From London With Love: Disgrace and Desire / The Captain and the Wallflower. Lyn Stone
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did not reply. Leaning back in one corner, she clutched her reticule nervously. It rested heavily on her knees but she would not put it away from her. She had never been inside a bank before, but the manager himself had taken charge once he realised her identity, and the whole process had been conducted with the utmost ease. When she had said she needed to draw a substantial amount to distribute to her staff he had given her a look which combined sympathy with mild disapproval: no doubt he thought that she really required the money for some much more trivial reason, such as to buy new gowns or to pay off her gambling debts.
She pulled a paper from her bag and unfolded it: the scrawling black letters might have been live serpents for the way they made her skin crawl. When the letter had arrived that morning and she had read it for the first time, she had felt very alone. Her first thought had been to send for Alex, but she had soon dismissed the idea. Alex was a dear friend, but he could be rash, and this matter required discretion. No, she must deal with this herself. She scanned the letter again, chewing at her lip. Her biggest problem now was how to get through the rest of the day?
Mrs Renwick was a little surprised when Eloise appeared at her card party that evening.
‘I know I had sent my apologies,’ said Eloise, giving her hostess a bright smile, ‘but I was not in humour for dancing tonight and thought you would not object…’
‘Not in the least, my dear, you are most welcome here. Come in, come in and join our little party.’ Mrs Renwick drew her towards a quiet room filled with small tables, where ladies and gentleman were gathered, staring at their cards in hushed concentration. Bathed in the glow of the candles, it looked like a room full of golden statues. ‘This is turning out to be an evening of pleasant surprises. Major Clifton, too, made an unexpected appearance. It seems his business in town will not now be concluded until tomorrow so we have the pleasure of his company, too—’
Eloise drew back quickly. She had spotted Jack Clifton on the far side of the room.
‘No! I—I was hoping for something a little…less serious, ma’am.’
Her hostess laughed softly. ‘Well if you would like to come into the morning room, some of our friends are playing looe for penny points: nothing too alarming in that, now is there?’
Resigning herself to an hour or so of tedious play, Eloise smiled and took her place between a bouncing, bubbly young lady fresh from the schoolroom and an emaciated dowager in heavy black bombazine. Concentrating on the cards proved a surprisingly effective distraction for Eloise and when the little group split up to go in search of refreshment she was relieved to note that her evening was nearly over.
She made her way downstairs to the dining room where a long table was loaded with a sumptuous array of food and drink. A little supper might help to settle the nervous anticipation that was beginning to build within her. A group of gentlemen were helping themselves to delicacies from an assortment of silver dishes. She noted that both Major Clifton and Sir Ronald Deforge were amongst their number so she avoided them and made her way to the far end of the table. She kept her eyes lowered, determined to concentrate on the food displayed before her but the gentlemen’s light-hearted banter intruded and she could not help but listen. The conversation turned to gambling and she found her attention caught when she heard the major’s voice.
‘You know I play the occasional game at White’s but the high stakes are not for me,’ he was saying. ‘You will think me very dull, I dare say, but I prefer my funds to be invested in my land, rather than lining some other fellow’s pockets.’
‘Very different from Sir Ronald, then,’ laughed Edward Graham. ‘You never refuse a game of chance, ain’t that right, sir?’
‘If it is cards, certainly,’ Sir Ronald replied cheerfully. ‘I have something of a passion for cards. I played young Franklyn ’til dawn last week.’
‘Then you have more energy for the pastime than I do,’ returned the major coolly, turning away.
‘I hear that playing ’til dawn is a common occurrence with you, Deforge,’ remarked Mr Renwick. ‘By Gad, sir, your servants must be falling asleep at their posts if they have to wait up for you every night.’
Sir Ronald laughed.
‘No, no, Renwick, I am not so cruel an employer. My household retires at a Christian hour. Only my valet waits up for me, and he snoozes in a chair in the hall until I give him the knock to let me in.’
‘The pleasures of being a bachelor,’ declared his host. ‘A wife would certainly curtail your nocturnal activities, Deforge!’
‘Oho, when have I ever prevented you doing exactly as you wish?’ demanded Mrs Renwick, walking by at that moment. ‘My husband would have you think his life very restricted.’ She tapped the straining front of Mr Renwick’s waistcoat with her fan. ‘Well, gentlemen? Does he look as if he is wasting away?’
Eloise gave a little chuckle as her hostess came towards her.
‘I am sure we will all find something to tempt our appetite here,’ she smiled. ‘A truly magnificent supper, ma’am.’
‘Thank you, Lady Allyngham. Are you enjoying yourself?’
‘Yes, thank you. It is a most delightful evening.’
‘But, my dear, you are very quiet this evening, and a trifle pale, I think.’ Mrs Renwick came closer. ‘I hope you are not ill?’
‘No, ma’am, a little tired, perhaps.’
Mrs Renwick gave her a warm, sympathetic smile.
‘Too many engagements, ma’am?’
‘I think perhaps I have had enough of town life.’
Overhearing, Mr Graham turned quickly towards her.
‘My dear Lady Allyngham, you will not desert us!’
‘Of course she will not,’ put in Lady Parham, coming up. ‘Not when there are so many diversions to be enjoyed.’
Eloise forced herself to smile. Suddenly she was tired of play-acting.
‘I think I may well go back to Allyngham.’
‘Ah,’ nodded Lady Parham. ‘Perhaps that is why you were in the Strand this morning, settling your affairs with your bankers.’
Eloise stiffened. ‘No, I had no business there today.’
‘Oh, I was so sure it was you!’ Lady Parham gave a tinkling little laugh, glancing around at her friends. ‘I had gone to Ackerman’s, to look at their new prints—so amusing!—and I saw a lady coming out of Coutts’s bank. But she was veiled, so perhaps I was mistaken.’
‘It must have been someone else,’ said Eloise firmly. ‘I was not in the Strand this morning.’
She selected a little pastry and turned away, only to find Jack Clifton regarding her with a little frown in his eyes.
Now what the devil is she about?
Jack had been watching Lady Allyngham for some time. He had noted that she was nervous, her eyes constantly straying to the clock, and her vehement denial of visiting the bank aroused his suspicions. She caught his eye and moved away so fast he abandoned any thought of speaking to her, but when, a short time later, Eloise made her excuses and left the party, he followed.
The press of traffic in the streets made it an easy task for Jack to follow her carriage on foot, and when they arrived at Dover Street he was close enough to hear the lady’s instructions to the coachman to come back in an hour.
Jack grinned. So she was up to something! He dashed back to King Street, quelling the little voice in his head that objected to the idea of spying on a lady. After all, Tony Allyngham had been a good friend and had asked him to look after his widow—well, perhaps not in so many words, but Jack was not going to admit, even to himself, that he had any personal interest in Eloise Allyngham.
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