Sin and the Soldier, page 7
“My dear Lady Dominic,” Gerald said, stepping toward Natalie, pinning her with his brightest, strongest gaze. “There is no need to introduce my wife to me.”
The blood sang in her ears, as despair and helpless fury all but overwhelmed her. Even though he had told Laurie she was his wife, she had never imagined he would dare claim her as such in public. But she saw that it was perfect. In public, she could not deny it without causing a scene, and as his wife, she would have to go with him.
She even saw the triumph surge into his eyes, which, now she was close enough, she saw to be rather more bloodshot than she recalled. The lines around his eyes were deeper, too, the shadows darker, and his pallor was too pasty to be healthy. The skin had begun to sag on his face. He was losing his good looks.
There was an instant when everyone gazed at her in surprise, and she wanted the floor to open beneath her and swallow her. Lord and Lady Dominic would think she had lied. Mr. Dunne would think… Where was Mr. Dunne? He seemed to have vanished and God help her, that did not matter. Richard no longer held her hand. What do I do?
Richard laughed, a totally unexpected sound of easy amusement. “In your dreams, Monck, in your dreams. Such an amusing fellow. You will excuse us, Viola, I must escort Miss Derwent to her next appointment. Good day, all.”
Suddenly, her feet could move again. With Richard shepherding her, it seemed she was more than capable of casting a last smile at her hosts, walking between Lord Calton and Gerald, and beginning a stately descent of the stairs.
Behind them, she heard Lord and Lady Dominic herding everyone into the drawing room for tea.
*
She could not speak until they sat in the hackney, clopping through the London streets, alongside Hyde Park. Only then did she realize he had allowed her silence, respected it.
“It is not true,” she blurted. “I never married him.”
“Good.”
She stared at him. “Just good?”
His lips quirked. “Good is a start. It was quite clear what he was doing, but it would be harder to refute if it were true.”
“You headed him off very well,” Natalie said admiringly. “He won’t be able to bring it up again without seeming either a bore or a husband who can’t keep his wife in line. But I hate to think of Lord and Lady Dominic being forced to entertain that insect.”
“Oh, Dom never does anything he doesn’t want to do. In this case, he’ll find out what he can in Monck’s company.”
“He won’t go gaming with him, will he? Gerald cheats.”
“Of course, he does,” Richard murmured.
“And he is not fit company for Lady Dominic, who is too kind—”
“And too shrewd to fall for his lies. Dunne is there, too, remember? He slipped into the morning room to watch, knowing his name might frighten the inestimable Monck.”
“Then he will still investigate?” she asked hopefully. “He won’t be put off by Gerald’s claim that I am his wife?”
“Nothing puts Dunne off.”
She felt her shoulders relax. “And those men with Gerald? Do you think they are under his thumb?”
“I don’t know the Davenport fellow, but Calton has never been under anyone’s thumb, and I don’t see him starting with a cheating nonentity like Gerald Monck. My dear, nothing has changed. He made another ploy and lost.”
“I think he is ill,” she said. “He does not look well. I wonder if that is why he is reduced to trying to force me back to him?”
“Too much dissipation will make a man look like that. Unfortunately for him, it also makes tricking people out of their hard-earned money somewhat harder. Since his looks are fading, he is relying on reviving your old fear of him. Don’t let that happen.”
“I won’t.” And she didn’t believe she would. There had been enough time for anger and hatred to overwhelm the fear. Usually. And besides, seeing him today, he was somehow…diminished.
“But I will allow him determination,” Richard said thoughtfully. “It can’t have been coincidence that brought him to my brother’s house. He must have troubled to find out my name and insinuate himself in circles that know me.”
She leaned forward urgently. “You must take care. He does not play by any rules.”
“Neither do I, as it happens.”
She shook her head. “Yes, you do. You are just prepared for those who don’t.” Another thought had struck her during her silence. “If he suspects I might be looking toward playing in society, he will try to ruin my reputation with Lady Dominic. And from her to everyone else. He could blacken your name, too, linking it to mine.”
“My reputation would only shine from such a link. I shall be duly flattered.”
Chapter Seven
By the time they returned to the cottage, Richard’s old soldiers, including Daniels, had arrived. They lined up for inspection, and Richard introduced each of them by name. As apparently instructed, they had brought provisions for Natalie as well as themselves. While she cooked something for the men, Richard bowed and departed for the hotel.
She could not help being disappointed. But then, if Gerald did try to tarnish their reputations, Richard would not wish to give too much fuel to rumor. After all, they were already sleeping in each other’s room—admittedly apart—and traveling together in closed carriages. If Natalie had been a debutante, or even back in her old life in the country, she would already be ruined.
The men insisted on eating outside. While they did so, Natalie replaced the broken string on her slightly battered harp and settled down to practice. Although she did her best, at times like these she missed not having the full-sized harp constantly with her. But that instrument belonged to her employer, and besides, there was no room in her tiny room for a large harp as well as the pianoforte.
When she had changed and dressed her hair for the evening, she emerged cautiously from the cottage. Before she had even locked the door, her escort materialized at a respectful distance on either side. Smith, with one ear, and Havers with the horrific facial scar. The latter wore a wide-brimmed hat, pulled down to cover most of his face.
“We’ll walk behind you, Miss,” Smith said. “Don’t look back unless you hear us call to you, just trust we’ll be there. Daniels and Fellows will keep the cottage safe.”
“Lovely music, ma’am,” Havers muttered. “Does the heart good.”
She smiled her pleasure in his remark and set off along the track.
An hour later, her second evening recital began. Captain Gorse sat in his usual place, his posture relaxed, his eyes watchful. And not haunted. The orchestra played their hearts out. So did Natalie, for him.
And nowhere in the audience did she see Gerald. All was right with the world.
*
Gerald Monck was in fact at Renwick’s Hotel but keeping a low profile in the less exclusive wing, where he had contrived to encounter Amy Laurel. When they met in the coffee room, which doubled as a refined kind of taproom, she looked delighted to see him. Monck was actually flattered until he realized more of her attention seemed to be on a younger man brooding by the empty fireplace. Clearly, she was using Monck to make this person jealous.
A girl after my own heart. Monck chose to be amused rather than annoyed.
“Not at the concert, sir?” she said.
“I thought I might catch the final piece.”
“I caught the first,” she admitted. “She’s very good is our Miss Nat.”
“Then why on earth does she stay in that peasant’s cottage?” Monck was only making conversation. He didn’t expect to learn anything important from the remark.
So, he was surprised when Amy said carelessly, “Well, she don’t no more.”
Monck stilled, his ale halfway to his mouth. “She no longer lives at the cottage?”
“Got a room here now.”
Damn, that would make it harder to get to her since Renwick was making it his business to guard her. “Then why does she go to the cottage?”
Amy looked coy. “Goes to meet that captain, don’t she?”
Perhaps she did. Though Monck’s instincts told him she was far too straitlaced for such an affair. It was much more likely they had swapped rooms to fool him. But that was an obstacle for later contemplation. For now, he had to get into the other wing of the hotel without being stopped and ejected by Renwick’s un-gentle henchmen.
“I believe I’ll toddle over to the concert, now,” he said, finishing the ale he had no intention of paying for. “Is there a door from here to the other wing of the hotel?”
“Yes, but it’s locked. Only staff got the key.”
He smiled at her. “Well, you are staff, are you not?”
She eyed him uncertainly.
He winked. “Think how jealous it will make that young man over yonder if you leave with me? Then you can return and make his evening.”
Amy laughed. “You are terrible mischievous, sir!”
“Oh, I am, I am,” Monck agreed, offering his arm as though she were a lady and worth the courtesy.
*
Natalie played so well that it should have reduced Richard to tears. As indeed her music had in the past, however secretly. Tonight, he was too watchful to lose himself completely. He sat slightly to one side, as though for the best view of the harpist at the center of the stage, though it had the added benefit of allowing him to see most of the audience, too.
From the door, Renwick would be watching the rest. He had agreed to admit Monck, but to let Richard know as soon as the man arrived. If he arrived.
Part of Richard wanted him to turn up so that they could beat the matter out immediately. The other half wanted the evening for Natalie’s triumph alone. To enjoy her company in peace. To bask in the new, disturbing happiness she brought to him.
Richard had always appreciated women, had derived considerable pleasure from many. But even before his injuries, no one had ever affected him like Natalie Derwent. It was as if he had spent two years getting to know her without ever exchanging a word, for she seemed to be as necessary to him now as breathing, an impossible combination of familiarity and mystery.
Faithful to his habit, he rose on her last note. Her gaze flew to him, her stage-smile fixed until he inclined his head and let his own smile break out. And then she shone, and his heart ached with pleasure and hope, just because he could affect her so.
He made his way down the hall toward the doors, which were now open. Renwick still stood there.
“He’s in the foyer,” he murmured as Richard passed.
Richard nodded curtly. There was no point in being annoyed, and this way, perhaps, the whole business could be ended all the quicker. But he didn’t have to make it easy for Monck. As he had always meant to, he swung immediately left toward the musicians’ room and was aware of Monck, on the periphery of his vision, hurtling toward him.
Monck caught him at the door, mainly because Richard allowed it. For he had no intention of letting Monck near Natalie.
“My lord.” Monck bowed punctiliously. “Might I beg the favor of a word?”
Richard regarded him consideringly, with something of the look he had once accorded over-cocky recruits. He waited until Monck’s feet shifted and the man’s hand lifted toward his cravat as though to loosen it.
“Very well,” he allowed in a bored voice and turned, indicating a public room on the other side of the foyer. An elegant sign proclaimed it to be the Gentlemen’s Sitting Room, and fortunately, it was empty. Richard sat in the nearest chair and waved Monck to the one opposite. “Come to the point, if you please.”
“Very well. I gather you did not believe my statement this afternoon, that the lady you believe to be Miss Derwent is, in fact, Mrs. Monck.”
“You are entirely correct.”
“I am sorry to see an honorable gentleman such as yourself—a marquess’s son, a hero of the late wars—tricked by my wife. I am ashamed.”
“We will leave the reasons for your shame until later. I still await your point.”
“My lord, whatever she has told you, she is my wife. Of course, your station in life is so immeasurably above ours that you may not care. But I do. I am prepared to forgive my wife. I want her to return to me, assured that I shall never, in word or deed, castigate her for leaving me. Even though she left me for another man.”
Richard kept his face carefully devoid of any expression except that of cold amusement.
“She did not tell you that?” Monck guessed. “His name is Laurie. He owns a music shop now. He may have inherited it, I’m not sure. Nor do I know whether he discovered her true nature, or she decided—”
“Then if you do not know, there is little point in wasting time in speculation,” Richard remarked. “In fact, you will also forgive me for pointing out that everything you say is worse than speculation. Mere allegation without proof. Your word against hers.” Richard smiled. “And against mine. You will not win a war of reputations, Monck. I cannot advise you strongly enough against it.”
“I would not dream of such a thing.” The man sounded genuinely shocked. He reached inside his coat and brought out a folded document which he offered to Richard. “Proof, my lord. Of my marriage to Natalie Derwent.”
Leaving his cane propped between his leg and the table, Richard unhurriedly took the document and unfolded it.
“Marriage lines,” Monck explained, in case, presumably, Richard was too stupid or too emotional to be able to read it for himself. “The wedding was conducted by an English, Protestant clergyman, in a village near Rome and duly witnessed, as you see.”
Richard folded the document, placed it in his own pocket, and rose with the aid of his walking stick. “Thank you for this evidence.”
For the first time, alarm glimmered in Monck’s eyes. He leapt to his feet, facing Richard. “My lord, it was not a gift! I merely show you it for courtesy’s sake—”
“Then I shall return it to you in due course. With equal courtesy.”
“Now would be better. I need it to bring my wife back to me!”
“You need it to threaten her and bamboozle other people,” Richard uttered with contempt. He made a move toward the door, but Monck side-stepped into his path.
“My document,” Monck said with no pretense of amiability now. Although he was not as tall as Richard, he had the advantage of two steady legs and two arms. And an ugly look about the mouth, which Richard had no time for.
Richard brought up the knob of his cane and shoved Monck sharply in the chest. Monck staggered back in surprise, clutching at the sudden pain.
“Keep your distance, sirrah.” With a curl of the lip, Richard stalked past him and out the still-open door.
Monck caught up with him in the foyer. “Forgive me, my lord, I meant no disrespect. I am over emotional as I’m sure you can understand. Of course, you mean to confront my wife with this evidence, as is only right, and of course, your word to return it is quite enough for me.”
By this time, Richard had led him straight to the front door of the hotel. The doorman kindly opened it, and Richard walked through, Monck at his heels.
“Good night, Mr. Monck.” Richard waited only long enough to be sure that Havers, lurking near the other door to the cheaper wing of the hotel, had heard him, then turned on his heel and walked back across the foyer.
*
Natalie could not help feeling a touch disappointed that Richard didn’t come immediately to the room next to the stage. She had wondered if they might have dinner together again… Although she suspected it cost a fortune to dine at Renwick’s.
Mr. Renwick himself came to speak to her. “Congratulations, Miss Nat. These recitals seem to be going very well. Several people have asked about you, you know. We might consider a small reception after the next concert if you don’t hate the idea. To let your adoring public meet you in person.”
“Oh, no,” she said at once. It reminded her far too much of the after-concert receptions Gerald had organized, where she had been put on display for lustful men to ogle. Although nothing untoward had actually happened, she had felt both unsafe and humiliated.
“Well, think about it.” Renwick sounded disappointed, but he didn’t press her, probably because Richard had entered the room at last.
He looked distracted, although his frown vanished when he saw her. And suddenly, life was wonderful again.
He did indeed sweep her off to the dining room, and her troubles seemed to fall away. She did not even think about the future, except for a vague, pleasantly excited feeling, or about the past. The present consumed her, filling her with gladness in her company and an ever-increasing physical awareness that actually made her shiver when their fingers brushed by accident. And when they stood and he lightly placed her shawl about her shoulders, a delightful little thrill ran down her spine.
Without asking, he escorted her upstairs to her rooms. His rooms. A strange, heavy warmth tingled low in her stomach. She walked along the passage at his side, her hand lightly on his sleeve, moving with his walking stick, which he was barely leaning on at all.
I don’t want him to leave me, she thought suddenly. How do I make him stay just ten minutes longer? And then, Will it be any easier in ten minutes?
Idiot. You will see him again tomorrow.
Still, by the time the door to her—his—rooms stood open, she wanted to lock her arms around his neck and bury her face in his throat, inhale the warm, earthy scent of his skin…
Such feelings were new to her, wonderful, and yet just a little frightening. And in her heart, she knew she could not act upon them. She walked past him and turned to say good night—and found he had followed her inside and now stood toe to toe with her.
She could not breathe, even with her lips parted to speak the words which had deserted her. The sheer, masculine beauty of his face, scar and all, made her want to weep. The urge to touch him was irresistible, except her body seemed too boneless to move. His normally ice-hard blue eyes were warm and clouded and focused intently on her mouth, and her insides dissolved into molten heat.
