She closed her eyes and counted it down in her head. Three...two...one...
Suddenly, there was a muffled curse, a screech, and the weight of Lassiter was gone—but not because of anything Catherine had done. She opened her eyes to see the viscount sprawled on the floor on the other side of the room, while a few feet away, with his legs firmly planted and his arms crossed over his chest, stood Valbourg.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Lassiter demanded. ‘I wasn’t accosting the wench.’
‘Mind your language, Lassiter. There is a lady present.’
‘Lady? She’s no—’
‘Miss Jones, are you unharmed?’ Valbourg interrupted, all the while keeping his eyes on the fallen peer.
Catherine swallowed. The question, like the threat, had been quietly spoken, but there was no mistaking the rage simmering just below the surface. ‘I am. No harm done.’
‘How fortunate for you, my lord,’ Valbourg murmured. ‘Otherwise you would have found yourself in a very unpleasant situation. Now remove yourself from my father’s house before I forget I am a gentleman and give you the thrashing you so richly deserve.’
Lassiter blanched. The threat, all the more dangerous for the silken tone in which it had been uttered, left no room for discussion. He clambered to his feet and bolted, leaving the door open behind him.
Valbourg walked over and closed it. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
His back was towards her, giving Catherine a moment to regain her composure. She was shaken—because she hadn’t expected to be attacked in a house like this by a man whose upbringing should have prevented it. ‘I am, my lord, though I don’t think I was in any real danger. I was about to give Lord Lassiter his comeuppance.’
‘You were?’ He turned around. ‘You will understand if I say it didn’t look that way from where I was standing.’
‘No, I suppose not. But in truth, I was just waiting for...the right moment.’
‘The right moment,’ Valbourg repeated with a smile. ‘So despite the fact he had you pinned against the wall so tightly the outline of his fob is likely imprinted on your skin, you still felt there was going to be...a right moment.’
‘Yes.’ Catherine raised her chin. ‘I can explain how if you like. I can even show you—’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said, holding up a hand to forestall the demonstration. ‘It’s time we got you home. Your carriage awaits, my lady.’
My lady. Valbourg’s words brought the blood rushing to Catherine’s cheeks far more than Tantemon’s innuendos or Lassiter’s advances. If his intention was to humiliate her, he had more than succeeded. She was not a lady and never would be. She was an unwed mother and actress. And tonight she had been on stage, just as when she was performing at the Gryphon. She had appeared in costume and walked into Valbourg’s world as though she belonged there—but she did not. The fairy tale had come to an end. It was time to go home, where there were no costumes to hide behind or masks to disguise who and what she really was.
She walked out to the carriage in silence, a few steps ahead of Valbourg. It wasn’t the magnificent barouche in which she had arrived, but a smaller, more intimate carriage drawn by two gleaming black horses and with a single driver up top. A carriage that was still very much the property of a gentleman.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said, turning to face him. I had...a most enjoyable evening.’
‘I doubt that, but it is kind of you to say so.’ Valbourg handed her an envelope. ‘I hope this makes up for what you suffered tonight.’
Catherine took the envelope, but did not open it. She had no reason to suspect the marquess of short-changing her. Instead, she climbed into the carriage and immediately became aware of the lingering scent of lavender, making her wonder who had been in the carriage last. Lady Mary, perhaps, or another equally elegant lady of commendable family and high birth? The sort of lady Valbourg would be expected to marry.
Chiding herself for allowing her thoughts to drift in that direction, Catherine turned to bid him goodnight—only to gasp when she realised he was climbing into the carriage after her. ‘My lord?’
‘Don’t worry, Miss Jones, you are perfectly safe with me,’ Valbourg said, settling on to the seat opposite and pulling the door closed. ‘But if you think I intend to let you drive through the streets of London alone at this time of night, you are mistaken.’
‘But I am perfectly safe in a closed carriage!’
‘That was what I thought when I left you in the music room and then again in the Chinese Salon,’ he said drily. ‘I will see you safely home if for no other reason than to assure myself a good night’s sleep.’
* * *
They travelled without speaking for a time, Valbourg keeping his attention on the street, his expression remote, his eyes as dark as the night that surrounded them. Catherine took advantage of his distraction to study him. When she had first seen him walking towards her on the steps of Alderbury House, she had thought him older. But now, having spent time in his company, she realised he couldn’t have been more than thirty, despite the fine lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes—
‘Why haven’t you taken a lover?’
The question made her jump. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘A lover. Forgive me if you find the word offensive, but I doubt the topic is one with which you’ve not had some experience.’
Catherine bristled. ‘If by experience you mean I have been approached about such things, you’re right. If, however, you refer to my having accepted such offers—’
‘I do not...because I know you have not. But let there be honesty between us, Miss Jones,’ Valbourg said. ‘You admit the subject has been raised in the past, in which case I hardly expect you to suffer a fit of maidenly outrage when I bring it up.’
No, she wasn’t likely to do that, Catherine acknowledged. But the fact he felt free to talk to her about the subject told her exactly what he thought of her...and that did bother her.
‘I fail to understand why you would ask such a question, my lord. What possible interest can it be of yours?’
‘I should think what happened to you this evening would be a more than sufficient explanation.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘If you were under someone’s protection, you would not have been taken advantage of the way you were earlier.’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Catherine retorted. ‘Being someone’s mistress would entitle me to a greater degree of respect than what I currently enjoy.’
‘Come, Miss Jones, we both know being a gentleman’s mistress earns you no more respect than being an actress does,’ Valbourg said. ‘But it does come with certain advantages. For one, you would be better taken care of.’
‘Indeed. I would be given food and lodging in exchange for pleasures owed to my keeper whenever and wherever he chose to exact them,’ Catherine was stung into replying. ‘Forgive me if I do not find that preferable to the situation in which I currently find myself. Now, if you don’t mind, I would rather not continue this conversation. As surprising as it may seem, I find it...degrading.’
Valbourg shook his head. ‘I do not find