“Number Six Half Moon Street,” Clara whispered. She had briefly considered telling only the footman her address, but the reality was that she trusted her protector, strange though it was, as she had no clue to his identity. “How will you remove Charles?”
“Leave that to me,” Edmund said firmly. “He will be returned to you as soon as possible.”
“How can I thank you? I’m aware that you didn’t need to help me,” Clara said. For the first time she looked meekly at him; without his help she would have undoubtedly been exposed.
“I could pretend that it’s my normal gentlemanly behaviour, but I don’t think you would be convinced,” Edmund said with a grin.
Clara smiled, her blue eyes lighting up behind the mask. “No. I’m sorry to be so disparaging about your character, but I wouldn’t believe that. You are far too at ease in these surroundings to be a true gentleman.” Clara did not know if it was the mask she hid behind that gave her the confidence to speak her mind, but she found the experience liberating.
“Hmm, if you don’t consider me a gentleman, I should perhaps take thanks in the way a rake would,” Edmund said, his smile responding to her laughing eyes.
Clara’s smile was quickly replaced by a look of alarm that increased when Edmund lowered his lips to hers. He kissed her gently, Clara watching him through wide eyes.
Edmund grinned, pausing in his actions. “It is usual to close one’s eyes when being kissed; it enhances the senses,” he whispered, a laugh in his voice.
Clara should have pushed him away; any decent young woman would have done but, instead, her eyes fluttered shut, and her mouth opened slightly when Edmund’s lips met hers for the second time. He pulled her close, and she tightened her arms around his neck. He was right: it was as if nothing else was going on around her; all she could concentrate on was his lips and what they were doing to her insides.
After a few moments, Edmund reluctantly pulled away. “Mmm, for an innocent, you can certainly stir a man,” he said, his voice husky.
Clara blushed. “I think that’s a compliment,” she responded, quite impressed with herself that her voice sounded steady and husky when she definitely felt wobbly on the inside.
Edmund chuckled and rested his head on her forehead, their two masks intermingling feathers and crystals. “It was. It’s a pity I don’t dally with innocents.”
“And what is this then?” Clara asked, her tone light. She was a realist at her present situation; of course the kiss was not a declaration of anything serious.
“That was your thank you for my help, of course,” Edmund responded with a devilish grin. “Although I do feel that I’m going above and beyond what I normally would, so I deserve a little more thanks.”
He did not wait for Clara to respond, but bent his head once more to taste her lips. He had been surprised at her confidence when they had shared their first kiss. A fleeting thought had passed through his mind that she had kissed before, but he dismissed it; it was a thought he did not wish to dwell on. He enjoyed exploring her mouth, for the moment forgetting why he had been shielding her. A gentle tap on his shoulder by a footman brought him back to reality.
“Time to go,” he whispered, kissing her one last time before reluctantly pulling away from her lips.
Clara was tucked against his body once more as he moved to the door. This time she was glad of his support for a completely different reason: she was not sure her legs would have been steady enough to hold her body upright after the plundering her mouth had just experienced. She was slightly breathless and no longer fully aware of her surroundings; thankfully, because of Edmund, she did not need to be. He helped her into the carriage, not releasing to be helped by the footman.
Edmund muttered her address to his coachman, who nodded in understanding, and then stepped back. Edmund held the door, leaning into the carriage and grasping Clara’s hand. “Goodbye, my masked darling; it has been a pleasure.”
Clara’s hand was quickly kissed, and then the door slammed. She sank into the seat with a deep exhalation of breath. What a night it had been!
Chapter 3
Clara entered the dining room at lunchtime, wondering if she would be joined by her brother; he had been absent for breakfast, not an unusual occurrence. She had been able to climb into her bed only upon hearing the noisy arrival of Charles an hour after her return from the masked party. She had observed from behind her bedchamber curtain, fortunate that her bedchamber faced the street, that it was the same carriage that had returned her safely to her address. There was no outward sign that the carriage contained her stranger, but Charles had muttered something when he left the carriage that made Clara think there had been someone still inside. It was a comfort to think that the stranger had not remained in Mrs Langtree’s establishment.
If questioned, she would have admitted, albeit shamefacedly, that it was thoughts of the stranger that kept her awake well into the night and not, for once, worry about Charles. A turmoil of emotions had kept her staring into the folds of fabric that encompassed her four-poster bed, thoughts which were all about the man she had met. He had been a protector, tormentor and rake all rolled into one, and it was a heady mix to absorb for one so used to being on the side-lines of society. As the night hours seemed to lengthen, she had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, dreaming of dark eyes.
*
As Clara sat down to luncheon, she determined she would have to put the memories to one side, it was unlikely she would ever see her stranger again. Her cousin entered the room and sat next to Clara, greeting her with amused words. “I take it Charles is still above stairs?”
Clara liked her relation, Mildred ̶ Milly to her favourite friends and family. She was six years older than Clara but unmarried and perfectly suitable to act as a companion to her younger cousin. Milly shared the same dark hair as her cousin, but her eyes were a clear grey. She was a handsome confident woman who had not married because she said she had never known anyone who met her ideal. Clara knew that Milly had been in love and had been badly let down but allowed her cousin the pretence; there was nothing to gain from dwelling on a hurtful past. The two women got on tremendously; the only problem that Clara had with her relative was that Milly had a tendency to make light of Charles’ exploits.
“I believe he hasn’t risen as yet. He didn’t breakfast, but that’s not unusual,” Clara said, ready to take a bite of the thick ham she had been served. “No doubt he will be rising soon to recommence whatever pursuits Mr Shambles chooses today!”
“Young boys will get into trouble. Don’t worry, he will soon have his fill of excess and settle down,” Milly soothed.
“He won’t have any choice if he continues as he is,” Clara grumbled. “There will be little money left to do anything but rusticate in the country for the rest of his days.”
“This is unlike you, cousin,” Milly said, pausing, her fork not reaching its destination. “Are you so begrudging of Charles’ spending? I admit it is a little more than he probably should, but it’s not really surprising; he has so suddenly come into the fortune.”
Clara sighed; it had been a testing few years. Their father had died suddenly, only two years after their mother. Charles had still been at college when he had inherited the title and fortune. Their guardians had immediately handed over all control to Charles without a second thought, something which Clara would never understand. Why they could not have held the money in trust until he reached his majority they had never explained, but Charles had received his full fortune almost as soon as his father’s will had been read.
It had not seemed such a bad decision at the start; Charles had expressed his intention to stay at college and complete his education. He was intent on starting on his Grand Tour after the year of mourning had passed and would probably have returned when he was of age. Unfortunately, in Clara’s eyes, at some point he had fallen into the company of Mr Shambles, and all plans had been forgotten.
Thankfully, he had finished his schooling, but now there was no talk of a Grand Tour, just the determination to enjoy himself to the full in London. Clara hated not enjoying her brother’s company, but she wished he would spend some months abroad, anywhere apart from France, obviously. She had not trusted Mr Shambles since his introduction into their family and could see of no other way than Charles leaving the country so that he was no longer in the company of such a man.
The door opened and a pale-faced Charles entered the room. He looked sheepishly at the two women and smiled in his boyish way. Although pale when suffering the effects of excess, he was a handsome young man, with golden locks and clear blue eyes, the eyes the only similarity between brother and sister. He had a slender figure that promised to fill out within a few more years and a manner that seemed easy to please and easier to like. Clara knew full well that the smile was given with an expectation of forgiveness.
“Have you missed me?” Charles asked, kissing each of the ladies before sitting and accepting a cup of strong black coffee.
“Oh, terribly,” Clara retorted sarcastically. She might be worried about her brother, but that did not stop the regression into the usual banter they had always shared.
“I knew you’d be pining, so I roused myself early, just so you could be in my company.”
“You are too kind. I’m not sure we’d have survived the day without you.”
“Thought as much,” Charles said with a grin. “Don’t worry dear sister; I shall soon be gone for the remainder of the day.”
Any thought of banter immediately left Clara. “You are leaving us so soon? What excursion are you intent on now?”
“Joshua has told me about some good brandy I might be interested in and then we are going onto a card party at one of his old friends,” Charles said easily, helping himself to food. He might be suffering from excess, but there was never a dent in his appetite.
“I hope the brandy isn’t smuggled,” Clara said quietly.
“Why would it be?” Charles asked, a little defensively at what he perceived to be criticism.
“Because there has been a shortage of brandy since we’ve been at war, so I’m surprised that Mr Shambles would have access to a legal supply of it,” Clara said. “I might not drink the stuff, but I do read the papers.”
“Too intelligent for your own good sometimes,” Charles said, a little petulantly. “Don’t worry, the excise men won’t come bothering you. I’ll make sure you won’t be transported for smuggling.”
“I’m more worried about
you
being transported!” Clara said stiffly. “I take it you aren’t accompanying us to the Stamford’s party this evening?”
Charles pulled a face. “I’d forgotten about that; do you really want me there?”
“
They
want you there, more’s the point,” Clara said. “An unmarried spinster is only truly welcome on the arm of her rich, unmarried brother.”
“Maybe so, but those parties are so stiflingly boring,” Charles groaned.
“Unlike the parties that offer private room entertainment?” Clara asked, her voice falsely sweet.
Milly looked at Clara sharply, and Charles narrowed his eyes at his sister. “What are you suggesting, Clara?” Charles asked, his tone stern, but he flushed a little, betraying his discomfort.
“I’m not stupid, Charles! Please don’t treat me as an idiot. Do you not think I know what goes on in the parties you and your so-called friend attend?” Clara asked, all friendliness and ease completely vanished.
“You damn well shouldn’t!” Charles snapped.
“Charles!” Milly exclaimed at the language Charles had used. He looked apologetic, but the argument was not over between the siblings.
“And neither should you! You have a reputation to uphold!” Clara snapped.
“What, so I can fall down dead at a young age through boredom as father did? I’m determined about one thing: I am not going to lead the dreary existence our parents did whether it meets your approval or not!” Charles snarled.
Clara paled, “Charles!” she uttered, tears filling her eyes.
Charles knew he had gone too far; his parents had led quiet lives, and they had been happy. He was fully aware of that, but recently he had felt as if he had nothing in common with his sister. A breach had developed between them, and he had no idea how to return things to the way they had been. He pushed away from the table, slightly ashamed of what he had said, but not prepared to admit it.
“I’ve had enough of this nonsense,” he snapped. “I won’t be accompanying you tonight or any other if you keep going on like a fishwife!”
Charles slammed the door behind him while the occupants of the dining room remained silent. Clara put her head in her hands. “That went well didn’t it?” she asked bitterly.
“He will never react well when you censure everything he does. None of us respond well to criticism,” Milly said gently.
“But he can’t see where all this is headed,” Clara groaned, hating that yet another conversation had descended into an argument. “It can only end in tears, probably ours the way things are going.”
“You are going to have to let him realise the consequences of his actions; it is the only way he will learn and change.”
“And what if he learns too late, Milly? What if that man gets him involved in something he can’t handle?” Clara moaned.