The Uncatchable Miss Faversham (22 page)

    And the Lord knew what a tedious task that could be!

The flickering candles and numerous gas lights at the front of the stage threw off a soft, yellowish glow that made the singers’ faces appear other-worldly, the rich and sublimely interwoven strains of Handel’s “Messiah” leaving Eleanor and her companions in a deep, riveted silence. It was odd the effect music could have over the entire body, she thought, finding her hands locked together motionless in her lap, her nails sinking unnoticed into her own flesh whenever the music seemed to swell and build and crash against the ornate theatre walls.

    From time to time though she would catch a slight movement out of the corner of her eye and turn her head slightly to see Nathaniel watching her, so elegant in his dark evening clothes and immaculate cravat, one knee crossed over the other, tonight’s programme lying slack in one hand, still unread.

    She almost betrayed herself by smiling at him once or twice. But on his other side, to her constant annoyance, sat her dear friend Louisa, whose secret mission tonight – to distract Lord Sallinger and prevent him from being alone with Eleanor at any point – was being undertaken rather too well.

    If she had not known Louisa’s mischievous spirit in some depth, she might have suspected the younger girl of having taken a fancy to the nobleman herself. Certainly that was what it must look like to the assembled ton in their immediately neighbouring boxes, whose heads turned occasionally in his direction during the first hour of the performance, lorgnettes and opera-glasses lifted and dwelling curiously on Nathaniel’s averted profile, then moving slowly on to his companions in the box.

    Knowing society and its foibles so intimately, she could guess what the beau monde must be thinking.

   
Such a handsome man, despite those unspeakable scars!

    But then, the question burning everyone’s lips would be,
what is the “Uncatchable” Miss Faversham and her companion doing in the company of the reclusive Lord Sallinger? And why has she been seen about town with him alone these past two weeks?

   
Louisa bent forward to ask for the programme, and Nathaniel handed it to her with an easy smile.

    Eleanor found her hands tightening inexorably in her lap, and forced herself to relax them.

    How very foolish she was being, and over nothing indeed. It had been her own plan for Louisa to monopolise his lordship this evening – and yet now that she was confronted with the two of them together, with no opportunity to avoid glimpses of Louisa’s lighthouse beam smile turned in his direction, and his own answering her, she felt oddly sick and desirous only of returning home as quickly as possible.

    She had been mad to think it would be possible to remain in his company over a number of weeks and not wish herself in bed with him again.

    Eleanor almost groaned aloud, shocked and numbed by that realisation. That was still what she wanted! To let Sallinger kiss her again, touch her, to be alone with him somewhere so intimate they would not be disturbed.

    Without a doubt, she was deranged.

    For the memory of his rejection at Sallinger’s Folly was still fresh in her mind, its unhealed wound stinging whenever she closed her eyes and tried to imagine them together. Nathaniel did not want her anymore. Or if he did, it was some purely physical response to her body. It was not the same wild, breathless, almost uncontrollable urge that she felt in his company, a desire to do something so outrageous that her reputation as the chaste and uncatchable Miss Faversham would be utterly destroyed in one night’s work.

    Suddenly, she realised that Charlotte had risen. Nathaniel followed her to the door at the back of the box, and she caught snatches of their whispers.
Too unwell to stay ... Have to call the carriage ... No need to disturb Nell.

    She stood too, acutely aware of the heads that had turned disapprovingly in their direction as the whispers increased.

    What was Charlotte at now?

    Following the other two out into the corridor behind the boxes, she was rapidly joined by a concerned-looking Louisa, her reticule clutched between pale hands.

    Eleanor glanced at her companion sideways, frowning. Could she be ill too?

    Some suspicion flickered at the back of her mind but she put it away, turning back to her oldest friend.

    ‘Charlotte, dearest, what is it?’ she asked in a strained whisper, not wishing to disturb those in the nearest boxes.

    ‘I’m so sorry, Nell, but I cannot stay a moment later. My poor head is pounding – this heat, the loudness of the music!- and I fear at any moment I may make a spectacle of myself by being most horribly unwell.’ As to emphasise the seriousness of her situation, Charlotte fetched a handkerchief out of the folds of her gown, and held it to her mouth in one shaking hand. ‘Do you stay, though. I would not for the world ruin your pleasure. You too, Miss Carter. Forget all about me. I shall take the carriage home alone, if Nathaniel will agree to summon it for me.’

    Nathaniel was frowning darkly. ‘Nonsense, that is clearly impossible. I cannot allow you to travel alone at night through the streets of London.’

    ‘No indeed,’ Eleanor agreed hurriedly. ‘We shall all return home together. Nothing could be simpler.’

    ‘No!’ Charlotte’s voice raised piteously and she held out a hand to Eleanor in an imploring gesture. ‘Indeed, I would not be able to sleep tonight, knowing I was the cause of your pleasure being ruined. I know how much you love the “Messiah”!’

    ‘But truly, it is no imposition –‘

    ‘I insist that you stay!’

    Nathaniel turned on his heel abruptly. ‘I shall arrange for the carriage to be brought to the front entrance. You must decide amongst yourself who shall stay and who go. But trust me, my sister will not be making this journey home alone.’

    When he had gone, Louisa seized Eleanor’s arm. ‘I am so sorry, and it was going rather well too, don’t you think? But never mind. There can be no danger here, surely? Not in such a very public place.’

    ‘What are you saying?’ Eleanor demanded, lowering her voice so that Charlotte might not hear. ‘I was depending on you.’

    ‘Hush! It is all decided, my dear friend. I shall accompany Mrs Tatchell home. You must stay and listen to your beloved Handel, and Nathaniel will escort you home afterwards.’

    Eleanor stared at her companion, quite furious. ‘Is this some kind of ill-judged scheme to force me and Nathaniel together? Because if it is, I shall never, ever speak to you again, Louisa Carter.’

    Charlotte gave a little shriek of dismay and shrank against the wall, looking flushed and rather alarmingly unwell. Perhaps it was not entirely an act, Eleanor thought, and at once felt contrite for her suspicious thoughts.

    ‘Oh, and now you are out of sorts with your good friend Louisa! It is all my fault, I blame myself entirely. No, no, I shall return to the box and hear the rest of the opera. Let it never be said that –‘

    Eleanor shook her head. ‘Don’t be so foolish, Charlotte. Come, I shall accompany you to the carriage. And Louisa will go home with you, since it has been decided behind my back.’

    ‘Indeed, no!’

    But between the two of them, Eleanor and Louisa managed to escort the half-fainting Charlotte to the front entrance of the Theatre Royal, where Eleanor’s carriage stood waiting, her coachman standing by the open door with the steps already set down.

    She gave the coachman his orders in an undertone, to convey the two ladies back to Berkeley Square at once, then stepped back under the shelter of the pillared roof.

    Once out in the air, with heavy drops of rain just beginning to fall, Charlotte seemed to revive somewhat and even managed a frail smile on being handed up into the carriage by her taciturn brother. But when he tried to usher Eleanor inside after Louisa, Charlotte leant forward out of the door, shaking her head violently, so that all the ostrich feathers on her headdress swayed.

    ‘Nathaniel, I absolutely insist that you stay and keep Miss Faversham company for the rest of the performance. You know how much she dotes on Handel!’

    Eleanor laughed at this gross exaggeration and tried to explain that she had no particular affection for Handel above other composers, but her protests were lost beneath Charlotte’s effusive commands to remain behind and enjoy the music with Nathaniel.

    ‘Good night, my dears, good night!’ Charlotte cried as the carriage pulled away, waving her lacy handkerchief out of the window.

    Eleanor turned to face Nathaniel, her smile a little hesitant. ‘It seems we are to enjoy our “Messiah” like a bowl of salted porridge, and not be allowed to push it away unfinished.’

    ‘Yes, I fear my sister and your friend have been a trifle busy tonight,’ he said brusquely, but she saw no displeasure in his face. He offered her his arm, and glanced up at the dark glowering skies as they re-entered the theatre. ‘And now we have no carriage at our disposal.’

    ‘Oh,’ she said, biting her lip.

    ‘Don’t let it concern you. I shall run out and attempt to locate a hackney when the performance is finished, that is all.’

    ‘There is a hackney stand on Charles Street, only a few minutes away.’

    ‘Charles Street it is, then.’

    She smiled up at him, looping her dress-cord about her wrist and allowing him to lead her safely down the dimly-lit corridor behind the boxes. ‘I am sorry that you have been left with me in this rather haphazard fashion, my lord. As though I were some
parcel
that needed to be minded.’

    Nathaniel opened the door to their box, and for a moment his arm slipped about her waist as he helped her over the dark threshold into the swelling music of the auditorium. His voice in her ear was a huskily velvet murmur that sent a shiver through her.

    ‘Oh, hardly a parcel, Miss Faversham. Though if you were, believe me, I would waste no time in
unwrapping
you!’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The rain had increased to an insistent downpour by the time the performance was finished and the theatre began to empty. Spilling out from the brightly-lit foyer along with the crowd, they made their way forward to where the private carriages were picking up the
ton
. Several Jarveys were also touting for fares along the fringes, but by the time Nathaniel had pushed through those waiting for the rain to stop, there was nothing left for hire but a few disreputable-looking sedan chairs, quite unsuitable for his purpose.

    Cursing inwardly, Nathaniel turned to Miss Faversham. ‘I shall not be a moment. Will you be alright waiting here for me while I fetch a hackney from Charles Street? I can ask one of the doormen to stand with you, if you wish.’

  He raised a hand to summon one of the red and gold liveried Theatre Royal doormen, but Eleanor caught at his sleeve, declining the offer with a laugh.

    ‘Please, I am not such a feeble specimen. I can wait on my own for a few minutes without any ill effects.’

    ‘Are you sure? Very well, I shall find us a hackney and return as quickly as possible. If you stay between these pillars, you should be safe from the rain.’

    He pulled up the collar of his evening coat and dashed out into the rain, wishing he had had the foresight to reserve a hackney at the second interval. He would not then have had to leave Miss Faversham alone at the theatre entrance, where anyone might accost her.

    Despite the old familiar pain in his leg, self-reproach made his steps swift. Rain thundering on his back and shoulders, he limped violently to the corner of Charles Street, negotiating the pavements without too much difficulty – the streets around Covent Garden were thronging with theatre goers on their way home – until he reached the coach stand. Their numbers were severely depleted, no doubt due to the inclement weather, but there still remained three coaches for hire.

    He summoned the first of these with a hearty shout, relieved when the driver whipped his horse forward with that familiar call of ‘Gee-oh!’ and Nathaniel was able to see that the man, muffled and caped against the increasing downpour, was not only clean-shaven but apparently sober to boot.

    The carriage too appeared to be clean enough, if somewhat battered, a fading coat of arms on the door announcing that it had once belonged to the Dukes of Clarence, though the blazon had been partially painted out with black bars.

    ‘Back to the Theatre Royal, then on to Berkeley Square,’ he ordered the Jarvey, leaping inside and trying not to wet the already damp seats with his sodden coat and pantaloons.

    At the theatre, he jumped down again and helped Miss Faversham aboard, glad to see that she was taking this little adventure in good part.

    If it had been his sister left alone at the theatre door while he went off in search of some hired vehicle, there would have been hysterics to deal with, or at the very least a look of cold reproach. But Eleanor’s smile seemed genuinely warm as she stepped aboard the damp, swaying coach and sought out a dryish patch on which to sit.

    ‘It’s been an age since I took a hack,’ Eleanor remarked, peering about herself. ‘This is one of the better specimens, I believe.’

    ‘Not too bad, is it? Still quite well-sprung by the feel of it. Though I must apologise for not being able to offer you my coat to sit on,’ he said with a grin, settling himself opposite her as the old coach lurched forward again, turning abruptly into the now thinning traffic. ‘Mine is soaked through and would, I fear, make matters very much worse.’

    ‘The seat is only a trifle damp,’ she insisted, leaning back with a smile. ‘I daresay I shall not suffer for it. We do not travel far, after all.’

    Nathaniel nodded, turning to stare out of the window rather than look at Eleanor any longer. Even in the dim interior of the coach, he could see the sheen of wet skin above her breasts where the rain had caught her on alighting, that softly inviting gleam making him stiffen in instant arousal.