Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow

Joshua found it in his way to speak discreetly to a number of individuals, all of whom claimed to know nothing of subversive groups acting within the city and certainly not of any plan of assassination, but all warned that something unpleasant was in the wind.

Sarah found it in her way to dance every dance and gossip brightly with her sister and other ladies of her acquaintance in between. She agreed to go in to supper with a titled French gentleman who found the English lady both charming and elegant and willing to flirt as well as to converse at length and in a spirited manner on a range of topics.

Both Lord and Lady Faringdon, with remarkable ease, found it possible at so large an event to ignore each other and pretend that they were not aware of each other’s existence. Joshua out of a frozen horror at what he could possibly say to this woman—his wife—whom he had just discovered was the only woman he could ever love and whom he had insulted beyond bearing. Sarah because… well, she did not quite know exactly why, but she had no wish to even recognise this infuriating man who had the power to engulf her body in flame and equally sear her soul with his harsh words. Even if she deserved them. Which, in retrospect, she was sure she did not!

‘Your wife is here tonight, Sher, if you had not noticed,’ Nicholas informed his sombre cousin with an expression that Joshua could only describe as a smirk.

‘I am aware.’ He would not rise to the bait. Of course he had seen her, in a glory of deep blue satin. Diamonds glinted on her breast and around her slender wrists, but no more than the fierce glow in her eyes. She looked quite beautiful.

‘Have you spoken with her?’

‘No.’

‘She might grant you a dance, if you ask her. But she seems to be much in demand.’ Nicholas watched Sarah execute the waltz in the embrace of a handsome dark-coated individual with assured steps.

Joshua turned his back on the sight of her in another man’s arms. It was far too tempting to stalk across the floor and claim her for himself with a few well-chosen words for the man who dared hold her so close. And what a scandal that would make. ‘You dance with her, Nick. I think tonight she would prefer it.’

‘I would have to agree.’ Nicholas grinned at Joshua, refusing to show him any sympathy in this situation that he privately considered to be of his cousin’s own making. ‘You are not exactly good company.’

‘No. I am not.’ Joshua’s lips curled in an expression not unlike a snarl.

‘And, Sher, you are a fool. Go and talk to your wife!’

Joshua merely glared at his cousin, who punched him lightly on the arm, and abandoned him to take up a hand of whist with a group of like-minded gentlemen.

* * *

And then Joshua’s evening disintegrated further into deep depression as a consequence of his setting eyes on the dark lady of the carriage. She was present, once again in the company of the little group of friends. Despite the very public occasion, given their previous history Joshua knew that he must speak with her, so made his way through the crowded ballroom to where she was a lively participant in a conversation, wielding a large ostrich-feathered fan with flamboyant agility. As he recalled, she had always had a leaning to the flamboyant. She turned at his approach, clearly, from her expression, waiting for him, expecting him to single her out.

‘Madame?’ Joshua inclined his head, his greeting posing the merest question.

The lady smiled her quick understanding. ‘Lord Joshua. It is some years since we had the pleasure of meeting, is it not? Perhaps I might introduce you—this is my husband, the Marquis de Villeroi. Charles, allow me to present Lord Joshua Faringdon, from London—he is, as you would say, a family friend.’

The elderly gentleman bowed. As did Lord Joshua.

‘Lord Joshua and I have a connection going back many years, have we not, my lord.’ There was a pronounced glint—perhaps of mischief—in those dark eyes. Her voice was delightfully husky with its French intonation.

‘We have.’ There was no amusement in Lord Faringdon’s face. ‘I trust you are well, Madame la Marquise.’

‘As you see.’ She waved the fan languidly. It was clear that this conversation would be conducted in the collective eye of the beau monde, but the lady placed a hand on his lordship’s arm to lead him a little distance for her group.

‘I did not expect to meet you here.’

‘No. I have not been to Paris for some years, my dearest Sher.’ She kept her voice low, intimate even. ‘But now my husband, who has some business interests here, wishes me to accompany him. I am not unwilling to reacquaint myself with the city.’ Dark lashes swept her cheeks. ‘Or with yourself.’

‘I imagine not.’ The lines engraved beside his lordship’s mouth softened a little. ‘I regret the manner of our parting, my lady.’

The lady sighed. ‘And I.’

‘It was not what I would have wished.’

‘Nor I—but it had to be so—in the circumstances. As we both realised. We were not free to pursue our own desires, were we?’

Lord Joshua shook his head, unwilling to continue that line of conversation. ‘Will you remain in Paris long?’

‘It is my intention. Perhaps we shall meet again.’ She laughed, a low seductive chuckle. ‘But perhaps, my dear Sher, it will be best if you do not make it a formal call. It would not please everyone, if you take my meaning.’

‘No, it would not.’

‘Discretion is not always easy, is it?’ she replied enigmatically. ‘I hear that you have married recently.’

‘Yes.’

‘She is a fortunate woman.’

‘I think the fortune is all on my side. May I say that you are as attractive as ever?’ His smile a little wry.

‘But a little older and wiser, perhaps.’

‘Wiser, perhaps,’ he agreed. ‘Older I cannot accept.’

The lady turned her head as her husband approached. The brief encounter was at an end, and indeed there was nothing else for them to say to each other.

‘Thank you for your compliment, Sher. It is good to see you.’

‘And for me too, my lady.’

He kissed the fingers she offered him, and then, driven by impulse and strong memories of the past, which still had the power to move him, he kissed her cheek in a gallant gesture.

At which point Sarah, encouraged by some unhappy pricking of her conscience to search the crowd for a glimpse of her errant husband, watched the little tableau unfold.

And stared in horror at what she saw.

How could he! And not even in private! It was a very public salute on the lady’s cheek. And it was, unless she was very much mistaken, the dark lady from the Tuileries. The dark lady…

Sarah’s memory instantly cleared, as if a candle had been lit to cast a bright image. Of course she had seen the face before. And not merely in the Tuileries Gardens. It was the face that looked out so confidently from one of the portraits in Joshua’s attic in Hanover Square. So who was she—apart from being shockingly intimate with Joshua in the middle of a Parisian ball? A mistress? Highly likely! Well, if that were so, it would certainly clarify one recent development. If he was intent on taking up a liaison with this Unknown again—presumably a liaison of long standing—it would explain why the Countess of Wexford had been slighted. And that felicitous event, equally clearly, had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he now had a wife. No such thing! He simply had another mistress. Sarah hissed out a breath, causing Theodora to glance at her in some concern, but Sarah pinned a smile to her lips.

How dare he flaunt Another Woman before her in such a manner! With this thought in mind, Sarah lost no time and no sensible thought on the content of the looming conversation, in waylaying her husband.

‘My lord.’

‘My lady.’

He was immediately wary of the frigid look on her face. Now what? He truly did not need another challenging conversation today.

‘I would have a brief word.’

‘Can it not wait until we are private at home?’