Sylvia Andrew (25 page)

The fresh air was welcome after the close confines of the carriage, but as they travelled the last few miles in France, Francesca grew ever more dejected. Though Marcus had been
perfectly courteous, and had taken pains to make sure she was comfortable, he had hardly spoken to her on their journey, and now when she was sitting right beside him, he was behaving almost like a stranger.

For the first time in their acquaintance, he appeared to find conversation with her difficult. He seemed to have something on his mind that he was not prepared to discuss. Never before had she felt shut out of his thoughts in this way, and the feeling was very lowering to her spirits.

Why on earth had she gone to such lengths to avoid his company on the journey to France? If this was the way he would have treated her, her efforts had been a waste of time! To think she had been afraid to travel with him, unsure of her ability to resist his charm, his claims to the old, closer ties between them, had feared that her feelings would once again overcome her caution. But now she perceived that such concern had been totally unnecessary. Marcus hardly seemed to notice she was there!

Perversely, she found herself wanting to be provoked and challenged in the old manner…yes, even flirted with. But…she stole a glance at him. Far from regarding her with affection, or even interest, he was frowning at the road ahead as if it held all sorts of unknown dangers.

Francesca grew more and more despondent. It was clear that Marcus now regretted having followed her to Paris! She couldn’t blame him for that, though what she would have done without him she hardly ventured to think. All the same, she had not invited him to follow her, she thought resentfully—she had done her best to avoid his company! And when her father had pressed them to become engaged, it was she who had rejected the idea, not Marcus.

But she became gloomy again as she remembered that Marcus had afterwards stated with some force that he had no wish to marry her! And now she came to think of it, he had
only pursued her and kissed her
after
he had witnessed Denver’s declaration. That was it! He didn’t want to marry her himself, but he didn’t want anyone else to, either. He was a selfish, arrogant dog in the manger! She stole a glance at him. He didn’t
look
like a selfish, arrogant dog in the manger. He looked like a man with a load of trouble on his back.

‘Marcus?’

He looked at her apologetically. ‘Forgive me. I was woolgathering. I’m afraid I’m poor company at the moment.’

‘What is wrong?’

‘Wrong? Why, nothing! I think we brushed through that business in Paris pretty well, do you not agree?’

‘Are you concerned about Lord Coker and the others?’

‘Not in the slightest. I doubt they will say anything, you know. Freddie and Charlie Witham are featherweights. They’ll have forgotten about me by the time they get back to England. And Coker…What has he to gain? No, you mustn’t concern yourself about Coker.’

‘I think he will talk about…about
La Maison
—’

Marcus interrupted her before she could say any more. ‘Don’t ever mention that name again, Francesca! Not even to me. You must forget that you ever heard of the place, and you must make sure Madame Lachasse doesn’t talk of it, either.’

Francesca looked at him with scared eyes. Marcus had sounded…frighteningly authoritative. When she nodded, he said more lightly, ‘You need not concern yourself on my behalf. Coker gave his word to Sir Henry—he won’t talk.’

‘Sir Henry? Sir Henry Creighton?’

‘Yes—apart from its…somewhat unworthy day-to-day business, the place you chose to visit is also one of the chief centres of pro-Napoleonic activities in Paris. My being found there might have prejudiced Sir Henry’s position vis-à-vis King Louis and his regime. But I think we have managed to prevent that—Sir Henry saw Coker and explained.’

‘And you trust Lord Coker? He hates you, Marcus. If he can do you harm, he will.’

‘He may hate me, but he will hardly break his word. And…if he does…there’s nothing wrong, if you’ll forgive my mentioning it, in a man such as myself visiting a…a place which is not normally spoken of in the company of the ladies of Society.’

‘You mean a bawdy house.’

‘Precisely.’

‘Have you been in the habit of it, Marcus?’

‘What a question to ask! Really, Francesca! No, it is not something I have indulged in, if you must know. Now, if you would care to change the subject?’

‘If Lord Coker’s gossip won’t do you any harm, why are you so…so abstracted? You haven’t spoken a word since I joined you.’

He looked at her with a frown. Francesca lifted her chin and held his glance, refusing to back down. A glint of humour appeared in his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitched in the old, familiar, endearing way. ‘You mean you feel neglected? Dare I hope that you would welcome my attentions?’

‘Of course not! That is…I would welcome some attention, perhaps. More than I have been receiving from you in the past half-hour.’

‘This is not what I have been accustomed to hear, Francesca. What has happened to the young lady who ran away to Paris rather than face my company on the journey?’

‘Yes, well, things have changed.’

‘Indeed, they have!’ His face grew sombre again. ‘I’ve been thinking. When we get to England I think you, Madame Elisabeth and Madame Lachasse should go straight to Packards. In that way, we might hope to avoid comment on your return, and any connection at all in the eyes of Society with me. I can see to it that your father joins you soon after.
Both Madame Lachasse and your father need time to recover, and I am sure Packards is the best place for them. It would be natural for you to stay with them.’

‘But…?’

‘Yes?’

Francesca shook her head. She was disappointed, but could not argue with such an eminently sensible scheme, particularly as the only objection that occurred to her was that Marcus would not be there. It was plain that he did not desire her company in London. Pride came to her rescue. She sat up straighter and said brightly, ‘I think you are right. And it will give me an opportunity to renew my acquaintance with Maddy. With one thing and another, I feel I have hardly spoken to her. Thank you, Marcus.’

He looked at her quizzically. ‘Will you miss me?’

‘A little, I suppose,’ said Francesca airily. ‘But I expect Lord Denver and one or two of the others will visit us. It isn’t far from London.’

He took hold of her chin and turned her face to his. ‘I have other plans for Denver. Leave him alone, Francesca.’

This calm order—not even plans for her, but plans for Denver, indeed!—roused Francesca to challenge him. ‘I do not think what occurs between Lord Denver and myself is any concern of yours,’ she said somewhat coldly. ‘I shall invite whom I choose to Packards.’

He laughed and kissed her briefly. Then, as she opened her mouth to speak, his eyes darkened and he kissed her again. In spite of herself, her response was as complete and unrestrained as it had always been. Even as her arms went round his neck, as she clung to him as closely as he was holding her, she had a fleeting moment of despair. Why was it that no caution, no memory of her grief and despair in the past, however painful, ever stopped her from responding to this man with all her stupid, unguarded heart?

Then she forgot everything as she abandoned herself to the feelings of delight, of bubbling joy, of excitement and desire which he could always evoke. The kiss went on, the horses dropped to a walk as his arm went round her, holding her more firmly to him.

He groaned, ‘Francesca, Francesca! You’ve been trouble since the moment I first met you, but…kiss me again!’

For one glorious moment they forgot time and place, lost once again in the enchantment which had always held them in its spell. But then a plaintive voice coming from inside the carriage brought them startlingly back to earth.

‘Lord Carne! Why have we stopped? Has something happened?’ Madame Elisabeth’s head was poking out of the window. Fortunately Francesca was not in her view.

‘No, no! There is no cause for alarm, Madame Elisabeth. Miss Beaudon was interested in the spire of the church over there. Er…shall we go on, Miss Beaudon?’

Francesca had been hastily tidying her hair and putting her hat back on. ‘Thank you, Lord Carne,’ she said calmly, suppressing a wild desire to giggle. ‘It was most…interesting.’ Marcus lifted an eyebrow and Francesca went scarlet. ‘That is to say…’

‘Good,’ said Madame Elisabeth. ‘I am glad to hear that Francesca has not lost her eye for detail. One can always learn something.’ She put her head in again.

‘Indeed, one can!’

‘Marcus! Please don’t make me laugh. You are cruel.’

‘I am delighted to see you in a more cheerful frame of mind. You’ve been a little hipped since we left Paris.’

‘I didn’t think you had noticed.’

‘Oh, indeed I had. It was natural, I suppose. But to return to our conversation before that…delightful interlude—I’ve more than made my point, I think.’

‘Which is?’

‘If you marry Denver, you’ll spoil more than your own life, Francesca. Don’t let him persuade you differently.’ He turned to look at her. ‘You must know I’m right.’

How could he even think of Denver at such a moment? Francesca’s chief feeling was one of hurt and bewilderment. She had thought him as oblivious to the rest of the world as she had been. She had clearly been wrong. ‘A delightful interlude’. Was that how he regarded it? ‘A delightful interlude’ sounded uncomfortably like ‘Nothing much!’—his words to Freddie all those years ago on the hill at Shelwood. Had he…had he kissed her merely to prove a point?

With considerable self-discipline, she put her hurt on one side and sat up more firmly. Two could play at that game. ‘I know nothing of the kind,’ she said calmly. ‘I don’t know what particular point you wish to prove, Marcus, but that kiss—’

‘Those kisses,’ he murmured.

‘Those kisses proved nothing at all. There’s more to a good marriage than gratification of the senses. Comfort, ease, friendship—these have an important share, too. Please stop the carriage again—no! I will not listen to any more. I wish to rejoin Maddy and Madame Elisabeth inside.’

He hesitated a moment. Then his jaw set, and he did as she asked without further protest.

It took over a week to reach Packards, by which time Francesca’s nerves were stretched to their limit. The conversation with Marcus before Calais was the last she had of any consequence with him. Once they reached the port he insisted that she stayed out of sight, and while he escorted Madame Elisabeth and Maddy on a short walk round the deck, Francesca was made to stay in the cabin. In England, too, she stayed inside the carriage, and when they drove through London he made sure the blinds were drawn. His precautions
seemed ridiculously elaborate, but when she protested Madame Elisabeth refused to sympathise.

‘For you know, my love, that it would not do for you to be seen in Lord Carne’s company on a journey such as this. It is not as if you were betrothed to him. I think Lord Carne is being truly the gentleman in his concern for your reputation.’

‘But I have you and Maddy to act a chaperons! It is ridiculous!’

‘It may seem a touch excessive, I agree. But I have every confidence in Lord Carne’s judgement.’

‘Francesca, my honey—you are in love with this Lord Carne?’

‘Oh, no, Maddy! He…he is a friend of my father’s.’

‘It don’t look as simple as that to me. And I never heard no mention of this “friend” before. Tell Maddy, child.’

‘I can’t! I don’t know!’ Francesca sat back against the cushions. ‘Did Lord Carne tell you that, Madame Elisabeth?’ she asked morosely. ‘That we were not betrothed?’

‘Well, not precisely. I believe his words were that you had to wait until you had spoken to Lord Beaudon.’

‘I knew it!’ Maddy cried softly, clapping her hands together. ‘He’s a wonderful man—and he’ll make just the right husband for my little Francesca!’

‘You don’t know, Maddy! You just don’t know…’

‘I know enough. A man don’t sacrifice his whole career for just anyone. It’s proof of something or other, and if it isn’t love, what is it?’

‘Sacrifice? What are you talking about, Maddy? There’s no danger of that. Marc—Lord Carne says those men have been silenced.’

‘You reckon they will stay so? I never met a man yet that don’t gossip with his friends worse than any woman.’

‘Well, there may be a little talk…but that won’t do Lord Carne much damage. He said so himself.’

‘We’ll see, child. We’ll see. Just remember what I said when the time comes—about his loving you.’

Francesca was to remember Maddy’s words just a few weeks later. They gave her courage at a time when it was badly needed.

When their little party arrived at Packards, they found to their surprise that Lord Beaudon was already installed there. He was looking considerably better, and greeted his daughter and Marcus with delight. Maddy was conveyed to a comfortable room which had been specially prepared for her, and his welcome to her was a private matter, and took place behind closed doors. When he came down he found Marcus ready to leave.