To Love a Wicked Lord (21 page)

“Ladies,” Maxwell said, bowing. “How good to see you again. So my lady, we go to your friends the Chestertons' house this evening. I hear they're generous hosts. Do you think that you'll discover what they and the rest of your compatriots are planning to do now that we are at war with our other hosts?”

“I shall,” Lady Carstairs said with certainty. “And I would have found out sooner had my dear Phillipa not been so ill all week. But I could scarcely leave her to her own devices, could I? A doctor a day, we had here, I think, and none able to cure her. It is the water, I told her again and again. She should emulate me and drink only wine and tea. But that is the past. As for tonight, she's fine again and I am set on having a good time this evening. I know you all will as well.”

“Are you sure you're well enough to go out on the town tonight?” Maxwell asked Phillipa solicitously as Lady Carstairs's maid brought her a shawl.

“Absolutely,” Pippa said. “Positively.” She thought of the endless games of cards she and Annie had played to pass the hours, and unable to
say more now, added, “Although I must admit that at times I felt it might be fatal. When I wasn't being vilely ill, I was bored almost to death.”

“A worse fate than dying of some mysterious French malady,” he said with a smile, and added in a whisper, “Well done!” before he turned to take Lady Carstairs's arm.

“You are a gem,” Duncan told Pippa with admiration as they left the hotel.

“I promised,” she said simply. “And I keep my promises.”

T
he Chestertons lived in a huge old town house near others of the same type in an area that had somehow escaped the fires of the Revolution. By the number of carriages arriving in the drive, Pippa thought the enormous house would be crowded to the doors and steeled herself for another night of her grandmother's idea of frolic: food and drink, dancing and gossip, the entire house filled with the deafening noise of music, conversations, and shrill laughter.

But when they entered, the place was strangely still. There was the murmur of conversation and, in the background, a trio of string musicians from somewhere behind the ferns playing soft reflective melodies. The dance floor of the ballroom was filled with guests, most of a certain age. But none were dancing. Rather, they stood in small groups talking in lowered voices. At least, the English
guests did. Pippa realized there must have been French citizens at other parties but she'd never particularly noticed them before. Now it was obvious. They were the ones who strolled the room, smiling broadly and talking in normal tones. They were the only ones who seemed in the mood for festivity.

The other Frenchmen were impossible to ignore. There were a number of French army officers in brilliant military regalia. Yet in spite of their finery, they didn't seem festive either.

Maxwell and his brother exchanged looks.

“It's more like a wake than a party,” Maxwell said in a hushed voice.

“Then I shall have to awaken them,” Lady Carstairs said confidently. “Come, my lords, let me introduce you to our hosts. I warn you, they may put on airs, but they are the Chestertons from Middleborough, and have little to give them entrée into London Society but their money, as is evident here as well.”

The Chestertons were in the midst of a knot of guests to the right of the room. They looked up when Lady Carstairs and her party approached.

“Monroe,” she said, greeting her host, “so still? Has there been a recent death?”

The tall thin elderly man she addressed winced.
“No, my lady, but these are serious times.”

“All the more reason for frolic,” she answered.

No one smiled.

Maxwell deftly introduced himself, his brother, and Pippa. “More the time for careful planning, I should say,” he said. “Are all the English leaving?”

“Really? A pity. I would dislike losing your company,” a new voice intruded. The speaker was a short, swarthy gentleman dressed in high fashion so new it almost seemed foolish. He had a French accent, dark eyes, and a penetrating stare. His words might have been meant to be pleasant, but they didn't come out sounding that way.

“Monsieur Denton, welcome,” his host said, bowing. “I hope you enjoy yourself this evening.”

“As do I,” Denton said. “Merci,” he added with a light laugh before he strolled away.

“A parvenu, to use their own words,” one of the guests said low and with disgust. “He was made by Bonaparte and now plays the high lord. Beware of him. He doesn't care who he climbs over.”

Pippa watched the French gentleman as he roamed through the knots of other guests, ignoring them. Instead, he was looking at furnishings as though they were up for auction.

“Yes,” her host said with a sigh. “So it is now. All
the jumped-up citizens are looking to rise to new heights, and they don't care who they throw off the top in order to reach them. Homes are being taken over without restitution or so much as a by your leave. It doesn't matter to us anymore. We're going to leave, and soon. This night is to be our farewell to France for a while or forever. Most of the homes on this street are being abandoned because the owners are aware they are about to lose them anyway. Better to lose your roof than your head. You can see for yourself that our home is already obviously being measured for new draperies.”

“Grim talk!” Lady Carstairs said sharply. “Brought on by fear. That is a great weapon by itself. The French are subtle. It may be the rude fellow we just met has no evil intentions, only few manners. I shall go have a chat with him and find out what his intentions really are. I too, after all, have an acquaintance with the First Consul, you know.”

The other guests gaped at her.

Pippa paled. “Grandmother, no!” she exclaimed in shock.

She felt a light pressure on her arm.

“Grandmother, yes, I think,” Maxwell said into her ear. “It may be the only way to convince her
that times are changing and she no longer belongs here. Don't worry. Even if he hates us, the rude gentleman won't hurt anything but her feelings here and now. I'm certain he doesn't want to make an incident, at least, not yet.”

“But we are at war,” she protested.

“And the first shot hasn't yet been fired,” he said. “Let's go see what ammunition the fellow has.”

Lady Carstairs detached herself from Maxwell's arm, and marched after Monsieur Denton. Maxwell and Pippa followed a few paces behind her.

“Monsieur, if you please,” Lady Carstairs cried out as she bustled closer to him. He stopped and turned around.

“Madame,” he said, making a curt bow. “What is it you wish of me?”

“My Lady,” she corrected him.

His smile was not amused. “But no. You are not in England now. Here in the new France, we no longer use titles, madame.”

Lady Carstairs looked taken aback. But she rallied. “Monsieur,” she said, ”since you are so outspoken, you are the very person I must speak to. My friends and our hosts believe you mean them no good. They are preparing to leave France. As someone who is friends with the First Consul, I
feel I have the right to ask your intentions toward them and the thousands of English persons now on your soil.”

Monsieur Denton's lips curled. He drew himself up and looked at her with contempt. “I was at the reception where you saw Bonaparte, madame, and I also saw that he spoke only to your so-pretty companion, not to you. And at that, only a word of praise for how she looked in her gown in his colors. We know what you have been saying too, and excused you much because your wits are obviously overturned by age. But we are no longer amused. The First Consul doesn't know or care for you. As for your friends, they are wise to leave here with all speed. You would be as well. I like this house. It will be mine. I like your ruby red tiara too, madame,” he added maliciously, eyeing it, “and if you stay, it will be mine as well, whether I pluck it off your head while it is still on your shoulders, or not.”

“There's not a chance of that, Denton,” Maxwell said, stepping forward, glowering at the man.

Denton looked up at him. He nodded. “True, monsieur. Not now. But soon, eh? And you know it. If you have a care for the women you are with, send them home. If you have a care for yourself, leave as well. We know who you are and what you
do. But be aware, France is for the French once again. There is no point in further conversation. Good evening, and
bon chance
. You will need it.”

 

“Hush. Oh, hush,” Pippa said as her grandmother lay shaking in her arms.

They were in the carriage on the way back to their hotel, Lady Carstairs weeping all the way.

“What a fool I was,” that lady said through her tears. “I don't know what got into me. You won't let that dreadful man get near me, will you? He hasn't even seen my diamond tiara. Oh, I want to go home!”

“And so we will,” Pippa said in soothing tones. “How soon, do you think?” she asked Maxwell, where he sat in the carriage opposite her.

“As to that, my brother and I will seek all possibilities,” Maxwell said. “He's already off trying to find us passage. But you, Phillipa, are you ready to give up your hunt?”

“I've been ready for weeks now,” she said stiffly. “I told you that. Nothing has changed my mind. Hush, Grandmother, didn't you hear Lord Montrose? We'll be leaving as soon as we can. There's nothing to fear anymore.”

But there was, Pippa thought as she sat cradling her grandmother. Because she knew that as soon
as they returned to England, she'd say good-bye to Maxwell, and likely never see him again. That frightened her perhaps even more than her grandmother feared strange Frenchmen wrenching her jewels and her head away from her.

Maxwell was a man the likes of whom she'd never seen before and knew she'd never see again. He acted a fop when he had to, and as a spy all the time. He was handsome and clever and made her laugh or tingle whenever he wanted to. But withal he was a truthful man, with morals. He desired her but didn't love her. He wouldn't marry her, neither would he seduce her, and she mourned that more than she'd mourned Noel's desertion. Or did she?

She no longer knew. She and her grandmother had changed on this trip and she no longer knew herself. But she vowed not to be a fool. She'd say good-bye to Maxwell and smile as she did it, and then would have the rest of her quiet life to remember, and think about where she'd gone wrong, or right.

The carriage stopped, and Maxwell helped Lady Carstairs out and into the hotel. It seemed she didn't care whose arms she wilted into.

“She's had a shock and fright, but no more than that,” Maxwell told her maid. “Does she have any sleeping powders?”

“Yes, my lord,” the maid said. “We don't travel without them. I'll give her some and make her comfortable, don't you worry. There, there, my lady,” the maid said as she helped steer Lady Carstairs up the stair, “don't shiver and shake so. We'll have you in bed and comfortable in no time.”

“I wish I could say the same to you,” Maxwell told Pippa as they went down the stair after leaving her grandmother in her maid's tender care.

Pippa held her head high. “That you do not,” she said. “I'd have to lie with a dozen men before you thought me ready for you.” There was nothing more to lose; she was weary and frightened too, so all she could speak was her utmost resentment.

He stopped on the stair. “Touché,” he said after a moment. “A direct hit. But surely not a dozen men?”

Absurdly, she felt herself smiling. “Why not?” she said airily. “I dashed my reputation by coming here even more than Noel did when he deserted me.”

They reached the bottom of the stair and he stopped and looked down at her, his expression serious.

“It's not your reputation but your heart that I fear for,” he told her softly. “You don't know how you feel about me, Pippa. You met me at the wrong
time for the wrong reasons, when your heart was wounded. I refused to hurt you more. Is that so cruel of me? For all we know you may go home and meet a stranger you care for, or find an old friend that you didn't realize you cared for. You're in no condition to fall in love now, and for that matter, never for such a fellow as I am. I was a determined bachelor and may still be. But I'm as turned about in my head these days as anyone. We'll take you home and then we'll see.”

She nodded and looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“But Pippa?” he said in a strained voice. “This much I can tell you. I want you so damned much my bones ache. We have to wait no matter how I feel. Things have happened too fast all around. We'll leave this place and let time do its work, shall we?”

She stood and stared at him. The hotel was quiet, nothing stirred except for her pulse as she gazed at him. He was so close and yet so distant. A mad idea came to her, but this was a mad night and she was at the end of her reason.

“No,” she said. “Who knows what cruelties time may bring? Tonight should be our night, if you want me. There's no one about. I'm so very alone.
I don't care about tomorrow. Can you be with me, tonight, now, please?”

A sad smile appeared on his lips. “Oh, Pippa,” he said on a long exhalation. “I want to.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “But I can't for too many reasons,” he said. “You may choose to ignore it, but I always think about the future. Again, what if my usually perfect timing fails? You still don't completely understand? That confirms my resolve. Forgive me in advance, Pippa, but the truth is as they say: a gentleman leaves before he comes. I grant they don't say it in places where you go, and I should be shot for saying it to you. I don't want to be scientific. And if you want to be treated as a carefree, care-for-nothing female who is up to scratch, it's a thing you must fully understand.”

Her eyebrows descended; she looked less shocked than puzzled.

He chuckled, reached out and tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear, and then stepped away as though he had touched flames. “As I thought. What it meant was that if we made love, I would have to leave you before my moment, so that you wouldn't have to bear the weight of my mistake,” he explained. “Neither of us needs or wants a forced marriage. And a lady can't raise a
child by herself, nor would I want you to.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Ah, I see, you do understand,” he said. “The thing is that superb a lover as I am, it's possible I might not be able to stop myself; I'm very moved by you. And even if I did, what if we were discovered? What if…there are so many reasons why pleasure must wait on reason tonight that I can't say them all.

“Go to sleep, Pippa,” he said softly. “This isn't your last chance at love, whatever you think now. Your emotions are overwrought, as are mine. I'll see you in the morning, and with any luck, we'll soon leave this country together and then…and then, who knows? Good night,” he said and hesitated. Then he dragged her into his arms and kissed her.

She clung to him, needing his warmth, his strength, and his need of her.

But then he disengaged and quickly stepped away. “Good God, Pippa. I keep making the same mistakes, don't I? I'd blame it on Paris and springtime, but we both know it's how I feel about you. I'm leaving. We've neither of us anything to regret except for missed chances, and they're easier to bear than chances taken and misused. I have work to do tonight. I have to find us safe passage home.
The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be safe, and hopefully in our right minds again. Good night.”