her: she had wanted to throw herself at him, kicking, biting and scratching until he responded. For one dizzying moment she had imagined him pinning her against the wall, subduing her anger with a savage kiss before carrying her off to ravage her in ways that she had heard other women talk of, but had never experienced for herself. Even now, standing before this big, disturbing brute of a man, she did not know whether she was most glad or sorry that he had let her go. She struggled to regain some form of dignity and managed to say in glacial accents, ‘We have nothing more to say to each other, Major Clifton. We will consider our acquaintance at an end.’
He clipped his heels together and made her a stiff little bow.
‘As you wish, madam.’
She drew herself up, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over.
‘I wish,’ she said in a low, trembling voice, ‘that it was you and not Tony who had perished at Waterloo!’
Turning on her heel, she marched back into the ballroom and did not stop until she had found Alex.
He was playing cards, but as soon as he saw her he excused himself and came to meet her.
‘Well, well,’ he said, taking her arm, ‘now what has occurred to ruffle your feathers?’
‘Nothing. I merely want you to take me home.’
He grinned.
‘Then I shall do so, of course, but you cannot storm into the card room with the colours flying in your cheeks and tell me nothing is wrong.’
She almost ground her teeth.
‘Major Clifton has insulted me.’
Alex raised his brows.
‘Oh? Do you want me to call him out?’
‘Yes,’ she said savagely. ‘I want you to challenge him to a duel and then run him through. I want him to die very painfully!’
‘Well, I would, of course, my dear, but Clifton is a soldier, so he is bound to be a much better swordsman than I. Then, of course, he might choose pistols, and you know what a terrible shot I am…’
Even through her rage she could not but laugh at his nonsense. Alex patted her arm.
‘That’s better. Come along then, I will take you home.’
They said nothing more until they were bowling along in the elegant Allyngham town chaise. As they rattled over the cobbles, Alex demanded to know just what had occurred.
‘I was going to tell Major Clifton that I had received my invitation to Renwick Hall. I thought he might help us.’ She rubbed her sore wrist.
‘And what happened?’
‘He told me I had the morals of an alley cat.’ She hunted for her handkerchief. ‘And I c-could not deny it, especially after he found you in my house when we got back from Vauxhall.’
‘He hasn’t spread that about, has he?’
‘No, of course not.’ She blew her nose defiantly. ‘But he thinks me quite sunk in depravity.’
‘As well he might,’ remarked Alex with what she thought was heartless candour. ‘I think he might be jealous.’
‘No, he is not.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘He is merely the most odious man that ever lived. I hate him!’
‘If that is the case, then why are you so upset?’
‘Because I am quite sick of this charade! I hate everyone thinking ill of me.’
‘You mean you hate Jack Clifton thinking ill of you.’
She stamped her foot on the carriage floor.
‘That is not it at all,’ she said crossly.
‘If it’s your reputation you are concerned for, I could always marry you.’
‘Alex!’
‘Well, it is one solution.’
‘But you do not want to marry.’
‘No, and I do not think it would make you happy, Elle. But if it puts paid to a scandal…’
She shook her head.
‘It will not do that, we both know it.’ She sighed. Putting away her handkerchief, she reached across the carriage to pat his hand. ‘It is very good of you, Alex, but we neither of us want to marry. I am sorry; I should not have let the hateful Major Clifton upset me so. I think I must be very tired tonight.’
‘I think so, too. It is not like you to be so disheartened. If you are truly worried about that journal, Elle, why not come abroad with me and forget about England? It matters little to me now where I live.’
‘No, I am resolved not to run away because some, some insignificant little worm dares to threaten us!’ She drew herself up, saying in a much stronger voice, ‘But I am determined we will not ask for Major Clifton’s help again. You and I will go to Renwick Hall, we will find a way to recover this wretched book and then I can go back to Allyngham, build my foundling hospital in Tony’s memory and, and become a recluse!’
Eloise found herself looking forward to the Renwicks’ house party. At least it would mean that she need no longer parade herself in the fashionable salons of the town. During her period of mourning she had missed the society, but the role she had set herself was proving to be very wearing. When Tony had introduced her to the ton she had enjoyed the parties and the company, but then the admiration of the gentlemen for Lord Allyngham’s wife had always been tempered by her husband’s protective presence. Even when Tony was fighting in the Peninsula and she had come to town with only Alex as her escort, somehow Lord Allyngham’s shadow hovered over her and no man dared to go too far. However, all that was now changed. As a widow—and a rich one at that—she seemed to attract the predatory males of the town. They circled about her like a pack of wolves and it was only the fact that they considered her to be under Alex’s protection that kept them from pouncing. She was aware of her precarious position: her wealth and status gave her entrée to all the grand houses of the ton, but if she allowed the flirtations to get out of hand, if she caused too much of a scandal, then society’s hostesses would close their doors to her. She would be consigned to the ranks of the demi-monde and the proud name of Allyngham would no longer be revered. Her husband would no longer be remembered as a valiant soldier—she might even be obliged to remove the memorial stone from the wall of Allyngham church. That was why it was so important to recover the journal: if its contents ever became known, she and Alex would not only be ostracised by the ton, they would be obliged to fly the country.
These sobering thoughts occupied her mind as she journeyed to Renwick Hall. Eloise became even more acutely aware of how society viewed her when she joined her hostess in the drawing room before dinner that evening.
‘My dear, how prompt you are,’ declared Mrs Renwick, coming forwards to meet her. ‘Everyone else is still at their toilette.’
‘Oh dear, if I am too early…’
‘By
