you have to slap me.’ Jack’s voice was no more than a croak. He said curtly, ‘Do it!’
Eloise dragged her wandering thoughts back. She knew what was expected of her. Pulling herself out of his grasp, she slapped him with her bare hand. Then, snatching up her glove and her domino, she marched off.
The gardens were much more frightening for an unescorted lady. Eloise pulled the hood of her domino over her head and hurried along the paths, trying to ignore the rowdy laughter coming from the darker walks. She kept her head down. Someone knocked her shoulder.
‘I beg yer pardon, lady.’
She heard Perkins’s familiar voice and felt a rush of gratitude, glancing up in time to see him tugging at his forelock before he turned and sauntered away. It was reassuring to know she was not quite alone.
She had memorised the instructions. The second arbour off Druid’s Walk. Now as she turned into the famous avenue she began to worry. What if someone was already there? What if the writer wanted to harm her? She shook her head and tried to think rationally. If her tormentor had the journal then most likely he would want some extortionate payment. She would pay it, too, if it was the only way to get the book back.
She reached the second arbour and slowed down. Cautiously she approached the dark space. A canopy of leaves blotted out almost all the light, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see an empty bench at the back of the enclosure. Her heart beating, she walked to the bench and sat down to wait. Almost immediately a voice sounded to her right.
‘You keep good time, madam. I congratulate you.’
Eloise jumped up. A black shape detached itself from the shadows. It was a man, wrapped in a dull black cloak and hat, his face hidden beneath a black mask. As he moved forwards the light glittered eerily on the eyes peering through the slits in his mask. She cleared her throat.
‘What do you want of me?’
He held out his hand and she saw the grey oblong held between his fingers. It was too dark to read it but she knew from its shape and size that it was another page from the diary. As her hand reached out he snatched it back.
‘How much?’
He laughed.
‘You are very sensible, ma’am. No tears, no hysterics.’
‘Would they do me any good?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Then I will ask you again, how much?’
‘This page I will give you in exchange for a kiss.’
‘And the rest of the book?’
She heard him chuckle. It sent a shiver of revulsion running through her.
‘That depends upon the kiss.’
He reached out and pulled her to him, pressing his lips hard against her mouth. She froze, fighting against an impulse to push him away.
When he let her go she gasped and instinctively dragged the back of her hand across her mouth.
‘Who are you?’
‘You will discover soon enough. Here.’ He held out the grey oblong. ‘Take it. I shall let you know the price for the rest.’
She twitched the paper from his fingers.
‘How…how did you come by the book?’
‘You do not need to know that.’
She put up her chin.
‘It could be a forgery.’
He laughed softly in the darkness.
‘And would you have left me a hundred guineas on Hampstead Heath if it had not been genuine?’
She bit her lip, regretting that first, rash action. She said, coldly, ‘What if I refuse to continue with this?’
‘But you won’t.’ His voice was low, just above a whisper, and it sent unpleasant shivers through her. ‘Neither will you leave town. Do you think if you bury yourself in the country you can escape the scandal? You know that is not true.’
She put up her head.
‘If you publish I shall go abroad—’
‘And what of the Allyngham name? Such an illustrious history—are you content to see it tainted?’
Eloise peered into the darkness. It was impossible to tell much about her tormentor: the hat and cloak concealed his body as effectively as he had disguised his voice.
‘What is it you want from me?’
‘You will continue with your engagements. I understand a party will be going to Renwick Hall at the end of the month. You will be invited.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Mrs Renwick likes you. I have heard her say she would like you to be there.’
She turned away, shaking her head.
‘No. I have had enough of your games—’
‘If I publish that book your name will be disgraced.’
‘Allyngham is dead,’ she said dully. ‘It will make no odds.’
‘But others are very much alive, and they will suffer, will they not? Are you willing to risk their disgrace, perhaps even to risk their lives, Lady Allyngham?’
She stopped. He was right, of course. Slowly she turned back.
‘How much do you want?’ she asked again.
‘I shall let you know that in due course. For now you will continue to adorn the London salons and ballrooms while you await my instructions.’
He stepped back into the shadows. There was a rustle of leaves, then silence. She could see nothing. She put her hands out and stepped towards the back of the arbour. Branches and leaves met her fingers; there was no sign of the cloaked man. Eloise backed away. As she moved closer to the main path she held up the paper, still clutched in her fingers. Even in the dim light she recognised the writing. It was another page from that damning journal. Turning the page to catch the best of the light spilling in from the walk, she read it quickly then, with a sob and a shudder, she turned and ran out on to the path.
After the darkness of the arbour the lamps strung amongst the trees of the Druid’s Walk were positively dazzling. Eloise looked around wildly. Perkins and Robert came running up as she emerged on to the path.
‘Did you see him?’ she cried. ‘He was in there. Did you see him?’
‘Wasn’t no one in that
