Undesirable Liaison (29 page)

‘I understand
his lordship has a visitor, ma’am.’

The dowager
glanced up, a faint frown in her eyes.

‘Theo,
yes.’

She volunteered
no further information. After a fruitless moment of waiting,
Florence tried again.

‘Is it true the
gentleman is Lord Langriville’s heir?’

To her
surprise, her ladyship let fly a spurt of temper.

‘And that is
another thing. If Jerome is satisfied to have Theo succeed him,
what business does Phoebe have in trying to thrust him into
matrimony? Oh, I know how it will be. Now Laetitia is dead, there
will be no gainsaying her. If you ask me, that is her very purpose
in coming here. I wish I might go away myself rather than stay to
be nagged by my sister.’

It was not
difficult to delve through the gist of this to the root of the
problem.

‘Then you are
expecting Lady Painscastle too?’

‘Expecting her?
I am not expecting her. But Theo says she has the intention of
coming here before the end of the Season.’ Her eye brightened, and
she looked full into Flo’s face with an expectant air. ‘I had
almost forgot. I formed the intention of writing to her to put her
off, and I thought you might do it for me, Miss Petrie. It is not
as if you have anything else to do.’

Florence
ignored the petulance of the final remark. She rose with
alacrity.

‘Certainly,
ma’am. I am happy to be of service.’

Crossing to the
bureau situated in the window embrasure, she sat down and opened it
up. It contained, as she had ascertained in her early days, all the
materials required to pen a letter. Taking up a sheet of the Lady
Langriville’s crested notepaper, she laid it on the blotter of the
writing pad and looked among the quills for a pen sharp enough to
work with. The inkwell was full, and a quick inspection proved its
contents were yet liquid enough for use.

‘Would you wish
to dictate the letter, ma’am, or would you prefer to tell me what
to say and leave it to me to phrase it?’

Lady
Langriville waved an airy hand. ‘Oh, say anything you wish. I am
not well enough to have visitors, or—I don’t know! Anything you can
think of that will stop her from badgering me.’

Flo had met the
dowager’s sister only briefly, but it had been enough to assure her
that if Lady Painscastle chose to visit, nothing Lady Langriville
could say would serve to put her off. She refrained from pointing
this out, however, and bent her mind to creating an excuse.

‘I will think
of something, ma’am.’

It then
occurred to her that while she pretended to think, she might take
opportunity to glance at Jerome’s note. Casting a surreptitious
look towards the dowager, she perceived the lady had once again
fallen into reverie. Florence’s heartbeat quickened as she slid the
note from her pocket and placed it on the desktop of the open
bureau.

Then her nerve
failed her. What if Jerome had written words that must send her up
into the boughs? Could she maintain an appearance of calm? Playing
for time, she dipped her pen in the ink and wrote the opening to
the dowager’s letter.

‘
Dear Lady
Painscastle...’

Her mind
remained a blank when she wondered how she should continue. She was
too preoccupied to think. The need to know what Jerome might have
to say overcame all else. She set down the pen and unfolded the
sheet, trying not to crackle the paper. Her eyes eagerly scanned
the few words penned by a bold fist.

There was no
direction, no name. Discretion? Or simply haste?

‘
The Wild
Wood at two this afternoon. Don’t fail! And if you chance upon
Sheinton, be distant
.’

Florence
blinked. Distant? To his cousin? Or did he mean she must show
herself distant to him—if his cousin happened to be with him? Lord
help her, what did this portend? And not a word about the shameful
use of his valet as go-between. The whole affair was rapidly
deteriorating into farce. Clandestine meetings and coded messages?
She might as well be treading the boards at Drury Lane!

‘Have you done
it?’

Her jumping
nerves betrayed Flo, and at the dowager’s odd look, she uttered the
first excuse that entered her head.

‘I was deep in
thought, ma’am. I beg your pardon.’

‘Then you
haven’t done it?’ was all her ladyship found to say.

‘Not yet,’
agreed Flo, turning back to her task.

Taking up the
pen again, she wrote almost at random, her mind flitting ahead to
the appointed hour in a fruitless hunt for answers. She discovered
she was appending her signature to the letter, and realised she had
no idea what she had written. Turning, she found the Lady
Langriville’s expectant eyes upon her.

‘Read it to
me.’

‘
Dear Lady
Painscastle, I am writing on behalf of Lady Langriville, who asks
me to say she is in excellent health. She would not dream of
disturbing you, therefore, and begs you will not trouble yourself
to make the journey in the middle of the Season.’

‘That’s very
good, Miss Petrie.’

There was
surprise in the tone, but Florence refused to allow it to weigh
with her. She felt gratified to have performed the service to her
ladyship’s satisfaction—especially when her mind had been
otherwhere.

‘It goes on to
hope her ladyship is enjoying equally good health, and to wish her
a successful conclusion to the Season. And I have signed it as your
companion.’

Lady
Langriville nodded, looking pleased. ‘I am excessively grateful to
you, Miss Petrie. I am persuaded my sister will heed it. Pray seal
it and send for Fewston. He may give it to Langriville for a frank,
and have it sent straight to the Post Office.’

Flo did as she
was bid, reflecting that the dowager had never been in such charity
with her companion. She could not but wonder if her failure had its
root in her own preoccupation. If she had not spent most of her
thoughts on the master of the house, she might well have found ways
to succeed with its mistress.

But it was no
use thinking of that. The situation was out of hand, and she had
best take her chance this afternoon to do as she intended last
night. With his cousin in the house to distract him, she might find
it easier to escape Jerome’s possessive vigilance.

***

The sky was
darkening as the appointed hour approached, and Florence glanced
nervously at the threatening clouds as she hurried through the gate
leading to the Wild Wood. All she needed was to be caught in the
rain in company with his lordship. Who would not guess they had
been together should they be obliged to hurry back to the house at
exactly the same time, drenched to the skin?

Her mood
matched the intemperate weather, for the long wait to this meeting
had tried her nerves to breaking point. Bel’s luncheon monologue,
consisting chiefly of conjecture about the ubiquitous Theo
Sheinton, did nothing to assuage her growing unease.

Jerome’s
warning in her mind, she tried to discourage her sister from
dwelling upon the subject, but in vain. Convinced Belinda had left
her books to go gossiping with the servants again, she taxed her
with it, to no avail.

‘Flo, you
couldn’t expect me to keep my mind on French with such excitement
in the house,’ said Belinda in an injured tone. ‘Besides, I didn’t
go gossiping
. It happens to be the day the maids clean in
here, and it would be rude to ignore them.’

As ever, her
sister’s ingenuousness defeated Florence. Feeling unequal to the
hopeless task of convincing Bel of her iniquity, she instead
schooled herself to think of what she must say to Jerome. But her
recalcitrant brain refused to do other than present her with images
of that which she was determined to give up. As a result, it was in
no amiable frame of mind that she made her way to the
rendezvous.

Jerome was
already there, walking ahead, and her heart jumped violently at
sight of him. He must have heard her approach, for he checked and
turned. His hand flew up in a brief wave, and he waited, unsmiling,
for Flo to come up with him.

She had not
known what to expect. Certainly not that he would seize her as she
came within touching distance, and drag her into his arms. The kiss
was masterful and Flo gave at the knees, feeling as if her bones
had turned to liquid.

Fortunately,
Jerome did not let her go. The dark eyes burned into hers as he
released her mouth.

‘I missed you
so much last night. I was within an ace of consigning my damned
cousin to the devil and coming back to claim you.’

Out of Flo’s
mouth came words she had never intended to say.

‘I wish you
had.’

Jerome was
moved to kiss her again. With more tenderness this time, nuzzling
her lips, and making her blood flutter into motion. She let out an
involuntary whimper, and he came away.

‘Don’t make
that sound. You will make me mad for you, and I won’t be able to
bear the separation.’

Flo’s chest
caved in. ‘Separation?’

It was what she
had known must happen, in a futile bid against the truth of her
desires. Yet to hear him say it caused a dreadful pang within her
breast.

Then he smiled.
‘Temporarily, my bird. With Theo in the house, it is too
risky.’

The relief
mingled with a sliver of apprehension. All she had meant to say
flew out of her head.

‘Why? Why are
we more at risk than we were last night when Belinda knocked on the
door?’

Jerome let her
go at last, stepping away.

‘Your sister is
too innocent to make inferences from what she may see. And my
mother is far too self-absorbed to notice. But Theo is another
matter altogether.’

He shifted into
the lee of the trees, signing her to follow. Florence did so,
keeping a little behind him as he led the way. She wondered if he
feared Mr Sheinton might have followed him here, but she was too
caught up with other questions to waste time on it.

‘You are too
sanguine, Jerome,’ she said to his back, ‘if you suppose Belinda is
incapable of recognising what there is between us. Had she seen you
in my bed—’

Jerome turned.
‘None but a simpleton could fail to make a case out of that, Flo.
But Theo is no simpleton. A neglectful word or look would be enough
to betray us both. The only safety lies in our being seen together
as little as possible.’

‘That is what
you meant when you told me to be distant?’

‘Exactly so.
When we dine, you had best assume the mien of the meekest companion
the world has ever seen. And for the Lord’s sake, don’t look at
me!’

Florence let
out a mirthless laugh. ‘And make my conduct decidedly unnatural?
Don’t be nonsensical. I must look at you on occasion.’

‘No!’ He caught
at her face with one hand and held it steady, his eyes devouring
her. ‘You don’t know what you do to me with those deep blue eyes.
If look you must, then let it be above my head, or at my glass.
Anywhere—as long as you don’t meet my gaze.’ His thumb caressed her
cheek, and then he released her, turning away again. ‘If you put me
in want at table, Sheinton will know it.’

She understood
him, but a sneaking indignation could not but creep into her
breast. Flo gave it voice.

‘Why has it to
be my problem? Am I to blame that I have this effect on you?’

Jerome’s head
whipped round, his eyes alight.

‘Entirely.
You’re obviously a witch.’

‘Then you must
be a wizard,’ she retorted. ‘And one whom I had determined to
leave.’ She saw his frown and hurried on. ‘I have already said so
to Belinda, and this circumstance of your cousin but strengthens my
determination.’

‘Florence, pray
don’t talk like the simpleton I know you are not. You know things
have gone too far. There is no longer a question of your leaving
me. It touches my honour, let alone my wish.’

She wanted to
refute him, but her own conduct moments since belied her. There was
curious balm in the knowledge that Jerome felt himself honour bound
to protect her. Or was it merely that it gave her the excuse she
needed to remain upon terms of intimacy with him? Deciding she was
past caring at this moment, she sighed.

‘What are we to
do then? We cannot go on as we are.’

Jerome’s
shoulders shifted, and his tone became irritable.

‘I know that.
If I have been ignoring it, you may be sure I have speedily been
brought to my senses when I found Digmoor had seen me entering your
room.’

‘Great heavens!
Then that is how he knew.’

‘He is no fool.
Nor, I imagine, could any other member of the household fail to
come to the same conclusion. Digmoor will not speak, but it is
merely a matter of time before our association becomes common
knowledge in the household.’

Florence felt
vulnerable all at once. A little shiver shook her and she rubbed
unconsciously at her arms, encased only in the brown
linsey-woolsey. But it was not the cold affecting her. She cast an
involuntary glance about, half expecting her eye to come upon some
inadvertent spy hiding in the underbrush.

Dear Lord, what
had she come to? Useless to complain, for she had walked into this
fully alive to the consequences. It remained only to know what
Jerome intended to do with her. Her tongue would not form the
question and a dull certainty of disappointment began to take
possession of her.

‘We will take
stock and decide what to do when Sheinton has gone,’ said Jerome,
his tone brisk. ‘Meanwhile, we are nothing more than employer and
employed.’

She tried to
smile. ‘Very well, my lord.’

He winced. ‘You
need not rub my nose in it. It will be far worse for me than for
you, of that I am assured.’

Incensed, Flo
took a step back. ‘You presume to judge my feelings as well as your
own? If that is not typical of you!’