‘No! At least, you must allow me to apologise—to say how sorry I am that Allyngham is dead. Your words when we last parted—that you wish I had perished on the battlefield instead of Tony—I had never before considered what you have lost, what you must have suffered. Watching you in there, hearing you sing, I realised how much you miss him.’ Jack looked at the still figure before him. She was trying very hard not to cry, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to stop it trembling. He said gently, ‘I do not pretend to understand your behaviour, madam, and if I have misjudged you, I pray you will forgive me.’
Even in the dim light he could make out the long lashes fanned out on her pale cheeks. Now those lashes fluttered and lifted slightly. Jack put two fingers under her chin and gently pushed her head up. He said softly, ‘My lady, will you not cry friends with me?’
She met his eyes for a moment, her own so dark and liquid he thought he might drown in them.
‘Not friends,’ she said quietly. ‘Too many harsh words have been exchanged for that. But it would be better for our hosts if we were not always arguing,’
He smiled, his spirits lifting a little.
‘A truce, then. And if I can help you discover who is sending those letters—’
‘No.’ She was withdrawing from him again. ‘I would not have you concern yourself with that.’
Jack was tempted to argue but he resisted: if she was not willing to confide in him then he would not force her. With time and patience he would win her round, he was sure of it. His instinct was to protect her. He wanted to carry her off, to shelter her from every ill wind. She was, after all, the widow of a valued comrade. With a little nod he stepped back.
‘Very well. But if you need my assistance, you only have to ask.’ He lifted his head, listening to the quiet strains of the pianoforte drifting from the long gallery. ‘They are dancing again. Do you wish to return?’ She gave a little shake of her head and his mouth twisted into a rueful smile. ‘No, nor I.’ Jack held out his arm to her. ‘Perhaps a stroll through the gardens, until you are more composed? There is a full moon tonight.’
Eloise opened her mouth to refuse, but it was as if someone else was controlling her voice.
‘Thank you, I would like that.’
Moments earlier she had been wishing Jack Clifton at Jericho, now she was taking his arm and accompanying him outside. The passage door opened on to a small cobbled yard at the far side of which a narrow gate in the low wall led the way into the rose garden. The bushes were overgrown with only a few late-summer blooms hanging on, but even so it looked beautiful in the moonlight. The only sound was the occasional cry of a fox from the park and the soft crunch of the gravel beneath their feet. Eloise felt her tension draining away. Despite their differences, Jack Clifton was the one man at Renwick Hall she was sure she could trust.
‘You seem to know your way about the house very well, Major.’
‘Renwick and I are old friends. I have stayed here many times before when I have been on leave.’
‘I understand you have quit the army now. What will you do?’
‘Yes, I have sold out. I have no family, My father died just a year ago, leaving me a pretty little property in Staffordshire, Henchard. It needs some work but it is a snug little house and the land could be very profitable, I think. Did I not tell you I shall become a gentleman farmer?’
She smiled at that.
‘Yes, I remember, but somehow I cannot imagine it!’
‘Oh? How do you see me?’
She thought for a moment.
‘As an adventurer.’
It was Jack’s turn to laugh. Eloise liked the sound, it was deep and rich and dangerously attractive. Just like the man.
‘I have had enough of adventure. It is time I settled down.’
She nodded. He was a man of means, it would be very sensible to settle down, marry and have children. Her head jerked up. The thought of Jack taking a wife hit her with such force she felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her.
He stopped.
‘Is something wrong? Are you cold, do you want to go indoors?’
‘N-no, a sudden chill, nothing more,’ she said quickly. ‘Do let us continue, the gardens have a different kind of beauty in the moonlight.’
‘Very well, but I cannot have you catching cold.’
He shrugged himself out of his coat and placed it around her, his hands resting on her shoulders for a moment. The action was so personal, so intimate that Eloise was obliged to set her jaw hard to stifle a gasp. The air, so calm a moment ago, now seemed charged with expectation. She knew a brief disappointment when he stepped back and waited for her to stroll on. She stole a glance at him. An exquisitely tailored waistcoat hugged his body, accentuating the broad shoulders. She was dazzled by the whiteness of his billowing shirtsleeves and the tumbling folds of his neckcloth. She found her eyes wandering down the tapering form. The slim hips and flat abdomen drew her attention, as did the strongly muscled thighs outlined by the pantaloons. Swallowing, she dragged her gaze back to his face, but the sight of his clean, chiselled jaw and raven-black hair gave her no relief from the sudden fire that was engulfing her. She realised Jack was watching her, a faint, glinting smile in his eyes. Heavens, had she considered him an adventurer? He was far more dangerous than that! She looked away and began to walk again, this time at a much quicker pace.
‘We should not linger, sir, or it is you who might catch a chill. I see a balustrade directly ahead of us. Is that the end of the garden?’
‘Yes, it runs along a high ridge. There is a fine view of the park from that point.’
Eloise walked on. The scrunch of the gravel beneath her firm step was reassuringly crisp and business-like. The major had fallen in beside her, his long legs allowing him to take a much more leisurely stride.
‘I understand Mortimer will be joining us tomorrow.’ His voice was perfectly calm. ‘Renwick tells me you particularly asked that he should be invited.’
‘Yes.’ Had she told him the real reason for coming here? She could not recall. ‘I did not wish to find myself here without any good friends to keep me company. Of course, I did not know then that you would be here.’
Eloise winced: that was just such a flirtatious remark as he might expect from her. She glanced up. Jack’s smile had disappeared, and he was looking directly ahead, his lips pressed firmly together. She sighed and huddled beneath his coat. She turned her head to rub her cheek against the lapel. The fine wool was soft on her skin and she breathed in the faint slightly spicy scent that she now associated with Jack Clifton.
The balustrade was soon reached and she gazed out in genuine admiration at the park stretching out before her, bathed in moonlight. They were standing on a ridge with the land falling away on all sides. The full moon sailing high above cast a silvery sheen over the landscape.
‘It is beautiful,’ she breathed.
‘Yes. Renwick’s grandfather planned it all and planted the trees.’ He pointed. ‘Down there to the south, just beyond the lake, is the deer park.’
Eloise looked around. ‘And what is that building on the promontory over there?’
‘That is the Temple of Diana. The family used to hold dinner parties there, but now I think it is employed mainly by the ladies of the house for their sketching. The path between the temple and the house is thickly wooded, but the views on the other three sides are magnificent. Would you like to walk there now?’
The temptation to accept was very great, to prolong this magical time together, but she knew she must not. She shook her head.
‘Thank