The Property of a Gentleman. Helen Dickson

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СКАЧАТЬ his face going as white as his neck cloth. ‘Dear Lord! What folly is this? Is this true? Are you Eve Somerville?’

      She nodded dumbly, lowering her gaze, flinching before the exasperation in his voice and the cold glitter in his ice blue eyes. Never had she felt such humiliation.

      ‘Look at me,’ he demanded.

      Unwillingly Eve raised her head and met his eyes, defiance and perturbation on her face. He glared down at her, embracing her in a look that was ice cold.

      ‘I never thought to meet Sir John’s daughter in a mad escapade of this kind—but it seems I was wrong. Have you no sense?’ he said, thrusting his face close to hers, the line of his mouth cruel. His hands shot out and clamped down hard on her shoulders and he shook her so forcefully that she thought her head would come off. ‘Can’t you see that it was the height of dangerous folly to embark on such a madcap scheme as this?’ he admonished severely.

      ‘It was a mistake,’ she said desperately, wishing he would release his vicious hold on her.

      ‘A mistake of your doing. The responsibility for your being here is your own. What made you seek me out?’ he demanded. ‘Come—don’t keep me in suspense.’ He fumed with growing impatience, thrusting her away from him and raking his hand in sheer frustration through his hair. ‘Why did you not tell me who you were?’

      Full of shame and mortification Eve wished the ground would open and swallow her up. Never had she felt so wretched. He watched her with a deadly calm.

      ‘I—I meant to—but somehow—it—it was a hoax, a charade, that is all—my friends dared me to ask you to dance—’

      Marcus looked at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. ‘A hoax? Do you actually have the impertinence to tell me this was a hoax? My God, are you shameless? Can’t you see? Has it not occurred to you that by your foolishness it is not only your own reputation that might be ruined, but also my own? And you are betrothed, are you not—or about to be—to Leslie Stephenson?’

      ‘Yes,’ she replied. His face was frightening, but feeling wrath and indignation rising inside her, she tossed back her head and glared at him defiantly.

      ‘Then let us hope he does not hear of this, otherwise any expectations you might have of him asking for your hand in marriage will have been dashed. Now go home to your mother, Miss Somerville, she must be wondering where you are. If I were your father and I heard of this little episode—and you can be assured he will for I intend seeking him out at once—then you could be sure of a sound thrashing.’

      His stern rebuke inflamed a smouldering resentment towards him inside Eve. ‘Then I can only thank God that you are not my father,’ she flared.

      ‘You may, Miss Somerville. You may. In my opinion you are a self-indulgent, spoiled brat—the type I hold in contempt. You behaved like an accomplished flirt. You didn’t know what you were doing—what you were asking for when you so outrageously made sexual overtures to a gentleman of my years and experience with women. Perhaps you will think twice the next time you want to play games—and I strongly advise you to learn the rules.’

      Eve stared at him, her mind trying to adjust to his words. No one had ever spoken to her like this before or insulted her so severely. Fury blazed in his eyes as they locked relentlessly on to hers, but she stood before him, full of youthful courage, spirit and pride. Her mind was no longer in control and she had no idea how adorable she looked with her face flushed with ire and her eyes blazing furiously.

      ‘And what of your own conduct? You should have known better than to take advantage of me, regardless of who I might be—unless this is how you normally behave,’ she accused him.

      ‘I never take advantage of defenceless young ladies—but you did not give me the impression of being defenceless. If you, Miss Somerville, are under the impression that you may sport with me in any manner you please, then let me tell you that you do not know me.’

      ‘And after your insulting attack on my person I have no wish to know you. It would be interesting to know how much of a gentleman you are, Mr Fitzalan—had you not found out in time who I am.’

      ‘Were I not a gentleman, Miss Somerville, it would not matter a damn who you are. I would behave much worse and take advantage of your delectable charms here and now. And I know by your response that, if I had not released you when I did, with a little gentle persuasion you would have yielded to me completely, flinging all caution to the four winds with no thought of the consequences. Let me tell you that I rarely refuse that which is so flagrantly offered to me, but considering your age and that you are Sir John’s daughter—who, as you know, is an extremely good friend of mine—I must decline your offer.’

      Eve was infuriated. ‘Oh—how dare you speak to me like this? I know what you must think—’

      ‘I don’t think so, lady. If you did you’d turn and run,’ he said with menacing, murderous fury. ‘Now return to your friends before they send out a search party and accuse me of compromising you. Having met you, I cannot think of anything that would upset me more than your father insisting that I do the gentlemanly thing and marry you myself.’

       Chapter Four

       I n disagreeable silence Eve turned from Marcus Fitzalan, her heart heavy with shame and helpless misery. Never had she been so shaken and humiliated in her seventeen years as she was then. Hurrying back along the path, she discovered to her mortification that her indiscretion had been witnessed not only by Angela but also by Leslie Stephenson, who was staring at her in absolute incredulity.

      Unable to utter a word of explanation in her defence she hurried on, too ashamed, angry and humiliated to speak to anyone—but not before she had glimpsed, through the blur of tears that almost blinded her, Angela’s look of triumph and barely concealed smile. Her features were stamped with smugness and a confidence which came from the knowledge that Eve’s association with Leslie Stephenson lay in ruins.

      Left alone, Marcus was angered beyond words that he had fallen into a pit of his own making. But she was right. Before he knew who she was he’d had every reason to believe by her actions and forward behaviour that she’d had lovers before, despite her youth, and something perverse inside him had refused to call a halt to his assault on what he believed to be a willing body.

      He could be forgiven for thinking that her eagerness, her very willingness to have him kiss her, had confused him into believing she was experienced in the ways of seduction, but if this was her general pattern of behaviour when she was not under the watchful eye of her parents, then it was as well they knew about it, and soon.

      Marcus Fitzalan did exactly as he said he would and had spoken to Eve’s father immediately. Her parents’ anger and disbelief at what she had done made the whole thing much worse. Her future looked bleak. Aware that Atwood society neither forgave nor forgot an indiscretion, and to avoid Eve becoming the object of derision, her parents sent her to Cumbria post haste to stay with her grandmother and did not allow her to return until the whole affair had died down.

      But sadly Eve never saw her mother again, for she died before Eve returned to Atwood, leaving her with a well of grief and self-reproach. Blaming herself bitterly for not being there when her mother needed her, it was something she did not get over, and she spent her days in self-imposed isolation at Burntwood Hall, ignoring Emma’s pleas to accompany her to the local assemblies and soirées in an attempt to cheer her, only venturing abroad for the odd visit to her Aunt Shona in London or her grandmother in Cumbria.

      Mr СКАЧАТЬ