Regency Rumours/A Scandalous Mistress/Dishonour And Desire (21 page)

The desperate hostess, however, had a trick or two up her
lace sleeve which, if it did not exactly help her daughter, might at least steer things off course for the lovers. She had invited two particular guests to the ball who would be sure, one way or another, to tweak the pretty nose of Lady Chester, the newcomer who had been so instantly successful where her daughter had failed miserably after years of trying. Besides, banking, cotton or lead mines, the woman was
trade
, however one looked at it.

Keeping to his policy of accepting all invitations likely to give Caterina an advantage, Lord Elyot felt that he, his brother and Lady Chester could steer the young lady safely through any undercurrents that might threaten to spoil her enjoyment. Had he known that it was Amelie’s ‘enjoyment’ Lady Sergeant had in mind, not her niece’s, he would certainly have advised giving it a miss.

As usual, Amelie and Caterina made every effort to dress to perfection without intending to outdo the habitually drab Theodosia Sergeant. Not a word had been said about the fracas of the previous day, both parties tacitly agreeing to leave that discussion for a more appropriate time. Even so, there was a noticeable reserve during the journey to the top of Richmond Hill, and Caterina hardly dared to look at either of the men for fear of seeing censure in their eyes, deserved or not.

On reflection, Amelie was still inclined to think that Tam’s misdemeanour was the result of misunderstanding and, although she would like to have heard what his father had to say, a certain coolness towards the two brothers was as far as she could go without more information.

Fortunately, there were several people known to Amelie and Caterina at the Meldish House ball, making them both less dependent upon their escorts. Before being claimed by
admirers, of whom there were many, Amelie stood up with Lord Elyot to dance with hardly a word between them. She was extremely gracious to the frosty hostess and her twenty-two-year-old Theodosia, who looked as if she would rather have been anywhere but by her mother’s side, and was pleased later on to notice how Caterina was making an effort to engage her in conversation, which could not have been easy for either of them. She caught sight of Lord Elyot doing the same and, ever mindful of his duties as a guest, leading Theodosia into the dance.

But she also saw how well he knew two of the guests, both of them beautiful and well dressed, young and confident, how gallantly he danced with them, and how he failed to introduce them to her when he might have done. When she had chance to ask why, he said, ‘Do you wish it? I suspect our hostess has invited them solely to embarrass me, and you, too, and she will even now be watching like a hawk to see whether she’s managed it. So far, I think I’ve convinced her that she has failed.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Amelie, quietly. She darted a quick look towards Lady Sergeant, but it came to rest instead upon the two elegant, slender creatures draped in fabric so sheer that one could see the outline of every limb, every curve, as if the stuff was still damp from the wash. Diamonds flashed from deeply plunging necklines, diaphanous scarves floated like mists, graceful arms waved and embraced, and gold-painted toenails peeped out from hems just a hand shorter than anyone else’s. ‘Well, then,’ she said, ‘yes, I
do
wish it. Why should I not meet your ex-mistresses when I shall be one of their company by and by? Better to join them now while I have the opportunity.’

‘Very well, if you insist on it,’ Lord Elyot said, casually lifting a finger to summon Lord Rayne to his side. ‘But allow me to remind you, my lady, in case you are in danger of losing sight of the fact, that we are here for Miss Chester’s benefit rather than to provide a diversion for Lady Sergeant’s guests. Which is exactly what she has in mind. I would suggest that you and I put on an act of total disregard, as if the two women you are watching so closely are of no consequence whatever. As indeed they are not.’

Until then, she had not been aware that she
was
watching them, but now she saw the wisdom of his advice. There would be other times and less public places, and what would be the use of creating an incident and stealing the attention from Caterina? Who would be satisfied by it except Lady Sergeant, and her own perverse curiosity?

He whispered something in his brother’s ear, but Amelie placed a hand on his arm. ‘No,’ she said, smiling. ‘Another time, perhaps? Lord Rayne, will you ask me to dance with you?’

Offering her his arm, he bowed. ‘That is exactly what I was about to do, my lady,’ he said. ‘May I have the pleasure?’

Amelie’s heart ached at the sight of Lord Elyot walking away with the grace of a cat, erect, tall and commanding, watched by those two who had known him once, intimately. It meant little to her at that moment how he had exchanged them for others, unsatisfied, or how he had wanted
her
badly enough to use dubious means to win her. Now, the only rhythm pounding through her body was the beat of time, like a distant drum. How long would
she
last? Would she ever seek an introduction to his next lover, and would she then appear as carefree as they did?

The dance with Lord Rayne was a lengthy one, and when
at last she was free to return to his brother, neither he nor the two women were there. She wanted to run screaming through the high ornate corridors of the house in search of him, to stop him doing whatever he was doing, to make a scene to end all scenes and be damned to Lady Sergeant’s malicious game.

‘I’d like to sit a while,’ she said, ‘and take a glass of water.’

But by the time Lord Rayne had returned with a glass of sparkling pink punch, others had come to talk to her and Lord Elyot was weaving his way towards them, giving her not the slightest hint of his business while she had been dancing. She would not ask, fearing to have her assumptions verified, and he was not about to tell her unless she did, paving the way for all her demons of doubt and anger, jealousy and rivalry to run riot through her imaginings. Already, she thought, he was turning his attention to others. Once a rake, always a rake. What had she expected?

The two ex-mistresses had vanished and Caterina was being returned to her aunt by a partner who showed all the symptoms of being smitten. But the young lady’s eyes, peeping up at Lord Rayne, were to Amelie as transparent as crystal, showing how she longed for his approval, how she yearned for him to take her on to the floor for a second dance, to show her the same warmth as at the beginning of their friendship. But he did not, and the brave resignation on Caterina’s face and the quick sag of her shoulders was pitiful to see.

Catching sight of Amelie’s gentle caress upon her niece’s arm, Lord Elyot spoke quietly to her alone. ‘Have you had enough of this?’

‘Quite enough,’ she said, coldly.

‘Shall we go, then? Home?’

‘If you please.’ She had no need to look at his eyes to know
exactly what he meant by home, for it had the same intimate sound as ‘bed’. Her painful anger advocated a rejection of his company to punish him for having led her into this wretched situation, and the plan that etched itself on her mind like a creeping frost was to take him as far as the bedroom door and then to close it, sending him off with a flea in his handsome ear. It was at the same time both attractive and unattractive, for it would certainly hurt her more than him. Which, she recalled, had ever been the way of things.

The return to Paradise Road was not long enough for Amelie’s anger to simmer down, or for her plan of retribution to develop beyond an idea, and Lord Elyot was not so impervious to her mood that he could not tell what was coming. Bidding a curt farewell to his brother, he followed Amelie and Caterina into the house with an authority that took them both off guard. Caterina immediately went up to her room and, ascending the stairs ahead of Amelie as courtesy dictated, he was inside the main bedroom before she could think of a way of keeping him out.

Once she was inside the room, he stood with his back to the door as if she might bolt. ‘Now,’ he said, with an infuriating calmness, ‘tell me what this is all about, if you please.’ Leaning back, he folded his arms and waited, expressionless.

More than ever incensed by her failure to evade him, Amelie pulled off her velvet cape and, with a flourish worthy of a matador, flung it aside, whirling to face him from halfway across the room. Then, because his intrusion into her private space made her wild with resentment after his close physical contact with two of his former mistresses, she tightened her grip on her spangled reticule and hurled it at his head with all
the strength she possessed. ‘That!’ she shrieked. ‘That’s what it’s about, damn you! Don’t pretend not to know.’

He caught it in midair with one hand and tossed it across to the cloak. ‘Know what?’ he said. ‘Just tell me.’

She could not tell him. Words had not been invented to describe the paradoxical loving and hating of a man, her insecurity and his command over her, her wanting and not wanting, her agonising confusion. Lacking words, she leapt at him, intending to beat him with her fists before he could catch them. ‘You
do
know,’ she yelled. ‘You do … you
do
! Those women … how
dared
you speak to them …
dance
with them …
smile
at them … let them
touch
you and ask you about
me
? You are not
theirs
… you’re
mine
!’ Tears rolled down her face, the mere mention of her rivals making her distraught while his capture of her hands prevented the assault to his chest punctuating the accusations with pain. ‘You went with them,’ she sobbed, ‘and I needed you … with
me
…’

‘You were dancing with Seton,’ he said in surprise.

‘I needed
you
, you oaf! Why did you walk off … to see those …’

‘Hush, lass. I did not walk off to see—’

‘You
did
… I saw you … and them … gone. Don’t lie to me.’

‘I have never lied to you.’

‘You
have
! You lied to me about scandal. You lied about how severe your mother is…. and about … oh, helping me … everything!’ she croaked.

‘I think,’ he said, grimly, lifting her into his arms, ‘that this argument … can best be settled…. over here.’ Placing her without ceremony on the turned-down bed, he purposely sat on the long skirt of her evening gown and began to remove his shoes.

After the first few furious tugs and pushes at his unyielding
back, she knew it was useless. But, more than that, she wanted him as would any woman who had seen how those two, far from holding a grudge against him, had basked in his admiration as they had done in the past. As she had done. Had she been certain of him, she would have been less concerned, but he was by far the most attractive creature there, exuding an animal magnetism that affected every woman upon whom he bestowed the slightest attention, young and old alike. With one look, he could make her think of nothing but him, of what he was saying, of how he was saying it, of what he really meant by it, and of what it would be like to be taken to bed by him. Amelie knew, and those women knew too, and they wanted him again as if it was written across their foreheads. After witnessing that, how could she now believe that it was only
her
he was thinking of when he made love? Was she really destined to be only one of many, waiting in line to be remembered with pleasure, as they were?

The thought of it lent a passionate fury to her struggles and a determination not to cooperate in the slightest degree while her fear and rage were at their peak. But his far greater strength wore her down at last, making her ineffective against his control, and her body was soon to feel the dangerously exciting touch of his skin covering her like a softly sensuous blanket. Her aching arms could no longer hold back his great shoulders as they lowered, keeping her still at last.

She could not tell him of her longings or of her greatest fear, nor did she realise how she had already betrayed herself by word and action. But nor did he attempt to explain to her that it was none of his doing, that he was innocent of any impropriety, or that he had every reason to behave the way he had. There was still more that he must discover about her and,
while she clung so firmly to unreason, she was in no mood to accept his explanations.

Consequently, to anyone permitted a glimpse, their dynamic loving might have looked more like a conquest in which Amelie fought for her honour, which was the impression she intended. At that moment, it was her pretence, her justification which, fortunately, Nick understood and went along with, using just enough force to hold her, but not hurt her, speaking no lover-like endearments but converting her wild, willing objections into moans of desire with sublime caresses. Teasing, taking, and luring her towards forgetting, he drew from her cries of, ‘Ah … ah, brute!’ as he tormented first one nipple and then the other with lips, tongue and teeth, making her wait upon his slow erotic entry instead of the fierceness she had expected.

Even then, there were no loving words to spoil the illusion of dominance, no sighs or tender compliments to soothe her resentment, for she believed herself to be the injured party and tonight had provided one grievance too many. He would not spoil that for her. She needed to fight someone, to win and to lose, to pretend that it was none of her doing, to add to her injuries while indulging herself, body and soul, in his gloriously expert lovemaking.

She lay quiet under him, panting softly and reeling with the potent rippling plunges of his body that seemed to know intuitively how best to pleasure her until the world slowed to a standstill, waiting, keeping her balanced on the tip of a giant wave that would not break and fall. On and on he went, hearing her pleas and cries that sounded to her like distant sirens calling her to let go, to dive and drown in rapture. And she did, wailing and mewing softly into his ear as he bent low
into her, taking her over the crest with a renewed surge of energy, buffetting them both on to a long steep shore where they clung, half-hoping to be dragged back into the maelstrom. Thinking of jumbled and delicious things that could not be explained, she slept, rocked comfortably in his enclosing arms. Then sleep overcame them both, but not exhaustion, for she had only to turn her supple body against him for their hands to begin another journey of exploration and discovery as if for the first time. So twice more during that tempestuous night, she demanded from him the full price of her doubts and dreads while his intention, apart from taking his fill of what he desired, was to provide her with every possible reason to stay with him permanently.