The Belle Dames Club Read online

  Clarissa swallowed. There seemed to be some constriction in her throat and her heart was beating so hard she was afraid those standing near would hear it. The earl’s frowning glance scanned the room and came to rest upon her. Clarissa’s spirits, dipping so badly a moment earlier, now soared: had he been looking for her? There was no change in his expression, but he inclined his head a little to acknowledge her, then deliberately turned away.

  Clarissa put up her chin and snapped open her fan, upbraiding herself for hoping for anything different. He could not approach her: no one must have any suspicion that they were anything more than acquaintances. Clarissa made her way through the crowded drawing-room, her smile fixed, eyes unnaturally bright. If he could behave so coolly, then so could she. At some point he would come to her and explain himself, she was sure of it, but that was impossible in such a gathering as this. As the heat and the noise grew ever more oppressive, Clarissa’s head began to pound. The guests had spilled out on to the landing, but next to the drawing-room, the door to Mama-Nell’s sewing-room had been thrown open and the candles lit, providing a quiet retreat from the crush of the party. Clarissa slipped into the empty room, thankful for a moment’s solitude. She crossed to the window and threw up the sash, allowing in the cool night air. A noise behind her made her turn, and she found Sir Howard Besthorpe standing in the doorway. He came forward and made her a bow. It was perfectly executed, but she found the gesture insolent.

  ‘I did not think to see so many of your little club here this evening, Miss Wyckenham.’

  She returned his venomous glare with a haughty one.

  ‘I do not know what you mean, sir.’

  ‘After your – ah – adventure on Hounslow Heath on Tuesday I expected at least some of you to be clapped up.’

  A cold chill ran through Clarissa. She put up her chin, determined not to admit to anything. Her silence goaded him to continue and he leaned forward, spitting out the words.

  ‘I overheard your little plans at Lady Maramond’s the other evening.’

  A sudden memory of that night came into her mind. She was again walking towards the little book-room and saw the maid coming out, looking flustered and adjusting the kerchief around her neck as she hurried away.

  Clarissa’s lip curled.

  ‘Can you go nowhere without finding some poor female to persecute? You have sunk so low that not even the housemaids are safe from you.’

  His little eyes snapped.

  ‘She was willing enough for a tumble, and what I learned once she had left, and I had hid myself behind the curtains, was enough to foil your little plans. Damme but you were so foolish. Did you—?’

  ‘Well, well, ’tis Sir Howard.’

  Clarissa jumped as Lord Alresford’s deep voice cut across Sir Howard’s waspish tones. The earl strolled into the room, Mr Norwell beside him. Sir Howard stepped back and offered them a small, stiff bow.

  ‘I think you can have nothing to say to me, my lord. If you will excuse me—’ He went to step past Lord Alresford but the earl put out a hand.

  ‘Not so fast, Sir Howard. I have lost patience with you. Whenever I see you I am sorry for it. I do not think we can tolerate your presence any longer. What say you, Norwell?’

  ‘Oh I agree, Alresford. I think we should do something about it.’

  ‘I fail to understand you.’ Sir Howard’s voice was high and querulous.

  The earl stepped in front of him.

  ‘Let me explain it to you: I think it is time you left town, sir. Norwell, will you act for me?’

  ‘With pleasure,’ was the prompt reply.

  ‘Very well. Besthorpe, my man will call at your lodgings at noon tomorrow. If you are still in residence, he will deliver my challenge and we will meet on the heath on Saturday morning.’

  ‘But that is preposterous!’ spluttered Sir Howard. ‘I will not be bludgeoned into leaving.’

  Lord Alresford gave a slight shrug as he turned away. Watching, transfixed, from the corner of the room, Clarissa thought she had never seen him so menacing.

  ‘That, of course, is your choice, Sir Howard.’

  ‘Wait! You – you have no cause to call me out!’

  Lord Alresford stopped.

  ‘Cause?’ he said slowly. ‘Your whole being offends me. That is cause enough, is it not?’

  ‘By Jove it is!’ Mr Norwell grinned. ‘Damme, it offends me, too.’ He took Sir Howard’s arm, while that gentleman opened and closed his mouth in silent fury. ‘Come along. You will want to be getting home, I don’t doubt, for you have preparations to make. If you are determined to meet Alresford, then you had best set your affairs in order, for he’s a devilish good shot, you know….’

  He propelled Sir Howard out of the room, and Clarissa was left facing Lord Alresford.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Lady Wyckenham stifled a sigh and prayed that no one would guess she had the headache. Her rooms were overflowing with guests and there was no time to relax. She glanced around her: William was doing his duty, talking to the Medway girl. If only he would smile more! Her eyes travelled across the room to where Clarissa was talking with Emily and Georgiana. She was looking a little pale, but that was understandable after the shocking prank – Lady Wyckenham could not forgive Dorothea for embroiling her stepdaughter in such a dangerous escapade. She saw her laughing at some remark Emily had made and her heart turned over at the sight of her lovely countenance. How beautiful she was: Clarissa deserved to marry well. Lady Wyckenham would not allow any hint of scandal to ruin her chances.

  She moved about the room, a word here, a smile there: Lady Wyckenham was all graciousness, her guests would want for nothing and she would confirm her reputation as a notable hostess.

  ‘Helen.’

  Lady Wyckenham started. She turned, schooling her features into a smile.

  ‘Lord Ullenwood.’ She held out her hand to him and he raised it to his lips.

  ‘You are lovelier than ever tonight, Helen.’

  She drew her fingers away, flushing at the passion she read in his face.

  ‘You cannot monopolize me tonight, sir. I must attend to my guests.’

  ‘I would not dream of it.’ He looked amused. ‘A glittering evening, my dear. I cannot wait to see you play hostess in my houses.’

  She could not suppress a shudder, but rather than be offended he laughed and leaned forward, saying softly, ‘I will make you love me again, Helen.’

  Lady Wyckenham stepped away from him, her cheeks flaming.

  ‘Please, Elliott, not now. Let me enjoy my last evening here.’

  He bowed.

  ‘As you wish, madam. I can wait a few more hours.’

  She turned and hurried away from him, fighting down a great desire to burst into tears.

  In the sewing-room, Lord Alresford looked steadily at Clarissa.

  ‘You have seen the Gazette?’

  She nodded. Risking a look at him she saw more than the forbidding scowl: he looked desperately tired, but she dared not allow herself to feel sorry for him.

  ‘Yes,’ she said brightly. ‘Congratulations, my lord.’

  He put up his hand as if to ward off a blow.

  ‘Clarissa, believe me – I did not know, was not aware … nothing had been agreed. As soon as I got back yesterday I went to Mount Street to tell them – but it was too late, Sir Gordon had already sent the notice.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘He could hardly have done so without your consent.’

  Alresford sighed.

  ‘I had not – that is, I must have given him some reason to believe. But we had not….’ He looked up, anguish in his dark eyes. ‘Clarissa, I am sorry.’

  She clasped her hands tightly before her to stop them shaking: she was amazed how calmly she could speak.

  ‘Thankfully there will be no repercussions from Tuesday night. Your … circumspection saw to that.’ Only at the last did her voice betray her, and he flinched at the bitterness in her tone. Her lip c
urled. ‘Perhaps that was your intention, to make sure there could be no proof of your iniquity.’

  ‘No, I never meant—’

  She said bitterly, ‘I was merely a diversion, is that it?’

  ‘No! No, Clarissa.’ He sighed and said quietly, ‘What would you have me do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she whispered. ‘It has been announced, it cannot be refuted. There is nothing to be done.’

  They stared at one another, so much more to say, so much that must not be said.

  ‘There you are, Alresford.’ Florence Medway stood in the open doorway. ‘We have been looking for you everywhere, my lord. Mama is ready to leave, and you are to escort us…’

  Lord Alresford looked at her blankly for a moment.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He turned back to Clarissa and bowed, his face expressionless. ‘Miss Wyckenham.’

  She inclined her head.

  ‘Goodbye, Lord Alresford.’

  He turned away and walked to the doorway where Miss Medway was waiting. As she placed her fingers on his arm she gave a last, triumphant look at Clarissa.

  The Earl of Alresford felt the noose tightening around his neck. He had slept little, disturbed by dreams that included a vivid scene where he choked the life out of Sir Gordon Medway. This gave some relief to the torment of emotions raging within him, but it was short-lived. He rolled to the edge of the bed and threw back the hangings. The house was still quiet but daylight pushed in around the curtains at the window. With sudden decision he climbed out of bed. He would not lie there and be prey to the guilt and anger that had ravaged his sleep. He dressed quickly in the buckskins and cloth coat thrown over a chair, knotted his neck cloth with a carelessness that would have shocked his valet and tugged on his boots. Perhaps a walk would clear his head. He let himself out of the house and set off across the square and into the fields beyond.

  He remembered his shock when he learned that Sir Gordon had sent the notice to the Gazette. Sir Gordon had been all bluff good humour.

  ‘Well, my boy, thought we had waited long enough – after all, we had talked of it, had we not, and little Florence was pestering me to make the announcement – and you know I cannot refuse her anything! You were out of town, but I thought, what’s the harm, we all know it is going to happen, so now it’s done, all right and tight.’

  No, not all right but definitely tight, thought the earl, running a finger around his neck cloth as he marched along.

  He crossed Tottenham Court Road where a few traders’ wagons were beginning to make their way into the town and found himself on the corner of Charlotte Street. It had not been his intention – after all one could not make a social call at five o’clock in the morning. He carried on to the corner and was surprised to see a carriage pulled up outside Lady Wyckenham’s house, and even more so to see the lady herself emerge, wrapped in a large travelling cloak. As the lackey held open the carriage door for her, the earl saw the Ullenwood crest emblazoned on the black panel. He stepped back as the carriage came towards him, sweeping past at a smart pace. He followed it into Oxford Street, then, as it drew away from him, he began to run. He turned into Wardour Street, where his frantic knocking at the door of one of the rented houses finally brought a sleepy servant. A few terse sentences and he was shown into a small parlour, where he paced the floor until the master of the house came in.

  ‘Alresford! What the devil do you mean by coming here at this hour?’ Sir Robert Ingleton entered wearing a garish dressing-gown and a very dark frown.

  ‘I would not have done so if I had not a good reason.’ The earl stopped his pacing. ‘I have just seen Lady Wyckenham getting into Ullenwood’s coach.’

  Sir Robert’s frown deepened to a scowl.

  ‘So, what is that to do with me?’ he said harshly. ‘The lady has made her choice.’

  ‘I do not believe it was a choice, Ingleton. I think ’tis blackmail.’ Quickly the earl told him everything Clarissa had divulged about Lady Wyckenham’s letters and the plan to retrieve them. ‘I cannot tell you my source, but it was thought that Ullenwood would be taking Lady Wyckenham out of town on Saturday.’

  Sir Robert shrugged. ‘That may have changed.’

  Lord Alresford frowned. ‘Possibly, but I think it much more likely that the lady deceived them: she did not want her friends to risk so much for her sake.’

  Sir Robert slammed his fist into his palm.

  ‘Damnation, why did she not come to me?’

  Lord Alresford studied the toe of his boot. He said carefully, ‘I understand that she did not want you to know of her foolishness. The letters were written soon after she was widowed, when she was alone, distraught and friendless.’ Marius saw Sir Robert wince and added quietly, ‘She thinks by sacrificing herself she can save her stepchildren from scandal.’

  ‘Well she shan’t sacrifice herself,’ declared Sir Robert, striding to the door and shouting for his man. ‘More to the point,’ he added, directing a straight look at the earl, ‘she shan’t sacrifice me! Will you come with me?’

  ‘Of course, if you will send a runner to the stables for my horse. We will save time if we leave from here.’

  ‘It shall be done. Which way were they going?’

  ‘The last I saw the carriage it was turning south off Oxford Street. Ullenwood has a property in Wiltshire, I believe.’

  Sir Robert nodded.

  ‘He will be heading out on the Bath road, then. We shall catch him at Hounslow and stop him on the heath, if necessary – does that amuse you?’

  ‘No, merely I am becoming quite familiar with the place.’

  Sir Robert did not waste time asking for an explanation. Instead he looked at the earl, his eyes narrowing ‘You are taller than I, but it should not be a problem: I will look out a hat and a greatcoat for you – I am not sure how we will proceed, but we may need disguise.’

  Alresford nodded, his lips curling into a reluctant smile.

  ‘Very likely – and you might like to take a brace of pistols, too.’

  Sir Robert did not flinch but went off to issue his instructions and to dress, leaving the earl to curb his impatience as best he might.

  A half hour later they were riding out of town. Neither gentleman had said more than a few words but now Sir Robert turned to Alresford.

  ‘So why are you taking such an interest in this family?’ He cocked an eyebrow at his companion. ‘If I might hazard a guess – Miss Wyckenham?’

  Lord Alresford hoped his countenance did not give him away.

  ‘I would do as much for anyone.’

  Sir Robert laughed. ‘Including breaking the law? I doubt it.’

  The earl felt the flush creeping into his cheeks. Sir Robert said gently, ‘Come man. You have trusted me thus far – will you not admit you have a fondness for the girl?’

  ‘It is true,’ said Marius, his voice not quite steady. ‘But I am not free: I hope by helping Lady Wyckenham I can atone somewhat for what I have done.’ He read sympathy in Sir Robert’s face, and said harshly, ‘We have reached open ground – we should press on.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  In the Marquis of Ullenwood’s elegant travelling carriage, Lady Wyckenham sat on the very edge of her seat, her hands clasping and unclasping nervously in her lap. Lord Ullenwood lounged in one corner, watching her with a faint smile curling his thin lips.

  ‘Madam, you should take your ease. We have a long journey, pray, rest yourself.’

  She hesitated, then sat back, leaning against the fat, padded squabs. Unwilling to meet the marquis’s amused glance she looked around her at the luxurious interior. The carriage smelled of new leather: a carriage pistol rested in a tooled leather holster next to the door. Thank heavens the Belles Dames Club had false information about her flight: Ullenwood was reputed to be deadly with a pistol.

  ‘What are you thinking, madam?’

  ‘That you have a well-appointed carriage, my lord. Do we travel far today?’

  ‘We will breakfast at Maidenhe
ad and put up at Marlborough overnight. Tomorrow I shall take you to your new home at Clevedon Bassett.’ His paused. ‘You are still nervous, my lady.’

  ‘Of course I am nervous. I have come away with you with nothing more than a small portmanteau, as you instructed. I have only the clothes I stand up in.’

  He smiled.

  ‘I think you will find I have provided everything you require, including several gowns. A seamstress will be waiting at Clevedon Bassett to fit them for you.’

  ‘I need more than elegant robes, sir.’

  ‘Do you think I have no experience, my dear? There is a trunk strapped to the back that contains the very finest chemises, petticoats and furbelows, as well as a very fetching nightgown which I am sure will – ah – enhance your natural charms. I chose it myself.’

  She flushed at the thought and they drove on in silence. As they approached Hounslow Heath my lady said, ‘When will you give me my letters?’

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of papers tied with a scarlet ribbon.

  ‘Whenever you wish.’

  He held out the bundle and she took it, quickly counting the neatly folded packets.

  ‘You need not worry, they are all there. I play fair, my love.’