To Undo a Lady Page 4

  She looked up into his startled face. “Did you not wonder why it was that I ran away?”

  “I did not think it my business.”

  “Perhaps it is not,” she agreed. Her eyes were foolishly wet. She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, vowing that she would not sob. Crying and carrying on only made the punishment worse. “I am sorry. But I do not think I can play the scene you have chosen for me. I have played it too many times before, with my husband.”

  Danyl was still quiet. She wondered, did he think her to blame? Or was he simply thinking of other women that might fill her part just as well but with far less bother. Finally, he asked, “And this husband. What became of him?”

  She laughed bitterly. “Nothing at all. At this very moment, I suspect he is drinking at his club. Now that I am gone, he might take out his anger on the servants when he returns to the house. But when one is the Earl of Sconsbury, one does not fear justice for little bouts of temper.”

  “An earl.” Now Danyl’s hands fell away from her as though he were afraid to touch her. “But that would make you…”

  “A countess,” she replied, sitting up and straightening her gown. “But I was quite happy to walk away from the title, once I found the nerve to do so. If you’d had a good look at me, those first weeks, when the bruises were still fading, you’d have understood. I hid them with paint and powder. And I hid myself as well.” She smiled triumphantly, for it had been most fortunate to land here, of all places.

  “Surely you had friends…”

  “None that were brave enough to face the wrath of my husband by sheltering me. When you found me, I had nowhere to turn.”

  He looked away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, clearly shocked. “You were helpless. I took advantage of the fact.”

  “You paid me back a hundredfold. You gave me a new life. And I am very grateful.” She knelt behind him and stroked the arms that had held her, praying that just once she could coax him into doing her bidding with the offer of her body. “But this scene? I cannot do it. If you mean to make love to me tonight, Danyl, do it without pretense. You must know that I am yours. But do not sully it with violence. I cannot bear to think you would hurt me. Not even in jest.”

  “And this is why you did not wish to do Othello?” He still would not look at her, so she laid her cheek against his back, and kissed. “Why did you not tell me?”

  “You told me not to bother you with foolishness.” She put her hands around his wrists and left them there, leaning forward to kiss his shoulders. “Can we not do Twelfth Night instead?” It suits the season. Or perhaps a pantomime. I know that it is not dignified. It is probably quite beneath your talents. But it is almost Christmas.”

  “Fairy tales and magic,” he said dismissively.

  “The audience likes them. And so do I. When Columbine runs away with her lover, I always imagined…” From her husband’s theater box, she silently applauded the girl’s escape, and dreamed of the moment that she would have such courage.

  She kissed him again, playfully, on the ear. “But I shall not run away from you, to Grimaldi or Kean, or anyone else.” Then she stripped the linen gown over her head and pressed her naked body against him so that he might know she was his. He had but to turn around and accept her.

  His shoulders slumped. “I never thought of myself as a Harlequin, able to right wrongs with a wave of my sword.”

  “That is how I think of you,” she said, realizing that it was true. “I met you, and everything changed.”

  He said nothing in response. But he slid off the bed, turning as he did so to kneel below her. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and dropped his head to kiss her thigh.

  He might not think himself capable of magic. But surely this must be it. She had never felt anything so wonderful. He nudged her legs apart and settled himself between them, hands stroking up her body to cover her breasts. But his mouth was traveling up her leg to the place she most wished to feel it. His kisses on her sex were firm but gentle as were the fingers tugging at her nipples. The pleasure seemed to ripple through her at each touch. She cradled his head, running her fingers through his wavy black hair, and stroked his face. There were tears on his lashes. For her? How strange.

  She could feel the water running down her cheeks as well. But for once, it was not from pain or fear or sadness. They were tears of gratitude for the gift he was giving her. They turned to tears of relief as he traced the very heart of her with the tip of his tongue. Then he pulled her into his mouth, sucking greedily, as the fluttering torture of her core continued.

  Lord, if she had to die tonight, let it be this way, at the pleasure of his kiss. She released the last of her fear and let the next wave of sensation sweep her away. And she was reborn, and her cries echoed through the silence of the theater.

  When she was silent again, he rose without a word and removed the last of his clothing, then crawled into the bed beside her, stretching out on his back and reaching for her hands. He was directing her, as he always did, setting the scene.

  She straddled him, facing out toward the empty house, displayed as though she were a set piece in some erotic drama, and she stroked his erection as he had done himself before lowering herself down on it.

  He shuddered, fighting for control, and then moved gently under her, cupping her bottom with his hands, kneading the flesh possessively.

  She rocked back and forth in rhythm with him, taking him deeper on each thrust. She had feared that it had been her imagination on that first night, that she had tried to turn something common into a romance for the sake of her self-respect. But everything about Danyl was perfect: his smooth, dark skin, the lithe muscles hiding beneath it, and the slow, precise way he moved inside of her. She was at home here, with her lover, on the stage.

  Every sense peaked in awareness at the new world he offered her. A candle floating in the trough at the foot of the stage guttered and died. She watched the shadows change. She listened to the creak of a board, the squeak of a mouse, and the slow increase of her own breathing as she fell more deeply under the spell of his body.

  He drew his knees up so that he could increase the strength of his thrusts, and she hugged them to herself, touching his calves, pressing her hands over his feet and bracing herself so she could meet him with her hips. And as they had that first night, they broke together, and it left them as spent and helpless as puppets with cut strings.

  She kissed his knee.

  He patted her hip with his hand.

  With a groan of feigned exhaustion, he pulled himself from under her and stood. And then he took her hand and they walked in silence to the steps that led to his rooms.

  Chapter Six

  Danyl kissed the woman that slept in his bed, marveling at how peaceful she looked, after the strenuous evening they had shared.

  She did not wake.

  He smiled. The others at the rooming house would tease her tomorrow, and remark that she had not returned from rehearsing with him. If he did not clear the stage before they arrived, the rumpled bed and strewn clothing would tell the rest of the story.

  Let them laugh. She would not be returning to those rooms, ever. For however long he had her, she would stay here, just as she was, so that he could enjoy every last moment of their time together.

  She did not belong with him. She would realize it soon enough, and he would let her go. But now there was something he must do. Better that she did not know what he planned. She might run again. And he had no intention of turning back, now that his mind was set.

  He let himself down the back stairs that led down into the theater. First, he went to the tiring-rooms and opened his makeup case, selecting paint and powder to lighten his skin convincingly enough to pass in candlelight. It would be necessary to do something with the hair. The black was always a problem when he sought a disguise. But he settled on oil of Macassar, which tended to leave a dark red glint to the slicked-back locks. A touch of powder at each temple made fo
r a creditable gray. A rough, salt-and-pepper mustache complemented it nicely.

  And then to the costumes. He chose a black suit that was far too large for him, and a bit short in the sleeves, so that he would remember to hunch. Then he strapped a millet-filled bag about his waist, making a pendulous belly that swayed more realistically than a pillow ever would. Over it he stretched a garish silk vest, and a cravat tied with unseemly haste. He splashed himself liberally with cologne, and topped the lot with a pair of thick, round spectacles.

  He glanced in the mirror. The effect was superb. He pocketed a small stack of engraved calling cards, with a false name, should he be called upon to provide identification.

  And then he set out for Pall Mall. Brooks’s first, for some speech or other he’d read in The Times made him think his quarry was Whig.

  He was right in one. He put his request to the doorman there, in a northern accent so thick that they’d likely remember him as a Scot. The man returned, requesting the reason for this interview, and Danyl assured him, it was “too private matter for any but one set of ears.” And that it concerned “the location of a certain person that the earl was likely seeking.”

  The servant returned again to lead him to a reception room. Shortly thereafter, Sconsbury appeared.

  He did not look like a brute. But in Danyl’s experience, the real bad ones seldom did. The earl looked him up and down as though trying to take his measure. “Do I know you, sir?”

  “You have no reason to,” Danyl admitted. “But I have learned of you. From your wife.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but also with covetousness. “What would you know of her?”

  “I know that she has run away from you, and tells the most interesting of stories.”

  “And I suppose you mean me to pay you, to silence her?”

  Danyl gave a hearty laugh. “On the contrary, sir. What need would there be to silence a woman? They do nothing but talk, of course. But no sane man listens to them.”

  The earl laughed back, as though he felt this was quite true.

  “But I thought to myself, MacGruder, if the woman was to be silenced, it would be her husband who wanted to do the job. Perhaps he wants her back. Or at least to know that she is well.”

  “That is true,” the earl admitted. “And is she well?” But the man’s face did not look so much concerned as annoyed.

  “That would depend on your point of view, I am sure. She has fallen in with rough company. And her behavior?” Danyl gave a half shrug as though he did not wish to speak of it. “Shall we say that it is unfitting?”

  “She was always a wild one,” the earl agreed. “Fractious. Disobedient. And in need of correction.” His hands fairly itched at the thought. He was flexing his fingers, as though trying to decide between a slap and a punch.

  “I suspected you would say such,” Danyl agreed. “And that you would like to do the job yourself, that it might be done with discretion. If, after what I have shown you of her whereabouts, you would think the information worthy of reward?” Danyl shrugged modestly. “That is up to you to decide.”

  The earl smiled. “You can take me to her?”

  “Now, if you like. In a plain carriage, so as not to arouse the lady’s suspicion. If she sees you coming with full livery, she will most assuredly run.”

  The earl smiled, and Danyl felt a chill that made him long for his coat and muffler. “You are right. She must not get away again. A moment only, I will get my hat.”

  Danyl waited for the earl’s return, and then led him to the hired carriage outside. They rode in silence. But what would the great man have to say to him? And he was quite sure that he had nothing he wished to say to the earl.

  He only wished to get this over with, and get on with his life.

  A short time later, they drew to a stop, and Danyl waited respectfully for the peer to exit the carriage. Then he signaled the driver to depart, leaving them alone in the mist.

  “The docks?” the earl said suspiciously.

  “I believe her plan was to leave the country. But alas, an insufficiency of funds…” Danyl gave a leer. “To gain money, she has been forced to resort to the sort of behavior that, well…you can imagine.”

  “The whore.” The earl’s voice was devoid of passion, as though announcing that his wife was young, or blonde. “She has always been a filthy whore. And the moment she escapes me, the truth will out.”

  “I see.” And Danyl did. Now that there was no reason to hide the truth behind a polite facade, Sconsbury was every bit as ugly as he’d feared. “If you will but follow me, the place she waits is just a bit farther on. If we are quiet, we will take her unawares.”

  He gestured down the boards and set off toward a pier in at the far end. It was a quiet night, if one did not count the noise from nearby taverns, and the occasional drunken stevedore. The earl followed happily, silently behind.

  When they were as distant from the last sign of humanity as they could be, Danyl stopped suddenly and peered into the fog. “There, that is her.”

  “Where? I see no one?”

  “Because you are looking in the wrong direction,” he said, as though being patient. “She walks the jetty looking for clients. I led you past her, and you said nothing. Turn and look behind you.”

  “Where?” The earl turned obediently.

  Danyl removed the cosh from his pocket and swung. As the man went limp, he lifted his purse, then gave a shove and heard the satisfying splash of the body. He sent the blackjack after, and began walking away. By the time he heard the plunk of the weapon hitting water, he had pocketed both glasses and false mustache. An industrious rub with the handkerchief brought his face back to a healthy dark complexion. And the stab of his pocketknife to the false stomach sent the seed to trickling away to be pigeon feed. He dropped the earl’s purse off the next pier, for it would not do to be caught with it.

  It was not until he was safely seated in a cab and on his way back to Drury Lane that he allowed himself to speak. “Merry Christmas, Sarah,” he said, so softly that none but he could hear. “Merry Christmas.”

  Chapter Seven

  Some days later, Danyl awoke to find his lover on the bed beside him, wrapped in his dressing gown staring at the early edition of The Times. Her expression was difficult to read. It appeared that she could not decide whether to rejoice or mourn.

  She looked over at him, blinking in confusion. “Edgar. My husband. Is dead.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She blinked again. “The body has been positively identified. He was a victim of robbery on the docks.” She frowned. “Although what would have taken him there, I cannot imagine.” And then she shrugged. “In life I would not have dared question his comings and goings. Is it wrong that in death I do not much care? I am simply glad that he is gone.” Then she looked worried. “You must think me a terrible person.

  Danyl laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a protective squeeze. “I think you are too nice by half, to be worried at all.”

  She continued to read. “It says that the servants have remarked on my absence.”

  A thought suddenly occurred to him. “They do not suspect you had anything to do with this.”

  She shook her head. “He was last seen with some strange man at his club….” She set the paper aside with a shake of her head. “It is all very mysterious. But the servants heard us arguing…”

  “Him beating you, more like,” Danyl corrected.

  “And they suspected that I might have met with foul play as a result.”

  “You have nothing more to fear, then, from this latest development. Who will take the coronet?”

  “His nephew, Albert.” Sarah smiled. Now that the conversation no longer involved her husband, her relief was obvious. “He is a very nice young man, as I remember. He will make a fine Sconsbury.”

  This was not what he wanted to hear. Danyl did not regret what he had done, for if a man could not be brought to justice, then vengeanc
e would have to do. But he did not want to think that this nice, young Albert, who could make her smile, would be the recipient of the gratitude.

  He thought of the gift he had hidden in the drawer of the bedside table. He’d waited a day too late to give it to her. Now that it was safe for her to go home, he had no right to hold her. “You could return then, if you wished,” he said, resigned. “Explain to him the reason you left. He will not punish you for your absence, I am sure.”

  “Return?” She blinked again, her blue eyes as wide and innocent as they had been on the day he’d met her. “I suppose I could. He would let me have the dower house, for as long as I needed it. I doubt Edgar thought to provide me with a widow’s settlement. But I am sure the family suspects what it was like to live with him, and would take pity.”

  It was all but settled then, and nothing left but goodbyes. For a change, he would not lose his ingénue to a rival company. This one would take his heart with her when she left. But there was nothing to be done about that.

  If he could not put a brave face on this, he was not much of an actor. “And so, my dear, farewell.” He drew her into his arms, tenderly, sweetly, kissing her on the forehead.

  She pulled away from him in surprise and slapped at his arm. “Why ever for? Are you going somewhere?”

  It was his turn to blink in surprise. “I had thought, given the opportunity, you would go back to your old life.” His mind raced ahead, trying to find a facial expression to suit the conversation. And then he remembered that he was facing the Dowager Countess of Sconsbury. Suddenly humbled, he gave up and stared at the floor, unable to meet her gaze.

  Her touch on his arm was gentle, but her voice had all the petulance of a slighted diva. “Do you have a problem with my work, Mr. Fitzhugh?”

  “Quite the contrary.” Now that he could play the director again, it was easy to face her, and to put her in her place. “You have a quick mind for the script, and a natural talent for stage business. I suspect that, given a few more lessons, you will tumble and dance as well as any clown. And yet, you…” He felt shy again. “You are the loveliest Columbine I have ever seen. You were right, you know. Christmas is no time for tragedy.”