Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 Page 11

  “Mama, it was more than flirtation!” Despite her best intentions, Aurelia’s voice went up, both in volume and pitch. She turned abruptly and took a couple of calming breaths.

  “My dear, I’ve been on this earth much longer than you. Pray allow me the ability to spot a rake when I see one.” She motioned at the chair opposite her. “Since you insist on discussing this matter, sit.”

  Aurelia knew when to concede to her mother’s demands. She sat. “Mama, he isn’t a rake.”

  “Yes, he is. He has a wicked reputation, my dear. I investigated his background when he began to take an interest in you. Every Season he chooses a young lady, maybe more than one, to pursue. Then he drops her. It’s a game with him.”

  Listening in stunned silence, Aurelia’s first reaction was to deny the accusation completely. But in the moment she found her voice, her mother continued to talk.

  “It pains me to tell you, but I hoped you’d come to your senses and send him packing. Then I decided that you were due a lesson. Aurelia, you are a sheltered and privileged young woman. It has sometimes pained me that you have had such a carefully protected life, although I have been the cause of it. Recently I thought that before you engage in marriage, you should learn more about the nature of men. Consequently I allowed the affair to continue. I trusted you not to take your trysts too far—”

  There came that hateful laugh again. “What, did you think I didn’t know? Foolish child, as if I’d allow my most precious jewel to escape my notice! I marked every moment.” She raised a brow. “But it’s time to move on. He declared his hand today. In other words, he’s grown bored with the game.”

  She fixed her daughter with a steely glare. Aurelia found she was unable to look away, transfixed by that bright stare. “And do you know why he has done it?”

  Finally she found her voice, or a trace of it. “No, Mama.” Her mind in turmoil, all her effort went toward controlling everything churning around in there. He was sincere, she knew it. He’d made her promises, asked for hers. Nobody could be that cruel, especially not the man she had fallen in love with.

  “He wants to see you crumble in the full glare of society. Do not give him the satisfaction of doing it.”

  “But why would he do that?” Swallowing, Aurelia commanded her body to do as she ordered. Later, she’d think later. Gather information, her intelligence told her, separate from the emotion churning in her gut.

  “Because he gets a perverse pleasure from seeing it.”

  “You said he’d gone away?” Aurelia fought to prevent her voice from rising to a betraying wail. “How can he see anything?”

  “His friends will tell him. Also, I imagine he’ll return sooner than we expect, to view your downfall. If you’re beginning to recover and he reappears, he will send you into hysterics. At least he did last year. Then it was Lady Susan Spender.”

  Aurelia had heard of that lady, but not that Blaize was involved. The whole of society was still talking about Lady Susan’s breakdown in the middle of one of the grandest balls of the year. She’d been dancing and suddenly looked to one side and collapsed in a shaking, sobbing mess. Her parents had carried her away to the country the next day. But Blaize wasn’t part of that—was he?

  No, of course not. But that doubt created a small fissure in her mind, a crack in the solid wall of certainty she’d built up around Blaize. The man she loved. Her mother would not move her. Except—while a distant woman who didn’t encourage familiarity even from her own children, Aurelia’s mother had reared her carefully. She’d cared for her relentlessly.

  “He wants to see you collapse, preferably in public. Mark my words, Aurelia, he will wait until you are nearly recovered, then pounce.”

  “Like a cat?” Aurelia had seen Blaize more as a marauding tiger than a domestic animal.

  “Exactly. He’ll appear without warning, as he did last year. If you approach him, he will spurn you. Rather than that, we’ll take another path.”

  “No, Mama.” Aurelia got to her feet with every intention of leaving the room, but her mother’s words stopped her in her tracks.

  “We’ll speak to the Duke of Lyndhurst tomorrow. I’m sure I can bring him up to scratch.”

  Aurelia grasped the back of the chair she stood behind. She had the odd feeling that if she let it go she’d faint dead away. Just as her mother had said. Marry Lyndhurst? No, she could not. Not now, not after Blaize.

  A second tiny crack appeared. Was her mother right? No, surely not. She bolstered her resolve. “Where has he gone?”

  “Lyndhurst? I believe he’s at home.”

  “No, Stretton.” Her voice had gained so much ice she rivalled her parent for frostiness. A wonder the gilded rim of the chair she held hadn’t shattered like an icicle.

  “He didn’t say. Out of town. My guess is his cosy love nest by the Thames. Did he tell you he owned a small establishment there? No? I’m not surprised. The kind of woman he entertains there would never grace the ballrooms of London. Not the respectable ones, at any rate. Think no more of him. If you had a tendre for him, you must obliterate it from your mind.”

  “As easily as that?” she said, all trace of emotion gone from her voice now.

  “Yes. You can do it, Aurelia. You are a girl of considerable strength of resolve.”

  Her mother had told her not to show any sign of her heartbreak. Then she wouldn’t do it. Not to her, not to anyone else. And she would keep her faith with Blaize. If he had to leave town, he’d have left a far different message than the one her mother reported. And a note. There had to be a note.

  But over the next week, a note didn’t appear. Neither did Blaize. Lyndhurst had gone too, much to the dowager’s chagrin, but she informed her daughter loftily that he would return. No such faith appeared to extend to Blaize. Society didn’t seem to miss him or Lyndhurst, but carried on in the way it knew best until Aurelia thought she might scream.

  As it was, she had to work hard to keep up her façade of gaiety. Nothing of the glitter of London was reflected in her eyes, no joy accompanied her when she shopped, or drove in the park.

  Her heart shattered into pieces, she waited for the coup that would complete her devastation. Because after a week, with no word, she was terrified that something terrible had happened. But what? Waiting killed her. She had nobody to confide in and nobody seemed to know Blaize better than she did, so she could discover nothing of his whereabouts.

  And all the time she had to act like a woman without a care in the world. She accepted the homage of her various suitors as she always did, with friendliness or hauteur or laughter, depending which one it was that day. She spurned nobody, appeared at all the affairs she was expected to and shared in the activities of a young lady of fashion.

  Belinda in Pope’s poem couldn’t have been more miserable once the lock of hair had been stolen from her.

  When Lyndhurst finally appeared, Aurelia wanted to throw herself at him and demand to know where he had been and why, but they were in a crowded theatre, and they couldn’t converse. He hadn’t bespoken a private room tonight. But she did murmur to him, in an extremely harrowed voice, that she needed to speak to him urgently.

  He glanced at her, and for an instant she caught a glimpse of someone as concerned as her. But was it about the same thing? “I’ll take you driving in the park tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll call at one.”

  Nodding, she separated from him and discovered the sharp but benevolent gaze of her mother burning into her. The Duchess of Kentmere was pleased. At least that made Aurelia’s meeting with Lyndhurst an easy one to arrange.

  “You see,” the dowager said to her daughter in the carriage on the way home later. “Lyndhurst is an honourable man and he has returned for you. Your flirtation with Stretton will soon be forgotten and we’ll have things the way they should be in a trice. Take him, girl. I wager he has surprises in store for you!”

  Was it the light flickering from the lamps set outside the carriage, or did the great Duchess
of Kentmere actually wink?

  No, surely not. Heaven forfend.

  The next day Aurelia dressed with more attention than she’d shown her clothes since Stretton had disappeared. She chose her dark red carriage gown with the bergère hat decorated with ribbons and white flowers, and knew she looked well. She could speak without being overheard by the footman who hung off the back of the light carriage Stretton drove.

  Her mother was in alt, thrilled with the idea of her daughter driving. “He is showing you particular attention. Mark my words, he’ll seek an interview with me soon. If only Kentmere was not from home! But we may have everything ready for him against his return.”

  “Mama, I might not wish to marry him.”

  “Of course you do! He’s handsome, wealthy and honourable. He’ll care for you well.”

  Again that demon of doubt appeared. Did Blaize mean everything he said? He’d never actually said that he loved her, had he? So perhaps he’d balked at that last fence and decided to play his game again.

  Angrily Aurelia dismissed the notion. But as soon as she’d climbed up next to Lyndhurst, who dismissed his footman with a casual nod, she said, “Did you know Lady Susan Spender? Of course not, you were in Edinburgh with me. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  Lyndhurst sent her a smiling glance, but his face turned grave when he saw her expression. “Lady Aurelia, please. Not here. Let’s get into the park and we’ll talk.”

  He made as much haste as he could in the crowded streets, but soon gained the elaborate gates of Hyde Park, with the broad path of Rotten Row, where society gathered to do what society did. Ride their showiest horses, drive their frailest, fastest carriages and above all, gossip.

  “I heard of Lady Susan,” Lyndhurst said coldly. “But from the men at the club. Not women’s gossip. What have you heard?”

  “That Blaize—Lord Stretton drove her mad. Flirted with her, then ignored her and she collapsed.” There. She had to know. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  He clicked his tongue. “Let me assure you he didn’t cause her collapse. I discovered the truth when I was investigating him. Lady Susan suffered a miscarriage, but Stretton wasn’t the cause of her pregnancy.”

  She gasped. “The poor lady!”

  “The matter would have led to her ruin, had not Stretton allowed the story to spread, that she’d collapsed for love of him.” He growled and turned his head. “Why? Did that witch tell you otherwise? Or was it gossip you heard and decided to believe?”

  Aurelia frosted over. “What witch would that be, sir?”

  “You know damned well who! Your mother, naturally.”

  If this was lovers’ talk, she’d got the notion all wrong. Absolutely nothing lover-like about the way he spoke now or his tone, quietly furious. But she wasn’t gone enough to call her mother names. “She told me what she’d heard.”

  “Salon talk being very different. No, I suspect she used the story for her own ends. I don’t suppose you know where Stretton is, do you?”

  She turned an astonished face to him, her mouth open. That was the very last thing she’d expected him to say. “Don’t you? I had hoped you were with him.”

  “I spent last week trying to track him down. I’d agreed to meet him to discuss—well, never mind that, but it was a meeting he would not have wished to break. But he never sent word. I went to his house, and his butler said he’d sent a note that he’d be away for a few days. I saw the note and the writing was not his. I fear the worst, Lady Aurelia.”

  “Sir, I cannot believe that he is—dead. He is not. I’d know it, surely I would.” No. That would mean the end of all her hopes. She refused to accept that outcome.

  After passing a couple of carriages whose occupants seemed determined to take up the whole of the space, which was supposed to easily encompass the width of at least three vehicles, Lyndhurst spoke again. “I don’t think he’s dead, but I can’t tell for sure. I have good reason to know he wouldn’t disappear in such a precipitate fashion. He would not.”

  “I didn’t believe so, but recently I’ve begun to think—”

  “Don’t. Don’t let her get to you. And yes, I’m talking about your mother again. Whatever Stretton said to you, he meant it. Rely on that.”

  His impatience was revealed in the short sentences and the way he snapped them out. He made her nervous, with his strident tones and impatient manner, and she hated anyone making her feel that way.

  But his affirmation sent a wave of relief through her. Enough for her to try another confidence. “Do you ever imagine someone else is in your head?” she asked.

  “Why, what a strange question. Why do you ask that?” She couldn’t imagine what he meant, except—yes, she could, in a way. Hearing voices as a child, and perhaps other things. Her softening of her attitude to Lyndhurst when she’d decided to refuse him, her doubts about Blaize, all gone when she left the house. No, foolish imaginings.

  “Because I have, sometimes. That’s all,” he said. He shot her a smiling glance. “Please don’t think me mad or fanciful. I’ve stared death in the face in my time. Perhaps it’s merely a reaction to that. But, Aurelia, listen to your heart.”

  That was the first time she could recall him using her first name. It didn’t sound as intimate on his lips, even without the honorific. But friendly. She’d like to be his friend. Lyndhurst was honest and true. “I will. My mother wants you to marry me.”

  Lines appeared at the corner of his mouth as it flattened into a tight line. “I’ll wager she does. Do you want to marry me, Aurelia?”

  “Is that a proposal?”

  “Not a formal one before witnesses, no.”

  She laughed for the first time in days. “Then no. I don’t. I like you, and I was prepared to accept your offer, but I met Blaize.” She came to an abrupt halt. Her life split into two parts, before and after Blaize. Only she didn’t want any after. She just wanted during.

  “Good.” His mouth relaxed, although his gloved hands remained tense on the reins of the pair of bays he was tooling around so efficiently. She gave him time to turn at the end and begin the journey back to the gates. “Then if you have no objection, I’ll seek you out for a while. We’re safe from each other as long as I don’t offer and you don’t accept. But your mother favours the match, and she’ll let us meet.”

  “But if we meet in private, we’ll be compromised.”

  “Not if we’re careful. Besides, we can speak in company, as long as we ensure they don’t overhear us.”

  “How will you do that?” she asked.

  “I have ways.”

  He’d forced another laugh from her. “Mysterious.”

  “Perhaps. Listen, I’ve spent the last week hunting for him. But discreetly. He might have urgent business, and we don’t want society chattering about his disappearance, do we? I have my suspicions.”

  He took her home after that, and they didn’t discuss Blaize further, except to promise to meet the following evening at the theatre to exchange news. If they had any to disclose.

  Aurelia prayed that they would.

  She went to bed that night filled with misgiving. That barely restrained dislike she felt emanating from Lyndhurst all the way through their drive—as if he was forced into trusting her even this much. They both knew Blaize was missing, and they were forced into becoming allies, but he wouldn’t tell her any more than he had to. She didn’t have to read minds to see the hardness in his eyes, the distance in his voice. He deterred any effort on her part to tell him how desperate she was to find Blaize.

  A reluctant ally was better than none at all. And since society was talking about their liaison and casting eyes in her direction, she was glad of Lyndhurst’s support. He would prevent her ultimate humiliation, if her suitors stayed away, at least until they saw the way the land lay. But she had more support than she’d had for the past week, and she’d do everything she could to keep the peace between them. Until they’d discovered what had happened to Blaize.

&
nbsp; Finally she drifted off to sleep, still thinking of the only thing that meant anything to her.

  “Aurelia.”

  She knew she was dreaming, but it didn’t make any difference. She’d take it, grasp at any straw. Blaize was dressed only in breeches and shirt that looked as if he hadn’t changed them recently, bareheaded, his short, dark hair ruffled by a breeze she couldn’t feel. She lay on the ground, on grass in the open air. Blue sky with a light scattering of fluffy clouds floated above. A perfect day with the one man she wanted to be with above all others.

  Murmuring his name, she reached for him. He came, leaning over her, but he didn’t kiss her, as she expected him to. “Aurelia.”

  “Blaize, where have you been? Where are you?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now.” He laughed and smoothed her hair off her face. “You’re here. We can stay here.” He frowned. “Except you’ll need food. They’re leaving me bread, but it’s stale. Sometimes as green as this grass. I eat it. They’ve left me water too. I need something else. Come soon. Bring wine. I need wine. Come soon. Darling, I miss you.”

  Then he did move closer, but the wildness in his eyes disturbed her. But she couldn’t deny him a kiss.

  Their lips met as if they’d never been apart, then he pressed harder. His mouth ground against hers. Her teeth cut her lower lip and she tasted blood, but that didn’t stop her accepting anything he had to give her. She was desperate for his touch, for his hands on her. When he opened his mouth, she opened hers, and he thrust his tongue inside. Deeper, desperate. She wanted it too.