I should be if I took pleasure in thinking you stabbed to death by some dangerous criminal!’
Alex put out a hand and pulled her to her feet. His touch lit something inside of Jane, something that made her tremble. They were standing very close and she could not tear her gaze away from his.
‘Even though we are in opposition?’ Alex queried softly. ‘You would still wish me no harm?’
Jane cleared her throat. For some reason she was finding it very difficult to breathe. ‘I have never had any wish to be in opposition to you, your Grace.’
Alex’s voice was caressing. ‘I do believe that we could be in the most perfect accord, Miss Verey.’
His mouth was only inches away from her own and he was still holding her lightly, but with a touch that burned her blood with sensuous awareness. Yet only ten minutes before he had spoken of her in terms of the deepest scorn, called her deceitful and untrustworthy, and Jane was not about to forget that.
She stepped back.
‘I collect that you mean we are both accomplished in dissimulation,’ she said coolly, covering the turbulence of her emotions with a strategic withdrawal. ‘I think that you should leave now, sir.’
Jane opened the door and pointedly stood holding it for Alex to leave. He did not move. She felt his gaze, as powerful as a physical touch, searching her face.
‘Well,’ he said ruefully after a moment, ‘I suppose that I deserved that! I can only apologise for my remarks. I said it mainly to provoke you-’
‘Oh! That makes it much more acceptable then, sir!’
Alex laughed, conceding the point. ‘We’ll talk about this again! Good night, Miss Verey.’
The clock struck two. Jane took the candelabra in one hand almost as though it was a shield. By its flickering light she could see that Henry Marchnight was loitering in the hall, but otherwise the house was dark and silent. Conscious of Henry’s thoughtful look resting on her still-pink face, Jane avoided his eyes and made a business of shepherding them towards the door. The night was fine and the moon hung low in the sky. Jane shivered a little.
‘Go back inside,’ Alex said, abruptly. ‘Harry and I will make all secure.’
Henry bent forward and kissed her cheek and after a moment Alex followed suit, taking her hand and drawing her to him as his lips brushed her skin in the lightest of caresses. Jane, scurrying back to the sanctuary of her room with one hand unconsciously pressed to her cheek, reflected wryly that she would be the most envied girl in London if anyone found out. To have been kissed by both Harry Marchnight and the Duke of Delahaye! It was enough to make one swoon, and all in one evening, too! As she slipped between the chilled sheets, Jane paused long enough before sleep to wonder why one salutation had left her totally unmoved whilst the other felt as though it had been branded on her skin with fire.
Chapter Eight
It was Henry Marchnight, not Alex Delahaye, who called first in Portman Square on the following morning. Simon had not yet risen from his bed but the ladies were assembled in the parlour, Sophia and Lady Verey sewing placidly and Jane watching the clock and wondering at what hour any visitors would call. She jumped when the bell rang and her disappointment on seeing Henry rather than Alex was acute. Henry, a twinkle in his eye, came across to sit by her.
‘Your servant, Miss Verey. I hope that you are recovered from last night!’
‘Oh. Lord Henry, I daresay that I should not mention it, but I must thank you for your help in bringing Simon home,’ Lady Verey said eagerly. ‘A most unfortunate occurrence, but gentlemen must be allowed, I suppose…’
Henry stretched out his long legs and gave her the smile that always worked on Dowagers. ‘A small transgression and very rarely committed, Lady Verey…’
Lady Verey fluttered. ‘Of course! And he would come to no harm at his club-’
‘At his club!’ Henry’s gaze touched Jane’s innocent face briefly. ‘Of course!’
‘So good of you and Alexander Delahaye,’ Lady Verey burbled. ‘Such good friends!’
‘Yes, ma’am, but I beg you not to mention it to Delahaye-he is rather a reticent fellow!’
Henry smiled at Jane again. ‘I see you have been singing our praises, Miss Verey!’
Jane cast her eyes down modestly. ‘There was some speculation about last night’s activities, sir…I simply did my best to quash it. How fortunate that I heard the hack draw up and came down to see what was happening!’
‘Fortunate, indeed!’ Henry murmured. Under the cover of the refreshments being served he added, ‘I see you have no need of me to concoct a story, Miss Verey!’
The door opened again and Alex Delahaye came in. Jane saw the infinitesimal nod that Henry gave him before Alex came across with easy grace to bow over Lady Verey’s hand and inquire of her health.
‘I am here to bring your formal invitation to Malladon,’ he said, with a smile. ‘Lady Eleanor had hoped to call herself, but she is slightly incommoded with a cold in the head. Oh, not enough to spoil your visit,’ he added, seeing Lady Verey’s look of concern. ‘I am sure she will be better directly! But as we were planning to travel on the morrow I did not wish to delay any longer. You will, I hope, be able to accept?’
Jane saw that Lady Verey was fluttering and recognised it for a bad sign. Her mother was flustered, which meant that she was inordinately flattered by the invitation and would not dream of refusing.
‘Oh, your Grace…such condescension, we should be delighted…tomorrow, you say? Well, I dare say it can be arranged…’
Alex’s eyes met Jane’s and she saw the wicked twinkle in them that said that her plans had been foiled. ‘I am so glad,’ he murmured.
Jane had, in fact, almost forgotten the invitation to Malladon in the mystery that had happened the previous night. She had been too tired to consider it when she had got back to bed, but that morning she had lain awake for quite some time puzzling over the nature of the business that could have taken Henry and Alex to Spitalfields. Clearly they had been involved in something that they preferred to keep secret, but the thought that they might be entangled in criminal activities seemed ludicrous. It was far more likely, Jane thought as she sipped her tea, that they were working to foil some illegal enterprise. She had known for years in a vague sort of way that Henry Marchnight worked for the government, which led logically to the idea that Alex might too…
‘Will it still be convenient for your Grace to spare the time to host us at Malladon?’ she asked limpidly, her eyes innocent.
‘Oh, certainly, Miss Verey,’ Alex responded, the laughter lines deepening about his eyes. ‘I should not miss it for the world! Do not forget that Philip will also be there to squire you about!’
This was another unwelcome reminder for Jane and she saw that Sophia, who had been very quiet that morning, looked flushed and unhappy. All in all, it was not going to be a comfortable trip.
Malladon was only half a day’s drive from London, set in the lush Hertfordshire countryside. It was the least favoured of the Duke of Delahaye’s estates, for he considered it too close to the capital and the countryside too bland for his tastes.
‘Philip tells me that his brother prefers Hayenham to all his other establishments,’ Sophia had reported shyly to Jane as they packed their bags for the unexpected trip to the country. ‘It is a medieval castle on a wild northern cliff, Philip says, and the Duke locks himself up in there for months at a time! Only fancy!’ Sophia shivered with enjoyable fear. ‘It sounds quite Gothic! What a very odd man he is!’
Jane, looking out of the carriage window as the verdant scenery sped past, reflected that it seemed very much in keeping with Alexander Delahaye’s character that he should prefer the untamed reaches of the North to more gentle climes. There was something about him that suggested, for all his eminent title and position, that he scorned the conventions of polite society. The elements of danger and restlessness were well hidden behind the veneer of authority and sophistication, but they were there nevertheless. Like Sophia, Jane shivered a little. She knew that she had pitted her wits against an opponent worthy of the name and that this unexpected invitation, seized on with such excitement by Lady Verey, had been the Duke’s way of raising the stakes in their game.
Lady Verey had fallen asleep, lulled by the movement of the coach. Ahead of them, Lord Philip was driving Lady Eleanor with exemplary skill and care, whilst the Duke’s own phaeton headed the expedition, the fair Lady Dennery at his side. No one had had the indelicacy to refer to Lady Dennery’s presence in the party, but it had been an
