Countess of Scandal (3 page)

"Shall we take a turn about the room?" she said. People were beginning to watch them, no doubt to whisper about their long conversation.

"Certainly, Lady Mount Clare," Will answered, politely offering his arm. She slipped her fingers over the fine woolen sleeve, feeling the hard, taut muscle beneath. His hand flexed at her touch, sending the shift and ripple of it into her fingertips, and she realized that his laughter wasn't the only thing that had roughened in the West Indies. He was not the boy she had once felt a foolish infatuation for. He was a man now, a man of mysterious depths and unreadable purpose.
 

"Have you been to see your mother yet?" she asked, keeping her voice and expression carefully pleasant Neutral Polite.

"Not yet, but they say we are to be posted to Kildare soon," he said.

Posted to Kildare. Very interesting. "She will surely be most happy to see you. Your father has been in London for many months. My mother tells me they have grown quite solitary at Moreton Manor." And also that Lady Moreton
lived in such terror of her tenants killing her in the night that she slept in the attic with a loaded pistol at her side.

"I trust your mother is in good health? And Lady Caroline? For I see that Lady Anna is doing fine," he said.

Eliza glanced over to see that Anna had joined the dance and was leaping about and laughing with immense vigor. Eliza laughed, too, and said, "Anna enjoys... What is the phrase? Rude health. She is to return to Kildare after Christmas and is not happy at the prospect Though my family is all very well, thank you."

"And you, Lady Mount Clare?" His voice lowered to a murmur, close to her ear. So close his cool breath stirred her curls, and she shivered. "How do
you
occupy your days in Dublin?"

Eliza's steps slowed, but she refused to let her polite smile waver. "Oh, Major Denton, my days are very full. I chaperone my sister, write letters to my mother, embroider cushions..."

"A full day, indeed. Are your letters only to your mother, then?"

"I have many friends I correspond with."

"So I have heard," he said in a hard voice.

Eliza stopped, so quickly that her hand tugged hard at his sleeve. "Are you insinuating I have a clandestine lover, Major? How terribly ungallant."

She tried to pull free, but he held her fast. Ahead of them was a set of tall glass doors leading to a narrow terrace. He tightened his grip on her arm, bearing her forward to the door so swiftly she hardly realized what he was doing. Before she could protest, she found herself outside with him in the night Alone.

It was too cold for any fresh-air seekers or secretive love
rs, and the street below was eerily silent No one wandered the lanes of Dublin at night these days, for fear of encountering the patrols. It was just her and Will—or rather, the hard stranger Will had become.

"If only a lover
was
the rumor I heard," he said, quiet and fierce. His stare never wavered from her face, as if he could read her secrets, read her very soul. Eliza backed up until she felt the hard edge of the stone balustrade through her skirts. Will followed, relentless, resting his hands on the balustrade so she was caught

They were as close as if they embraced, the warmth of his body wrapping all around her. But the hard glint in his eyes was far from affectionate.

Eliza tried to laugh, to edge past him, yet she was truly caught "I am just a respectable widow."
 
                               

"A respectable widow who consorts with radical pamphlet writers and Catholic lawyers? With the likes of Lord Edward Fitzgerald and his French wife?"
 
                             

"My friends are my own business."

"You choose some dangerous friends in these uncertain times, Lady Mount Clare. And perhaps
friendship
is not all you offer them." He leaned even closer, so close she could scarcely tell where he ended
and
she began. And, despite the peril of her situation, she felt some of the old stirring within her, the excitement of just being close to him again.
 
                                                                 

"Are you
up,
Lady Mount Clare?" he whispered.
 
 

And the hot excitement was swept away in a cold tide at those words. The words that asked if she signed the United Irish petition. If she gave aid to traitors to that red coat he wore.
 
                                                                                 

She turned her head, staring blindly at the street below.

"Whatever do you mean, Major Denton? La, such odd things you say! Did you learn them in the West Indies?"

"Blast it, Eliza, listen to me!" Will grabbed her by the arms, holding her close, refusing to let her go. "You are as stubborn as ever. But you must listen to me now. This is a most perilous path you tread, and I would not see you hurt"

Eliza stared up at him, at his golden beauty limned in the reflected light from the assembly room beyond. He was beautiful, indeed—but so distant from her now. "What do you know?" she asked tightly.

"I know all is not as it should be here," he said. 'That we dance tonight on a powder keg. And the most surprising people hold the match to set it alight"

"I have taken no oaths. You cannot arrest me simply for my friendships."

"Don't be a fool, Eliza. Your 'friends' cannot win, and treason is a deadly game to play. Even for a countess."

Hot anger flowed through her, giving her a new strength. She twisted away from him, ducking past his confusing embrace. "I do not play the traitor here. And I believe this conversation is at an end."

She whirled toward the doors, but he caught her arm, reeling her back toward him. She collided with his chest, grabbing at his shoulders to hold herself steady. He wouldn't let her go this time, holding her pinned to his hard body.

"We were friends once, Eliza," he said roughly. "Please, for the sake of that old friendship, listen to me now."

He hardly gave her a choice! She could not move, trapped by all his heat and strength, by the sudden weakness in her legs, the pounding of her heart She said nothing.

"Go stay with your mother at Killinan Castle," he said,
seeming to take her silence as acquiescence. "Or, better still, take your mother and sisters and go to England, while you still can. You'll be safer there."

"You are right, Will. We
were
friends once," she said. "And surely you remember that 'safety' was never my first concern."

"I remember you rode your horse like a madwoman," he said with grudging admiration. "You had no fear of any obstacle then, and I'm sure you have none now. But I'm also sure you care about your family. You don't want them caught up in whatever your friends are planning."

Eliza stared up at him. "What do you know?" she asked again.

"Not nearly enough at present But I will find out, never fear."

"That's what you were sent for?"

A tiny, bitter smile quirked the corner of his lips. "Do you really think I would tell
you
why I'm here—Lady Democratical?"
 
                                                                   

Eliza shoved him away, dashing past him to the welcoming light and noise of the party. This time he let her go, but she felt his penetrating stare against the back of her neck.

Once in the ballroom, she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself and cool the hectic heat she felt on her cheeks. She realized she had lost her fan on the terrace, but she certainly was not going back to retrieve it.
 
                     

It was time for her to go home. She had had enough of this assembly, of those people and their stares and whispers. She had had enough of Major William Denton and I his "warnings"

She found Anna in one of the antechambers, laughing with some of her young friends. Her cheeks, too, were
flushed, but that was probably due to the almost-empty punch glass in her hand. Eliza took it away and grasped her sister's hand, leading her toward the front doors that opened out to Rutland Square.

'It grows late, sister," she said. "We must go home."

"Oh no!" Anna protested. "It is scarcely two, Eliza. Surely there is much dancing left to be done."

"I am sure there is, but not by us." Dublin had been one nonstop gala for weeks. Useful for gathering information, but wearying, indeed. "Old widows like myself need their rest."

Anna pouted but climbed into their carriage meekly enough. That was all to the good, as Eliza knew she could not face another quarrel. She felt exhausted and drained from her encounter with Will

Eliza leaned her head back on the velvet squabs, closing her eyes as she listened to the clatter of the wheels bearing her back to the Henrietta Street house. Will knew something, something vital. Or he was very close to it Would he ruin everything? Now, when they were so very close to their goal?

Yet, even as she longed for Will to be gone again, to go back to the islands and cease making everything so very complicated, she remembered the feel of his touch. His breath against her skin. And how she didn't really want him to let her go...

Complicated, indeed.

"My heavens, but William Denton has grown mightily handsome," Anna said, interrupting the whirl of Eliza's thoughts.

She opened her eyes to find her sister gazing pensively out the window, her hood thrown back-from her pale
curls. "I remember he was quite good-looking when I was a child" Anna continued, "but nothing like now. And he seems to admire you as much as ever."

"We were childhood friends, perhaps," Eliza said. "But that was a very long time ago. I would scarcely say he
admires
me."

"Oh? Then why were you on the terrace with him for so long?" Anna smiled teasingly. "Reminiscing, were you?"

The carriage jolted to a halt, saving Eliza from answering. Anna hopped down and hurried into the house, while Eliza slowly followed. By the time Eliza reached the foyer, her sister was already skipping up the grand staircase. A footman stepped forward to take her cloak, Anna's already draped over his arm. He gave Eliza a lit taper.

Eliza followed her sister up the stairs and turned at the top as if to go on to her bedchamber. And, indeed, she did long for nothing so much as the haven of her own bed, a warm fire, a soothing tisane concocted by her maid, Mary, and the oblivion of dreams. But she had one more thing to do before she retired.

Instead of going to her chamber, she turned and went back down via the narrow servants' stairs. Aside from Mary, who waited in Eliza's room, and the footman, everyone was already retired. The back stairs were echoingly silent, lit only by her flickering taper, which cast deep shadows on the walls. Eliza hurried ever downward, holding up her skirts with her free hand to still their rustle.

Once, she had not enjoyed this vast house on its fashionable street, had thought it too large and unwieldy and cold. But after it became her own, her inheritance from her husband, she found great use for it, indeed

At the kitchen, she went down yet more stairs, into the
chilly wine cellar below the butler's pantry. She paid no mind to the dusty rows of bottles, hurrying past them until she found what she sought—a door half hidden in the corner, tucked behind stacks of barrels.

She knocked on it, two short raps, a pause, then three more. For a moment, she heard nothing, and her heart pounded with apprehension. The house
seemed
peaceful and secure, but what if something had happened in her absence?

What if Will Denton really did know?

At last, she heard the metallic scrape of the lock, and the heavy door swung open. A man stood there, outlined by the glow from the lamps set amid the jumbled books and papers on a table. He wore a loose banyan coat over his shirt and breeches, his brown hair tumbled as if from sleep. But his smile was full of relief.

"Mr. O'Connor," Eliza said. She slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. 'Tm sorry to interrupt your rest I know you need it after such a long journey."

"Not at all, Lady Mount Clare," he answered. "I've been waiting for what feels like ages! Tell me, what news from the outside? What is happening?"

Eliza sighed. How could she tell him, poor man, that she bore no good tidings as of yet? That Major Denton and his regiment had come to Ireland.

Chapter 2

Blast all women!
Will pounded his fist on the cold, unyielding stone of the balustrade, frustration and anger and unwelcome lust all tangled up inside of him.

Blast Elizabeth Blacknall above all.

He braced his hands on the balustrade, closing his eyes against the force of his emotions. Emotions were useless; they only got in the way when there was a job to be done. Just as women with flashing dark eyes and deep secrets were a fatal distraction.