Lynne Connolly (18 page)

In the opening stood Julia Drury in a state of undress. She wore a pair of black stays, more tightly laced than I’d ever seen stays before so that they cinched in her waist to an unnatural size and pushed her breasts up and her hips down. Nothing else except a pair of black red-heeled shoes. She clutched a riding crop in one hand. Her fair hair flowed over her shoulders to touch her exposed nipples, although teasing rather than covering. Patches adorned her face, fanciful images I couldn’t see at this distance, but I wondered if they covered sores and spots. My first thought was to wonder who she was in mourning for, but that must have been my fevered brain working too hard.

She wasn’t alone. John Kneller had his arm around her waist, dragging her close against his body. He wore a little more than Julia, breeches and a shirt, untucked at the waist so the white fabric skimmed his hips. He’d increased in bulk, muscles bulging under the fine, transparent linen. His hair, as golden as his father’s, flowed loose, so he appeared as nothing so much as an angel standing in the rich glow of candlelight from behind him.

At least the open door would let some of the stink of this room out, the combined odours of lamp oil and human congress. I’d almost accustomed myself to the smell, but it would linger. I’d never wear this sacque again, which was a pity because it was one of my favourites. Had been.

The newcomers wore supercilious smiles, finishing their dress appropriately. I glanced at them then looked away. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Julia strode forward, swishing her crop. Stupid woman. If she hit me with that, she’d have it returned tenfold. I couldn’t have stopped Richard from inflicting the damage, nor would I wish to. But it seemed she merely wanted to tease me with it. She drew the end around my neck, and I tried to ignore the way it raised goose bumps in its wake.

“She might like this.”

I opened my eyes to see Julia above me, her crotch alarmingly close to my face and adding another scent to the stomach-turning mix.

“Take it away.” I turned my head towards the back of the seat. “Just leave me alone and tell me when Richard gets here.”

“How do you know he hasn’t been here all along?” She spoke in deliberate, sultry tones that were so assumed they sounded ridiculous. I didn’t bother to reply. The answer was, I thought, obvious. “You know he visits regularly and samples the wares on offer with great enthusiasm?”

“What sort of idiot do you think I am?” I paused. “No, I’ll answer that. One who got too close to a thug to prevent this kind of injury.”

“I never meant for that,” John said. “I regret the necessity.”

I peered at him. “What necessity?”

“I need to speak to him but he has constantly refused to meet me.”

“And do you blame him? He avoided you at my request. I had no desire to make a spectacle of him or you in the full glare of public approbation. This isn’t a Drury Lane play. Although…” I turned my attention from him to his companion. “That puts me in mind of where I last saw someone with a get-up like yours. With a few additions, of course. The theatre. You mistook your profession, Julia.”

I watched in disbelieving astonishment as she preened. “I’ve taken on a few roles in the club. I may have a talent I hadn’t been aware of before.” She glanced at Steven, giving him the kind of cool disdain I might give to an importunate beggar. “Didn’t I tell you what to do?”

I followed her gaze to the bed. I hadn’t noticed before that the tumble of black cloth amounted to a kind of wrapper, but when Julia thankfully left my side to pick it up, I would have shrunk back like a maiden faced with her first erection had there been room on this narrow sofa. Transparent silk, and in my condition I’d have regarded it as obscene.

“I tried to lift her, but when I did, she vomited. It’s hardly my fault the man hit her too hard.”

“Or had to hit her at all,” Julia said, her lip curling. “I rewarded him for his carelessness. This will add a touch of authenticity. That rag she’s wearing looks far too respectable for this house.” As did the pair of stays, quilted petticoat and shift I had on underneath, I presumed. Well if they wanted to strip me, they could have at it, but I’d decorate a few of them bloody before I’d done. Already my gorge rose, but Steven saw it and had the bucket under my chin.

I felt like I’d crawled out from under a rock, but at least I had the cloth from my forehead to wipe my face, and Steven gave me the water again. I rinsed out my mouth, careful not to sip any, although my dry mouth and sore throat screamed out for it. I wouldn’t put it past them to put something in that to keep me docile. As it was, the knock on the head had rendered me docile enough.

Drowsy lethargy crept through my limbs, but I used all the strength I had to fight it. After Steven had removed the pail, Julia stepped towards me, the garment, if it could be called that, in her hands. “Lift her,” she said. “We’ll get it on her before she falls ill again.”

I had no choice. Too many of them. But I was glad when they only stripped off my gown and petticoat, leaving me in the stays, shift and stockings. Unlike Julia’s concoction, my stays covered the lower part of my bosom and my nipples, but only just. The areolas skimmed the top. But the stays were never meant for show, and my shift covered a little more. A shame the stays were of soft red leather that showed alarmingly well through the black silk wrapper.

“This won’t keep me very warm.” My rounded stomach protruded through, and I looked the worst I’d ever been.

But Julia examined me, scanning me thoroughly. “I can see the appeal. Perhaps we’ll recruit a few women in the same condition. How far gone are you?”

I shrugged as best I could. “Five or six months. Why?”

Julia stared at my belly. “Because it’s grotesque. I wish I could avoid it, but I’ll need a child soon.”

“If you’re still capable of bearing one.”

She took a step forward and lifted her hand, but before she brought it down someone behind her said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Julia. I’ve always kept my violent tendencies for my own sex, but in your case I might make an exception. In fact, if you finish that action, I certainly will.”

I let my breath out in a long sigh, fighting the certainty that now Richard had arrived everything would be all right. But knights on white chargers sometimes needed help, and he certainly did. I knew that, especially when I saw the expression on Julia’s face. Pure satisfaction.

This was what she really wanted. Richard in her club, seen by everyone. She lowered her hand to her side and stared at me, a smile curving her lips. She turned around but to one side, allowing me to see her face as well as my husband’s.

Richard wore full evening dress. He must have come straight from the ball I’d excused myself from tonight. His solitaire diamond glittered from between the folds of his neckcloth as he breathed, and when he moved, the light hit the brilliants sewn into his waistcoat and the diamonds on the buttons. And his coat and breeches were lavender, although the sword in his hand was a serviceable weapon, not meant for the ballroom. Delicate, beautiful and deadly, Richard strolled into the room.

He swept Julia a bow and bestowed a smaller, more suitable one on Steven, who bemusedly returned it. He nodded to John. “I have come for one reason only, and that’s to collect my wife. I have no interest in anything else.” He smiled at me. “Are you ready to leave?”

“More than ready.” When I tried to get to my feet, emulating his elegance, I staggered. Steven, the nearest to me, reached out his hand, and I took it but released it when I sensed Richard’s murderous mood. I sank back down on the couch. “Just a moment, please.”

He bent down. “I’ll carry you.” His voice was soft, tender.

My heart quailed at the thought of being carried out wearing the black silk monstrosity. “My gown.”

Richard glanced at where I motioned. “Someone give it to her.”

Nobody moved until John took a pace to deliberately block anyone’s passage to where my sacque lay on the bed. To get to it, someone would have to move him out of the way. He spread his legs, put his hands on his hips like that old portrait of Henry VIII, though he looked more like a petulant boy than a powerful monarch. “I want my say. I had her brought here for that purpose. You’ve avoided me, made it impossible to talk to you. Your house is barred to me, and your friends effectively prevent me from approaching you in the clubs and coffeehouses. You left me with no choice.”

“Except to leave me alone.” Richard didn’t need volume to convey menace. He stood completely still, the hilt of the sword poised in his hand, ready to strike but currently resting the point on the floor. I had never feared for his son so much as now.

Faces appeared in the open doorway, people murmured. Richard ignored them. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I’m your son. What do you think you should say?”

Richard sighed. “I have no proof that you are my son. I’ve had affairs all my life, after I reached manhood, until I met and married Rose. I never heard of any offspring, and I fail to understand why anyone would not come forward to tell me of any. You have a resemblance to me physically, which you’ve chosen to enhance. You’ve shown me a badly forged document that could have been written yesterday. I have no interest in you, boy, because of your habits, your friends and your behaviour. Now get out of my servant’s way and allow him to hand my wife her robe.”

One of the burly men who stood behind Richard made to step forward, but John put up his chin and held his ground. He had never looked his age to me before, but now he resembled nothing so much as a stricken youth, in the gangling stage of adolescence, with nothing to fall back on but his pride. And although I hadn’t known him then, I knew Richard had never looked like that. John had suffered adversity, but it had taught him nothing about justice, kindness or graciousness. Only how to get everything he could for himself and destroy anyone who got in his way.

Richard held up a hand. “You will move when I want you to.” He glanced around the room and turned to Julia. He perused her from head to toe and back again. His lip curled. “At last, Julia, dressed as the slut you are.”

She smiled as if he’d given her a compliment. “It didn’t take me long to discover my talent. It gets me what I want. Fairly soon, I’ll have it, and then you’ll be the first person I’ll destroy.” Julia put her hands on her hips and opened her legs, taking the step that spread her wide.

Richard studied her, head slightly tilted to one side as if he were examining a sculpture or a piece of furniture. No desire clouded his gaze, and I felt no tension such as I did when he looked at me. Richard gave her a gentle smile. “Now I know how right I was to jilt you. You hold nothing for me, Julia. No mystery, no hidden depths. It’s all there, on display, for anyone to take, anyone with a mind to and a reckless sense of self-preservation. But I fear with this latest escapade you have gone too far. You and the boy there.”

“He’s more man than you’ll ever be, at least in bed.”

Richard arched a delicate brow. “Something you’ll never know for sure. You got that far with the boy? I thought you preferred to perform in public. As, I’m fully aware, you are doing now.”

“Then why not close the door or lower your voice?” she sneered.

“Because I have nothing to hide.” He paused. “I like to think I have better taste than that. Than you.”

“We have you,” John put in. “I have you here. It’ll be all around London in the morning that you visited the Cytherean Club and took your wife home, having found her in a state of undress.”

Richard turned such a look of astonishment on to him that it took John aback. His eyes widened and he drew a quick breath.

“Can it be,” my husband said, in gentle words that held threat behind every one, “you don’t yet realise the unevenness of your situation? I am Strang, the son and heir of Southwood. You are nothing, no one.”

“One day I might be Strang.”

“No, you will not. You have a dubious certificate and a certain resemblance. The law needs much more than that.”

“I have your mother in my pocket.”

Richard gave a short, humourless laugh. “She is using you for her own ends. When she’s done, she’ll drop you as if you never existed. You think you’re ruthless, that you work for yourself alone? That’s nothing compared to my mother. There’s nothing she won’t do to preserve the sanctity of the Southwood family. Child, if Rose bore a son and I committed a heinous crime, she’d dispose of me without a qualm. And I am indisputably her son. I have worked to build my own separate strengths, as has my brother, and we are still not free of her and her ambitions.” He paused and met his son’s eyes with deadly intent. “You don’t look a serpent in the eye and ask it not to bite you. You stand clear and hold a big stick.” He shifted the sword so that its tip scraped along the bare floorboards. “And you learn to keep one step ahead. You can do nothing, Kneller. I’ve tried to avoid this, but like Julia, you’ve gone too far. I will destroy you.”

“No!” I clapped a hand to my mouth, but I did it too late and my involuntary protest echoed in the still room. My head throbbed with the effort to keep back what I wanted to say, to do. I would have done anything to spare him this, and I was still determined that he would not kill John.

“You?” John turned his head and spat on the floor, only he caught my gown. I never wanted to see or touch it again. They could use it to clean the floors for all I cared. The thread of clear liquid hung sickeningly to the hem. I tore my gaze away. “You can’t do anything without bullies to support you. You owe me a duel. I challenged you last year. I’ll send my seconds.”