The Last Dance (26 page)

‘I’m not angry with you. I’m glad you overheard. Now read the letter. Like it or not, you’re involved now in an effort to prevent a potential war.’

Stella shook her head.

He sat on the side of the bed. She felt suddenly cold . . . hollow. ‘The future is uncertain for all of us,’ he warned.

‘Is that your way of telling me to forget this happened?’

Rafe moved above her to stare even more intently. ‘No! It’s to tell you
never
to forget this occurred, no matter what happens.’

She was unnerved by the ferocity in his look. ‘I shouldn’t have been so honest.’

‘Stella, it’s your honesty I admire most about you.’

‘Then be honest with me. Why are we here?’

Rafe sighed, searched her face. ‘We’re here because I couldn’t bear that our moment on the Weald yesterday was the one and only time I’d kiss you.’

‘So you did follow me today?’

He nodded. ‘I suggested you’d need a wardrobe for our voyage. I suspected my wife would send you here rather than London where she was headed.’

‘Rafe, this is real for me. But I can’t live as an adulteress. As it is, when we leave the haven of this room I’m going to feel like a mistress . . . or worse.’

He tried to shoosh her, frowning at her sentiments, but she pushed on. ‘My mind is made up. You’re the one with the decision to make.’

‘And you’re the one with the power to break my heart,’ he admitted.

‘I’m going to ask you again. Do you love me?’

He took a long, slow breath. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m terrified by how I feel about you.’

‘What does that mean?’

He rolled back to lie against her, covered them both with the sheets to keep the chill off. ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone.’

Stella wanted to scream her relief. Instead she reached up to stroke his face. ‘And?’

‘I might ruin your life and everyone else I care about in the bargain because of it.’

The joy turned bitter in her throat. ‘Why?’

‘I’m no good for you, Stella.’

She pushed him away now and sat up, heedless of the cold or her bareness. ‘I can’t believe you’ve just said that.’

Rafe clutched her to him, holding her back against his chest, his arm pinning her close.

‘I have never loved anyone as I love you and even though we’ve spent so little time together I feel we know each other. And I sense you already believe that I am dangerous.’

‘You’re mysterious,’ she qualified. ‘You have secrets but I am not frightened by you. I know you’re a spy of sorts. None of that is my concern.’

‘But it might be,’ he warned.

‘I don’t care. I just want you to be in love with me as I am with you.’

‘Beatrice has no impact on me. I come and go as I please. She makes few demands other than fidelity.’

Stella’s shoulders slumped. ‘That’s fair.’

‘But I have not been faithful to her. Beatrice gets out of our marriage what she set out to gain . . . status, security and the husband she wants. I am discreet in my few dalliances and they are far fewer than I’m sure many might believe, especially Mr Potter.’

‘I see. I hate all of them.’

He pulled her back down, smiling, so he could look at her. ‘The point I’m making is that I could never be unfaithful to you. The fact that I now have to return to Harp’s End and Beatrice sickens me. You’ve changed my life – I had it all ordered and in place and you’ve upset everything.’

‘
You
brought me to Harp’s End, and under false pretences.’

‘Because you’re a sorceress who has cast a spell over me.’

She smiled in spite of her glumness.

‘The thing is, my darling Stella, I don’t think I can even bear for Beatrice to touch me now that I have you so completely in my focus. And she will see that. She won’t need her vicious daughter to confirm anything. If she gets so much as a whiff of my devotion to you, she’ll poison your future. That’s why I am dangerous to you.’

She’d listened but heard something else whispering beneath his words. She had spent too long observing people’s mannerisms to not notice the guile in the way he avoided her gaze just for a heartbeat.

‘You’re lying, Rafe. That’s not what you meant.’

He stared back at her, shocked. ‘Lying? I’m laying out my heart here.’

‘But you’re still holding back. Something else unnerves you. What are you scared of?’

‘I’m scared of losing you.’

‘You won’t, not if you love me in the whole way I love you.’

‘Love isn’t always enough, Stella.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘You should. Your parents demonstrated that.’

She sucked in a breath and helpless tears welled. ‘How can you throw that at me?’

‘Because I have to protect you: from Beatrice, from Georgina, from the grief of your parents and the challenges they’ve left you with. But especially from me. I have to protect you from the pain I might bring.’

‘Are you leaving me today?’

‘Not if I can help it.’

‘You’re running me around in circles. I don’t understand what you’re hinting at but not saying.’

He gave a nod as though drawing a line beneath their conversation. ‘We’re going on a voyage, Stella, and you have to be strong and distant from me as I must be with you.’

She hesitated. ‘Can you?’

‘Yes. I have years of experience of being Douglas or Monty. So, I will seem cold. I need to appear entirely disconnected from you to keep my wife’s suspicions unstirred.’

‘And then what?’

His expression clouded momentarily. ‘I need your help but I’m not sure how just yet. If all goes to plan, when we return I shall be leaving my wife. I doubt she’ll agree to a divorce so you need to ask yourself whether you are ready to be the other woman.’

Stella opened her mouth to answer.

‘Don’t be hasty. Reputation is precious. Consider it long and hard before you decide.’

‘What’s the point in having an unblemished reputation but living as a miserable spinster?’

He smiled and its warmth burned away her anxiety. ‘I love you, Stella. I’ve loved you since the first moment you sneered at me.’

‘I did, didn’t I?’ She grinned. ‘But I thought you were drunk and just out for a good time with whichever girl took your fancy.’

‘You saw through me, though.’

Stella nodded, not wanting to spoil this moment, especially as her gloom had been chased away. He loved her. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

‘What about Grace?’

‘We shall work it out. Once the pain passes, Beatrice will accept that she cannot stop me seeing my child. Besides, Grace wouldn’t stand for it.’

‘Watching Beatrice with you . . .’

He waited, questioningly. She lifted a shoulder in slight defeat. They both knew what she was reaching for.

Rafe smoothed back her hair. ‘In years gone it has felt easier to stay than fight her because I’ve had nothing to fight with. I’ve not felt passionate enough for anyone to upset my world for.’

‘Then knowing that will keep me sane for the coming weeks.’

‘You will have to forgive me – I’m apologising now for how heartless I might appear.’

‘You’re forgiven,’ she said, not truly understanding but kissing him softly and immediately feeling his stirrings of passion again. ‘How long did you say we have?’

‘Just long enough to remind you about what you mustn’t forget,’ he added, pulling her on top of him as they both dissolved into the intimate laughter of lovers beneath the tousled sheets.

She clung to him as they walked back down the seafront and she was glad of the brisk wind that chilled, forcing her to bend into it.

‘You should have remained at the hotel. You shouldn’t be on the front,’ he murmured. ‘I’m glad you agreed to stay overnight too.’

‘What will Beatrice think?’

‘Beatrice isn’t thinking about you, darling Stella. Besides, she’s up in London. All you’ll do if you came home is rattle around at Harp’s End trying to avoid me and Georgie. And before you ask, I’ll speak to Grace if she’s more lively. And you’ll be seeing her soon enough.’

She nodded. ‘I’m looking forward to staying in that grand hotel but I wanted to hold you a little longer,’ she reminded, desperately aware that they would have to part in a minute or so. But just for now the seafront was mostly deserted. ‘Imagine this could be crowded with holidaymakers tomorrow. They’re forecasting a warm summer.’

‘Will you be all right?’ he said, ignoring her nervous small talk.

She nodded. ‘It’s easier than going back to Harp’s End straight away. Beatrice suggested I stay overnight so you’re right, no one’s going to miss me.’

Too soon for her they were back at the same corner. ‘We go our separate ways here, Stella.’

‘There’s so much more I want to say to you,’ she admitted.

He nodded sadly. ‘But we were too busy.’ Rafe glanced around and pulled her back into the doorway of a shop that was closed.

‘Come on, Stella. Perk up.’

She shook her head. ‘Not sure I can.’

‘Why?’

‘Because there’s no happiness in loving you, Rafe. There’s only gloom . . . certainly in the immediate future.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘She won’t let you go. I know she won’t. You have nothing to offer her that could make her give you up.’

She knew she spoke the truth. It was reflected in his dark expression.

‘I could threaten to expose the truth.’

‘About Georgina?’

He nodded. ‘And that I don’t love either of them.’

‘You don’t want to hurt them. Or Grace.’ All the doubt came home to roost as seagulls let rip with their lonely cries above them, as if sensing her despair. ‘No, it’s all hopeless.’

‘Stella, let me get past this voyage we must take. You heard Basil. I have to meet Joseph —’

‘You’ve told me nothing about him.’

‘I will.’

‘When?’

‘When we’re next alone.’

She gave him a look that said she couldn’t imagine it occurring again. ‘He’s your stepbrother according to that conversation with Basil Peach.’

‘Joseph is my brother. There is no further qualification. We grew up together as family – there’s nothing much else to tell and because he’s my brother and asking for me, I will go without further query. As soon as I know more, I’ll share it.’ He paused. ‘Stella?’ Her lips pursed with frustration and she looked down, shaking her head. He bent to force her to look at him. ‘I need your strength and your smile around me.’

‘Even if we can’t touch?’

‘I’ll work something out. But at least I can see you, keep you near. The thought of leaving you is unbearable but I also have to keep you at arm’s length to protect you.’

She nodded her understanding.

‘Don’t let me go alone. It may be . . .’

‘May be what?’ she asked, searching his face at the sadness she glimpsed.

‘I was going to say it may be the last time I see Morocco for a while, if war is a reality. I would like you to see it too.’

‘There’s so much to talk about – I wanted to ask you about your childhood . . .’

‘I give you my word we’ll have more time to discuss our pasts.’

‘I’m more interested in discussing our future.’ Her shoulders drooped forlornly.

Now he did shake her gently. ‘Stella . . . you do trust me, don’t you?’

She looked up, nodding. ‘I know that you love me in the best way that you can. And I know that has to be enough for now.’

‘I want you to know this. I was meant to find you. You’ve opened a door for me, Stella. I see a fresh chance, an opportunity for a new life – the sort I always hoped I might enjoy.’

‘So that’s why I was put on this earth,’ she jested, but it made neither of them smile.

‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said, his eager expression clouding.

‘I know. I’m being unfair. But Rafe, being your lover will never be enough. I have dreams too. Maybe I am the one who must distance myself; I’m the one who must be cruel and deny you.’

‘Don’t, Stella, please . . .’

‘It hurts to look at you, especially after today. And it’s going to ache to watch you going to bed with Beatrice. It will gall to watch your vicious stepdaughter being facile, smothering you with kisses while callously criticising you.’

‘Wait! You have said you love me?’

‘I do, much as I loathe myself for such weakness.’

‘Then prove it.’ Rafe pulled at the lapels of her coat, dragging her closer and kissed her deeply, owning her for the length of that kiss. When she pulled away, he said it again. ‘Prove it.’

‘How?’

‘Don’t desert me.’

‘Let me go back to London. We can talk on your return. You’ll have perspective and so will I,’ she urged. It sounded so reasonable, despite her churning emotions.

‘No!’ Someone walked by and they both looked away from each other guiltily. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘I need your spirit close and even your smile from a distance warms me. I don’t want another day without you, Stella, even if we can’t touch.’

Against her instincts, Stella nodded. ‘I don’t know how you hide that romantic soul of yours.’

‘Easy. I only reveal it to people I love. So, since the death of my family, that’s you and Grace. Don’t resist me, Stella.’

‘It seems no matter what I say, I can’t,’ she admitted.

‘Good, now kiss me goodbye.’

Stella stood on tiptoe to pour every ounce of herself into her farewell, loving the way he opened his coat to pull her closer to him in yet another cocoon that was theirs alone.

When finally they broke the link he smiled sadly. ‘See you at Tilbury – I won’t be at Harp’s End when you return. When Georgina asks, I shall deny seeing you.’

Stella sighed. ‘I can’t wait for the day when we no longer deny each other.’

Rafe pecked her cheek. ‘I love you – don’t ever forget I said that today.’

‘Rafe?’ He waited for her. ‘Why can’t you tell me what’s in the letter?’

It was his turn to pause. She watched his hesitation, wondering at the myriad reasons he might present. ‘Because when we’re together, alone, I just want to make love to you.’ It was the right one to make her feel safe. ‘When I wrote the letter I wasn’t distracted and I could tell you what you need to know in a logical way without you leaping in to ask questions you inevitably would. I needed to say everything, explain what is necessary, so you can absorb it quietly in your time, make your own decisions without the distraction of my presence. I’m sorry that it all sounds so cloak and dagger.’

‘I have no choice, do I? I trust you, Rafe. Don’t let me down. I was meant to shop today. What shall I tell your wife when she grimaces at my inappropriate wardrobe?’

He winked. ‘It’s all taken care of.’ And then he was gone, hurrying away, his footsteps sounding sad and lonely from the doorway where she stood and only now realised her cheeks were damp with tears.

She hurried back to the hotel, keen to read the letter that he assured would explain so much. Once again she was delayed as she heard a knock at the door.

‘Delivery, Miss Myles,’ someone called.

She opened the door and a young man from concierge was standing laden with parcels, each with the Hanningtons name emblazoned on it.

‘Good grief,’ she gushed, shocked.

‘They’ve just arrived for you. Shall I put them over here?’ he asked, nodding towards an ottoman.

‘Er, yes,’ she said, embarrassed for keeping him waiting. ‘Over there will be fine.’ She’d remade the bed and was glad of that now as she noticed him glance across at it. He was the same person who had offered them a ride in the lift. ‘I’m feeling much better, by the way. My friend made me promise I’d order some food.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he replied, and she realised he was likely well trained in diplomacy.

‘Oh, wait,’ she said, fishing in her purse for a threepence. ‘Thank you for bringing these.’

He palmed the bronze coin. ‘Happy to, Miss Myles. Enjoy your stay.’

He closed the door quietly and with held breath Stella began to untie the lids on boxes and the string that held together the loose-wrapped parcels.

She gasped as each exquisite garment was revealed. Rafe said he’d organised everything and he hadn’t lied. How had he worked so fast in those minutes while she was panicking about Georgina – perhaps she’d lost track of time. She skipped to the cheval mirror to hold up a deliciously flimsy dress with a floral pink and green summery print with a sash of green the same colour as the nursery at Harp’s End. It sported a cloudy ruff collar that floated softly over her shoulders to form a small sleeve. Stella twisted full circle delightedly to watch it fall long, drifting to just above her ankles, and she could see it would follow her body’s line tightly and show it off. Stella gave a soft squeal of pleasure at its beauty and then another of dismay at the price. But it was one of six new dresses, each more thrilling than the last, with three suitable for evening. One of these was a magnificent black shift of thin velvet that would surely hug every curve. She teared up at his generosity but mostly his fine taste that wouldn’t allow her to look in any way out of place on the ship against the strutting women in his life.

She held the soft velvet of the dinner dress to her cheek, remembering his touch, and wondered at Rafe’s remarks. She would keep her promise and travel with the family, going about her duty. But she also promised herself that everything would change on their return. She knew that she could no longer work for the Ainsworths after this voyage and that she’d better start making plans to return to London permanently in six weeks. She was sure even Beatrice would organise a decent severance pay that would tide her little family over until she could ease back into Bourne & Hollingsworth. After that she couldn’t predict the future but hoped it included Rafe.

Stella repacked the clothes, barely looking at the hats and belts, although she tried on the three pairs of shoes, two of which made her feel like Cinderella with a perfect fit and the other evening heels that were slightly loose but she didn’t mind. Her feet would swell in the heat, surely?

She rang and ordered a tray of food and was told her soup and bread roll would be twenty minutes. After this she rang concierge, thanked the gentleman on the other end for sending up the parcels and arranged for them to be collected tomorrow morning at nine sharp.

‘I shall need a taxi at nine-fifteen please. Would that be possible?’

‘Certainly, Miss Myles. I’ll advise the front desk that you’ll be checking out at nine. Is that suitable for you?’

‘That’s perfect, thank you,’ she said.

Silence settled around her. Distantly she fancied she could hear the waves. She’d missed the sunset and lights now merrily lit the promenade. Stella closed the curtains once again, though. It was time to read Rafe’s letter. She slipped the sheaves out of the envelope and was surprised how tense she felt at what might be explained within.

She read the opening again that she was sure she knew by heart, even running her finger across it to touch him somehow through the ink.

My dearest Stella . . .
She blew out her breath through her nose in soft exasperation and skipped to the new paragraph.

I have so much to say to you but time is short, for reasons neither of us have any control over. Now suddenly life is skipping ahead, making demands of me that are hard to explain, but I need to ask if you can trust me. Do you trust me, beautiful girl?

‘Yes,’ she murmured and read on.

I realise what I’m scrawling in haste will make little sense, which is why I am relying on your trust. We are going on a voyage, as you know. I am insisting that you come along because I am going to need you to help me. As yet I cannot be sure of how events might unfold so I cannot explain the extent of that assistance. Suffice to say your help is in the interests of everyone’s wellbeing – and by everyone, I don’t mean my family or yours but the whole of Britain’s population.

She blinked with consternation. What on earth could he mean?

I have never told you the full truth but I need you to accept that what I am about to involve you in is between you, myself and the British government. I am employed by the Secret Intelligence Service in clandestine activities in areas where, because of my background, I can move more easily than the regular English gentleman. To this end I must travel to Africa to meet with my Berlin-based brother, Joseph, someone I trust implicitly who has information that might affect the security of Britain and her allies.

Stella was reassured, knowing that when he wrote this he was not aware of the eavesdropping of that phone conversation, and that he was giving her the truth.

I don’t think of myself as a spy and yet I suppose that’s exactly what I am and how I’ve been operating for many years now. I go where they send me. Sometimes it is a quick rendezvous with other spies to exchange material; other times I simply observe and bring back information. On occasion I go in what they call ‘undercover disguise’ as the boffin pretending to study birds or butterflies when I’m indeed studying a political situation, or perhaps a particular person.

Regarding Joseph, it’s very important I’m able to look him in the eye, Stella. We need few words to communicate – a bit like you and I. We just seem to understand one another and I shall know instantly if he is lying, or simply pretending for different reasons. The fact is, I can’t ignore him. The contact has not been made directly so I’m not sure if he’s in trouble but it sounds as though he believes he is in possession of vital information that our government should know, and it’s my job to get that information safely back to London. He refuses to pass it to anyone else.

I am asking for your help because I cannot be sure that he or myself will not be watched and our connection is certainly known, so any cover I might rely on could already be compromised.

I know you will have a hundred questions and I’m sorry that I can’t answer them, which is where the trust comes in, darling Stella.

Just make sure you are on that ship. If I can, I will try and see you alone . . . if only to see you smile just for me.

Yours, R.