Author: Wendy Soliman
Category: Historical
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‘How is the strumpet?’ she asked when Mark finally released her.
Mark was shocked to find that he disliked hearing Clio described in such derogatory terms. She was an impertinent baggage who deserved a good thrashing for being such a tease, but he hadn’t started to develop feelings for her, had he? He dismissed the possibility with an impatient shake of his head. Virginal misses made poor substitutes for the voluptuous, hedonistic, unrestrained female in his arms.
A very small part of Mark’s conscience balked at his determination to win Clio’s hand simply to gain control of her considerable fortune. That realisation surprised him mainly because his conscience, such as it was, rarely troubled him nowadays. Men married for money all the time, he reminded himself, and Clio would be besieged by fortune hunters when she came out next year. Mark owed it to his commanding officer, a man whom he had actually respected, to save his daughter from that ignominy.
That respect had waned, he conceded, when Benton privately told Mark that he accepted Wickham’s version of events regarding his dalliance with the Spanish tease. He made it clear that he hadn’t had Mark cashiered only because he was thinking of the regiment’s reputation.
Benton became very aloof after that. He no longer treated Mark as a confidant and friend, and things hadn’t been comfortable between them. Perdition, the victor enjoyed the spoils of war—it was his right and an unwritten law. Besides, the hussy had been willing enough, until her father discovered what she’d done, then she had tried to put the blame on Mark. The recollection still rankled. Mark had never had to force any woman into his bed, certainly not a Spanish filly with over-developed notions of her own importance.
The possibility of courting Clio sprang to mind only after Mark lost his commanding officer’s respect. It seemed like poetic justice. The chit needed someone to protect her interests. Why not him? They were acquainted and Clio had always seemed to like him. Well of course she had! So he would do Benton a service and look out for his precious daughter. His intentions at that point had been more or less honourable, and he felt pleased with his decision to give up soldiering and make the not unattractive child a devoted and attentive husband.
Then he met Isobel and everything changed in a heartbeat. He fell head over heels in love for the first time in his life with her wild, untamed beauty and her even wilder behaviour. They were kindred spirits in all respects. He wanted her exclusive company but recognised a shadow of his own character in her conduct and accepted that one could never tie a free spirit down. Besides, marriage was out of the question. England was no longer at war and he could hardly ask a lady of her refined tastes to live on a serving officer’s half pay. Suddenly, pursuing Clio was no longer an idle means of exacting revenge upon her father but a matter of extreme urgency.
‘Thawing,’ Mark replied succinctly, firmly believing…well, hoping that she would. Eventually. He was not about to admit to the woman he adored that he was continuing to encounter a brick wall, or that he would enjoy consummating their relationship, by force if necessary. Other men, better situated than he was, were sniffing around Isobel’s petticoats and he wasn’t about to lose her for the lack of a means of support. ‘What of the duke?’
Mark held his breath while he waited for her to answer. He had been horrified when he first realised that she intended to come to this party, not so that she and Mark could continue with their affair, but in order to pursue Wickham. Of all the men to lose her to…But she hadn’t been here long before he observed how little interest the duke actually took in her.
‘He is biding his time,’ she replied, looking away from Mark and sucking in a sharp breath. ‘It’s all a ploy, of course, and he enjoys keeping me guessing. He cannot possibly be serious in his disinterest.’
‘He would be a damned fool to overlook you.’
Mark breathed more easily, aware that it was not a ploy. Wickham was known to be inordinately selective when it came to feminine company, as though the majority of the ladies who batted their lashes at him were beneath the ducal notice. Mark thought it very unlikely that he would settle his interest on another man’s widow, especially one who did not enjoy a spotless reputation, but he said none of those things. Let her harbour her dreams. He would be there to console her when they failed to come to fruition.
They had entered inevitably into what she assumed was a harmless affair, thinking Mark to be on the point of winning Clio’s hand. He couldn’t trust her to know that it was all a strategy—a means to an end so that he could metamorphose into the gentleman of means he had been put on this earth to become—free of all encumbrances other than those of his own choosing.
‘He does not deserve you, or appreciate you.’
Isobel lifted one shoulder. ‘We shall see.’
Mark pulled her back into his arms and kissed her for a second time, only more thoroughly. ‘Do we have time?’ he asked when he broke the kiss, aroused almost to the point of no return, nodding in the direction of the hay barn.
‘Best not. Come to my room tonight.’
‘Try and keep me away. I yearn for you, my love.’
‘What was that?’ she asked, cocking her head to one side and jumping out of his arms. ‘Did you hear something?’
Lady Walden’s cloying perfume lingered in the dining parlour and on Ezra’s person long after she had quit the room with the rest of the ladies. He took little part in the gentlemen’s conversation as the port circulated, his mind full of his problems and Clio’s determination to insinuate herself in the midst of them. Her reason for being so insistent was less clear to him, but if pressed she would doubtless claim that Salford’s pursuit of her gave her a legitimate reason to expose his ill intentions.
Which was all well and good, but it was dangerous and she must somehow be made to see that fact. Ezra admired her spirited and selfless determination. He couldn’t recall the last occasion upon which a member of either sex had done him a service with no expectation of reward. But it wouldn’t serve. If Ezra was right and an anonymous someone was ruthlessly wiping out his family one male at a time, he wouldn’t think twice of cutting down any female who got in his way.
Determined to extract a promise from Clio not to involve herself in his affairs, Ezra left the dining room with the rest of the gentlemen when the port stopped circulating. He stepped out onto the terrace when the dancing began, in no mood to stand up with anyone until he had thrashed matters out with Clio, and perhaps not even then. A swift glance around the room had failed to identify her amongst those eagerly taking to the floor and Ezra suspected that he might find her out here, avoiding Salford.
But there was no sign of her.
Or of Salford, which was infinitely more worrying. If he had followed her outside and forced himself upon her in a brutish attempt to pressure her into matrimony then Ezra would not be responsible for his actions. The foolish child should have remained inside, where she would have been safe. Somehow Ezra was unsurprised to discover that she had not. The strength of his determination to protect the chit shocked him rigid. He was here with the sole purpose of discovering who wanted him dead, not to look out for a child who meant nothing to him.
Well, almost nothing.
‘Where the devil…’
He glanced in the direction of the stables for some reason, unsure what had drawn his attention. The music coming from the house made it impossible for him to hear anything other than the sound of a fiddle being played not especially well and that of feet dancing an energetic jig on a boarded floor.
He stepped onto the lawn and headed towards the stables, trusting his instincts. As the sound of the music and laughter faded and his senses became more attuned, he thought he caught a snippet of conversation. It was a lady’s voice but not Clio’s. It took Ezra a moment to realise that he had been listening to that same voice—light and flirtatious, tinged with an edge of desperation when he didn’t respond in the way she expected of him—for the past two hours.
‘Lady Walder,’ he breathed.
‘But where the devil is Clio?’
Keeping to the shadows, even though there was little chance of his being seen since it was full dark, he reached the edge of the orchard immediately behind the stables. There was a lantern in the stable yard that cast a corridor of light across a narrow section of the orchard. Ezra caught sight of a patch of pink and groaned inwardly. Clio was wearing pink, had obviously followed Lady Walder and was listening to her conversation. The irresponsible miss was determined to get into mischief, it seemed, and had taken it upon herself to eavesdrop on Lady Walder’s assignation.
Sighing, Ezra crept up behind her on silent feet and, for the second time recently, placed a hand over her mouth.
‘This is getting to be a habit,’ he muttered.
Her body had tensed but relaxed again, presumably because she recognised his voice. She sagged against him.
‘Just in time,’ she whispered. ‘You will find this interesting.’
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he told her in a stern undertone at the same time. ‘What if they had caught you? This is nothing to do with you.’
‘It is everything to do with me,’ she hissed furiously. ‘The man who claims to adore me is currently…’ Ezra’s anger abated because he was absolutely sure from her embarrassed tone that she had to be blushing. ‘Well, he is currently making up to Lady Walder, who wants to entice you into matrimony and is confident that she will succeed.’
Ezra grunted.
‘And Captain Salford is equally confident of winning my heart,’ she added, sniffing disdainfully. ‘Such arrogance!’
Ezra slid an arm around her slim waist, watching as Salford kissed Isobel Walder and ran his hands over her body. He was unsure if it was a suitable spectacle for Clio to observe but knew that short of throwing her over his shoulder and forcibly removing her, she would insist upon staying. Arguing the point would likely alert Salford to their presence. Ezra could but hope that Salford would call a halt before matters progressed beyond recall.
He did so eventually and sent Lady Walder back to the house, waiting for a moment or two before he followed in that direction.
‘Phew!’ Clio glanced up at Ezra. ‘At least now we know why he is so keen to marry me, if there was ever any doubt. The odious man needs my fortune in order to keep his mistress in style.’
Another possibility had occurred to Ezra but he chose not to point out that once Salford had his hands on her fortune, Clio would be surplus to requirements. He hadn’t needed to see any more to accept that Salford was violently in love with Lady Walder. He could hear passion in his tone that was not entirely the produce of lust. That ought not to have surprised him. Salford and Lady Walder were both unscrupulous in their pursuit of hedonistic pleasure—ideal bedfellows in all respects. But pleasure came at a high cost. Salford liked to be in control and it would be impossible for him to control Lady Walder if they were not man and wife—and perhaps not even then. Besides, he would not want to share her favours, even if he considered it his right to continue bestowing his own wherever the fancy took him.
Ezra despised men of his ilk.
There could be no doubt; Salford needed Clio’s wealth, and he needed it as a matter of urgency.
‘He cannot have you or your fortune, and there’s an end to it,’ Ezra said with authority. ‘We are now aware of his purpose and can remain one step ahead of him.’
‘Thank you for concerning yourself with my affairs, but shouldn’t you be putting your own wellbeing first?’ Ezra shook his head, thinking that she was saying what he had come out here to tell her. Instead, she had distracted him as she so easily could, without even appearing to try. ‘They didn’t mention anything about killing you, in case you are wondering. I want it to be them, but I don’t think either of them is involved.’
Ezra wasn’t ready to dismiss the possibility without definite proof. ‘That’s reassuring,’ he contented himself with saying.
‘It must be your fastidious cousin,’ she said.
‘I have sent Godfrey to the tavern. Perhaps he will learn something to our advantage in the taproom. I am still curious to know why Lady Walder’s name was mentioned there earlier today. She had no reason to stop there and I dislike unexplained coincidences.’
‘It is all so very disagreeable,’ Clio said, folding her arms across her waist and shaking her head. ‘This unseemly ruse to get his grubby hands on my fortune, I mean. I realise that everyone must have something to live on but even so, is this what I have to look forward to next season? If so I might forego presentation in favour of a life of seclusion in the country breeding…ferrets.’
‘Ferrets?’ Ezra quirked a brow, endlessly amused by her lively imagination.
‘Certainly. They are extremely useful creatures and much maligned. I kept one in my bedroom when I was a child and he hardly smelled at all.’
‘I am sorry you have been exposed to Salford’s tawdry machinations,’ Ezra said, pulling her into the protective circle of his arms. She made no objection to the impulsive gesture and rested the side of her face against his shoulder. ‘Don’t allow it to overset you. I will not permit Salford to trouble you, and I assure you that not all gentlemen are as unscrupulous as him. Don’t allow that possibility to spoil your season. You are intelligent enough to recognise the fortune hunters.’
Her head shot up again. ‘Thank you, but I can take care of myself. If you take up the cudgels on my behalf then it will create more problems than it will solve.’
‘Let me look out for your interests,’ he said in a soft, persuasive drawl that he addressed to the top of her flower-adorned head. ‘If only because I respected your father enormously. He would not like to think of you being troubled by a rogue like Salford. Besides, you really must take more care. Wandering out here alone with Salford at large…’
‘There is nothing he can do to me,’ she said confidently.
‘On the contrary, if he compromises you—and I wouldn’t put it past him based on the way he conducted himself in Spain—then you will be ruined and will have to marry him.’
‘Ha! That is where you are quite wrong. The more someone attempts to manipulate me, the harder I fight back. He will not overpower me. I know how to defend myself.’
‘Really?’ Ezra shook his head. ‘Against a man at least twice as strong as you?’
‘Certainly. All men have weak spots.’
Ezra shuddered and knew he should let the subject drop, at least for now. But she should not be wandering about alone, taking risks. On that score he was fiercely determined. ‘Remind me never to get on your wrong side,’ he said.
He felt her tremble as her own arms left her sides and wound their way around his neck. Only then did the perilous nature of their encounter dawn on Ezra. He really should have kept himself in check. This was wrong on so many levels, and yet having her in his arms felt like the most natural thing in the world. Why did he not make an excuse, conduct her back to the house in a gentlemanly manner and then steer well clear of her in future, leaving his servants to watch over her and ensure that Salford didn’t make unwanted advances?
Because his thoughts at that moment were anything other than gentlemanly, he knew. The feel of her supple body pressed against his was playing havoc with his self-control and if he didn’t release her now, immediately, whilst he still retained a modicum of sense then he would very likely ravish her there and then in Lady Fletcher’s orchard. Which would make him little better than Salford.
With a sigh of regret he gently disentangled her arms and released her. ‘We ought to return to the party before we are missed,’ he said, tweaking the end of her nose.
She sent him a look of mild rebuke. ‘Naturally we ought…’ She abruptly stopped talking and cocked her head to one side. ‘Someone is in the stables,’ she whispered urgently. ‘I can hear a lady speaking.’
Ezra listened too, grateful for the distraction from an enticing situation that he had never been completely in control of, and identified his mother’s voice asking her
driver to harness her curricle and to be quick about it. Since when had the mater issued those sorts of instructions herself? he wondered. Ordinarily, she would send a servant to carry out such a menial task and wait in the house for the conveyance to be brought round. Where was she going in such secrecy?
They watched in silence until the vehicle was driven away at a brisk trot with the veiled duchess seated inside of it.
She was alone.
‘Where can she be going?’ Clio asked.
Ezra firmed his jaw, his amatory interest in Clio replaced by graver concerns. ‘Most likely to visit Lord Brennan.’
‘Does he live in the district?’
‘No, but there is nothing to prevent him from taking lodgings close by.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Clio said, frowning as they turned together towards the house. ‘Presumably she is free to see him at any time of her choosing. She is, after all, a widow.’
‘A widow living beneath my roof, almost completely dependent upon my largesse.’
Clio looked up at him. ‘She imagines you would disapprove?’
‘Brennan is more than a decade younger than my mother and has already buried two wives. He is also a notorious gambler and is always short of funds. I will not have the man in my house and voiced my disapproval of his lifestyle in my mother’s hearing, even though she has never admitted to the affair and I have never asked her about it. I wish her joy but at the same time I don’t want to see her exploited.’
‘You think a lady of your mother’s comparatively advanced years will not recognise him for what he is? For what the attraction to her must be?’
Ezra smiled as he considered his mother’s likely reaction to an accusation of being of advanced years. ‘She has limited funds of her own, and it will not have occurred to her that he is desperate enough to kill us off one by one in order to get his hands on the greater prize.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Clio nodded emphatically and the flowers arranged in her hair slipped to one side. Ezra lifted a hand and gently pushed them back into place. ‘Well then, Brennan is obviously the most probable assassin. Given what you have just told me, I am surprised you suspected anyone else. But now, the question remains, what shall we do about it?’