Regency Innocents (32 page)

She might even have felt a measure of contentment if only she'd had Robert to keep her company during the long, dull evenings. But whenever she went and knocked on his door there was always already a group of grim-faced young men sprawled about the rooms, and a distinct aroma of alcohol in the air. The fact that all conversation ceased the moment she walked in made her feel increasingly awkward about intruding. He had friends about him. That was the main thing. And who better than those young men, with military backgrounds, who could understand far better than she could what he was going through?

She was selfish to wish he would at least let her in for half an hour, so that she had someone to talk to. She sighed now, picking up the latest novel that Charles had sent her. Did she not have so much more now than the last time she had been in London? She might not go out, but then she had not really enjoyed many of her outings anyway. Particularly not once she had locked horns with Mrs Kenton.

She shivered, applying herself to words that she had a vague recollection of reading before. It was not an easy story to get into, but she wanted very much to be able to tell Charles that she was enjoying it. Even though she was having difficulty working out what the story was supposed to be about, she sighed. Still, though the story itself was not very interesting, she did love the fact that Charles had bought it for her. He was so generous.

‘… so generous that it quite makes up for the coldness of his public manners …' she heard Mrs Kenton whispering.

That Woman! The moment her mind strayed in her direction, her words flooded her mind with her poison all over again.

She shut the book with a snap, and went into her
bedroom. She would sketch until Charles came home. That always made her feel better.

But though she sat at her drawing desk, and took the charcoal in her fingers, her mind remained devoid of inspiration. She could not think of a single thing she wanted to draw. She had not been anywhere or seen anyone since returning to London to fire her imagination at all.

There seemed to be nothing but a great emptiness all around her. When Charles came in, far earlier than she had expected, she was so relieved to see him that she flew into his arms. She knew he would not rebuff her these days. On the contrary, he seemed only too keen to strip her naked and kiss and caress every inch of her, until she was mindless with pleasure and he was completely exhausted.

She looked down at him, as he lay sleeping beside her later, a troubled frown creasing her brow. If only she had never met Mrs Kenton. For then she would be completely happy, thinking that the way he behaved was an indication that he felt something for her. But she
had
met Mrs Kenton, and she knew that he took similar pride in his performance in bed, no matter which woman shared it.

And, on reflection, she could not read very much into the fact he sent her gifts every day, either. Mrs Kenton had told her how generous he was to his mistresses.

He had never given her a single thing before he had taken her to his bed. With a pang of shock, she realised that, far from being a mark of his approval, those gifts were more like payment for services rendered.

He was treating her just like he would treat his mistress!

No, on second thoughts he was not even treating her so well as that. At least a mistress got an outing every now and again. She had met Nell in the theatre, and at Vauxhall Gardens, and although everyone said Lord Lensborough
was a hard man, even he had given Nell her own carriage and pair to drive about in the park.

She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest as she grew more and more upset. He had said before they married that as his wife she would move in the first circles. But she didn't. She never went anywhere. It was as if he was ashamed of her!

She could barely look at him when he rose the next morning to be about his business. Business which, she thought huffily, he could as well conduct at home, if he had a wife he trusted. If he really was engaged in politics. She sniffed. For all she knew he could be out carousing with his friends, or even trawling Covent Garden for a new mistress.

‘Heloise?' he said gently, noting the stiff set of her shoulders under the blankets. ‘I can see you are not happy with me this morning.' Or indeed any morning. ‘This state of affairs cannot continue.' Fortunately he would be able to conclude his involvement in party affairs today. And then he would be able to devote himself entirely to getting his wife to admit that being a partner in a marriage of convenience was not the end of the world. ‘When I return tonight, you and I need to have a serious talk.'

She shut her eyes tight on the wave of pain that assailed her. She had known it! She had known it from the first! She had only ever been a poor substitute for Felice, and now he could not even continue to use her as he would use a mistress. He was tired of her.

Had he already found her replacement? Was that where he went every night, when he said he was engaged in state affairs?
Affaires
, more like! And she, rather than demanding he treat her with respect, had welcomed him into her bed whatever time of the night he rolled in, with open arms, like the lovesick fool she was! She should have
known when she'd had to go to such lengths to seduce him that he would not stay faithful for long. If he had ever found her in the least bit desirable he would have made the first move!

‘In the meantime, I should like you to have this.' He went to his jacket, which was hanging on the back of a chair, delved into the pocket, and extracted a black rectangular box. ‘I had meant to give it to you last night, but …' He smiled wryly at the memory of her flying to his arms, and more or less dragging him into bed.

‘Don't remind me!' she flung at him waspishly.

He frowned as he approached the bed, where she was sitting with her knees hunched up, a mutinous glare on her face. He faltered, wishing with all his heart that she did not feel so ashamed of experiencing desire without love.

‘Here,' he said, proffering the jeweller's box.

Until now, the gifts he had bought her had been trifling things, meant to amuse her and remind her he was thinking of her, though he could not be with her. But he had never forgotten her face when she had spoken about the Walton diamonds. She had thought he did not care because they were old. She seemed to have thought that if he cared about her he would have bought her something new. And so he had sought to redress that error in the purchase of these pearls. Pearls for purity. For she was the purest woman he had ever known. Besides which, he could not wait to see how the ear drops would look against the glorious silk of her dark hair.

As he opened the box to reveal the long strand of perfectly matched pearls, her eyes widened in horror.

‘How dare you?' she cried, drawing back as though he was holding out a snake. ‘I won't be treated like this! No—not one minute more! Oh, yes, I know I promised I would
not stop you from amusing yourself, however you wished, but I have to tell you that I cannot keep to that stupid bargain we made one minute longer!'

He went cold with dread as he heard her telling him their marriage was over. And all because he had given her pearls? He looked down at the box, lying open in his hand, wondering where he had gone wrong this time.

He was about to find out. Flinging the covers aside, Heloise rose from the bed, completely forgetful of her nudity, and advanced on him, her eyes spitting fire.

‘I am your wife! Your
wife
!' She swiped at the box, knocking it from his nerveless fingers. ‘And if you think you can pay me off with pearls, when even that Mrs Kenton got rubies, you are the greatest imbecile! And I know you never made
her
stay within doors, not to mingle with your so perfect friends. Even poor little Nell gets trips to the theatre every now and again. And you think, you
really
think, that I will walk out of your life quietly after you give me the kind of jewels that a mother would give to her daughter when she makes her first curtsey in society? Well, I tell you,
no!
I am not going back to Wycke, and I am not going to sit at home any more while you go out and amuse yourself without your embarrassing wife hanging on your arm. And if you think I am going to do nothing while you set up another mistress, then you are very much mistaken. If you dare … if I find out where you are keeping her … I shall … I shall …'

For much of the tirade Charles had been too bemused to take in more than the fact that she was furiously angry and gloriously naked. But at last some of her meaning began to percolate through.

‘What,' he said, his heart pounding, ‘will you do, Heloise, if you find out where I have set up my mistress?'

‘Oh!' She drew back, as though him saying it made it real. Her eyes filled with tears. She began to shake. ‘I shall do something terrible,' she whispered, her face grim. ‘Of that you can be sure.'

‘Thank God,' he sighed, drawing her into his arms. She loved him. She must do to be experiencing such fierce jealousy. It was a feeling he recognised only too well.

‘No!' she whimpered, struggling to break free. ‘You shall not subdue me with your kisses again. I won't let you. I hate you!' she cried, raising her fists to beat at his chest.

‘No, you don't,' he countered. ‘You hate feeling weak and helpless under the force of your feelings. But your feelings for me are not hatred. Ah, no—don't cry, my little love,' he crooned, scooping her up and carrying her back to bed. ‘I have not set up a mistress. I promise you,' he said, kissing her forehead.

‘You … you have not?' she hiccupped, frowning up at him through tear spiked lashes.

‘Of course not. Why ever would you think I would do such a thing?'

‘Well, I know you are only putting up with me … you only married me, after all, to save face so that no one would know Felice broke your heart. I … I know you will never love me like you loved her.'

‘That much is true,' he said dryly. ‘For I was never in love with her at all.'

‘What? That is not true. When she ran off with Jean-Claude your heart was broken!'

‘Actually, no, it was not. Not in the least. The truth,' he said ruefully, ‘as you pointed out with such perspicacity at the time, was that she had severely dented my pride. You see,' he said, taking her hand, ‘Felice was such fun to be with. I had never met anyone like her before. When I was
with her she made me feel as though there was something about me as a person that she valued, since she made no secret of the fact she despised the aristocracy as a class. She was not forever hinting that she wanted me to buy her things, either.' He shook his head, a frown clouding his brow. ‘And I was in a peculiarly vulnerable state of mind at the time.'

Though Heloise still seemed oblivious to her state of undress, he felt obliged to reach down and pull the coverlet up, tucking it round her shoulders as he considered the best way to explain.

‘I had suffered a series of shocks. Discovering I had a brother. Learning that the men I had trusted throughout my youth had perpetrated a crime against him and my stepmother … and then finding that I was totally unable to escape their pernicious influence!' He laughed bitterly. ‘I could cease seeing them, but I could not undo my training. No matter how much I wished it, I could not find the least desire to behave with anything less than complete decorum. And then I took Robert into my home and endured his scorn, while seeing how very much he was valued by his friends … In the end I fled to Paris looking for … well, I don't know what I was looking for, to tell you the truth. I only know that for a while I felt that Felice was the answer. She made me feel as though I could slough off all that I had been and make a fresh start. It was my dreams of becoming a better man she stole, not my heart, Heloise.'

He stopped fussing with the coverlet and looked her straight in the eye as he confessed, ‘My heart belongs to you, Heloise. It is a poor, stunted thing, I know. But, such as it is, it beats for you alone.'

‘But when …? But how …?' She sat up, an intent expression on her face. ‘When you brought me to London you
left me utterly alone. After giving me a long list of things I was not supposed to do and people I was not to talk to, as though I was a complete nuisance!'

He took her face between his hands. ‘Do you know how much it hurt that you never understood?' He took a deep breath. ‘You always put me in mind of a little bird. And when I saw that picture you drew of yourself, chained in an intolerable marriage, I knew I did not want it to be like that between us. I know I said a lot of damn fool things at the start, but once you were mine I did not want you to feel you were caged, or chained. I wanted you to be able to fly free and come to me because you wanted to come to me, not because I compelled you.'

‘I … I thought you did not care what I did. And I felt as though my heart was breaking. Because I loved you so much …'

‘You said you didn't!' he protested, rearing back. ‘When you suggested we get married …'

‘I don't think I did—not at that precise moment. Or perhaps I had not allowed myself to, because I thought your heart belonged to my sister. But by the afternoon, once I knew you were to be my own husband, I could not bear the thought that you might want any other woman. And then, when I feared Du Mauriac would kill you, then I was sure. I was so scared! I had to get you away from France to safety, no matter what it cost me!' She reached up and stroked his cheek, her expression full of remembered concern. ‘I told myself I would not care if you never loved me back so long as you were safe. Oh, but when we got to London, and you were so cold, I made such a fool of myself trying to win your approval,' she finished ruefully.

‘You were trying to win my approval with all that
time you spent with Robert?' he groaned. ‘While I was trying to show you how tolerant I could be, letting you do as you liked!'