Disgrace and Desire. Sarah Mallory

her head, wondering if Jack Clifton could tell from that one, brief contact that the Wanton Widow had never before been kissed?

      

      Jack strode quickly out of Dover Street and back to his own lodgings, his mind in turmoil. Whatever had possessed him to behave in that way towards Eloise Allyngham? He might disapprove of her liaison with Mortimer but he had hardly acted as a gentleman himself. Scowling, Jack ran up the stairs and into his sitting room, throwing his cane and his hat down on to a chair.

      ‘Oho, who’s ruffled your feathers?’ demanded his valet, coming in.

      Jack bit back a sharp retort. Bob had served with him as his sergeant throughout the war and was more than capable of giving him his own again. He contented himself by being icily civil.

      ‘Fetch me pen and ink, if you please, Robert, and some paper. And be quick about it!’

      ‘We are in a bad skin,’ grinned Bob. ‘Was the widow disagreeable?’

      ‘Damn your eyes, don’t be so impertinent!’ He rubbed his chin, scowling. ‘If you must know I forgot myself. I need to write an apology to the lady, and quickly.’

      Jack rapidly penned his missive, sealed it and despatched Robert to deliver it to Dover Street.

      The valet returned some twenty minutes later and handed him back his letter, neatly torn in two.

      ‘She wouldn’t accept it, Major.’

      ‘Damnation, I didn’t ask you to wait for a reply!’

      ‘No, sir, but I arrived at the house just as my lady was coming out, so she heard me tell that sour-faced butler of hers who the letter was from. She didn’t even bother to open it. Just took it from me and ripped it in half. Said if you thought she was the sort to accept a carte blanche you was very much mistaken.’ He grinned. ‘Seems you upset her right and proper.’

      With an oath Jack crumpled the torn paper and hurled it into the fireplace. He would have to talk to her. Whatever her own morals—or lack of them—he was damned if he would have her think him anything less than a gentleman.

      

      A few hours attending to her correspondence and a brisk walk did much to restore Eloise’s composure. She had derived no small satisfaction from being able to tear up Major Clifton’s letter and send it back to him. She thought it might be an apology, but she was determined not to accept it. The man would have to grovel before she would deign to notice him again! However, she could not quite forget his words and when she prepared to attend a party at Clevedon House that evening she decided upon a robe of dark blue satin worn over a gold slip and wore a tiny cap of fluted blue satin that nestled amongst her curls. She added a collar of sapphires and matching eardrops to lend a little lustre to the rather severe lines of the gown, but even so, she considered her appearance very suitable for a widow, and once she had fastened a gold lace fichu over her shoulders no one—not even a certain disagreeable major whom she was determined never to think about—could mistake her for anything other than a respectable widow.

      She was a little nervous walking into Clevedon House without Alex by her side, but she hid her anxiety behind a smile as she sought out Lord Berrow. He gave her a quizzical look as she approached.

      ‘If you are come to talk to me about selling my land again, my dear, then you are wasting your time.’

      Eloise laughed and tucked her hand in his arm.

      ‘Allow me at least to tell you why I want the land, sir.’

      ‘Very well.’ He gave her an avuncular smile. ‘No harm in my being seen with a pretty woman, eh? Come along, then. We will sit in this little alcove over here, out of the way. Now, what is it you want to say to me, ma’am?’

      She conjured up her most winning smile.

      ‘I want to found a charitable institution as a memorial to my husband. You knew Anthony, Lord Berrow; you will remember how kind-hearted he was.’

      ‘Aye, a very generous man, and a good neighbour, too,’ nodded the Earl. ‘And he left no children.’ He shook his head. ‘Pity the Allyngham name will die out now.’

      ‘Yes, and the title, too, is lost.’

      ‘But everything else comes to you?’

      ‘Yes.’ Eloise sighed and gazed down at her lap. She put her left hand over the right, feeling the hard outline of her Tony’s ring upon her finger beneath the satin glove. ‘Being a soldier, my husband knew there was a strong possibility that he might die before me, and he saw to it that there would be no difficulties there. And we discussed doing something to help those less fortunate. It has given me something to think about during the past twelve months. I have spoken to the mayor of Allyngham and he has agreed my plans. We have set up a trust and I am giving a parcel of land for the building itself. However, when we came to look at the map there is a narrow stretch of your own land, sir, at Ainsley Wood, that cuts between the town and the proposed site. It is less than half a mile wide but without a road through it we will need to make a journey of several miles around the boundary.’

      ‘But the woodland is very profitable for me.’

      Lord Berrow’s response convinced her that he had at least been giving her proposal some thought.

      ‘Of course it is, sir, and we would give you a fair price. The wood could provide timber for the building and of course firewood. However, if the trust cannot buy it then perhaps you would allow us to put in a road, my lord. The project is not viable unless we have access to the town.’

      ‘Well, we shall see, we shall see.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And just what is this project you are planning?’

      Eloise clasped her hands.

      ‘A foundling hospital, my lord. As you know, the plight of the poor is so much worse since the war ended—’

      ‘A foundling hospital?’ he exclaimed, horrified. ‘No, no, no, that will never do.’

      ‘My lord, I assure you—’

      ‘No, no, madam. Out of the question.’ He shifted away from her, shaking his head. ‘I cannot support such a scheme.’

      Eloise was shocked.

      ‘But my lord, I thought you would be in favour of it! After all, you are a great friend of Wilberforce and his Evangelical set, and I read your speeches to the House, in favour of reform…’

      ‘Yes, yes, but that is different. A foundling hospital would bring the very worst sort of women to Allyngham, and I spend a great deal of time in Norfolk. I could not countenance having such an institution in the area.’ Lord Berrow stood up. ‘I am sorry, my dear, but I think you should consider some other plan to honour your husband.’

      With a little bow he walked off, leaving Eloise wondering what to do next. She had not expected such strong opposition from the Earl. She wondered if he would perhaps be more amenable once he had had time to think about the idea. She hoped so, and decided to renew her argument again in a few days.

      Eloise noticed that several of the gentlemen were looking in her direction and she realised that to be sitting alone in the alcove might be construed as an invitation. Even as the thought occurred to her she saw one fashionably dressed gentleman excusing himself from a little group and making his way towards her. Recognising Sir Ronald Deforge, she quickly slipped out of the alcove and lost herself in the crowd.

      

      ‘Lady Allyngham.’

      Eloise whipped round to find Jack Clifton behind her.

      ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘I came to find you.’

      She hunched one shoulder at him.

      ‘Then you have wasted your time, Major Clifton,’ she said coldly. ‘I will not talk to you.’

      He grabbed her wrist as she turned away, saying