Hope's Betrayal Part 23

They elbowed their way through the throng, out of the double doors and onto the landing. But if anything, the press of people was greater in the supper room and George searched in vain for a way through. His arm went protectively around Hope's waist, the possessive weight of his hand thrilling her. And indeed she felt light-headed. She tried to take a deep breath, but the stays crushed her ribs. Hope started to fear she might faint.

"I'm so sorry, but might we get some fresh air instead?"

"Of course."

They found a quiet terrace overlooking a formal garden, where couples strolled arm-in-arm down the paths lined by box hedges, released from the strictures of society by the pretence of their costumes. Torches, driven into the flower beds, lit the way on a wonderful moonlit evening for romance.

Hope's head spun as she leaned against the bal.u.s.trade. That George still had his arm around her waist, his hand hot through the layers of fabric, did little for her composure. Then it struck her he was unusually taciturn, but felt too woozy to question him.

"Sorry about this." She closed her eyes to concentrate on breathing. "I'm not unwell, it's just these stays are so tight and then the heat in there..."

"I quite understand. It defies logic, trussing women up that way."

"Shall we sit?"

"Absolutely." George glanced around. "Over there."

They found a bench beneath a window; screening palms on either side offered some privacy but not enough to be compromising. Music and chatter drifted out through the sash window. Hope sank gratefully onto the seat.

"That's better." She leant her head back against the high window ledge. After several deep breaths the garden stopped spinning. "I'm so sorry. This isn't like me at all."

"How can I help? Perhaps some lemonade?"

She licked her lips, suddenly struck by an overarching thirst. "Oh, that would be wonderful."

"No sooner said than done." Huntley glanced around for a footman, but there was none. "Back in a minute."

Hope felt humbled as she noticed his stiff gait, a sign his injury troubled him and yet he'd put her needs first. They had grown close recently, and she hated to think of him in pain, but knew well enough not to smother him. As her head cleared, she tapped her foot to the distant music, looking forward to his return. After the crush inside, being outside was soothing, she felt better in the fresh air and suspected Huntley felt the same.

The sash window above her head was open an inch or so, venting a smoking room. Now and again Hope caught a waft of tobacco and the hum of male conversation. She took little notice, until the word, "Huntley" made her skin p.r.i.c.kle. The voices grew louder, as the men drew closer to the window. Her heart pounded. She had no wish to overhear a private conversation, but it was too late to move without drawing attention to herself. And then curiosity got the better of her as their talk continued in hushed tones.

"....obviously Huntley has a liking for the gutter, just like his brother-that art fellow. He married a waif he found on the streets, tried to pa.s.s her off as a lady..."

Hope bristled. It was obvious they referred to Jack and Eulogy. She almost stood and knocked on the window to put them right; Eulogy was a lady, she just didn't happen to be raised as one.

The man snorted. "I mean, marrying an artist's model-I ask you."

"Yes, and now she's breeding and they don't seem to mind their line being tainted."

The man snorted again. "Devlins always were bad news and with her mysterious history-who can say she really is a purebred Devlin? Can't imagine what Jack was thinking."

"Not thinking with something lower down than his brain!"

The crude innuendo made Hope seethe.

"Dashed lucky he's not the eldest or he would disgrace the family more than he has already."

Hope bit her tongue.

"Obviously don't mind making a show of themselves though. I mean, You'd have thought Captain Huntley would have learned from his brother."

"Perhaps he has and wants to outdo him."

"Hmmm, hadn't thought of that. Reverse sn.o.bbery. Dashed tasty chit though, even if I do say so myself."

"Yes, but absolutely no breeding, a fisherman's daughter-the captain caught her smuggling and took her to his bed."

Hope ground her teeth, they could at least get their facts straight. She'd been nowhere near George's bed, although the prospect was not unappealing.

"What?" Guffawed the first man.

"I know, isn't it priceless? If he marries the chit, he'll destroy any last vestige of respect for his command. His lasting legacy? The naval captain whose head was turned by a smuggler. "

Conflicting emotions spun around Hope's head. With great difficulty she bit her tongue. But long after the men had strolled away, their words haunted her. Eulogy was one of the sweetest, most trusting people she had ever met-besides which she was the true daughter of an aristocratic family, albeit with a complicated childhood. If those gossips could say such things against someone legitimately born, how much more cruel would they be about a b.a.s.t.a.r.d?

The thought chilled Hope. Truly, she was a n.o.body-worse than a n.o.body-the illegitimate child who had brought shame on two n.o.ble families. A sinking sensation settled in the pit of her stomach. She had been a naive fool. Truly, if she had any feelings for George's reputation, she must leave.

The pain in her heart intensified. The silvered moonlight mocked her, the shadows harsh and eerie as she s.h.i.+vered. Her mind was made up, she loved Huntley enough to let him go.

Chapter Sixteen.

Hope shrank deeper into the shadows. The gossip had opened her eyes to the truth, that no matter how extravagant the costume, she would always be an imposter. Her pulse pounded like an executioner's drum. She should have left weeks ago and was considering slipping away without saying goodbye, when George's voice disturbed her thoughts. Feeling wretched, she forced a smile. Huntley mustn't see her distress for he'd demand an explanation-and try to make her stay.

"Apologies for being so long. I got b.u.t.tonholed by a fellow I hadn't seen since Dartmouth." Huntley ambled over with a smile on those kissable lips and her heart twisted-without doubt she loved him.

"Please, do not be concerned on my part."

"Is lemonade alright?"

With a shaking hand she took the proffered gla.s.s. "Perfect, thank you."

Huntley sat and shot her a sideways look. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

"No."

"It's just when I left you seemed so happy, now you seem a little...tense."

"I a.s.sure you nothing is wrong," she said, wis.h.i.+ng he would change the subject.

"Is it because I was so long?" He persisted.

"No! Please, just let it go."

Awkwardly, they sipped their drinks. A couple of times Huntley opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again. It occurred to Hope to wonder if the gossip had reached his ears and he was ashamed to be seen in her company. The evening had lost its appeal. Hope stared listlessly across the garden where torches lit s.h.i.+ngle paths along which couples strolled arm-in-arm. The perfect night for romance mocking the fact that here she sat, too miserable to speak, planning to leave the man she loved.

And George, he drained his drink in one and sat on the edge of the bench as if trying to distance himself. Knowing she couldn't disguise her hurt, Hope turned away.

Huntley cleared his throat. "It's a beautiful evening."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, it's lovely weather for the time of year."

"Oh yes. I suppose."

"Look here, Hope. The thing is, there's something I've wanted to ask for a long time now, but never found the courage." He blurted out.

"It's alright." She sighed. "You needn't sound so worried, I know what you're going to say."

"You do?"

"Yes, and I've been thinking about it myself."

"You have?"

"The last thing I want to do is bring shame on you and Lady Ryevale. I'll leave in the morning."

"Leave?"

"Unless you preferred I went tonight?"

"No! Of course not."

"The morning it is then."

Huntley jumped up and then clutched his leg. He set about rubbing it while fixing Hope with his penetrating gaze. "What are you wittering about? I most certainly don't want you to go."

"Then what?" Her brows shot up into her hairline, as Huntley's wide lips tipped up at the corners. Slowly, steadying himself against the bench, he lowered himself into a kneeling position.

"Captain? What are you doing? Get up!"

"Hope Tyler..."

Alarm fired through her blood. "Why so serious?"

"Hope Tyler, would you do me the great honor..."

Suddenly fearful, that if he proposed she lacked the strength to refuse, she tugged at his arm. "Captain Huntley, do get up. Your poor leg!"

He laughed. "This is so like you, Hope, putting others before yourself."

"Please, get up."

"Not until I've asked you to be my wife. Hope Tyler, marry me!"

Hope's mouth dropped open; she must protect Huntley from himself. "I can't think with you like this. Please. Sit down."

"If you insist." Using the bench to lever himself up, Huntley sat. "There...and your answer?"

For a moment she hesitated.

"Why do you want to marry me?"

Huntley's face grew grave. "Because I have never met such an uncommonly agreeable woman."

The irony was so great she almost giggled. All the angst and he didn't even love her!

"So the main reason is because I don't bore you?"

"Well, that's not exactly,..."

To think she had been agonising about how to let him down gently! Farcical! Huntley had just made everything a whole lot easier.

"No, Captain Huntley, I will not marry you."

To give him credit, his mouth worked up and down. "But I thought..."

"You thought what, Captain Huntley?" She challenged him with a steely stare. "You thought I would be grateful? That I'd fall at your feet to be a Huntley? Well no. I have more self-respect. I won't marry for anything less than love." There, she had trumped him; the word was obviously alien to his tongue.

"Love?" Huntley seemed dumbfounded, shaking his head with his eyes closed. "But I love you more than my own life. Did I not say that?"

Hope felt as if she'd been slapped.

"Your proposal sounded like a business proposition."

"Hope, I thought you knew. I took it as read you knew I love you-why else would I dress in this ridiculous costume and prostrate myself like an idiot-if not to please you."

"Oh!"

He grasped her hand and placed it over his heart. Through the embroidered cloth she felt it hammer. "It beats only for you. You are my reason for living."

Emotion choked her throat. "But it cannot be."

"Why not? I love you-heart soul and body. I have loved you since I first set eyes on you, even when I thought you were a boy, my body knew I loved you. Please, say yes."

"No," Tears sprang to her eyes. "Please don't be difficult, just accept my answer is no."

"Do you love me?"

Hope gasped, her heart breaking. She opened her mouth, bracing herself to lie, but false words refused to come.

"I see in your eyes you do," he squeezed her hand, "so what are you afraid of?"