The Duke's Secret Heir. Sarah Mallory
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he wanted to dance with.
There had only ever been one woman and that annoyed him more than all the rest.
* * *
Unbidden, the picture of Ellen in the desert came into his mind. She had been untrammelled by convention then. When he had first seen her she was dressed like a man in a fine silk shirt, scarlet waistcoat and long, loose trousers tucked into her riding boots. Very practical attire for riding a camel, he had thought, and with the scarlet khafiya covering her luxuriant golden hair she might have passed as a boy, although Max had never had any doubts about her sex, even though at first all he could see of her were those laughing eyes, blue as sapphire.
She had wanted to visit Giza and he had escorted her there, despite the risks of being discovered so close to Cairo by soldiers loyal to Muhammed Ali. It was night by the time they reached the pyramids, but the full moon provided light enough, although the shadows were black and sharp. The night air was balmy, the warm breeze a refreshing change from the oven-like heat of the day. Ellen had laughed and exclaimed at how ragged the pyramids appeared when one was close, and Max had challenged her to climb with him. She had not hesitated. He remembered how nimbly she had scrambled over the large stone blocks, how they had rested together in companionable silence on their high perch. How he had stolen a kiss.
* * *
Ellen smiled and skipped her way through the dance and when the music stopped she accepted Mr Rudby’s hand to join the next set. She had never felt less like dancing, but it was almost obligatory and besides, the alternative was a tête-à-tête with Max, which she wanted to avoid at all costs. With mixed feelings she watched the Duke lead out Mr Rudby’s previous partner. She would much rather he had taken himself off, but she could not help feeling a little grateful that he had taken pity on poor Miss Glossop. His attentions would go a long way to make up for the offence Mr Rudby had offered the poor girl in discarding her so quickly for the golden widow.
* * *
Ellen was exhausted. Her face ached with the effort of smiling and she felt sure her dance shoes were worn through. She had danced continuously since supper, putting off the evil moment when she would have to face Max alone. It would come, she knew it, and it must be this evening. There was no help for it. Even as she skipped and laughed and twirled she was planning how quickly she could remove her household from Harrogate.
When the last dance ended Ellen looked about for the Duke, steeling herself for a confrontation. She was a little surprised that she could not see him, because she had expected him to be standing at the side of the room, ready to pounce. She was even more surprised when Lady Bilbrough told her that the Duke had already left.
‘Although he has the advantage of us,’ said the lady, with a regal smile. ‘He is staying here at the Granby, so he does not have to wait for his carriage.’
Ellen was relieved, but that relief was tinged with anger. He had ruined her evening and now she had lost the chance to give him the verbal flaying he deserved. However, her natural common sense reasserted itself as she went off to collect her cloak and change her shoes. If he had grown tired of taunting her so much the better. She really did not want to relive all those painful memories.
But it was already too late. As she sat down to replace her worn slippers with more serviceable footwear, recollections of their last night together were already crowding in. She was once again in the luxurious and gaily painted cabin of the dahabiya, rocking gently at anchor on the Nile. She could feel the soft cotton bed quilt on her naked skin as she lay in Max’s arms, sleepy and replete from their lovemaking.
‘There is trouble coming, my love,’ he told her between kisses. ‘I cannot tell you more, but believe me when I say it would be dangerous for you to remain in Egypt. You must leave the country with all speed. I would escort you to Alexandria myself, if I could, but that is not possible, so tomorrow I will arrange an escort to take you there. Seek out the British Resident, Major Missett. He will arrange a passage for you back to England. Go to Portsmouth and wait for me there.’ She felt again the soft touch of his lips on her neck, heard his smooth voice in her ear. ‘Forgive me, love, but it will be safer if you travel as Miss Tatham. If the enemy learns you are my wife, it would put you in much greater danger.’
A tear dropped on to her shoe and Ellen quickly blinked the rest of them away. Honeyed words. Honeyed lies, all of it. Yet she had thought it perfectly sensible at the time, and then he had made love to her again and she had ceased to think anything at all.
What a besotted fool she had been! Angrily Ellen threw her cloak about her shoulders and went downstairs. In the entrance hall she met the Arncliffes and as they said their goodbyes she noticed the dark shadows beneath Frederick’s eyes.
‘You must be fatigued, Mr Arncliffe,’ she said quickly, her own concerns forgotten for the moment. ‘Look, my carriage is at the door, I could take you up, if you wish...’
He acknowledged and declined her offer in one wave of his hand.
‘That’s kind of you, m’dear, but the Duke has put his own chaise at our disposal. We are waiting upon it now. It will not be long behind yours, I am sure.’
He ended with a wheezing cough and Ellen noted how anxiously Georgie urged him to sit down. When he demurred Ellen took his arm and gently pushed him down on to the bench.
‘Yes, sir, rest yourself,’ she said. ‘Do not think I shall be offended. Quite the reverse; we are such old friends I shall be hurt if you do not sit down. It has been a long evening for you.’
‘Nonsense, I would not have missed it for the world. It does my heart good to see everyone enjoying themselves. And to see you dancing with my old friend Rossenhall was a high treat, I assure you, ma’am. And very good you looked together, too, although I warn you not to lose your heart to His Grace, for he is as good as promised to m’sister. Ain’t that so, Georgie?’
Ellen’s hand crept to her throat. Promised? Could Max be in love with another woman?
‘You would like it to be so, at all events, my love.’ Georgiana laughed, rolling her eyes.
Ellen tried to smile, wondering how much more her beleaguered spirit could take. She allowed Georgie to enfold her in a warm, scented embrace, promised to visit her very soon and at last she could leave. Torches flared on each side of the doorway, lighting up the hotel entrance and her footman, who scrambled down from the chaise to open the door for her. She climbed in and as the carriage jolted into motion she sank back with a sigh against the thickly padded squabs.
‘We are alone at last. Mrs Furnell.’
Ellen sat up with a gasp and peered into the velvety blackness of the far corner. There was no mistaking that deep voice and as her eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, she could make out his cloaked figure, although it was little more than a deeper black shadow against the gloom.
‘How did you get in here?’ she demanded angrily.
‘Once I had ascertained which was your coach, it was easy to slip inside.’
Max sat up, pushing away the black cloak. He wondered if its owner was even now berating some hapless footman over its loss. Little matter. He would hand it back to the hotel manager tomorrow and he could return it.
‘Do you expect me to fall into your arms?’ Ellen’s voice was scathing. ‘I am surprised you dare to approach me.’
‘Oh, I dare, madam.’
‘Then you are shameless.’
‘Hah, that’s rich indeed, coming from you. You were the one who put yourself under the protection of the French Consul. I suppose he was more to your taste than a poor major.’
‘How dare you? Monsieur Drovetti arranged safe passage for us out of Egypt—that is all.’
‘And why should he do that if you were not lovers?’
‘I told you at the time that he and Mrs Ackroyd had been in correspondence long before our visit to Egypt. They share an interest in antiquities.’
His