From London With Love. Sarah Mallory

hovered by the door, wishing she had asked the butler to leave it open.

      ‘Good morning, Major. How is your head?’

      ‘Sore, but no lasting damage, I hope.’

      ‘I hope so, too.’ She gave him a tentative smile. ‘Won’t you sit down, sir?’

      She indicated a chair and chose for herself a sofa on the far side of the room. To her consternation the major followed and sat down beside her. Heavens, would the man never do as he was bid? She sat bolt upright and stared straight ahead of her, intensely aware of him beside her, his thigh only inches away from her own. Her heightened senses detected the scent of citrus and spice: a scent she was beginning to associate with this man. She made a conscious effort to keep still: she thought wildly it would have been more comfortable sitting next to a wolf!

      ‘M-may I ask why you are here?’ she enquired, amazed that her voice sounded quite so normal.

      ‘I want to help you catch whoever is persecuting you.’

      Her head came round at that.

      ‘Thank you, sir, but I do not need your help.’

      ‘Oh, I think you do. Who else is there to assist you? I presume the journal is your property, so perhaps you intend to enlist the services of a Bow Street Runner to retrieve it?’

      ‘That is impossible.’ She glared at him. ‘If you had not interfered last night the matter might well have been concluded.’

      ‘I doubt it. However, I do acknowledge that I am in some small way embroiled in this affair now…’

      ‘Nonsense! This is nothing to do with you.’

      ‘I would not call having my head split open nothing.’

      ‘I should have thought that would be a warning to you to stay away!’

      His slow smile appeared, curving his lips and warming his eyes, so that she was obliged to stand up and move away or risk falling under the spell of his charm.

      ‘My friends would tell you that I can never resist a challenge, madam.’

      ‘And my friends would tell you that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

      ‘Quite clearly that is not true, for you are in serious trouble now, are you not?’ When she did not reply he said softly, ‘Perhaps you intend to enlist the help of Alex Mortimer—’

      ‘No! Mr Mortimer must know nothing of this.’

      ‘And why not? I thought he was a close friend of yours. A very close friend.’

      His meaning unmistakable, Eloise turned away, flushing. She said in a low voice, ‘You know nothing about this. You do not understand.’

      ‘Oh, I understand only too well, madam,’ he said coldly. ‘This—journal you are so concerned about: I have no doubt it contains details of your affairs. Details that you do not wish even Mortimer to know.’

      She gave a brittle laugh.

      ‘You are very wide of the mark, Major.’

      ‘Am I? Tell me, then, what it is in this book that is so terrible?’ She looked at him. There was no smile in his eyes now, only a stony determination. As if sensing her inner turmoil the hard look left his eyes. He said gently, ‘Will you not trust me?’

      Eloise bit her lip. She wanted to trust him. She thought at that moment she would trust him with her life, but the secrets in the journal involved others, and she could not betray them. And if he should discover the truth, she thought miserably that he would look upon her with nothing but disgust. Unconsciously her fingers toyed with Tony’s heavy signet ring that she had taken to wearing on her right hand.

      ‘I cannot,’ she whispered. ‘Please do not ask it of me.’

      She met his gaze, her heart sinking when she saw the stony look again on his face. It was no more than she expected, but it hurt her all the same.

      Jack watched her in silence. The distress he saw in her every movement tore at him. He wanted to comfort her, but she was no innocent maid: she had told him quite plainly she did not need his protection. So why did he find it so difficult to leave her to her fate? He rose, disappointed, angry with himself for being so foolish. He had wanted her to confide in him, to tell him she was an innocent victim, but it was clear now that she could not do so. Better then to go now, to walk away and forget all about the woman.

      ‘Very well, madam. If that is all…’

      ‘I am very sorry,’ she murmured.

      ‘So, too, am I.’

      A soft knock sounded upon the door and Noyes entered.

      ‘I beg your pardon, madam, but you asked me to bring any messages to you.’

      He held out the tray bearing a single letter: she reached for it, hesitating as she recognised the untidy black scrawl.

      Jack made no move to leave the room. Eloise had grown very pale and she picked up the letter as if it might burn her fingers.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘That will be all.’

      ‘Well?’ Jack waited until the butler had withdrawn before speaking. ‘Is it another demand? What does he say?’

      She handed it to him.

      ‘You had best read it.’

      Jack ran his eyes over the paper.

      ‘So he wants to meet with you.’

      ‘Yes, but at Vauxhall Gardens. That will be very different from Hampstead Heath.’

      ‘But even more dangerous. Much easier for a villain to lose himself in a crowd than on a lonely heath.’

      ‘He does not ask for more money,’ she said hopefully. ‘Perhaps he means to give me back the book.’

      Jack frowned. ‘I think it more likely that he has other demands to make of you.’ He gave her the letter. ‘He does not expect an answer: the fellow is very sure of himself, damn his eyes!’ He began to pace about the room. All thoughts of abandoning Eloise had disappeared. ‘We will need to use your carriage, ma’am, and I think it would be useful to have your groom and my man there. We could send them on ahead of us: they will not look out of place in the crowd; one sees all sorts at Vauxhall. We have a few days to prepare…’

      ‘We?’ She raised her brows at him. ‘I told you I do not want your help, Major, and I thought we had agreed I do not deserve it!’

      Jack stared at her, unwilling to admit even to himself why he was so determined not to leave her to her fate.

      ‘Allyngham saved my life,’ he said curtly. ‘I owe it to his memory to help you and to protect his name.’

      ‘Whatever you may think of me?’

      ‘Whatever I may think of you!’

       Chapter Five

      Eloise looked around the crowded ballroom. The plans were laid: tonight, very publicly, she was to invite Jack Clifton to escort her to Vauxhall. She experienced a sudden spurt of anger towards the unknown letter-writer: if it were not for him it would not be necessary for her to attend another glittering party. Lord Berrow was adamant that he could not sell her Ainsley Wood, so there was no reason for her to remain in London, and with Alex away she would much rather have returned to Allyngham than be walking alone into a crowded ballroom, knowing that nearly every man present would be turning lustful eyes towards her. She shivered: any one of them could be her villain.

      ‘My dear Lady Allyngham, you are looking charming this evening, quite charming!’ Lord Berrow was at her side, beaming and