of the uprights have been sawn through. A man could squeeze through there.’
Perkins stepped up.
‘Shall I go after ’im, m’lady?’
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘He will be long gone by now. We must take Lady Allyngham home. Run ahead, Perkins, and summon the carriage.’ He looked down at her. ‘What happened, did he demand more money?’
Beneath her cloak Eloise crumpled the paper in her hand and slipped it into her reticule. She was not about to let Jack read it.
‘He said he will let me know his demands later.’
‘And did you get a look at him, ma’am?’ asked Robert. ‘Was he taller than you, fatter—’
She shook her head.
‘I could not see. It was very dark, and he was disguised.’ She cast a quick glance up at Jack. ‘I am sure it is someone who was at the Renwicks’ party earlier this week—he knew I was thinking of leaving town. I wondered for a moment if it might be Mr Renwick, but he is such a short, round, jolly gentleman his size would have been difficult to disguise.’
‘But why should you think of Charles?’
‘Because the man said I would be invited to join the Renwicks at their house party, and I was to accept.’
‘So our villain is not a stranger to society.’ He put his hand over hers. ‘I should not have let you meet with this man alone.’
Eloise said nothing. She found herself listening to his voice, trying to match it to the breathy tones of her tormentor. After all, Jack had been at the Renwicks’ and standing near to her when she had said she might leave London. And he had been nowhere in sight when she had emerged from the arbour. Had he been discarding his disguise?
She tried to dismiss the idea as they walked back through the gardens. Her instinct was to trust him, but what did she know about this man? He was a soldier, but that might not make him any less a villain. Every nerve was stretched to breaking point and she could not relax, even when they were seated in her comfortable travelling chaise and on their way back to town. She was not at ease, being so close to Jack Clifton. She remembered that night on the Heath. Was he really as innocent as he claimed? He might well have had an accomplice, who had taken the money from the tree roots. She cast a swift, furtive glance at the black shadowed figure beside her. Had the man in the arbour been taller or shorter than Jack, had he been fat, or thin? It was so difficult to tell; the enveloping cloak and tall hat had been a very effective disguise. She thought perhaps he had been more her own height, but everything had happened so quickly she could not be sure.
She turned to stare out of the window at the dark, shadowy fields and the houses flying by. Jack had kissed her once. It should be possible to compare that to her experience in the arbour. Both kisses had been swift and rough, but could they have been from the same man? She tried to think back to Major Clifton’s first visit to Dover Street. She remembered her surprise when he had pulled her into his arms, she could even recall the excitement that had flared within her, the dizzying pleasure that for a brief moment had kept her motionless in his arms. But she could not remember the detail.
The carriage jolted over the uneven road and she was briefly thrown against her companion. Instead of shrinking away, she held her position, her face only inches from his shoulder. She breathed in, trying to detect any scent that might remind her of the man in the arbour. She leaned closer, desperately searching her memory for any little point that might identify the man. It had been very dark in that leafy bower, and she had seen very little, but she had felt the man’s hands gripping her arms—that certainly had been very similar to Jack’s savage embrace!—and she had been aware of his mouth pressing her lips, and his rough cheek rubbing against hers. If it was the man sitting beside her in the carriage, there was one way to find out. Aware of her proximity, Jack turned towards her.
‘What is it?’ he asked her, concern in his voice. ‘Madam, are you afraid still?’
Amazed at her own daring, Eloise edged a little closer.
‘I vow I am a little nervous, sir.’
Jack put his arm about her shoulders.
‘There is nothing to be nervous of now, Lady Allyngham. I shall not let anything happen to you.’
She leaned against him with a little sigh.
‘You are very good,’ she murmured, looking up towards the paler shadow that was his face. She felt his arm tighten around her. There was a momentary hesitation before he bent his head, blocking out the light. Her face upturned, Eloise closed her eyes and waited for his kiss.
The feel of his lips, soft and warm against her own, almost robbed her of her senses but she battled against the mind-numbing sensations he was arousing within her. She must remain calm and make her comparisons. The man in the arbour had smelled of leather and snuff and wine. Now her head was filled with much more refreshing aromas of citrus and spices. The rogue had been content to press his lips hard against hers but Jack’s mobile mouth was working gently upon her lips, encouraging them to part. She almost swooned as his tongue explored her mouth, playing havoc with her already disordered senses. She had peeled off her gloves, now with a little moan her hand came up to his cheek. It was smooth and cool beneath her fingers, not rough and pitted. Suddenly it was all too clear; Major Jack Clifton was not the villain.
Having established this fact, Eloise knew she should now draw back, but her body would not obey her. Instead of pressing her hands against his chest and pushing him off, they crept up around his neck. In one sudden, swift movement he caught her about the waist and dragged her on to his lap, all the time his mouth locked on hers and his tongue darting and teasing, robbing her of any ability to think.
At last he raised his head and gave a long, ragged sigh but he kept his arms tightly about her, and she could not find the strength to disengage herself from his hold. Instead her fingers clung to his jacket and she buried her face in his shoulder.
‘Oh, what must you think of me?’ she murmured into the folds of his beautifully starched neckcloth.
He rested his cheek on the top of her head.
‘You were in need of comfort,’ he murmured.
She could feel the words reverberating in his chest.
‘I was, of course, but I should not have imposed upon you.’
His laugh rumbled against her cheek.
‘That was no imposition, my dear, it was sheer delight. In fact, I think we should do it again.’
Eloise was filled with horror. She had behaved quite as wantonly as her reputation had led him to expect and suddenly it was very important that he should not think ill of her. She raised her head and tried to slide off his lap, but strong hands held her firm. She blushed in the darkness, aware of his body pressed against her. The heat from his powerful thighs seemed to be transmitting itself to her own limbs and she had to make a determined effort not to wriggle. She said quietly, ‘Please, Major, let me go.’
Immediately he released her and she eased herself back on to the padded seat of the chaise.
‘It—it is not as is seems,’ she began. How much should she tell him? How much could she tell him?
They
