The Notorious Mr. Hurst Read online

  ‘No, of course not. I have always said that there was the right man out there for me and I would know him when I saw him. Just like you and your theatre. I will remain a spinster all my life, rather than compromise on that. That’s what gave me the strength to stand up to Papa when he wanted me to marry Gareth.’

  ‘Standon?’ He sounded surprised. ‘So that is who you were telling me about. But you are good friends, are you not?’

  ‘Excellent friends and we have been for years. It would have been like marrying my brother. Oh, look—’ Maude pointed up Dover Street ‘—that’s where we first met.’ Oh, Lord! I blurted that out without thinking…

  ‘What, you and Standon?’

  ‘No.’ Nothing for it. ‘You and I. In Todmorton’s perfumery shop. I was with Jessica—Lady Standon—you had come in to collect something.’

  Eden stopped, ignoring the pedestrians who bumped against him, then began to flow round them as though they were a rock in a river. ‘I knew I had seen you before.’ He frowned in concentration. ‘Sponges. Why do I think of sponges?’

  ‘Because Jessica and I were tossing little ones to and fro and you walked in and had to catch them. We were being foolish and you were looking exceptionally severe.’

  Eden ignored that. ‘You were wearing green. Moss green and a bonnet with a big satin ribbon and ruching all under the brim.’

  He remembered her! And Jessica had said he hadn’t noticed them at all. ‘That’s right,’ Maude confirmed happily until she realised with a jolt that she should have pretended not to recall any detail at all. ‘It was brand-new. I remember Jessica commenting on it as we went into the shop.’

  ‘And there I was, thinking every detail of the day was burned on your memory because that was the day we met,’ Eden said, creating an inner turmoil that made her feel light-headed. If he only knew!

  ‘Well, it was not burned on yours,’ she retorted as her scrambled wits reasserted themselves. ‘I had to remind you.’

  ‘I could hardly stare at a beautiful young woman, chance met in a shop, now could I?’ he asked reasonably, beginning to walk again. ‘I saw the gown, the bonnet, a glimpse of your face. I knew you were familiar when I saw you at the theatre.’

  Maude could have told him every detail about what he had been wearing: the highly polished Hessians, the buff pantaloons, the dark blue coat, the cane with the silver head, the high-crowned hat in his gloved hands. She could have described in minute detail how his hair had curled over his collar, his words to the shop assistant, the almost physical blow to her senses that seeing him had been.

  ‘Nearly there now.’ They were turning into Berkeley Street, up the side of Devonshire House. ‘It seems we were fated to meet again,’ he added, almost to himself.

  ‘Yes,’ Maude agreed, striving for a tone of bright amusement at the coincidence.

  ‘One could almost say that passing the shop again this evening was an omen,’ Eden mused. They had reached the narrow alleyway that ran between the end of the Devonshire House garden boundary and the length of Lansdown House’s high wall. The lighting was poor there, contrasting to the open space of Berkeley Square a few yards ahead. ‘Do you know, I think I know what I want for my treat.’ He stopped and stepped into the mouth of the alley, almost too narrow for them to stand side by side.

  ‘You do?’ He was drawing her into his arms, bending his head until his mouth was just above hers.

  ‘I left that shop wishing I could kiss you.’

  ‘You have. Outside your office.’ It was an inelegant squeak, but the best she could manage.

  ‘It was hardly my best effort,’ Eden said thoughtfully. He lifted her veil back, then his hands bracketed her face, his thumbs caressing lightly against her cheeks.

  ‘Eden—we are on the street!’ Her breathing was all over the place and her hands, without any conscious volition, had come up to rest against his lapels.

  ‘Safest place,’ he said, sounding rather grim for a man about to kiss a woman. And then he kissed her and Maude stopped thinking about his tone of voice at all.

  Chapter Twelve

  The pressure of Eden’s mouth on hers was light—a caress, not a demand. He did not draw her closer, or try to master her, he simply let his lips stray over hers, tasting, caressing, until finally his tongue-tip slipped between her lips and she could taste in her turn.

  His gentleness made her shyer than his force had done; his restraint ensured that every move she made would be very plain to both of them. Maude’s fingers closed around his lapels, rather than slide into his hair, which was what she wanted; she stood still rather than pressed herself against him, which was what her body wanted.

  The kiss was over almost before it had begun, before her legs could begin to tremble, before her mind became completely blurred with sensation. Eden released her, dropped a kiss on to her forehead, adjusted her veil, then drew her out into the open, her hand once again tucked chastely into his elbow.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said seriously. ‘That won’t happen again.’

  ‘It won’t? I mean, why did it happen at all?’ Maude asked, flustered and not at all certain she was not angry with him. That brief caress had agitated more than it had satisfied, confused her more than answered any of her doubts and questions.

  ‘It happened because I needed to get that out of my mind,’ Eden said. ‘I needed to be sure I would not reach out for you when we were alone together. Shall we just say, I was satisfying my curiosity?’

  ‘You may if you like,’ Maude retorted. Yes, she was angry. ‘Why here, now, in the street?’

  ‘Because it is a very safe place. Even I am not going to go any further than that out here.’

  ‘Even you?’ she demanded, coming to an abrupt halt on the corner. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I have a certain reputation,’ Eden said, looking down at her. It was hard to see in the poor light, but she thought he looked as grim as he had sounded just before he kissed her.

  ‘For liaisons with married ladies. Very short-lived liaisons,’ Maude retorted. ‘I hadn’t heard that you went about debauching virgins.’

  ‘And I do not intend to start.’ Eden strode along the short end of the square, forcing Maude to do a hop and a skip to keep up.

  ‘Excellent. Because I have no intention of being debauched. It sounds horrible. Seduction sounds much better. With the right man, of course.’ And if Eden had kissed her like that, that night in the box after dinner, then she could not fool herself—he could have seduced her with no difficulty whatsoever.

  He stopped again on the corner of Curzon Street and looked down at her. The sound he made might have been a huff of laughter. ‘Hold on to that thought, Maude. Am I forgiven?’

  ‘Of course. It was very pleasant, and instructive, if brief. I could have told you to stop, could I not? And,’ she added, risking a smile, ‘I did not limit what your treat could be.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’ Eden’s smile was genuine, if fleeting. Then he was serious again. Maude wondered if she was imagining the look of bleakness in his eyes, then decided it must be a trick of the torchlight flickering from the flambeaux outside the houses on the corner.

  She was making progress with Eden, Maude decided, pouring the earl’s morning coffee as a dutiful daughter should, and closing her ears to his robust, if muttered, comments on the government’s taxation policy.

  Eden was obviously attracted to her, or he would not want to kiss her. And it must be something more than mere desire, because he was so gentle with her. And he had remembered what she had been wearing in the shop that day. And he had listened to her views at the audition. It was slower progress, though, than she had daydreamed of. Foolishly she had expected him to take one look and fall in love with her—or at least manage to do so after a short acquaintance.

  And just as obviously the fact that she had fallen in love at first sight did not mean it must be mutual. She sighed, remembering the gentleness of his kiss, the total control. He was very obviously
not out of control with desire for her.

  ‘You are up very early, my dear.’ The sigh had obviously penetrated the barrier of the Morning Post, which lowered to reveal her father’s face. He frowned, causing his bushy eyebrows to waggle. ‘Bad night?’

  ‘Mmm. I couldn’t sleep.’ Mysteriously, light and gentle kisses appeared to wreak the same havoc on her internal organs and her nerves as passionate, forceful ones. Maude’s sleep had consisted of feverish dreams interspersed with long periods tossing and turning and thinking—fruitlessly—of tactics to make Eden fall in love.

  ‘Well, rest today in that case. I don’t want you burning the candle at both ends with all those parties and that committee of yours. How’s your theatre doing?’

  ‘My theatre? It is very much Mr Hurst’s theatre, Papa, even though he does not own it. I am reminded of a big dog with a juicy marrow bone—no one may have so much as a nibble without express permission.’

  ‘He is insolent?’ The earl folded his paper and slapped it down beside his plate. ‘I’ll not have that.’

  ‘No, Papa. Not at all. It is simply that…’ She groped for the words to explain. ‘It is like you and Knight’s Fee. You tolerate the advice of your bailiff and steward and Mr Lambert at Home Farm—but it is you, and you alone, who makes the decisions. Only you inherited the estate; he has created everything himself and I think he can never shake off the fear that he could lose it too.’

  The eyebrows rose. ‘Territorial, is he? A fine thing for a theatre manager, I must say.’

  ‘He is a powerful and intelligent man, Papa.’ He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious, as she hastened to add, ‘You need have no fear my investment is at risk.’

  ‘Humph. Glad to hear it. Ah, now here’s the post. Thank you, Rainbow. Good gad, what have we here?’ He poked a long finger at the pile.

  ‘Invitations for Lady Maude, my lord.’

  ‘Yours, yours…’ Maude scooped up the pile her father extracted and began to slit seals. She was going to have to get her diary out and study it. It was already full, and some of these were events she wanted to attend.

  ‘Papa?’ The earl was staring at the sheet of paper in his hand, an odd expression on his face. ‘Is anything wrong?’

  ‘Someone your mother and I knew a long time ago is very ill.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. Will you visit?’ Maude got up and went to take the chair next to him.

  ‘Visit? No, she lives in Scotland. By the time I got there…Anyway, she was more a friend of your mother’s than mine. Almost became your godmother, in fact.’ His gaze was unfocused, as though he looked back down the years.

  ‘Really? Why, almost?’

  ‘The old earl, your grandfather, did not feel she was…suitable. And in those days,’ he added with a mock-scowl at her, ‘one did what one’s parents advised.’

  ‘Would I have ever met her?’ Maude asked.

  ‘No. Never. Pity she’s going.’ He sighed. ‘Lovely woman. Very talented. Ah well, I must be off to the House.’

  Papa’s obvious sadness at the news of his long-ago acquaintance subdued Maude’s mood and left her the subject of a not-unpleasant melancholy by the time she settled herself in her box again. Anna appeared to have decided that it was quite safe to leave her mistress after yesterday’s long, and as far as she was concerned, highly tedious, proceedings.

  ‘May I go down and see Millie, my lady? Only she said she’d show me the costumes and it’s ever so interesting.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Maude waved her away with a vague hand and settled back to brooding on hopeless love, the futility of pleasure, the fleeting nature of existence…

  ‘And lo! What light…’

  Maude jerked upright and peered over the edge of the box to find Eden looking up at her. ‘Hello. I was indulging in a comfortable fit of melancholy.’ Seeing him again after last night should have been awkward, but he appeared his normal, rather cool self, despite the joking quote from Romeo and Juliet. Maude reminded herself that they were supposed to be working. ‘Sorry, I am paying attention now.’

  ‘In that case, your ladyship, we will begin.’ He stalked back to his chair and sat, his back to her. Was he cross with her? Did he expect her to be looking out for him, eager to see him after last night? Or was he angry with himself? Or merely impatient to get on with the job in hand?

  Maude cupped her chin in her palm and indulged herself by studying Eden’s back. He had discarded his coat and was in shirtsleeves, waistcoat and breeches, an outfit which made him look even more powerfully masculine than usual.

  ‘Miss Jones, hurry up, if you please!’

  The first actress hurried on stage, Tom Gates at her heels, and proceeded to say her lines. Maude saw Mr Howard prowling about in the stalls, listening from various positions. She scribbled notes.

  Eden called the girl over and began to speak to her, apparently taking details of her past experience. With nothing to do, Maude watched Tom picking up small objects from the table and beginning to juggle. In contrast to his acting, his juggling was positively amateur, she thought, watching him fumble a small jar.

  Then it hit her, her wonderful idea for the charity event. Maude scrabbled amongst her papers, found a clean sheet and began to write.

  ‘Next!’ Bother. She found the name of the second candidate and made herself concentrate.

  By the time all six had been seen it was almost one o’clock and Millie was setting the table again with, Maude was amused to see, Anna helping her. She sorted her notes and went down onto the stage.

  Eden and Howard were pacing up and down arguing, Gates at their heels trying to get a word in edgeways.

  ‘Jones or Thomson,’ Howard was saying.

  ‘Thomson, possibly, but Miss Lewis was far and away better overall,’ Eden asserted.

  ‘Miss Jones picked up cues…’ Tom started and was ignored. He saw Maude and grimaced comically.

  ‘I like Miss Jones too,’ she offered, but went unheard as the two men began flourishing sheets of notes at each other. Maude marched up, ducked under the stage manager’s arm and bobbed up between them. ‘Gentlemen.’ They fell silent. ‘I liked Miss Jones best.’

  ‘That’s three of us then, Guv’nor,’ Howard was unwise enough to say.

  Eden eyed him coldly. ‘Have I said or done anything to give you the impression that this theatre was run as a democracy, Mr Howard?’ he enquired.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Lady Maude?’

  ‘No, Mr Hurst.’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘But you did say we would discuss this. And I would like my luncheon.’

  Eden pulled out a chair for Maude. ‘Let us eat, then. And discuss.’

  She smiled again as she sat and he had to fight not to smile back. As if he needed any other cue than the gathering heaviness in his groin when he had seen her that morning, her face solemn and a little sad, her chin propped on one cupped hand. Kissing her again had not done a damn thing to stop him wanting her. It had been a thoroughly bad idea, one he had justified to himself at the time and which he now saw as simple self-indulgence. In fact, to call it an idea was crediting himself with an illusion of decision-making when he had to accept the fact that, as far as Maude Templeton was concerned, he simply could not think straight.

  They were all sitting waiting politely for him to speak, passing the food around amongst themselves in silence. Maude was even—God help him!—placing food on his plate and buttering his bread for him as if he was her father, or her husband or something.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said curtly, wanting to snub her. Clear brown eyes met his for an instant and then the corners crinkled into a smile. Now she was feeling indulgent with his megrims, no doubt! Why wasn’t she reacting to what happened last night? He had kissed her, in the street. Down an alley like a whore, he flagellated himself mentally. She should either be angry with him, or bashful, or flirtatious this morning, but, no, Lady Maude Templeton was none of those things. That kiss appeared to have made no impression whatsoever.
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  Well, it had on him. Damn it, he felt like a seventeen-year-old in the throes of his first infatuation. ‘Pass the Stilton,’ he said, perversely choosing the platter furthest from him. It was duly passed, he cut his cheese, then looked up. The three of them were regarding him solemnly, like children waiting for grace to be said. His sense of humour, like a cat twitching its tail, came to life.

  ‘Lady Maude,’ Eden said politely, his face perfectly straight, ‘perhaps you would be so good as to give us your impressions of Miss Jones?’

  ‘Me?’ As he had hoped, she was somewhat discomposed by being asked to start.

  ‘Ladies first.’ She shot him a glance that told him she knew he was playing with her and unfolded her notes.

  ‘Her voice projected well, she moved gracefully, she responded well to Mr Gates and her timing of the comic lines was perfect. She also looks young enough to play the ingénue for some time to come, unlike Miss Lewis. Oh, yes, and she was the first to go on, you barked at her, and she did not lose her nerve.’

  ‘You base your assessment on the fact that she is not terrified of me?’

  ‘Well, it helps, I should imagine,’ Maude replied. ‘Awe and respect are doubtless essential, but terror would be a handicap and you make Miss Lewis’s knees knock.’

  Eden swept the table with a glance, vowing to sack whichever of the others betrayed so much as a glimmer of a smile. Howard had his mouth full of pie and Gates, an actor to his toes, projected nothing but earnest attention. Awe and respect indeed! Little cat.

  ‘Well, do either of you have any comments to make on the stability of Miss Lewis’s knees?’ he enquired dangerously and was answered by hastily shaken heads. ‘I’ll take them both, Jones and Lewis, on a month’s trial. Satisfied?’

  All three nodded and Maude smiled; not, he noticed, a smug feminine smile of triumph, just one of approval. ‘What a good idea.’

  They finished the meal more comfortably, Howard and Gates relaxing enough to exchange gossip about colleagues at Drury Lane. Maude, he noticed, had fallen silent again. Eden looked up and caught her watching him, uncertainty in her eyes.