A Lady of Notoriety (The Masquerade Club) (19 page)

She wore the same green-and-white-striped walking dress she’d worn earlier, only her hair was a loose cascade of blonde curls tied with a ribbon high on her head. Her expression was not the cool perfection of her portrait, but seemed wounded and sad.

He remembered their frenzied lovemaking in this room. Was she still reeling from that assault or was encountering Xavier responsible?

Or the lady in grey?

In any event, she was on the defensive.

And he with her. ‘Why did you purchase my sister’s music?’ he said, forgoing niceties.

She flinched at his words. ‘I felt I owed it to her. It was the least I could do.’

Owed it to her?

She went on, ‘I also enjoyed her music when she performed.’

‘And you bought a pianoforte so you could play her music?’ Was that not a bit much?

She glanced away. ‘I purchased the pianoforte because I do not have one here. As you know, it helps one pass the time.’

‘Do you need help passing time in London during the Season?’ Usually a lady received more invitations than she could accept.

Her lashes fluttered before she gazed at him again. ‘I am not attending social events.’ She brushed a curl off her forehead. ‘Not that I expect any invitations.’

He frowned. ‘No invitations?’ Had her scandal with Xavier and the Masquerade Club damaged her reputation to that extent? Surely someone would want such a beautiful creature in their ballroom.

‘I did not announce my arrival in town.’

Then why had she come?

She stepped away from him and faced the window, the same window through which he’d glimpsed her the previous day when he’d had no intention of seeing her again. ‘I am only staying a few days, but I promise you, any encounter with you or—or your family will be a happenstance, like today. I say again, I do not wish to trouble your family.’

But she troubled him. He closed his eyes and caught her scent of roses. His hands itched to hold her again. His body yearned to join with hers. The anger that had once burned as hot as the inn’s fire now merely smouldered in a corner, nearly forgotten. Much hotter had been his need to protect her from his brother’s rudeness to her in the pianoforte shop.

‘You are in town only for a few days?’ He tried to make his voice sound as if this did not greatly disappoint him. ‘May I call upon you while you are here?’

She whirled around. ‘Call upon me!’

‘Start over. Become acquainted. You with the new manager of a gambling club, me, with Daphne, Lady Faville, a woman I do not believe I know.’

‘I—I do not know what to say.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.

‘Say you will walk with me in the park. Right now.’ Why not? They’d enjoyed walks together when he’d been blind.

She stared at him.

He averted his gaze. ‘I promise to be a gentleman. I will not repeat yesterday’s appalling behaviour.’

He looked back at her and could read only puzzlement in her expression. ‘A walk? Like old times?’ he pressed. ‘It is early. The park should not be crowded yet.’

It was not yet three o’clock. The fashionable hour for being seen in the park came at four o’clock.

He lowered his voice. ‘Daphne?’

She swept a curl off her forehead. ‘Just give me a moment to get my hat and gloves.’

* * *

Daphne rushed up to her bedchamber, her heart racing with pleasure. He’d said he wanted to spend time with her. To take a walk with her.

Perhaps it would feel a little like the walks they’d taken at the cottage, only this time he could see. She could take his arm and he could lead her, not the other way around. And she could see his whole face, all his expressions, nothing blocked by bandages.

Even if it lasted only the few days she was here in London, it was more than she’d ever dreamed.

Monette was in her room, folding her laundered undergarments. She looked up, all bright eyes, when Daphne entered the room. ‘My lady, there is a letter for you!’

‘A letter? But I am in a hurry.’ She rushed up to Monette and clasped her hands. ‘Mr Westleigh has called and invited me for a walk!’

Monette seemed to force a smile. ‘Oh, that is so nice for you.’

Daphne peered closer at her. ‘Something is troubling you. Tell me what it is.’

Monette turned away. ‘Oh, it is nothing that cannot wait. You must hurry.’ Her tone was flat.

Daphne persisted. ‘What is it?’

Monette glanced towards the table near the door. ‘The letter.’

‘Oh.’ Understanding dawned. ‘Is it from Toller?’

Monette cheered. ‘I believe so. Would—would you please open it? See what he says?’

Daphne strode over to the table and picked up the letter. ‘It is from Thurnfield!’ She broke the seal, unfolded the paper and read aloud, ‘“Dear Lady Faville.”’ She had explained to Toller her true identity. ‘“I most gratefully accept your offer of employment. I will travel to London in four days’ time and will anticipate returning to your employ with great pleasure. Yours respectfully, Toller.”’

She looked up.

Monette beamed. ‘He writes a pretty letter.’

‘He does indeed,’ Daphne agreed.

‘He will be here in four days’ time!’ Her voice rose in excitement.

‘In three days’ time, Monette,’ Daphne said. ‘The letter is dated yesterday.’

Monette flung herself into Daphne’s arms and hugged her tightly. ‘Oh, thank you,
madame
. Thank you!’

Daphne’s spirits soared. She’d done something good.

Monette released her. ‘But you must hurry! Mr Westleigh is waiting for you.’ She ran to a drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of gloves. Her expression turned worried. ‘He is not angry at you, is he?’

Daphne grinned. ‘No, he is not angry. So I am happy, too.’

She reached for the hat she’d worn earlier, but Monette stopped her. ‘No. No. Wear a prettier one.’ She went into the closet and brought out a bonnet trimmed in silk flowers with a thick satin ribbon to tie under her chin. Monette put the bonnet on Daphne’s head and fussed with the bow. She helped her into the spencer that matched her walking dress. ‘There, you look very pretty now.’

Daphne gave her a quick hug. ‘Thank you, Monette!’

She rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

Hugh stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her, his hat in his hands. She’d seen similar admiring looks on countless men’s faces, but seeing it on Hugh was an entirely new thrill. It mattered to her that he admired her. She wanted his admiration for her character, as well.

It was something for which she would strive. Even if she never saw him again, it could be like a little test—
would Hugh think well of me for this?

He put his hat on his head and offered her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’

She nodded, liking him all the better for not prosing on about her beauty.

The footman opened the door and they left the town house.

They had only to cross Park Lane to reach the Cumberland Gate to Hyde Park. They chose a path that led to the Serpentine. It might not have been the fashionable hour, but there were other people in the park. Governesses with children in tow. Clerks and shop girls taking a quick respite. A few gentlemen with fancy-dressed women who were likely not their wives.

‘It is not as quiet as the cottage in Thurnfield, is it?’ Daphne remarked.

‘It was not quiet there,’ Hugh said. ‘Although I might not have heard all the noises, had my eyes not been bandaged.’

She held his arm tighter. ‘Those must have been difficult days.’

‘Difficult,’ he agreed. He stopped and lifted her chin up with a finger. ‘Difficult, but happy. I do not regret a moment of it.’

‘Truly?’ She was surprised.

He started walking again. ‘Only the end,’ he murmured. ‘When you were gone.’

She lowered her head. ‘I made so many mistakes. I should have told you who I was that first day.’

‘Why didn’t you?’ he asked.

‘I was cowardly.’

‘Cowardly?’ He sounded surprised.

She’d promised she would be honest with him. ‘I knew you would hate me. I did not want to face that. Oh, I did not want you to be forced to accept care from someone who had been such a torment to your family, but mostly I did not want to face being disliked.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘Instead, you wound up being nursemaid and costing yourself a lot of money.’

‘Not a lot of money,’ she said. ‘At first I thought it would only be for a day or two. It didn’t seem like such a bad thing to pretend I was not Lady Faville for a day or two. But then—’

He interrupted. ‘But then I refused to have my family contacted and you were stuck with me.’

‘But you also became my friend,’ she added. ‘I did not want to spoil having a friend.’

She glanced up into his face. His expression was puzzled, but full of sympathy. How rare, to be looked upon with sympathy.

Likely she did not deserve it. ‘A wise woman once told me that even little lies grow big. That is why one should not lie. I knew that and still I did it.’

They came upon a patch of spring flowers and discussed the variety of each. She was no better than he at naming flowers. Perhaps she would add gardening to the list of activities to pursue when she returned to the country.

‘I should tell you that Toller is coming to work for me,’ she said later. ‘He is coming in a few days.’

‘Toller?’ His brows rose. ‘I am surprised. He seemed so very attached to Thurnfield.’

She smiled. ‘I think he is rather attached to a Swiss lady’s maid.’

‘Ah.’ He laughed. ‘I take it you do not really need another footman, but you hired him anyway.’

She felt her face turn red. ‘One can always use another footman.’

* * *

Hugh glanced down at the woman walking beside him, blushing at his suggestion that she’d hire a footman to please her lady’s maid. Was this the same woman who’d pursued Xavier so relentlessly? Xavier said it had been because she thought they would have made a handsome couple.

And so they would, a contrast of dark and light, the handsome man and beautiful woman.

He walked in silence for a while, unable to forget her past and unable to reconcile her with the woman she seemed to be now.

He finally spoke. ‘What was it like for you to see Xavier again? I assume the pianoforte shop was the first time you’d seen him.’

She did not answer right away. ‘I felt I deserved his anger and suspicion.’

That was not the answer he sought. ‘You were unrelenting in your pursuit of him two years ago. Was that all you felt?’

‘I felt sorry he had to encounter me. I am certain he would have preferred never seeing me again.’ She said this without any tone of resentment.

He stopped and made her face him. ‘Daphne, what I want to know is, do you still want him? Did that attraction you had for him return?’

She turned away while he spoke, but slowly lifted her gaze to his. ‘No. That left me a long time ago. After the fire. The fire I caused, I mean.’

He believed her. He was unsure how long it would last, but at this moment he was entirely certain she spoke the truth.

‘Daphne,’ he whispered, wanting more than anything to touch his lips to hers and feel their warmth, their singular taste.

She glanced around and stepped away. They were in plain view and there were people who would see.

He smiled and leaned down to her ear. ‘Perhaps later.’

The colour rose in her face again, making her even more beautiful than she’d been a minute before.

‘We should walk,’ she said.

They continued on the path and were halfway to the Serpentine when Hugh spotted another couple walking in their direction.

‘Blast.’

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘My mother and General Hensen.’ Of all the luck. His mother would be walking in the park at this same moment.

‘General Hensen? I remember him from the Masquerade Club.’

They were still some distance away, but close enough to recognise faces. His mother had seen him, he was certain. He was equally certain she had noticed Daphne.

‘We do not wish to encounter my mother, however,’ he said. Ned had been rude enough to Daphne. There was no telling how his mother would behave. ‘Let’s turn here and leave by the Grosvenor Gate.’

They could do so without looking as if they were fleeing. Which they were.

‘I understand,’ Daphne said. ‘You do not wish to be seen with me.’

She was correct. He did not wish to explain something he did not understand himself, and his mother would demand an explanation of why he was strolling through Hyde Park with Lady Faville.

* * *

Their camaraderie disappeared. After spying his mother, it seemed to Daphne that all Hugh wanted was to take her home and be rid of her.

The dagger twisted in her heart again, but she understood. His mother would hate her. What other choice would a mother have?

If only Daphne could shut out her past and its consequences. If only she could truly emerge as Daphne Asher and start anew, then perhaps she would have a chance to be with Hugh.

He walked her to her door.

She offered her hand to shake. ‘Goodbye, Hugh.’ It seemed she was always saying goodbye to him.

He took her hand, but pulled her into an embrace. ‘I am sorry our walk was cut short,’ he said. ‘May I call upon you tomorrow?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Call upon me?’ She would see him again? ‘Yes. Yes. Of course.’

He leaned down and lightly kissed her on the lips.

Chapter Eighteen

B
y the time Hugh returned to the Masquerade Club, the message was waiting for him. From his mother. Summoning him to dinner.

He was not fooled. She’d seen him with Daphne.

He might skip dinner, send his regrets, spend these next few days with Daphne and leave the family out of it, but that seemed a cowardly thing to do. He’d face his mother and explain.

If he could.

* * *

He arrived at the appointed hour and was ushered in to the drawing room. To his surprise, Ned and Adele were there, with Xavier and Phillipa. So this was to be a family meeting? Family pressure.

He glanced from one to the other. ‘What? No Rhys and Celia? Or are they not family enough?’ More likely they would inject some sanity into the situation to which his mother would object.

‘Rhys had to leave town,’ Xavier said. ‘What is this about, Hugh? None of us knows.’

Hugh crossed the room and poured himself a glass of claret from a crystal carafe on the side table. ‘I expect we will find out soon enough.’

A short time later, his mother entered the room on the arm of General Hensen. ‘So good of all of you to come.’ She glanced at Adele. ‘Are you feeling well, my dear?’

‘Mostly,’ Adele responded. ‘Well enough to attend the opera with you and the general, I am sure.’ The opera was the big entertainment of the evening, after which the Masquerade Club would flood with more patrons.

His mother smiled. ‘Excellent.’ Her gaze rested on Hugh for a moment, but she addressed them all. ‘I am so glad you could come, because this seems to be a family matter we should discuss together.’

‘What is it, Mother?’ Ned asked.

She turned to Hugh. ‘Tell them, Hugh.’

He did not waver. ‘Tell them what, Mother?’ He knew precisely what she meant.

She lowered herself into a wing-back chair, as regal as a queen on her throne. ‘Do not play coy with me, Hugh,’ she scolded. ‘Tell them who you were with in the park today.’

He took a sip of his wine. ‘You tell them, Mother. I expect you will imbue the story with more drama than I.’

She narrowed her eyes at him and turned to the others. ‘The general and I saw Hugh walking in the park with Lady Faville.’

‘Lady Faville?’ Adele piped up. ‘Isn’t she the one who tried to burn down the Masquerade Club?’

‘It was not quite like that, Adele,’ Phillipa said.

‘Hugh!’ Ned turned on him. ‘You sought out her company when you knew I wanted you to have nothing to do with her?’

‘It was not for you to tell me what to do,’ Hugh shot back.

Ned straightened in outrage. ‘As head of this family, I dare say it was my concern.’

His mother gave Ned an approving look, but her expression turned stern when she addressed Hugh again. ‘Why you were with that woman, Hugh?’

He glared at her. ‘What if I told you I was courting her?’

‘Courting her?’ his mother cried.

‘Are you mad?’ Ned took an angry step towards him.

‘I did not realise you knew her,’ his sister said, her voice tight, but absent of Ned’s and their mother’s outrage. She, over all of them, was entitled to be outraged.

He had no wish to hurt her. ‘I became acquainted with her before returning to London,’ he responded.

He was still not ready to share the whole story. In fact, he much preferred his family’s typical uninterest in his affairs.

‘Oh, yes, Xavier said she had been on the Continent.’ Phillipa glanced at her husband. ‘He also said you saw her at one of his shops today.’

Ned pointed to Xavier. ‘She has come back to try to ruin our sister’s marriage, you mark my words.’

Xavier raised both hands. ‘I want nothing to do with her.’

‘She is dangerous!’ Ned insisted.

What right had he to judge her?

His mother broke in. ‘She is not the sort of woman we would desire to be a part of our family, so courting her is out of the question.’

Hugh had forgotten. Ned had inherited his priggish behaviour from their mother.

She went on. ‘I presume you were merely taunting us with the idea of courting her, but Ned is correct. She is dangerous. We managed to keep the whole affair of the fire out of the newspapers, but there is no telling what new scandal she might bring upon the family. If she is currying your favour, Hugh, undoubtedly it is so she can contrive to be near Xavier.’

‘Are you certain, Honoria?’ the general asked. Brave man. ‘She seemed a charming woman to me when I met her years ago.’

His mother gave him a quelling look.

‘Remember, she nearly destroyed the Masquerade Club,’ Ned told him. ‘Where would the family be if she had succeeded?’

‘I absolutely forbid you to see that woman!’ his mother said. ‘Think of what talk there would be. Think of how dangerous it would be to give her such access to Xavier. It will ruin Phillipa’s happiness.’

Hugh turned to Phillipa. ‘Do you think she seeks access to Xavier?’

She shrugged. ‘I do not know what to think, but I certainly believe it is possible that is her motive—’

Xavier broke in. ‘No matter what, she will not ruin Phillipa’s happiness, because I will not allow that to happen.’ He took Phillipa’s hand in his. ‘I caution you, Hugh. Daphne has a way of using her charm to get what she wants. She can play a role quite convincingly.’

‘See?’ Ned broke in. ‘She is duplicitous.’

His family’s worries were ones that hid deep inside him, Hugh had to admit. At the same time, he yearned for the Daphne he’d known at the cottage, the Daphne who had looked so vulnerable at the piano shop and who had walked with him in the park this afternoon. The more his family spoke against that Daphne and told him what he must do, the more Hugh chafed at their words.

He put down his glass. ‘Was there any other reason for summoning me here?’ he asked his mother.

‘This is enough of a reason.’ His mother sniffed.

Mason, the butler, who undoubtedly had been listening to the whole exchange, knocked on the door. ‘Dinner is served, my lady.’

His mother rose. ‘Thank you, Mason.’

The butler bowed and was about to leave.

Hugh stopped him. ‘Mason, would you get my hat and gloves? I am not staying.’

‘Not staying?’ His mother’s eyes flashed.

He walked over to her and grasped her hand. ‘I know you mean well, Mother, but you must not dictate our lives.’ He turned to his brother. ‘You neither, Ned. I cannot stay.’

He strode to the door.

Ned reached it first and spoke quietly so only he could hear. ‘I don’t mean to dictate, Hugh. I—I do not wish to see you or the family hurt. Is—is that not my role?’

Hugh had forgotten that Ned was still learning to be the Earl of Westleigh, but too many emotions warred inside him to be charitable to his brother at the moment.

His voice softened, though. ‘Say no more, Ned.’

He left the room. Mason waited in the hall with his hat and gloves. He took them and walked out the door.

He was two houses away when he heard a voice behind him. ‘Hugh!’

It was Phillipa.

She caught up with him. ‘Are you all right?’

He nodded. ‘We did worse to you when Mother tried to force you to do what she wanted and Ned and I did not protect you.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I am sorry for it.’

She waved her hand. ‘That is all past.’

He expected her to press him about Daphne, but she did not.

He put an arm around her. ‘It is chilly out here. You should go back.’ He walked with her, but paused at the door. ‘She bought your music, Phillipa. Before she went to the pianoforte shop.’

Her brows rose. ‘My music?’

‘She said she owed it to you.’

‘That seems odd.’ She peered at him. ‘I feel I must say something, but I do not wish to influence you one way or the other.’

He stiffened.

‘Back at the Masquerade Club, when I was masked and she called me Lady Songstress, I sometimes thought she truly wanted to be friends, but it was so hard to tell, because she tended to be whatever people expected her to be. And she expected people to be whatever she wanted them to be. Xavier never gave her the least encouragement, but she truly believed he would be hers, because she was beautiful and she wanted it. When she discovered he loved me, a scarred woman, it shocked her.’

‘And she started the fire,’ he added.

‘She set herself on fire, too,’ she told him. ‘Did you know that? Her skirts caught fire and she was so terribly frightened. It was far worse for her than for Xavier and me.’

Poor Daphne. No wonder she’d been terrified when the inn caught fire.

She patted his cheek. ‘I cannot forgive her, I’m afraid, but, for what it is worth, my dear brother, I sometimes felt sorry for her.’

‘Sorry for her?’ His brows rose.

She shrugged. ‘She seemed pitiful to me, sometimes.’

He leaned forwards and kissed the scar that ran from the corner of her eye almost to the edge of her lips. ‘Thank you, my dear sister.’

She went back inside and he set off again, walking the short few streets to the Masquerade Club off St James’s Street. When he entered the club, the delicious odour of Cook’s fare for the night reached his nostrils. Cummings, MacEvoy and some of the croupiers were all busy setting up. They would open at eleven, but the place would only fill after society’s events were over and people with more money than sense came to seek the excitement of the gaming tables.

He thought of walking in the park that day in the fresh air, with the scent of green grass, spring flowers and leaf-filled trees wafting around him. To remain in the closed, lamp-lit rooms of the gaming house seemed akin to the prison of his former blindness.

MacEvoy approached him. ‘Everything is ready, Mr Westleigh, or almost so. We’ve replaced the faro box with a new one that does not stick. The cards come out one at a time. We tested it.’ He went on detailing a dozen other matters that he and the others had seen to, matters that now seemed inconsequential to Hugh.

That itch to be free returned with great intensity. ‘MacEvoy, tell me, can you run the house without me tonight?’

MacEvoy nodded. ‘Certainly. We’ve done so before on occasion. I’ll walk the floor and one of the croupiers can act as clerk.’ He indeed acted as if the request was nothing.

‘Good.’ He put his hat back on his head. ‘I will be off, then. Likely I will see you tomorrow.’

MacEvoy did not even seem concerned where Hugh might spend the night. ‘Right. See you tomorrow. All will be taken care of here.’

Where was Hugh to spend the night? At the moment, he cared for nothing but being free to walk wherever he pleased. No obligations. No dictates. No destinations.

He stepped back out into the evening air. In moments it would be dark, but he did not care. He wanted only to empty his mind, to set aside his family’s voices and his own doubts. He wanted to shut his eyes to visions of Daphne—warm, loving Daphne and cool, conniving Daphne. He walked up Bond Street where shops remained open and the pavements were nearly as crowded as daytime. When he crossed onto Oxford Street, though, he knew where he was heading.

To Daphne’s house.

He wanted to be with her in spite of his family’s warnings, his own doubts. When he was with her, none of that mattered.

He reached her door and knocked.

Carter answered. ‘Mr Westleigh!’

‘I know it is unforgivably late, Carter, but would you ask if Lady Faville will see me?’

‘She is in the drawing room awaiting dinner,’ he said. ‘One moment, please.’

Hugh stopped him. ‘Wait, Carter. Might I go in unannounced?’

The footman thought a moment. ‘I suppose you might.’

Hugh did not give him a chance to change his mind. He gave him his hat and gloves and crossed the hall to the drawing room. When he opened the door, her back was turned. Probably thinking it was Carter, she did not turn around right away.

‘Daphne?’

She whirled around. ‘Hugh!’

He could not find words to speak.

‘What is wrong?’ she asked.

‘I come from my mother’s house. She gathered the family to tell me not to see you again.’

She flinched, as if stung. ‘Then you should not be here, should you?’

Why had he put that burden on her? It was cruel. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her and spoke the truth. ‘I realised there was nowhere else I wanted to be.’

He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her as though he’d been starved of her kiss for too long. She flung her arms around his neck and gave herself to the kiss, melting against him.

When he finally took a breath he said, ‘May I stay with you?’

‘For dinner?’ she responded. ‘Of course you may.’

‘Not for dinner,’ he murmured, his lips still on hers. ‘For tonight.’

* * *

Hugh woke to Daphne’s warm body nestled against him, her golden hair splayed across his chest. He swept it back so he could see her face. In dawn’s first glimmer she appeared like a Raphael Madonna, heavenly in her beauty.

What a change to gaze upon her now. He could hardly remember seeing the despised Lady Faville when he’d first unmasked her. Now she was Daphne, warm and giving and kind, words he would never have used to describe her when she’d glided through the Masquerade Club trying to make Xavier desire her.

She stirred and opened her eyes. Her eyes, gazing into his, reflected wonder and yearning.

The yearning he understood. His body flared with need for her, need to join her in lovemaking once more, this time in daylight, this time when he could see her as well as touch her, hear her, taste her lips, be enveloped by her rose scent.

He pulled the bed linens aside and rose above her, gazing at her smooth creamy skin, her full breasts, her narrow waist. Her hair fell upon her shoulders and on the pillow like a golden halo. He gazed upon her face that now resembled his Daphne, the woman with whom he made love in a cottage in Thurnfield.

His eyes were open now, in more ways than one. He loved her no matter who she’d once been. He loved the woman she was at this moment, a woman ready to give herself to him. He covered her with his body and kissed her, joining his tongue with hers, mingling their tastes. Breaking from the kiss, he entered her. The sensation of her body closing around him increased his arousal, and he wanted to savour the moment for as long as he could.