The Shocking Lord Standon. Louise Allen
were so many agencies to get round,’ Jessica protested, stretching out her feet to the hearth and letting her tired back rest against the soft old leather. It was seductively easy to allow him to take charge and organise her. It gave her an entirely false sense that all would be well and she knew she could not succumb to that: she was in charge of her own destiny and no one could help her but herself.
‘This is not a race—you know I will find you somewhere to stay for as long as you need.’ Gareth dropped into the chair opposite and crossed his legs, the silver tassels on his Hessian boots swinging. A pair of those boots would keep her for months. It was a timely reminder of just how far apart their worlds were.
‘It seems the residence you suggested for me is not so suitable after all.’ Jessica held out the note. Gareth took it, scanned it and grimaced. ‘And I am afraid I was unable to find anything in the way of employment today. I will have to look at the newspapers and try the agencies again in a day or two.’
‘Nothing suitable? Please, Jessica, don’t let it worry you.’ He read the note again. ‘Maude has such a taste for the dramatic it is a pity a career on the stage is so ineligible.’ Gareth screwed it up and tossed it on to the fire. ‘It is true that if you agree to our plan it will be impossible for you to stay with her, but did you think we were going to cast you out?’
‘I am having trouble thinking clearly at all,’ she confessed. ‘I am so disorientated, so much out of my depth. I fear I must ask you for a loan of money until I can get funds from my bank in Leicester.’
‘You have funds?’ He was regarding her steadily, his face thoughtful. It was like being interviewed for a post.
‘My savings.’ My precious savings.
‘Well, you will not want to dip into those.’ She found herself nodding agreement and forced herself to sit still. It was dangerous to agree with anything he said. ‘Jessica, I have to say I am selfishly glad that you have not secured employment yet. I have a proposition for you. Maude may be dramatic, but she is right, things have deteriorated.’
‘Yes?’
He smiled at her wary tone, and she wondered why she had not thought him handsome before. And Maude does not want him? She must be about in her head…
‘You are right to sound so cool, my sensible Miss Gifford. Ah, here is something for you to eat. We will talk when you are a little revived.’
It took considerable self-control to sit quietly and eat the savoury omelette, the soft white roll and butter and the dish of lemon posset that the footman set out on the little table before her. Jessica sipped the glass of red wine Gareth poured and schooled her tongue and her patience.
When she had finished she waited while he lifted the table to the side and then folded her hands in her lap with as much composure as she could muster. ‘You say you have a proposition for me, my lord?’
‘Gareth.’ He waited until she repeated his name. ‘You made an eminently sensible suggestion at breakfast, Jessica.’
‘That you should appear to follow a path of dissipation with a mistress and scandalise Lord Pangbourne so that he will consider you unsuitable for Lady Maude?’
‘Indeed. He called upon me at my club this morning and made it very clear that he means what he says—but he also betrayed the fact that openly scandalous behaviour would not be tolerated. I think it is the only solution if I am to free Maude from this situation.’
‘And yourself?’ she asked, curious about his own position. He must be of an age where he was looking to marry, set up his nursery, ensure the succession to the title.
‘I have no desire to marry yet and, when I do, I foresee no problem. In this case it is, as so often, the woman who is weakest.’
Jessica nodded, surprised at his understanding. It seemed Gareth Morant could comprehend the difficulties of women more generally than just those applying to his friend Maude.
‘Then in what way can I assist you?’ The only possibility she could think of was that Lady Maude might require a companion to support her in this masquerade if Lord Pangbourne became even more difficult. It might even help to have another virtuous female voice echoing Maude’s assumed shock and outrage.
‘I would like you to be my mistress.’
The empty wine glass fell from her fingers and rolled away on the Oriental rug unregarded until it clinked against the table leg.
‘What? Outrageous! What do you take me for?’ Jessica sprang to her feet and took three strides away from the fireside before she swung round to face him, more words of righteous indignation trembling on her lips. And then it hit her—the memory of his mouth over hers, the heat and the smell and the feel of him. The long, hard body—
Furious and horrified at herself, Jessica shut her mouth with a snap as Gareth got slowly to his feet. ‘A masquerade, Jessica. I am asking you to pretend to be my mistress.’ His voice was steady, but there was a trace of colour across his cheekbones. ‘I would not insult you by proposing anything else.’
‘I… You… No, you would not. You made that clear last night. I beg your pardon; I seem to be more tired and less rational than I thought.’ Jessica walked back to her chair and sat, her legs suddenly stiff and awkward. She knew why she had reacted with such vehemence: Mama, of course. But mostly it was because of her own guilty desires. Self-knowledge, an admirable trait she had always thought, did nothing to improve her mood.
‘You must be tired.’ Gareth sat again too, making the silver boot tassels swing as he crossed his long legs. Jessica found herself staring at them and dragged her eyes up to meet his somewhat rueful gaze. ‘It is the shock of yesterday’s experiences; you should not underestimate the effect such trauma has on the body and mind. And then you have spent the day without proper refreshment or rest. Not very sensible of you, Miss Gifford.’
‘Then let us be sensible at all costs,’ she retorted, taking a grip on her emotions. ‘What, exactly, are you proposing, my…Gareth?’
He steepled his fingers and bent his head to touch the tips to his mouth as if collecting his thoughts, then he raised his head and looked at her steadily. How changeable his eyes are. From the light grey of a cloudy sky to hard steel from moment to moment.
‘I believe the course of shocking Lord Pangbourne is the only way to reach a speedy resolution of this problem. But I am reluctant to involve a professional—actress or Cyprian—in our personal affairs. One places too much trust in their discretion and too much power in their hands should they choose to make mischief later: I cannot risk that with Maude. Nor, I find, can I contemplate some vulgar piece of play-acting.’
Gareth paused, marshalling his thoughts. ‘I believe this wants more than simply my apparent misbehaviour with one of the demi-monde. A man of Pangbourne’s generation considers that almost routine. The scenario I believe would be most effective is a flagrant dalliance with a lady on the thin edge between scandal and respectability. To have the maximum impact my liaison must be conducted under the noses of the ton, not merely observed at the theatre or in the park.’
‘But who, then, do you want me to be?’
‘A wicked widow.’ Gareth smiled suddenly, and she found her own lips curving in response. She caught herself and pressed them tight together. ‘A lady returned from abroad where her husband died. A lady on the fringes of respectability, yet with an entrée into London society as she searches for her next protector. And I am going to fall head over heels in my blatant pursuit of her favours.’
‘I can see that that would, indeed, cause talk and scandalise Lord Pangbourne, especially if you insultingly ignored Lady Maude in the process,’ Jessica agreed. ‘But firstly you will need to secure an entrée for this impostor and secondly—look at me! Do I look like a glamorous and dangerous adventuress?’
As she spoke she gestured at the overmantel mirror that reflected the upper parts of