue. She blinked and realised it was the front of a gentleman’s fine woollen evening coat. She thought that he must be very big, for she had always considered herself to be tall and yet her eyes were only level with the broad shoulder to which this particular coat was moulded. Her eyes travelled across to the snow-white neckcloth, tied in exquisite folds, and moved up until they reached the strong chin and mobile mouth. For a long time she felt herself unable to look beyond those finely sculpted lips with the faint laughter lines etched at each side. It was quite the most beautiful mouth she had ever seen. A feeling she had never before experienced thrummed through her. With a shock she realised what it was. Desire.
Summoning all her resources, she moved her glance upwards to meet a pair of deep brown eyes set beneath straight black brows. Almost immediately she saw a gleam of amusement creep into those dark eyes.
‘I beg your pardon, madam.’
He spoke slowly but did not drawl, his voice deep and rich and it wrapped around Eloise like a warm cloak, sending a tiny frisson of excitement running down her spine. Really, she must pull herself together!
‘Pray think nothing of it, sir…’
‘But I must, Lady Allyngham.’
She had been enjoying the sound of his voice, running over her like honey, but at the use of her name she gave a little start.
‘You know who I am?’
He gave her a slow smile. Eloise wondered if she had taken too much wine, for all at once she felt a little dizzy.
‘You were described to me as the most beautiful woman in the room.’
She had thought herself immune to flattery, but she was inordinately pleased by his words. She did not know whether to be glad or sorry when she felt Alex’s hand under her elbow.
‘Shall we get on, my lady?’
‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes still fixed upon the smiling stranger. ‘Yes, I suppose we must.’
Really, she felt quite light-headed. Just how many glasses of wine had she taken?
The stranger was standing aside. The candlelight gleamed on his black hair and one glossy raven’s lock fell forwards as he bowed to her. Eloise quelled an impulse to reach out and smooth it back from his temple.
Alex firmly propelled her through the doorway and across the hall to the supper room.
‘Who is he?’ she hissed, glancing back over her shoulder. The stranger was still watching her, a dark, unfathomable look in his eyes.
‘I have no idea,’ said Alex, guiding her to a table. ‘But you should be careful, Elle. I saw the way he looked at you. It was pure, predatory lust.’
She sighed. ‘That is true of so many men.’
‘Which is why I am here,’ replied Alex. ‘To protect you.’
She reached for his hand.
‘Dear Alex. Do you never tire of looking after me?’
‘It is what Tony would have wished,’ he said simply, adding with a rueful grin, ‘besides, if you had not dragged me to London, I should be alone in Norfolk, pining away.’
‘And that would never do.’ She smiled and squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you, my friend.’
When supper was over, Eloise sent Alex away.
‘Try if you can to discover if Lord Berrow plans to attend,’ she begged him. ‘If he does not, then we need not stay much beyond midnight. Although I think you must do the pretty and dance with some of the other ladies in the room.’
‘I must?’
His pained look drew a laugh from her.
‘Yes, you must, Alex. You cannot sit in my pocket all night. Several of the young ladies are already looking daggers at me for keeping you by my side for half the evening. You need not be anxious about me; I have seen several acquaintances I wish to talk to.’
When he had gone, Eloise moved around the room, bestowing her smiles freely but never stopping, nor would she promise to dance with any of the gentlemen who begged for that honour. Her eyes constantly ranged over the room, but it was not an acquaintance she was seeking. It was a dark-haired stranger she had seen but once.
Suddenly he was beside her.
‘Will you dance, my lady?’
She hesitated.
‘Sir, we have not been introduced.’
‘Does that matter?’
A little bubble of laughter welled up. All at once she felt quite reckless. She held out her hand.
‘No, it does not matter one jot.’
He led her to join the set that was forming.
‘I thought you would never escape your guard dog.’
‘Mr Mortimer is my very good friend. He defends me from unwelcome attentions.’
‘Oh? Am I to understand, then, that my attentions are not unwelcome?’
Eloise hesitated. This encounter was moving a little too fast and for once she was not in control. She said cautiously, ‘I think you would be presumptuous to infer so much.’
His smile grew and he leaned a little closer.
‘Yet you refused to stand up with the last four gentlemen who solicited your hand.’
‘Ah, but I have danced with them all before. I like the novelty of a new partner.’ She smiled as the dance parted them, pleased to see the gleam of interest in his eyes.
