LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Six

      After the darkness of the arbour the lamps strung amongst the trees of the Druid’s Walk were positively dazzling. Eloise looked around wildly. Perkins and Robert came running up as she emerged on to the path.

      ‘Did you see him?’ she cried. ‘He was in there. Did you see him?’

      ‘Wasn’t no one in that nook when we got ’ere,’ said Perkins. ‘We’ve bin watching all the time and no one’s appeared.’

      Hasty footsteps scrunched on the gravel and she looked around as Jack approached. He went to put his arm about her but she held him off.

      ‘Where were you?’ she demanded. ‘You said you would follow me.’

      ‘I did. I set off shortly after you. I admit the crowds in the main walks impeded my progress but I was no more than five minutes behind you.’

      Eloise shivered. Had she been in there such a short time?

      Jack took her arm. ‘You are trembling. Come away from here.’

      ‘No, I must know how he got into the arbour and how he left it again without being seen. There must be a back way.’

      Robert reached up and unhooked one of the lanterns from a nearby tree.

      ‘Well, then, madam, perhaps we should take a look.’

      With Jack beside her, she followed Robert and Perkins back into the arbour. The lamplight flickered over the closely woven branches that formed the walls. She pointed behind the bench.

      ‘He disappeared through there.’

      Robert moved closer, holding the lantern aloft.

      ‘Aha.’

      Jack’s grip on her arm tightened. ‘What is it, Bob?’

      ‘Two of the uprights have been sawn through. A man could squeeze through there.’

      Perkins stepped up.

      ‘Shall I go after ’im, m’lady?’

      ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘He will be long gone by now. We must take Lady Allyngham home. Run ahead, Perkins, and summon the carriage.’ He looked down at her. ‘What happened, did he demand more money?’

      Beneath her cloak Eloise crumpled the paper in her hand and slipped it into her reticule. She was not about to let Jack read it.

      ‘He said he will let me know his demands later.’

      ‘And did you get a look at him, ma’am?’ asked Robert. ‘Was he taller than you, fatter—’

      She shook her head.

      ‘I could not see. It was very dark, and he was disguised.’ She cast a quick glance up at Jack. ‘I am sure it is someone who was at the Renwicks’ party earlier this week—he knew I was thinking of leaving town. I wondered for a moment if it might be Mr Renwick, but he is such a short, round, jolly gentleman his size would have been difficult to disguise.’

      ‘But why should you think of Charles?’

      ‘Because the man said I would be invited to join the Renwicks at their house party, and I was to accept.’

      ‘So our villain is not a stranger to society.’ He put his hand over hers. ‘I should not have let you meet with this man alone.’

      Eloise said nothing. She found herself listening to his voice, trying to match it to the breathy tones of her tormentor. After all, Jack had been at the Renwicks’ and standing near to her when she had said she might leave London. And he had been nowhere in sight when she had emerged from the arbour. Had he been discarding his disguise?

      She tried to dismiss the idea as they walked back through the gardens. Her instinct was to trust him, but what did she know about this man? He was a soldier, but that might not make him any less a villain. Every nerve was stretched to breaking point and she could not relax, even when they were seated in her comfortable travelling chaise and on their way back to town. She was not at ease, being so close to Jack Clifton. She remembered that night on the Heath. Was he really as innocent as he claimed? He might well have had an accomplice, who had taken the money from the tree roots. She cast a swift, furtive glance at the black shadowed figure beside her. Had the man in the arbour been taller or shorter than Jack, had he been fat, or thin? It was so difficult to tell; the enveloping cloak and tall hat had been a very effective disguise. She thought perhaps he had been more her own height, but everything had happened so quickly she could not be sure.

      She turned to stare out of the window at the dark, shadowy fields and the houses flying by. Jack had kissed her once. It should be possible to compare that to her experience in the arbour. Both kisses had been swift and rough, but could they have been from the same man? She tried to think back to Major Clifton’s first visit to Dover Street. She remembered her surprise when he had pulled her into his arms, she could even recall the excitement that had flared within her, the dizzying pleasure that for a brief moment had kept her motionless in his arms. But she could not remember the detail.

      The carriage jolted over the uneven road and she was briefly thrown against her companion. Instead of shrinking away, she held her position, her face only inches from his shoulder. She breathed in, trying to detect any scent that might remind her of the man in the arbour. She leaned closer, desperately searching her memory for any little point that might identify the man. It had been very dark in that leafy bower, and she had seen very little, but she had felt the man’s hands gripping her arms—that certainly had been very similar to Jack’s savage embrace!—and she had been aware of his mouth pressing her lips, and his rough cheek rubbing against hers. If it was the man sitting beside her in the carriage, there was one way to find out. Aware of her proximity, Jack turned towards her.

      ‘What is it?’ he asked her, concern in his voice. ‘Madam, are you afraid still?’

      Amazed at her own daring, Eloise edged a little closer.

      ‘I vow I am a little nervous, sir.’

      Jack put his arm about her shoulders.

      ‘There is nothing to be nervous of now, Lady Allyngham. I shall not let anything happen to you.’

      She leaned against him with a little sigh.

      ‘You are very good,’ she murmured, looking up towards the paler shadow that was his face. She felt his arm tighten around her. There was a momentary hesitation before he bent his head,

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