A Date with Dishonour. Mary Brendan
Читать онлайн книгу.
only one class of female went about Vauxhall Gardens unaccompanied and they were usually touting for business. Mortified as Elise was to be mistaken for a doxy, she nevertheless knew that finding Beatrice before she disgraced herself was more important than fretting over strangers’ hateful imaginings. Finally the throng thinned out and she settled into a fast walk along the shadowy path.
Elise felt her lungs burning with exertion, yet despite her discomfort she longed to hurtle on at an even faster pace. It was her first outing to Vauxhall and she hoped she had correctly remembered her sister’s vague indication of where the lake was situated. If she were heading the wrong way, she and Beatrice would both be in grave trouble. She’d be too late to drag her sister away before dratted Mr Best arrived for their tryst. Elise knew she mustn’t dash like a hoyden hither and thither and risk drawing further attention to herself. The entire matter had to be dealt with as discreetly as possible.
Inwardly she berated herself for letting Bea slip away from her side. At one moment they had been in a conversation with Mr Chapman, offering opinions on the talent of the musicians, at the next Elise had turned to find Beatrice had vanished. At first Elise had felt furious that her sister had gone back on her word; then she had striven to conceal her panic from the others in their party. Fortunately Mr and Mrs Chapman had seemed oblivious to any change in her. Fiona appeared quite serene, as she always did, waiting for Mr Whittiker’s return with some refreshment. Only Verity had interpreted her frantic glances.
Rightly or wrongly Elise had, on the day they’d arrived in London, confessed to Verity that she’d angled for an invitation because her sister was yearning to escape the gloom of the countryside and find a husband. She’d gone on to admit that Bea had been foolish enough to advertise for a mate.
Verity was a true and trustworthy friend. Despite being quite scandalised a few moments ago when Elise had whispered her fears over Bea’s sudden disappearance, Verity had promised she would try to concoct a plausible tale for their absence, if asked about it.
On the periphery of her vision Elise was again vaguely aware that someone else was striding away from the entertainment on a parallel path to the one she was taking. From beneath the brim of her bonnet she swung a discreet glance at him. He was tall and swarthy and imperious looking and from his sternly set profile she guessed he might be in a similar black mood to the one burdening her. Despite the vital nature of her mission she felt an odd compulsion to slacken her pace so she might study him more closely. He had an aura of such angry hauteur that, even at a distance, she felt a frisson of alarm ripple through her.
Suddenly he turned his head, glancing over before dismissing her. Just as abruptly his gaze snapped back and it narrowed on her as though an idea had struck him.
At the same time something struck Elise. The idea seemed so ludicrous that her eyes spontaneously widened on his handsome face and her steps faltered. He slowed down, too, calculatingly, so he was now behind her and able to watch her whilst she must twist her head awkwardly and obviously to see him. Before he’d slipped from her eye line Elise had noticed a subtle unpleasant change in his expression.
Despite her now sedate pace Elise felt her heartbeat increase tempo until the thud beneath her ribs seemed to quake her body. Her eyes darted along the prickly hedging to one side of her. But there was no gap, no escape route through which she might plunge to avoid that sardonic stare she sensed was boring into the back of her head. Yet, tense with anxiety as she was, an inner voice continued scoffing at her suspicion that such a gentleman might be Mr Best. From the glimpses she’d had of his distinguished bearing he certainly didn’t look to be on his uppers and in need of a spinster’s modest inheritance.
He was probably judging her, as had others she’d encountered whilst racing through the dusk, and had concluded she was hunting for customers. Her insides knotted as she realised he might be studying her from behind to assess whether he liked enough of what he saw to approach her. That notion inflamed Elise’s indignation to such an extent that she came to an abrupt halt and turned towards him, chin up, eyes sparking anger and defiance.
He stopped, too, and Elise felt ice shiver her spine. There was no longer any doubt that she interested him and he seemed undeterred by her hostile glare. She’d hoped to embarrass him into moving on, but he turned fully towards her, plunging a hand in his pocket. The other was abruptly raised and he beckoned her with a crooked finger.
At first Elise felt too astonished by that curt summons to react, then her pride surged to the fore. How dare the arrogant man assume she’d go to him!
But she did; stumbling in her haste and with every intention of giving him a piece of her mind. Having marched diagonally across grass and cobbles she came to a halt with the breath hacking at her throat and stared up into a lean angular face. She read from his expression that he was still amused...unpleasantly so.
‘Why are you following me?’ she demanded in a shaky voice.
‘I’m not. I suspect I’m just heading to the same place as you.’
‘And...and where is that?’ Elise demanded in a suffocated voice.
‘The lake pavilion.’ Having provoked the response he needed to satisfy himself he was talking to Lady Lonesome, Alex gave her a cynical smile. ‘We needn’t bother traipsing the whole distance, my dear. Here will do.’
His tone had sounded insultingly familiar and Elise guessed that was exactly his intention. But her shock at knowing this was Mr Best momentarily deprived her of speech. She had been correct in her assessment of him from a distance. Everything about his deportment, from the top of his stylishly cut dark hair to the tips of his expensive shoes proclaimed him to be a man of wealth and breeding. His bored drawl could not disguise the culture in his voice any more than the lengthy black lashes, low over his eyes, could conceal that he was looking her over very thoroughly. But his saturnine features remained impassive; there was no indication if he liked what he saw.
‘Come...let’s not draw out the charade longer than necessary,’ he said curtly. ‘There’s a spot close by that’s secluded enough for us to get to know each other a little better. It’ll serve while I determine whether Lady Lonesome’s to my liking.’
A firm grip on her arm was immediately propelling Elise towards another wall of hedging. Before she’d gathered wit enough to forcibly shake him off she was being steered through an arch and towards a bench set at the apex of converging dark paths. A single light above the seat was undulating in the breeze, casting eerie shadows over his features. At that moment Elise would sooner have been alone in twilight with the devil himself.
‘Let go of me at once! There’s been a dreadful mistake...’ Elise shoved at him, attempting to slip past and speed back whence she’d come.
Alex easily barred her flight with his body. ‘I’m afraid that won’t quite do, my dear. You instigated this little tryst. Having lured me here, the least you can do is give me a few minutes of your time...if nothing else is on offer.’
Elise recognised the throaty lust in his voice and glanced about to spot someone who might come to her aid should the hateful brute make a lunge for her. But the only sight was a wall of shrubbery, the only sound the soughing of a million leaves and strains of a faraway melody. She slowly moistened her parched lips with her tongue tip.
Alex felt a stirring in his loins at her teasing little trick. She was good, he acknowledged sourly, the outraged innocent act was convincing and erotic. She even looked the part. Now he’d got a closer look at her he could see she had an unusual, fresh-faced beauty and her abundant hair looked to be a shade of dark blonde. Her quietly stylish clothing betrayed a hint of a sweetly curvaceous figure beneath her cloak. But he’d sooner she stopped acting coy and owned up to the game immediately so they could get down to business. She’d betrayed herself straight away by allowing guilt to show in her eyes when he’d mentioned a tryst by the lake. If she were a harlot—and no genteel young woman in possession of her sanity would be out alone—he guessed she was new to the profession to have made such a basic mistake.
‘If you do not let me pass this instant, I shall scream and accuse you of behaviour most unbecoming to a gentleman.’