Those Scandalous Ravenhursts Volume 3. Louise Allen

bed, her back against the bedpost, her eyes meeting her friend’s in the looking glass.

      Jessica swivelled round on the dressing-table stool, her diamond ear drops dangling from her fingers. ‘You told him you loved him? Maude, of all the—’

      ‘No, of course I did no such thing. He sacked one of the actresses for having an affair with the juvenile lead actor and I said, what if they are in love? And he said, there is no such thing. He is so bitter, Jessica, no wonder he seems like an icicle. I think it all goes back to his childhood, because he seems to regard even maternal love as something nature imposes just to make sure children don’t starve. Like birds knowing they have to build nests. Although I don’t think he got much paternal love either,’ she added with a sigh.

      ‘He’s a grown man,’ her friend said robustly, hooking one earring into her lobe. ‘Ouch, oh, bother this thing. Ring for Mary, will you?’

      ‘No, I’ll do it.’ Maude slid off the bed and went to help. ‘You’vegot your hair tangled in it. There. Yes, I know he’s a grown man,’ she said, reverting to her preoccupation with Eden. ‘But how we are brought up affects who we are when we grow up, don’t you think?’

      ‘Yes, although some people rise above early hardship and others fall into despair or bad ways, even though they had the happiest of childhoods. If the man is bitter and cold, Maude, are you so sure you love him? I don’t know how you can really, you hardly know him.’

      Troubled, Maude perched on the edge of the bed again, absently smoothing out the creases in her skirts. ‘It isn’t logical, is it? I ask myself, I truly do, whether it is just because of the way he looks. But even when he upsets me, even when I see all that bitterness, I still feel for him. And there is something, even when I disagree with him quite violently, that makes me sense our minds are linked.’

      ‘Just so long as he does nothing to hurt you,’ Jessica said, rising and reaching for her reticule. ‘I was in half a mind whether to invite him this evening—Gareth won’t be best pleased when he finds out—and then I thought, he won’t accept anyway…’

      ‘He’s coming to the soirée? Eden?’ Jerked out of her brown study, Maude scrambled to her feet and seized the hand mirror off the dressing table. ‘I knew I should have worn the pearls. I look a fright, I—’

      ‘You look lovely.’ Jessica removed the mirror and took Maude by the shoulders. ‘Maude, I do think there’s some hope for the two of you if Mr Hurst becomes known in respectable society more.’ She frowned as though she was trying to convince herself. ‘If we can play down the theatre and play up his wealth… And it helps that you are now so firmly on the shelf.’ She laughed at the expression on Maude’s face. ‘Only teasing, but it does make a difference that you’ve been out for so long. People might just accept a love match that seems…eccentric. Your papa is being extremely tolerant, you know.’

      ‘He doesn’t know I have any feelings for Eden, he just thinks I am interesting myself in the theatre,’ Maude said, leaning forward to drop a kiss on her friend’s cheek. ‘Thank you for helping.’

      ‘Bel will, too, and Eva when she arrives. Eva can make anyone acceptable.’

      ‘Even an Italian prince’s bastard son?’ Maude asked.

      Jessica slipped her arm through her friend’s. ‘Come on, time to go down. I’ll have to think about this. But I warn you, Maude, if I find he has hurt you, I’ll set Gareth on him.’ She paused at the top of the stairs. ‘After I have operated upon Eden Hurst’s manhood with my embroidery scissors.’

Chapter Eight

      ‘He is not going to come,’ Maude said to Jessica as they met at one end of the long reception room. The party had been in full swing for over an hour, the rooms were full of people, all talking at the top of their voices and drowning out the string quartet that was playing valiantly on a dais halfway down the room.

      Young ladies just making their come-out were giggling together or blushing up to their hairlines if addressed by a young man, groups of middle-aged gentlemen stood around discussing politics and sport, the chaperons were exchanging politely barbed compliments on each other’s charges and in one of the side rooms some of the older guests were playing cards.

      Gareth, who took the view that there was no point in entertaining if you did not do it properly, had ordered only the best wines to be served and the guests were already anticipating one of the Standons’ famous buffet suppers.

      ‘Don’t give up on him,’ Jessica urged, ‘It isn’t late yet.’

      Maude was already shaking her head. Then instinct sent a shiver down her spine as tangible as the trail of a cold finger running slowly over every vertebra. ‘Eden is here.’ She scanned the room, searching for his arrogant carriage and dark head. ‘There. By the door.’

      He was causing a small stir, heads turned. It was not exactly disapproval, Maude realised, more surprise at his presence at such a very respectable soirée. She remembered what the others had told her about his reputation, the fact that he had been seen at some of the more dashing gatherings, the way he attracted not a little attention from the more adventurous ladies. Whether he really fell for their lures she had no idea; people did not mention such things within the hearing of unmarried girls.

      Probably, for the man was hardly a saint. Bel was no doubt right. But she was curiously unmoved by the thought of Eden’s past amours. It was his future fidelity she was interested in.

      ‘Seeing him like this,’ Jessica murmured in her ear, ‘you can understand the rumours about his father. He’s a Renaissance portrait come to life.’ Then she added, her tone puzzled, ‘And yet, there is something about him that is familiar.’

      But Maude hardly heard her. She was already moving, drifting nonchalantly down the room on the opposite side to Eden, wafting her fan, smiling at acquaintances. She stopped opposite where he was standing, deep in conversation with a group of men she recognised. They were all in their thirties, titled, fashionable, known for their sporting pursuits. And Eden, she realised with interest, was already familiar with them. The way they were together spoke of easy acquaintance. But she had dined at their tables, attended the parties their wives gave, and had never met Eden there.

      Yet here he was, obviously comfortable in their company and dressed, just as they were, in the height of elegant male fashion, as he had been the other evening in their box at the theatre. So, he was admitted more comfortably into male society, was he?

      ‘We must hold another charity ball, Lady Maude.’ Maude focused her attention on Lady Wallace who had appeared at her side, the aigrette of feathers in her coiffure a danger to everyone within three feet of her. ‘Or some other fund-raising event, don’t you think so?’

      ‘For the soldiers? Yes, indeed. Last year’s ball and the picnic were very profitable, were they not? I was wondering whether we should not try for something a little different this year, but I confess, I have had no ideas yet.’

      She had lost Lady Wallace’s attention. ‘My goodness, there’s that Mr Hurst, such a surprise to see him here. So decorative, don’t you think? And such lovely long legs. Not that I should be saying so,’ she chuckled richly, ‘Seeing that he must be young enough to be my son. And of course, there’s no family, so he’s not exactly one of us. To say nothing of that reputation.’

      ‘Really?’ Maude held her breath, praying that Lady Wallace would not suddenly recall that she was speaking to an unmarried woman. ‘Do tell.’

      ‘He is notorious for bedding married ladies.’ The aigrette dipped so low that it almost put Maude’s eye out as her companion leaned closer to whisper.

      ‘That is hardly unique,’ Maude commented drily, glancing around the room. She could see any