Hiding from Love Read online

  How could she possibly explain to him that she had followed Desirée out of jealousy?

  She lifted her hand weakly.

  “I assure you, you are – mistaken,” she whispered.

  “Am I, Miss Cressy?” His tone cut her like a knife. “Well, perhaps Señor de Guarda will throw some light on the matter, for here he comes.”

  Leonora turned to see the Señor bearing down on them with an expression of penitence on his face.

  His features underwent a transformation, however, as he detected the charged air about her and Mr. Chandos. He became at once alert, his eyes moving swiftly from one to the other.

  “Miss Cressy, Mr. Chandos,” he said with a bow.

  Mr. Chandos looked at him with disdain.

  “I am surprised, sir, that you feel so free to appear in public after your conduct last night!”

  Señor de Guarda’s eyebrows rose.

  “You English – you take courtship so seriously.”

  Mr. Chandos snorted.

  “Courtship, you call it!”

  “I was just a little rough in my approach, perhaps, but the ladies like it, you know. If you had not considered it right to interrupt, who knows but that Miss Cressy might have been persuaded to humour me a little – ”

  “As no doubt she did later!”

  Leonora’s hands flew to her face, whilst Señor de Guarda narrowed his eyes with interest.

  Whether or not he knew just what Mr. Chandos’s words meant, he was quick to jump on what they implied.

  “Ah,” he sighed. “Whenever has a young woman been consistent in her attitude? Whomever she loathes one minute, she embraces with a full heart the next.”

  He winked at Leonora.

  “Isn’t that so, my little bird?”

  Mr. Chandos swung away with a muffled curse, as Leonora gave a strangled cry.

  “I am not – your little bird!”

  Señor de Guarda’s eyes flashed such a warning that Leonora shrank back.

  “Oh, but you are, my dear,” he insisted. “You are my little magpie, are you not?”

  Leonora understood in an instant.

  Magpie. The thieving magpie. He was reminding her that he knew of her past. He was reminding her that he knew she had taken Mr. Schilling’s money.

  It was clear that if she refuted his version of their relationship, he would not hesitate to expose her there and then to Mr. Chandos.

  Her eyes filled up with tears of rage that even now, after such a long interval of time, the odious Mr. Schilling should still be casting such a shadow over her life.

  A shadow that now lay wide as the Gulf of Arabia between her and Mr. Chandos. There was no crossing it.

  His friendship was lost to her, lost! She must feign a bond with Señor de Guarda or let her reputation be ruined.

  The Señor held out his arm.

  “Come, Miss Cressy. We have so many things to talk about this morning.”

  Eyelids lowered and trembling, she took Señor de Guarda’s arm and he led her triumphantly away.

  She felt Mr. Chandos’s cold gaze on her back.

  “You keep forgetting that I know you for what you are, Miss Cressy,” the Señor muttered as soon as they were out of earshot. “Just look here!”

  Leonora turned her head numbly to see him fumble in his waistcoat and then draw out a leather pouch –

  Mr. Schilling’s pouch!

  “W-where did you get – that?”

  “I just don’t know where you were last night, Miss Cressy, but I know where I was. In your cabin, whence I had come to offer my apologies! Finding you gone, I took the opportunity of securing this – memento of your past.”

  “You are a thief!”

  “Precisely, my dear magpie. It is exactly why I feel we are destined for one another.”

  Leonora stopped and pulled her arm from his.

  “Destined for one another? Señor de Guarda, once we arrive in Rio, I want nothing more to do with you.”

  He showed his teeth.

  “Rio is indeed a small place compared to London, Miss Cressy. I can ruin your reputation even more easily there. You are in my power and that is how I want it.

  “I find you most desirable. I am going to have you and I don’t want you to encourage Chandos’s attentions. You must promise me this or else – !”

  Leonora stared at the ground.

  “I don’t need to promise. Mr. Chandos has not the slightest interest in me.”

  He gave a grunt.

  “If you believe that, all to the good. Now excuse me. I must deprive you of my company. I am due to play cards with Mr. Griddle.”

  Leonora raised her eyes to watch him go, her mind and body seething with dislike.

  Whilst she remained on board, she would have to abide by his strictures. How she would get away from him once in Rio she did not know, but get away she must.

  She moved as if in a trance to her cabin.

  She imagined Señor de Guarda now feeling free to fawn over her in public, kissing her hand, taking her arm, carrying her hat – all under the eye of Mr. Chandos, who already had such a low opinion of her!

  She could not bear it! She would not bear it! She would refuse to appear in public at all.

  She would feign illness and remain in her cabin for the rest of the voyage.

  And she would ask Desirée to play nurse, so if the Señor came calling, she would not be alone!

  She pushed open the door of her cabin and, closing it behind her, allowed her emotions free vent.

  Tears flowed down her cheeks as she heard again those harsh words of Mr. Chandos!

  “As no doubt she did later – ”

  How could she rest until she had absolved herself in his eyes? She must tell him where she had been last night.

  Far better that he suspect her of jealousy towards Desirée than unseemly conduct with the Señor.

  She crossed to the small writing table and sat down.

  “Dear Sir,” she wrote,

  “I wish to tell you the truth about where I was last night and why.

  Faithfully yours, Leonora Cressy.”

  She folded the letter and rang for Finny.

  When, after five or so minutes he had not appeared, she went to the door and opened it.

  The corridor outside was quiet and she hesitated for a second and then stepped out.

  Moving quickly she stooped to slide the letter under Mr. Chandos’s cabin door.

  As she did so, the ship gave a sudden lurch and she put her hand on the door handle to steady herself and the cabin door swung slowly open.

  Straightening herself she stared in at his room.

  He had obviously not returned from his sojourn on deck as the room was empty.

  Leonora took a step forward.

  Another step and she was across the threshold. As if mesmerised, she circled the cabin, touching every item that was so intimately connected with him.

  His dressing gown, thrown across the back of a gilt chair. His hairbrush and ebony comb. His half-open trunk. His silk cravats, his gloves. His writing case.

  His writing paper with its embossed letterhead.

  The letterhead!

  Leonora stared down, arrested, the breath knocked from her body as if by a mortal blow.

  She recognised the crest.

  She had seen it before – on the side of a carriage as it drew away from a light-filled house.

  And even if she had not recognised it, there below was a name that she did.

  Arthur Chandos, the Lord Merton.

  The gentleman she had danced with at Broughton Hall and the man she had danced with here on board ship, were one and the same!

  The man from whose embrace she had fled was the very man whose good opinion she now vigorously sought.

  He had known who she was all along and he had deceived her!

  With a cry of despair, she crumpled the letter in her hand and fled.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Each swell of the sea s
eemed higher than the last.

  Leonora sat on her bed, her forehead on her knees, her thoughts racing.

  Everything began with the tiny Chihuahua –

  If she had not scooped up the dog that day outside the Black Jack Inn, then Lord Merton, no doubt newly arrived in England, would never have noticed her.

  If he had never noticed her, he would never have pursued her and she would never have fled her home.

  She lifted her head and brushed away a tear.

  Lord Merton – Arthur Chandos – one and the same!

  A gentleman who was so determined to get his own way, he had tried to purchase her from her stepfather.

  ‘But why me? Why should Lord Merton have been so keen to pursue me?’

  There was no answer to that question.

  He clearly operated on the kind of acquisitive whim that infected many of his class, who always believed they could buy whatever they wanted.

  It was indeed a kind thought of his to bring a gift from Brazil for a relative – whoever that might be.

  It was kind of him to find a job for Finny and kind to help Desirée and Robert, but she suspected an ulterior motive in all these scenarios.

  She was groping in her reticule for a handkerchief when the cabin lurched at an acute angle and her stomach turned over.

  She remembered the thin line of dark cloud that Mr. Chandos – Lord Merton – had pointed out on the horizon.

  ‘I wonder if the storm has hit us,’ she worried.

  Finny put his head round the door.

  “That sea’s got mighty rough, miss. Mrs. Griddle and some of the other passengers are now in the salon. I’d thought you might be scared and should join them.”

  Leonora hesitated.

  She had resolved to remain out of the reach of Señor de Guarda, but the thought of being tossed about alone in her cabin was alarming.

  Retrieving her shawl, she rose and stumbled after Finny. The floor heaved beneath her and she had to steady herself with a hand on each wall of the corridor.

  Finny caught and helped her through the swinging doors when they reached the salon.

  There they all sat, some looking rather greener than others. Tables had been laid for lunch, but it was clear that nobody would be eating.

  Leonora noticed Desirée lying with her eyes closed and her head in her mother’s lap.

  Mr. Chandos – Lord Merton – oh, what was she to call him now? – stood apart, his eyes fixed on the turbulent waves assaulting the windows.

  He seemed lost in anxious thoughts.

  To Leonora’s relief, there was no sign of Señor de Guarda, as Finny settled her onto a chair near Mrs. Griddle.

  Leonora glanced at Mr. Chandos and then away.

  ‘How I hate him now!’ she decided.

  Yet the next moment her eyes strayed to him again.

  A Steward came in with a telegram, looked round and moved unsteadily towards the figure at the window.

  Mr. Chandos turned at his approach and took the telegram.

  Despite herself, Leonora watched him curiously as he opened the telegram.

  His grim expression relaxed a little as he read the contents and then, as if sensing Leonora’s rapt appraisal, he raised his head.

  Too late – she blushed as his eyes met hers.

  His dark eyes flared for a second and then he came towards her, the telegram open in his hand.

  “Miss Cressy,” he began. “I really must apologise for approaching you after our last unhappy meeting, but I have something here – ”

  He stopped abruptly as Leonora leaped to her feet.

  “I don’t wish you to address me – ever!” she cried.

  Heads turned as she pushed past him and ran from the salon. Outside she turned first one way, then another, before finally dashing up some stairs.

  She had no idea where she was going, only that she was running from a man who deeply disturbed her.

  Her heart pounded wildly as she pushed against a heavy door at the top of the stairs and fell into the storm.

  Her skirt billowed out round her and salt spray was as sharp on her face as particles as ice.

  She did not want to turn back for fear that he had followed her.

  ‘If I can keep hold of the rail,’ she thought, ‘I shall surely make it to that door at the other end of the deck.’

  She started, but the rail was freezing to the touch. The wind whipped along the deck and seemed determined to force her back. Soon she was making no headway at all.

  A hand reached out and caught her arm.

  She could not see who it was, but she instinctively struggled to free herself.

  To no avail.

  She was drawn roughly back into some shelter and there someone shook her hard by the shoulders.

  “You silly little fool! Don’t you realise you could be washed overboard in this weather?”

  Recognising Mr. Chandos’s voice, she shook wet strands of hair from her face and stared angrily at him.

  “I shall go wherever I please,” she retorted. “And when I please. You are not my Master.”

  His eyes flashed.

  “By Heavens, if I were your Master, I’d beat some manners into you!” he blazed.

  Leonora had no time to answer as the ship pitched so suddenly that she was thrown hard against his breast, so hard that she gasped.

  She felt the stuff of his waistcoat against her cheek and felt his breath on her hair as he stooped to support her.

  The next moment her blood began to pulse wildly, as wildly as the sea that beat against the prow of the ship, for Mr. Chandos had thrown his arms around her and was murmuring into her hair – words that were almost but not quite carried away by the wind.

  “I will win your favour, I will make you love me. It is not in my nature to yield once I am set on a course!”

  She fought an overwhelming desire to succumb.

  “You delude yourself!” she cried loudly. “I might once have imagined myself in love with Mr. Chandos, but I could never, never love Lord Merton of Merton Abbey, for that is who you are, isn’t it? And Lord Merton I hate!”

  Shocked, he released her and once again, she turned on her heels and fled.

  This time she was not pursued. She made it to her cabin, flew through the door, locked it and flung herself on her bed.

  ‘I just want to sleep!’ she moaned. ‘I don’t want to think about Mr. Chandos or Lord Merton – or that odious Señor de Guarda – or Mr. Schilling. I just want to sleep.’

  As if in response, the ship abruptly ceased its frantic plunging and fell into a gentle rock like a baby’s cradle.

  Whether or not it heralded the lull before a greater storm, Leonora did not consider.

  She closed her eyes and the world faded away –

  *

  When she awakened some time later, it was to the sound of frenzied bells and the corridor outside her cabin echoed with pounding footsteps.

  Someone hammered on the door.

  “To the lifeboats! To the lifeboats!” was the cry.

  Leonora then sat up with a jolt. Her lamp was out and the cabin was in darkness.

  She felt for the floor and grimaced as her feet sank an inch deep into water.

  Stumbling towards the door, she opened it and then drew back in horror.

  Seawater was now swirling along the corridor and even as she looked, the momentum intensified.

  Her blood chilled as someone far away screamed.

  Mr. Chandos’s door was open, but he was not there.

  She began to wade towards the stairway.

  Her skirt was soon soaked and its weight impeded her. Water was cascading down the stairs. Gripping the handrail, she tried to pull herself up, but the strong water forced her back.

  Far above her on deck, she heard whistles blowing.

  The passengers and crew had taken to the lifeboats and forgotten her.

  She was going to die!

  Driven by sheer terror, she renewed her attempts to m
ount the stairs.

  Halfway up, she slithered and fell.

  She was still struggling to regain her foothold when someone caught her under the arms and lifted her.

  She was carried upwards through a torrent of water.

  “W-what has – happened?” she asked weakly.

  “The ship was approaching the Azores when it was carried onto rocks,” came the reply close to her ear.

  Leonora recognised the voice of Mr. Chandos even as he set her on her feet in front of one of the lifeboats.

  His gaze swept across her and she blushed as she realised that she was in her petticoat, which clung damply to her, accentuating the delicate curves of her figure.

  Her bodice had slipped down, revealing a creamy white shoulder and she fumbled instinctively to draw it up.

  She was forestalled, as Mr. Chandos put out a hand and gently pulled the bodice in place.

  Then he was gone, striding off to help three sailors lower one of the two starboard lifeboats.

  Before there was time to marvel that it was he who had rescued her yet again, her attention was distracted by the sound of loud shrieking.

  Sailors scrambled around on the listing deck, busy securing ropes to the other starboard lifeboat, in which the Professor and his wife sat with Desirée and Mr. Griddle.

  The source of the shrieks was Mrs. Griddle clinging stubbornly to the deck rail.

  “I won’t get in, I won’t! I’m not entrusting my life to that tinderbox!”

  “Please get in, Mama,” Desirée pleaded with her.

  “I won’t!” Mrs. Griddle’s voice rose even higher.

  “Then I will climb out and stay with you, Mama.”

  “You must not!” shouted out a voice from nowhere. “Let me deal with this.”

  Beard tugging in the wind and his hair dishevelled, Robert stepped up to Mrs. Griddle at the rail.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. She peered closer and gave a screech. “I know you now! I know you!”

  Robert seemed unperturbed that she had recognised him and without further ado he hoisted Mrs. Griddle onto his shoulder and carried her over to the lifeboat, where he dumped her unceremoniously into the prow.

  “How dare you, how dare you!” she spluttered.

  Desirée clasped her mother closely, as two sailors signalled for the boat to be hauled over the side.

  “Wait!” came Mr. Chandos’s command.