No Place For An Angel. Gail Whitiker

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      * * *

      After making sure that Miss Jones was safely ensconced in the music room, Valbourg left her alone to practise, insisting she lock the door as soon as he left. The lady might believe herself wise to the ways of the world, but Valbourg knew there was very little she would be able to do against a man who had serious seduction on his mind. For that reason, he waited until he heard the click of the lock falling into place before making his way back to the ballroom.

      Not surprisingly, his brother was waiting for him; a drink in his hand and a scowl on his face. ‘I say, Val, I didn’t care for the way you spoke to me back there. You had no right to be so dismissive in front of Miss Jones.’

      ‘And you had no right to move in on her the way you did. Dear God, Hugh, she is a guest in our father’s house,’ Valbourg said tersely. ‘Could you not have restrained yourself?’

      ‘She is an actress, not a guest,’ Hugh informed him. ‘One no doubt possessed of the same questionable morals as all the rest. She is only here to sing for her supper, and you can be damn sure she’ll be looking for a wealthy man to take her home. For a hefty price, of course.’

      ‘Which just goes to show how little you know about her. Catherine Jones hasn’t been any man’s mistress since she arrived in London,’ Valbourg said. ‘Her reputation is spotless. Would that the same could be said of yours.’

      ‘I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,’ Hugh said, securing a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter. ‘Just because you choose to live like a bloody monk doesn’t mean I have to.’

      ‘No, but something resembling restraint would be nice for a change,’ Valbourg drawled. ‘Speaking of conduct, watch what you say around Sebastian in future. I’d rather not have him thinking your conduct with women is one worth emulating. As for Miss Jones, keep your distance. She is here for our sister’s enjoyment. Not for your own personal pleasure.’

      His brother’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why so protective, Valbourg? It’s not like you to warn me away from a woman. Can it be you’ve a mind to bed the wench yourself?’

      Valbourg manufactured a smile for the benefit of a passing guest. ‘I won’t dignify that with a reply, but I trust we understand one another, Hugh.’

      ‘Miss Jones is off limits.’

      For a moment, it was as though they were boys again; each determined to emerge the victor in an ongoing battle of wills. Hugh, three years younger and always the more competitive, still felt the need to prove himself, even though it was usually the elder brother who triumphed. Valbourg refused to allow emotion to cloud his judgement and took the time to weigh the pros and cons of a situation before deciding how to act. Logic trumped anger; reason suppressed passion. It was the only way of making intelligent and rational decisions.

      Not that reason or intelligence had anything to do with how a man behaved when it came to a woman, Valbourg reflected narrowly. ‘I want your word on this, Hugh. Miss Jones is a guest in this house. Whatever her occupation or background, she is to be treated with respect while she is here. I will not allow you to harass or embarrass her.’

      It was a hollow threat and they both knew it. Catherine Jones was an actress and as such, fair game for any man who wanted her. Indeed, for many actresses, becoming an aristocrat’s mistress was the far more desirable career. By ordering Hugh to behave like a gentleman, Valbourg had all but thrown down the gauntlet—and his brother had never been slow to pick it up.

      Surprisingly, however, Hugh only shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Very well, I won’t try to take advantage of Miss Jones. While it galls me to have to play the part of the gentleman, neither do I have any desire to be raked over the coals by you, or by Father after you trumpet your knowledge of my conduct to him. But mind you watch all the others, Brother,’ Hugh said, lowering his voice. ‘You can’t protect her from every red-blooded male who walks through that door, nor from the thousands who go to see her at the theatre every night. Catherine Jones is a beautiful and desirable woman. And you and I both know there’s nothing a man wants more than a woman someone tells him he can’t have.’

      Chapter Two

      Valbourg mulled over the significance of his brother’s words as he stood listening to Catherine Jones perform a few hours later. The guests had all assembled in the music room, and when Catherine appeared, elegant in a gown of rose-coloured silk and with pearls glowing at her ears and throat, they had burst into applause, aware that a special treat was in store for them. She had positioned herself beside the piano, waiting for her lady accompanist to begin the opening strains of her first song.

      A hush had fallen over the room as Catherine began to sing. In contrast to her petite body, her magnificent voice had swelled to fill every corner of the room, each note crystal clear and perfectly struck. It was as though the music lived within her, the glorious sound bursting forth every time she opened her mouth.

      Even her physical appearance changed as she sang. Caught up in the music, her body began to sway, her arms and hands floating gracefully in time. Indeed, there was something decidedly sensual in the way she moved and, judging from the expressions on the faces of most of the men in the room, Valbourg wasn’t the only one who was aware of it.

      ‘Oh, Val, isn’t she wonderful,’ his sister Mary whispered in his ear. ‘I cannot thank you enough for arranging to have her sing for us.’

      ‘The pleasure was all mine, dearest. After all, what kind of brother would I be if I did not see to your every wish, especially on a night like this?’

      ‘You would be like Hugh, who neither sees nor cares about anyone’s desires but his own.’

      ‘Now, Mary, Hugh is a product of his upbringing,’ Valbourg felt compelled to point out. ‘Third in birth order and second in line to the title, he has always felt the need to compete with me for our parents’ affection and respect.’

      ‘And never succeeded. At least not with Papa,’ Mary said in a wry tone. ‘Mama spoiled him outrageously, but you were always Papa’s favourite.’

      ‘Actually, I believe Sarah held that honour,’ Valbourg said softly. ‘Father never spent as much time with any of us as he did with her.’

      ‘Perhaps because he sensed he wouldn’t have as much time with her as he would with the rest of us.’ Mary sighed. ‘Thank goodness we still have Sebastian. Every time I look at him, I see a little reminder of Sarah in his face. Is he feeling better today? Papa told me you had to have the doctor round to see him.’

      ‘I did, but thankfully his fever broke last night,’ Valbourg said. ‘He will likely be weak for a few more days, but Tennison said he should make a full recovery.’

      ‘Thank goodness. I know how worried you were about him.’ Mary hesitated a moment before adding, ‘Still no regrets about having him come to live with you?’

      ‘Not a one.’

      ‘Then you don’t mind living the life of a monk? Sorry, dearest. Hugh’s words, not mine,’ Mary said with a smile. ‘But I don’t suppose they’re all that far off the mark. Everyone knows how much you’ve changed your life to accommodate Sebastian’s arrival and I really couldn’t blame you for feeling a little put out. I understand your evening entertainment is now restricted to tame forms of cards and the company of safely married couples.’

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