A Lady of Notoriety (The Masquerade Club) (20 page)

He moved in slow, languid strokes, relishing the quickening of her breathing, the rise of her hips to meet him. He could increase her pleasure by moving slowly, letting their passion build like smouldering ash can build into a raging fire. They’d originally come together in fire—let this be a blaze to meld them together for ever. He never wanted to lose this.

Daphne was the answer to his wanderlust. It was not travel he needed, but a place like this, with her, where every moment was an adventure.

His joy fanned the flames and he moved faster, revelling in the heat they created, letting it burn away all thought, leaving only emotion and sensation. Building. Building. Building.

To release.

He let out a primal sound and she cried out, her own climax joining with his. This was what he wanted. To be hers. To be forged together by the heat of their passion.

Hugh’s muscles relaxed and he lay beside Daphne again. ‘I should get dressed. Your maid will be in to tend the fire in a moment. Perhaps I should not be here.’

She held on to him. ‘I do not want you to leave.’

He pulled her into another kiss. ‘I do not want to leave you. Ever.’ He sat up and gazed down at her, excitement invigorating him again. ‘Travel with me, Daphne. Let us go somewhere else in the world, just you and me—and whomever of the servants you want to bring along. We could travel to Paris. Or Rome. Or Venice. We could sail to America. Or India. Wherever you wish.’

She rose as well, and wrapped the linens around her. ‘What about your family? The Masquerade Club?’

‘I have devoted enough of my life to my family’s needs.’ He took her face in his hands. ‘Tell me you will come with me. Tell me you will marry me.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Marry you?’

He released her. ‘Yes. Marry.’

She leaned towards him. ‘Hugh, I cannot marry you. Your family despises me, and rightfully so.’

‘They do not know you as I do.’ His high spirits fell more sensibly to earth. ‘But give them no thought. I cannot live my life merely to please them.’ He moved around her and embraced her from behind. ‘I want to be with you, Daphne. Say you will marry me.’

Her muscles were taut and she was silent for several tortuous seconds. Finally she said, ‘I want to, Hugh.’ She sighed and gave herself to his embrace. ‘Very well. I will marry you, because I cannot bear not to.’

He twisted around and kissed her again, a joyous kiss that threatened to arouse him all over again. Instead, he released her and bounded from the bed. ‘I’ll dress and be off for now. Let me see what I can do about covering the Masquerade Club. It is still my family’s livelihood.’

She stiffened again. ‘And if you do not find a way to deal with the Masquerade Club?’

He leaned down and brushed a kiss on her lips. ‘I will.’

He put on his clothes, hoping they did not appear too wrinkled from lying in a heap on the floor all night. Daphne rose from the bed and tied his neckcloth into a quite decent knot.

With one more kiss he said goodbye. ‘I’ll be back this evening or I will get word to you, never fear.’

Chapter Nineteen

D
aphne felt as if she were floating on clouds as Monette helped her dress and arranged her hair.

Monette smiled at her. ‘You do not need to tell me why you are so happy, my lady. We know that Mr Westleigh shared your bed last night.’

Daphne grinned. ‘I am not saying he did.’

‘There is not much about a house a servant does not know.’

Daphne gave her an amused glance. ‘You sound as if you have been in service your whole life, Monette, instead of a few short months.’

The girl sobered. ‘The abbey was not much different than a house in that way. We always knew the secrets.’ She nodded decisively. ‘I prefer being a lady’s maid, though, because soon I will have a man, too, when Toller comes.’

Daphne stilled her hand. ‘Monette, you must not bed Toller, not unless he marries you. It is different for me. I was a married lady, but you are a maiden and you must guard your maidenhood until a man marries you.’

Monette’s brow furrowed. ‘But I can have kisses, can I not?’

The role of duenna was new to Daphne. ‘You may have kisses, but you must be very careful that there is nothing more.’ A thought struck her. ‘Monette, do you know what takes place between a man and woman? A man and wife, I mean.’

‘I know,
madame
,’ Monette assured her. ‘The novices talked about it all the time. And we watched the animals, you know.’

‘It is a little different than what animals do.’ Daphne’s heart filled with fondness—and anxiety—for the maid. Was this how it felt to be a mother? She felt very protective. In fact, she must have a good talk with Toller when he came. She would not see Monette misused or hurt, not by anyone.

* * *

When Daphne walked down to breakfast, Mr Everard was waiting in the hall and Carter stood at the foot of the stairs.

‘Mr Everard wishes to speak with you, m’lady,’ Carter said with a barely detectable disapproving glance at the man.

She nodded her agreement and turned to Everard. ‘Come in to breakfast and tell me why you are here again.’

‘I do apologise, my lady.’ He bowed. ‘I will take up very little of your time.’

He followed her in to the breakfast room. She went directly to the sideboard and selected a slice of ham and some cheese.

‘Do help yourself,’ she told him.

‘I will not stay so long.’ He did not choose food this time, but rather paced the room. ‘I fear my effort to assist you by sending my wife with her recommendations for cabinet makers has had unforeseen consequences.’

Something so dire? She sat and poured herself some tea. ‘What consequences?’

‘My wife believes I have—have an attachment to you that is beyond—beyond what a man of my position ought to have.’ His wife was obviously more astute than he, if he did not see what was readily apparent. ‘She thought it a contrivance that I sent her here and not a true need on your part.’

‘Mr Everard, I did not ask you to call or to send your wife. That was your doing. You cannot blame her for finding it a strange matter.’

He rubbed his forehead. ‘Yes. Yes. I know. It was a grave error.’

‘I hope you apologised to her.’

He paced again. ‘I did. Many times, but she thinks I see her as plain and dull in comparison to you....’ He paused and shook his head. ‘Of course, there is no comparison to you. I mean, I do not compare you with my wife—’

And Daphne would wager he didn’t tell his wife she was beautiful or skilled or valued in any way.

He looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps I have talked of you too much. Of—of your affairs. Your financial affairs, I mean.’ He seemed to reconsider that. ‘Not that I divulge details, for that matter. I merely talk of my work, you see.’

How much had he told his wife about her? Had he told her of her time at the Masquerade Club? Did his wife know her as a woman who had tried to break up marriages? If so, no wonder the poor woman worried.

‘Mr Everard, if your wife is concerned about your attachment to me, you should not call upon me so frequently, but only if there is a matter of great importance.’

‘This is of great importance,’ he wailed. ‘I cannot have a wife who threatens to leave me.’

‘I do not have the power to influence your wife.’ His wife was clearly among the many people who despised her.

‘But I beg you will do me one service.’ She feared he would go down on his knees. ‘It will not be difficult and you will benefit as well, I promise.’

Her egg was getting cold. ‘What can I possibly do?’

He leaned towards her, his hands folded as if in supplication. ‘Write her a letter. Implore her to meet you at the cabinet-maker’s shop. Say you need her to advise you what to buy.’

What could it hurt? Perhaps Mrs Everard would know better what furniture would suit her tenants. Besides, she’d used Everard shamelessly two years before. She could at least humour him in this way. She had no illusions, though, that writing this letter and forcing this meeting would suddenly make Mrs Everard cease to despise and be jealous of her.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I will do it, but you must do something for me and you must promise.’

His face turned worshipful. ‘I will do anything you ask, my lady. I always have.’

She spoke to him as if he were a child using what Hugh called her governess voice. ‘You must never talk about me to your wife. You must tell her once a day that she is beautiful. You must thank her every day for the kindnesses she does for you, even if you think them ordinary, like planning meals, seeing to your laundry or the cleaning of the house.’

His brows knitted. ‘That is what you wish?’

She nodded emphatically. ‘And you must encourage her to purchase pretty gowns and pretty hats, and if she has a pretty dress made for herself, you must tell her she looks lovely in it.’

These were all things her husband had done, she realised, things that had flattered her vanity, but she’d learned later that she’d needed other things more.

‘And talk with her,’ she went on. ‘Ask her opinion. Ask what is important to her.’ Until the abbess—and Hugh—no one had ever asked what was important to Daphne.

Everard looked very sceptical.

‘Promise me or I will not write your letter or meet your wife at the cabinet maker.’ She spoke this like a stern governess.

‘I will do it,’ Everard said in a desperate voice. Unfortunate that he could not hear the wisdom in what she said, but perhaps he’d realise when he experienced the results.

‘Ask Carter for pen and ink and I will write your letter.’

He rushed out to do her bidding.

When the time came she would order the carriage and ask Smith to drive her and Carter to Cheapside, to Jeffers Cabinetry Shop. She hoped she would not miss Hugh if he called while she was away. She must leave word for him to wait for her.

* * *

That afternoon, Hugh sat in the gaming room with MacEvoy, Cummings and some of the croupiers, seeking their opinion about running the gaming house without him. No one saw any difficulties. A monthly visit from a member of the family would be sufficient, MacEvoy thought, to ensure the place was being run in a manner that suited them. Perhaps they could find a gentleman to stand in for him, someone like Sir Reginald, who was a frequent visitor to the club, but who could use some additional funds.

Hugh could not wait to present the plan to the family. They would have to accept it, because he was declaring himself free of the obligation.

The door to the gaming room opened and Xavier stepped in.

‘Xavier! Come in.’ Hugh waved his arm. ‘I want you to hear what we’ve been discussing.’

Xavier nodded to everyone. ‘Good to see you all.’ He frowned at Hugh. ‘May I speak with you alone first, Hugh? Out in the hall?’

Hugh stood. ‘Of course.’

Something was wrong. Was it to do with a member of the family?

To his surprise, Phillipa waited in the hall. They stepped away from the gaming room door.

‘What is it?’ Hugh asked, his alarm growing. ‘Is someone ill? Injured?’

‘Nothing like that,’ Phillipa assured him.

Xavier pulled a paper from his pocket. ‘I received this a little while ago. We thought you should see it.’

Hugh took the paper from his hand and immediately recognised the handwriting. He’d been handed a similar note at the cottage and had read it enough times to be familiar with the script.

Would you be so good as to join me at Jeffers Cabinetry Shop at three o’clock this afternoon? After our meeting yesterday, I realised that I greatly need you and no one else to settle my plan.

Please set aside any misunderstandings and do me the honour of keeping this appointment.

Yours, etc,

Daphne, Lady Faville

Hugh crushed the note in his hand.

‘A boy delivered it to me a short time ago,’ Xavier explained. ‘He told us a lady paid him to do it.’

Phillipa touched Hugh’s arm. ‘I am so sorry, Hugh.’

Hugh’s throat grew tight. ‘No.’

Daphne set up a meeting with Xavier? What had happened? Had she started thinking of Xavier after Hugh had left her that morning? Or had she already planned a meeting with Xavier even before he proposed marriage to her? Ned might have been right all along. Maybe Hugh had fallen into a trap intended only to allow her to be close to Xavier. Was that the
plan
she wished to
settle
with him?

A sabre’s thrust could not be more painful than this betrayal. Hugh had been fooled by her once, when she’d played Mrs Asher, now he’d been fooled again.

‘What time is it?’ he asked.

Xavier pulled out a pocket watch. ‘It is twenty past three.’

He quickly gathered his hat and gloves. ‘She may still be there. I am going to meet her.’

* * *

Daphne was not surprised that Everard’s wife did not show up at the furniture shop. In fact, she was relieved. She could happily select her tenants’ gifts without any unpleasantness to intrude. On this day that Hugh had asked her to marry him, she wanted only happiness.

She loved the cabinetry shop. She sensed it was a happy place with happy workers. The pieces they made were skilfully done, using good timber. Mr Jeffers, the proprietor, a rather frightening-looking man with a scar on his face, was friendly and obviously very proud of his shop’s work. He was more than delighted when she ordered ten oak-banded bureaus for her tenants and a dozen pine coffers for the stable and farm workers.

She and Mr Jeffers had just finished the transaction when the shop door opened.

Daphne looked over and broke into a surprised smile. ‘Hugh!’

But the look he returned to her was like a knife. ‘Surprised to see me, Daphne?’

Behind him walked in Xavier and his wife.

‘Mr Campion!’ Jeffers started towards him.

Xavier gestured for him to stay back, and Jeffers disappeared behind the curtain that separated the workroom from the store.

Daphne’s heart pounded with anxiety. Something was amiss, something terrible. Carter must have sensed it, too, because he moved from where he waited in the background to Daphne’s side.

She glanced from Hugh to Xavier to Phillipa. ‘I do not understand.’

Hugh looked at her as if she were an infestation. He handed her a crumpled paper.

She glanced at it. ‘But this is— How did you get this?’

‘From Xavier, obviously,’ Hugh said, his voice rough.

‘How did Xavier—?’ She handed the letter back to Hugh. ‘I did not send this!’

He came closer to her, his eyes burning like fire. ‘It is your handwriting, Daphne.’

‘I do not know how to explain it,’ she said. She’d sent the note to Mrs Everard.

Hugh huffed. ‘Do not make an attempt to explain. I will not believe you.’

Daphne’s legs weakened. She clutched Carter’s arm, needing to steady herself. ‘I did not send this to Xavier!’ She glanced at Xavier. ‘I do not know where you live.’

‘You knew of my shop,’ Xavier countered. ‘You could learn of my residence, as well.’

‘Your shop?’ He owned this shop as well as a pianoforte shop?

It felt as if the walls were falling in on her, like the walls of the inn had fallen in from the fire. Hugh would never believe she’d not known this was Xavier’s shop.

Everard’s wife must have known. But would it not be even more unbelievable to say that the wife of her man of business must have set this up? It was no use. He would never believe her.

No one would ever believe the beautiful Lady Faville would ever change. She’d once made a fool of herself over the incredibly handsome Xavier Campion, and no one would ever think that she no longer cared for him. Xavier was not the man who mattered to her.

Hugh mattered.

She gripped Carter’s arm. ‘It is no use,’ she whispered to herself, but she made herself look Hugh in the eye. ‘I misled you once. I made you think I was someone I wasn’t, but I never lied to you then and I will not lie to you now. I did not arrange a meeting with Xavier. I am nothing but ashamed of that time. I spent two years trying to change, and I have changed.’ She summoned all her remaining strength and rose to her full height. ‘What I cannot change is what other people think of me.’ She took a breath. ‘I cannot change your mind, Hugh.’

He blinked and lost the red rage that had tinged his face.

She turned to Carter. ‘Let us take our leave, Carter.’

‘Yes, m’lady,’ he responded, giving her something solid to hold on to while her world shattered into little pieces.

Carter escorted her outside to where Smith waited with the carriage and helped her inside. Before he closed the door and climbed onto his seat on the outside, he touched her hand. ‘Some things we’ve done never go away, m’lady, but we move on anyway, do we not?’

He sounded as if he knew firsthand of what he spoke.

She tried to smile. ‘We move on.’

The coach pulled away and Daphne tried to stitch herself back together. She needed to move on. There never had been a chance that she and Hugh could be together. Her past would always separate them. No more trying. He was a beautiful memory. Proof she could truly love a man. Proof she could feel real emotions, real joy, real despair.

* * *

By the time the coach reached her town house, she’d regained a modicum of composure. She could stand. She could walk. She could speak.