The Uncatchable Miss Faversham (18 page)

It was darker outside than she had anticipated. Soon she found herself walking alone with Thomas Lovett along a gloomy avenue of trees, lit by flaming torches at either end. Such dreadful impropriety! But after what she had suffered at the hands of Lord Sallinger in Warwickshire, she could not bring herself to care about her reputation.

    The reflection of the flames danced on the surface of an ornamental lake surrounded by neat hedges interrupted at intervals by a low bench or discreet arbour. They strolled together gently along the avenue, seeing no one, and if it had not been for the eerie sensation that she was being watched, Eleanor would have felt quite at ease in the young man’s company.

    Beside one of these secluded arbours, Mr Lovett paused. After glancing about at the quiet gardens – as though he too were concerned that someone might be watching them – he gestured her to sit down.

    ‘Will you rest here a moment, Miss Faversham? It is not too damp, and from here we can admire the lake and listen to the music too.’

    ‘It does sound lovely, floating across the lake.’

    Thomas Lovett sat beside her, and absentmindedly took hold of her hand. She did not pull away, but became aware of a sudden unease, the cause of which she could not point to with any certainty. ‘Do you wish I had not dragged you away from the ballroom? You love to dance, I am told.’

    ‘Have you been scouring all London for reports of me, then?’ She smiled, searching his face for signs of evil intent, but he seemed as charming and inoffensive as ever. ‘I am an indifferent dancer, but I do enjoy it, I confess. Do you dance, Mr Lovett?’

    ‘Occasionally. Tonight I prefer to be here with you.’

    Eleanor glanced up at the house. On the brightly-lit balcony she could see small groups of people wandering about or looking down into the beautiful gardens, and wondered if she would be visible from that distance, sitting here with Mr Lovett in the shadows.

    When she shivered, more from concern than the cool spring air, Lovett immediately unbuttoned his jacket and slung it around her shoulders. The way his hands lingered on her skin made her glance up at him, unable to hide her expression.

    ‘Better?’ he asked.

    ‘Thank you, sir,’ she murmured and shuffled sideways on the cold stone bench, trying not to make her dislike for his touch obvious. ‘Though we had better return to the house now. We have been gone some time and poor Charlotte will be wondering where I am. She must have returned to the ballroom by now.’

    Showing no sign of acquiescing to her request, Lovett looked down into her eyes, his voice thickening with some new emotion.

    ‘If that’s what you want, I’ll take you back. But grant me one wish first.’

    ‘A wish, sir?’

    ‘No need to look so alarmed, Eleanor. Do you mind if I call you Eleanor? You are so very lovely. When I saw you tonight, I knew I had to be alone with you. I missed my chance in Warwickshire, but I was so confused over my mother’s death, there was never a good moment. You know, Papa sent us away to school when we were very young. He died while we were away, and then our mother ... ’

    ‘Mr Lovett, please don’t continue.’

    He had put an arm about her shoulders, half turning her towards him, his other hand stroking her face with cold fingers.

    ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘It was none of your doing, after all. I do not blame you for what your father did, nor for our descent as a family into trade. I was very angry once, but I understand it better now. Papa left everything to us in trust, and our mother had barely two pennies to rub together. It must have been a hard choice for her to make.’

    ‘Indeed,’ she said, not knowing what else to say but feeling deeply uncomfortable and very sorry indeed for the young man. His mother’s shocking desertion for a married man must have left him bruised and full of hatred for them both.

    ‘One kiss, that’s all,’ he muttered. ‘And why should I not have it? You are not promised to anyone else, and I have never wanted a woman the way I want you, Eleanor. You’re all I’ve thought about since coming to London. Your sweet smile and your soft skin. Hush, let me taste your lips.’

    At the first mention of a kiss, Eleanor had tried to rise but found herself constrained by his arms. Without an undignified bout of wrestling, it would be quite impossible to break free. Consequently, his mouth came down on hers unimpeded, and Eleanor felt herself pressed against his shirt, her chin held still for his kiss, her body shaking with outrage and surprise.

    Even in her fury though, she could not help noticing how damp and soft Lovett’s mouth was against hers, compared to that hard searching pressure exerted by Lord Sallinger. His hand moving down over her body did nothing to excite her pulses, his clumsiness a marked contrast to the deft touch of the man she had left behind in Warwickshire.

    Somehow that fanned her temper.

    Was she always to be drawing such comparisons, or would she eventually forget how Sallinger’s love-making had affected her?

    Desperate to be released before they were spotted, she began to struggle in earnest. But her fists drummed uselessly against Lovett’s chest as he leant her back over the stone bench with one thigh thrust forcefully between her own.

    That he meant to take her was certain.

    ‘I know all the stories,’ Thomas was groaning against her mouth. ‘So don’t pretend to be innocent of what I want. You will not find me indiscreet.’

    ‘Mr Lovett, no!’ she said firmly, managing to free herself from his suffocating kiss. ‘I insist you let me go!’

    Abruptly her ordeal was over.

    His weight was lifted miraculously clear and she was left lying awkwardly on the bench, her cerise gown in disarray, one dancing pump fallen off, one stockinged leg exposed to the thigh, her face flushed with anger.

    ‘What the
devil
?’

    Sent sprawling in the dirt beside the lake’s silent waters, Thomas Lovett looked back over his shoulder. He cursed his attacker, struggling breathlessly to his feet.

    ‘How dare you?’ the young man spluttered, wiping sticky black dirt from his hands. ‘This is a private matter. You have no right to interfere. You’ll meet me for this, sir!’

    Speechless with horror, Eleanor righted her crumpled gown and sat up, staring into the dark contemptuous eyes of Lord Sallinger.

CHAPTER NINE

It was clear to Nathaniel that Lovett had recognised him and was afraid. His stuttering challenge and raised fists were more in the spirit of hurt pride than seriously meant. But it was hard to focus on the young fool when Eleanor’s gaze had turned to him, her blue eyes wide in the darkness, her mouth soft and bruised.

    She had been struggling in Lovett’s arms, he was sure of it. Nathaniel had heard her cry out ‘No!’ and had immediately stepped in to pluck the idiot away from her.

    Not for a moment would he have intervened if he had thought her a willing partner. But women were so fickle.

    His mouth twisted, noting the way her wide blue eyes had fixed on his face. What had possessed her to wander out here alone with Lovett? Unless she was more open to impertinent advances than he had assumed. Or perhaps – he bit back an instinctive oath – the two had already been intimate?

    The thought of her in another man’s bed was enough to tighten his own fists. His face hardened as he turned his attention back to Lovett, his voice a low snarl.

    ‘Time for you to depart the scene, Lovett. You heard the lady. It seems she is not interested.’

    Badly shaken but attempting to recover some composure, Lovett fixed a sneer to his face. ‘You are mistaken, Lord Sallinger. Miss Faversham is my fiancée.’

    Nathaniel’s blood seemed to run cold in his veins, his breathing harsh. He turned his head stiffly to Eleanor, standing now beside the stone bench, white and still as a statue herself.

    Her hands were clutched together in front of her belly, as though protecting a child.

    Was it possible that she had indeed agreed to marry Lovett? That she had gone straight from his arms to the bed of this hot-headed fool?

    Nathaniel found that he could hardly speak, his chest constricted, his voice a steely thread of sound.

    ‘Madam?’

    Eleanor did not deny Lovett’s outlandish claim. She only shook her head wordlessly, looking from one man to the other as though trapped in a dream.

    Or a nightmare, he thought grimly.

    ‘The lady is promised to me, I tell you!’ Lovett blustered. He seized Eleanor’s hand and dragged her close to his side. There was a reckless triumph in his face. ‘Tonight, Miss Faversham has done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife.’

    ‘Indeed?’

    The young man hesitated, warily assessing Sallinger’s height and superior build. ‘I issued you with a challenge, sir, because I was angry. But I will agree to forgive your behaviour and retract that challenge, since you were unaware of the recent understanding between this lady and myself.’

    Nathaniel’s jaw clenched with frustration, his gaze searching her face. Apart from extreme pallor, Eleanor had not yet betrayed any sign of guilt or shame. The pain in his bad leg seemed worse than ever, throbbing with an almost unbearable ache.

    Why did she say nothing?

    No, she could not have accepted an offer from Lovett. He did not believe a word of this fantastical tale. She must be keeping silent to save her reputation, having been discovered in this man’s embrace and not knowing how else to remedy the situation.

    And Lovett knew he had won. That much was clear from his face, the possessive way he held her so close, one arm clasped about her waist.

    Nathaniel almost wished he could issue a challenge himself and rid the world of this termite, but knew it would not be the done thing for a man of his age and military experience to be challenging some fresh young blood to a duel. Besides which, he had seen enough violent death in the Peninsular to have left him with little inclination for killing.

    ‘In that case,’ Nathaniel said tersely, unwilling to leave her alone with Lovett but knowing that he could not interfere between a man and his fiancée, ‘I see no other course but to withdraw. Miss Faversham, your servant.’

    As he bowed, he heard Eleanor’s sharp intake of breath and looked up in time to see her struggle free of Lovett’s restraining hand.

    ‘No, no,’ she muttered, twisting away from both men. There was anger in her voice, but a hint of desperation too. ‘It will not do, it simply will not do. Stuff the conventions! I am not engaged to Mr Lovett. Nor do I have any intention of becoming so.’

    ‘Eleanor, you cannot mean it?’

    ‘Sir,’ she said coldly, turning to address herself to Lovett. ‘I thank you for your kind offer but find I cannot accept it. Nor have I given you permission to use my name. I beg you will return to the house and pursue this no further. There can be nothing more to say between us.’

    Lovett’s lip curled in furious disdain. ‘Go away and leave you with Sallinger? Don’t be fooled into thinking him a harmless cripple.’

    ‘Goodnight, sir!’

    ‘I see now that I was wrong not to stay longer at Faversham Hall,’ the young man jeered, bending to retrieve his jacket which was lying in the dirt behind the stone bench. He dusted it off with a sharp, angry gesture. ‘If I had known then the company you keep, I would have pressed my suit harder. Yes, and never thought to offer you marriage in return. For it is quite true that you are not the marrying kind, sweet Eleanor. Though you are certainly the bedding kind, as Sallinger here no doubt knows.’

    Forgetting his determination not to resort to violence, Sallinger swung his fist and knocked the filthy-mouthed fool backwards with a tremendous crack.

    He covered the distance between them in three hard steps, ignoring the pain in his leg, and stood above Lovett in a threatening manner, both fists clenched.

    ‘Take that as a warning to watch what you say about this lady, Lovett. Now get out of my sight!’

    His mouth bloodied, Lovett stumbled back to his feet, his once-pleasant face a mask of contempt. ‘Lady? Lady?’

    But he turned his back on them nevertheless, staggering back along the dark avenue of trees towards the house, his voice echoing clear through the still evening. ‘You are welcome to her, Sallinger. You and all the others!’

It was several moments before Nathaniel could bring himself to address her without a display of temper. During that time, he watched in silence as Eleanor straightened her gown, slipped a discarded shoe onto one stockinged foot, and tidied her ruffled hair. There was a soft flush on her face, and her eyes were over-bright, but otherwise she showed no sign of embarrassment, even when he held out his hand and she took it, falling into step beside him.

    ‘What on earth possessed you to come out here alone with Lovett?’ He studied her averted face in the darkness. ‘You are no innocent debutante. You must have known the risks.’

    ‘We came out in search of your sister. As for the other matter, I was unaware of Mr Lovett’s feelings.’

    He made an angry noise under his breath. ‘Unaware? Any fool could see what he wanted. You were damned lucky I came looking for you when I did, otherwise he’d have had you.’

    The brutality of his words made her flinch, not least because they were probably true. Nonetheless, she kept her chin high.

    ‘I take it you have seen Charlotte?’

    ‘Yes, I’ve seen her. And torn a strip off her for bolting like that. A child’s trick, not daring to face me.’

    ‘She wanted to travel down to London with me,’ she pointed out in a reasonable tone. ‘You weren’t around to be consulted, so Charlotte left Warwickshire without seeing you first. You can hardly blame her for that, my lord.’

    ‘What I can and can’t blame my sister for is none of your damned business, Miss Faversham.’

    She stiffened but said nothing.

    ‘I told my Charlotte that she’s to accompany me back to Warwickshire first thing in the morning,’ he continued tersely. ‘She has refused. Is that your doing?’