"We'll meet at nine. It'll be growing dark and the streets should be lively with impromptu celebrations." He looked at Beth and Blanche. "Make sure you can't be recognized. I don't want to have to kill the men if I can help it."

Beth was startled at how easily she believed him capable of killing when required. She was beginning to wish she'd not, volunteered, but it was too late now.

Blanche nodded. "I'll get wigs from the theater and paint. Anything else we're likely to need?"

Throughout the following discussion, Beth was aware of Lucien's silence. If he was that angry, why had he not made a stronger objection? What would she have done if he had made a stronger objection?

Soon Beth and Lucien were walking back to Marlborough Square. He didn't speak, and Beth didn't try to make conversation. However, he followed her into her boudoir.

Beth looked at him nervously. He wasn't in a rage but neither was he happy. He ran a hand through his hair. "I would like to be allowed to keep you safe," he said.

Beth faced up to him. "I can't live in a gilded cage, Lucien."

"There is a lot of ground between a gilded cage and the gutter," he said angrily, "and that is where you're going tonight. You remember Deveril's henchmen. What if something goes wrong? What if it takes time for us to intervene?"

Beth hadn't really thought it through that far, and she swallowed even as she stuck to her guns. "It is not right that Blanche be asked to do things I am not asked to do."

"For G.o.d's sake, Blanche is a wh.o.r.e!" he exploded. "She's a gem and I love her-in a platonic way these days, of course-but she worked her way to London on her back and, bought her way into the theater the same way. Now she depends on her acting for her livelihood, but she's seen and done things you can't even imagine!"

"With you, no doubt," Beth snapped.

"Yes, sometimes!"

"I'm sure I'm a very boring lover compared to her! I'm sure you'd rather go off tonight and adventure with her and leave me safe here at home to ply my needle!"

"Yes, I would!"

Beth decided she'd like to hit him and clenched her fists. "Well, I won't."

He glared at her. "Fine. Just remember I warned you!" With that he slammed out of the room with a reverberating crash.

Chapter 23.

Beth put a horrified hand over her mouth. He'd wanted them to have a flaming row, and they certainly had. And he'd never shown any sign of hitting her. But, Lord, he was angry and very frightened for her. Was she being an utter fool?

But she didn't see why Blanche should be exposed to risk while she was protected. And, she admitted, she wanted a part in the working out of her plan. She trusted Nicholas Delaney.

Then she remembered Nicholas's wife had declined the adventure and that brought to mind that strange confrontation between Blanche and Nicholas. He had once been an intimate of Deveril's....

Oh Lord, she had tangled herself in a mess, but it was impossible to back down now.

Beth went down to dinner with the duke and d.u.c.h.ess that evening, for the first time in days, and found Lucien there, too. He treated her in the same reserved manner that had marked the days before their marriage.

The duke and d.u.c.h.ess did not seem to notice. "You are looking so much better, Elizabeth," the d.u.c.h.ess declared. "But surely that is a bruise upon your face?"

"I fell against a table, Maman," said Beth. "It is nothing."

"You must be more careful, ma chere. And is it not good news about the battle? Perhaps my poor France can finally know peace. But at such a cost, on all sides."

Talk over the meal was all of the battle. Afterwards the duke and d.u.c.h.ess had a number of separate engagements. Lucien and Beth said they were spending the evening at home. The d.u.c.h.ess clearly thought this very romantic.

Lucien accompanied Beth to her rooms. "Dress simply and I'll escort you."

Beth frowned at his cold manner but went into her dressing room and dressed again in her darkest old clothes. When she was ready she walked through into his dressing room with only the briefest of knocks. He was bare-chested and just about to pull on a shirt. Beth looked wistfully at his splendid torso and thought how they could be spending the evening. But no, he would still be going out.

"How would you like it if I just walked in on you?" he asked as he pulled the shirt over his head.

"I wouldn't mind."

Something warm flashed in his eyes, but then he concealed it. Beth was heartened, though. He wasn't as cold as he was pretending. She went to hand him his jacket. "It's rather fine though, isn't it?"

"Unlike you," he said, "I don't possess any plebeian clothes. We'll just have to hope anyone who sees us thinks me a swell out slumming with the upstairs maid."

"Lucien," said Beth, "this really isn't fair."

He looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"You may not be hitting me, but you're punishing me all the same for not doing exactly as you wish."

He turned away to arrange his cravat. "I'm supposed to turn a blind eye to any foolishness that enters your overeducated head?"

"There, see," snapped Beth, sinking into anger again. "How can any human being be overeducated?"

He turned to look at her. "Very well, then. Undereducated. Which is doubtless going to be corrected tonight."

Beth sighed. "I have a right to make my own mistakes, my dear."

"Do you?" he asked coldly, facing the mirror again and finishing an elegant knot with a few deft movements. "You might have a thought to those affected by them. I didn't join the army, because my death would be the end of our line, in law if not in fact. Your death would be just as disastrous."

"I hardly think our lives are at risk. And if they are you're risking yours tonight. You just don't want me involved in anything unpleasant."

He sighed and looked at her, then pulled her roughly against him. "Right. I don't want you involved in anything unpleasant. I don't want any other man mauling you, even for a moment. Don't do this, Beth."

Beth snuggled against him. Marriage was a funny business. Endless compromises. "I want to come," she said at last. "But if Blanche can handle the men on her own, I'll let her."

He pushed her back to study her. "You promise?"

"I promise."

He smiled. "Thank you. I confess, I wouldn't have wanted to miss this either." He gave her a steamy, ravaging kiss. "I must admit, too, I'm quite curious to see what you look like as a wh.o.r.e."

Later, when she looked at herself in the mirror in Blanche's temporary dressing room at Tom Holloway's rooms, Beth wondered what Lucien would think. She was sure he'd blow up again. Certainly Aunt Emma would have a fit of the vapors if she saw Beth now.

A bra.s.sy blond wig flowed over her shoulders and her face was so vividly painted there was no question of anyone seeing her bruise. Her skirts were halfway up her calves and her bodice was so low it barely skimmed her nipples.

"Lord above," she muttered.

Blanche, who was still in a wrap and beginning to apply her own makeup, grinned. "Getting stage fright?"

"A little."

"You don't have to come. I can manage."

Remembering Deveril, Beth had no doubt of that. "I have to go through with it."

Blanche smiled her understanding.

"Blanche," said Beth, "what was all that about with Nicholas Delaney?".

Blanche looked over with heavily darkened lashes and brows which made her look vulgar but very enticing. "I don't know."

"But did you really meet him with a wh.o.r.e?"

"Yes." Blanche enlarged her lips with scarlet.

"He must have been married then."

"I suppose so."

"Am I giving in to vulgar curiosity?" Beth asked.

Blanche grinned. "Yes. Irresistible vice, isn't it?"

Beth couldn't resist a few more questions. "Just tell me, was Lucien there, and why did you leave?"

Blanche considered her face and then skillfully applied a little more rouge. "No, Lucien wasn't there. He was out of town. I thought it was just a social evening among the demimonde. It was a ballum runc.u.m."

"What on earth is that?"

"A naked ball," said Blanche prosaically. "At least, the women are naked. Most of the men keep their clothes on most of the time."

Beth stared at Blanche, having difficulty even imagining such a thing. "You're on Lucien's side, aren't you? You don't think I should be here."

Blanche turned to face her. "I think you have every right to make your own choice, but if you enter this world, Beth, even for an evening, don't think it's a game."

Beth looked at herself in the mirror and thought back with disbelief to the days when she'd fought battles as to whether to wear a cap or not. But she was going through with it. It would, she supposed, be a valuable extension of her education.

When she turned resolutely towards the door, Blanche said, "Good for you."

At the sight of her, Lucien briefly covered his eyes but then he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. "How much for an evening's tumble, Molly?" His eyes were laughing, not angry. When she pushed at him, he said, "Come on, I think you should get into your part."

"Charge 'im at least ten guineas, ducks," said Blanche in a heavy accent. Beth looked over at her and gasped. Blanche had obviously been easy on her.

The high dressed dark wig and vivid face-paint were vulgar but it was Blanche's gown which was outrageous. Stays pushed her lull b.r.e.a.s.t.s up outlandishly high and her bodice was all but transparent. Beneath it, her nipples were rouged scarlet. She looked nothing like the ethereal White Dove.

Hal Beaumont took a deep breath and stepped over to the actress. "Is that your price too, you shameless hussy?"

Blanche placed a hand on her hip and somehow managed to thrust her b.r.e.a.s.t.s a little higher. "I'll give a discount to a wounded soldier, luv."

"Done," he said and grasped her chin to kiss her.

Beth hid her face in Lucien's jacket. "Will it set a terrible precedent if I admit you're right?"

He held her tight. "I promise not to crow. Do you want to go home?"

Beth got her courage back. "No. But if I cling to you, don't blame me."

Lucien, Nicholas, Miles, and Tom Holloway were all dressed in grimy frieze and cheap finery, their faces dirtied. They'd greased their hair, too, and Lucien, who didn't seem to lose his aristocratic elegance no matter what they did, also wore a battered, low-brimmed hat to shade his face.

They were all in fine fettle, bubbling with excitement. Overgrown schoolboys, Beth thought, but she couldn't help catch their enthusiasm. Once out on the street she began to feel her part as if she was an actress walking onto a stage. "I think this comes easier than playing the marchioness," she said saucily to Lucien.

"Just remember this isn't your true calling."

"Swing your hips a bit more," Blanche said quietly. "You're walking like a nun."

Beth studied Blanche and then began the same kind of swaying walk, hand on hip, light on the feet, moving her shoulders to greatest effect.

"Hey, lovely!" called a roughly dressed pa.s.serby. "Want better company than you've got there?"

Beth winked at the man over her shoulder. Lucien dragged her against his side. "Gerout of it!" he snarled at the man, showing a fist. The man hurried on his way.

Nicholas was almost helpless with laughter. "We are supposed to be on serious business, my friends. Beth, you can come out and play harlot another night." He took Beth's other arm and hurried them along. Blanche had Miles and Tom Holloway to escort her as Hal had reluctantly split to do his duty with Francis at the front of Deveril's Grosvenor Square house.

As they had expected, the streets were already filling with merry crowds celebrating the victory. All the buildings bore extra lights though they hadn't had time to mount proper festive illuminations. Drink was flowing but the mood had not yet turned wild.

Beth had never been involved in such an atmosphere in her life and, safe between Nicholas and Lucien, she loved it. When the crowd began to sing "G.o.d Save the King," she joined in l.u.s.tily.

She laughed up at Lucien. He grinned at her, swung her out of Nicholas's grasp, and into a thorough kiss. The crowd shouted and whistled its approval. Beth was left feeling dizzy and very much wished they were in a more private place.

The crowds thinned as they got closer to Grosvenor Square. There had been riots here earlier in the year over the unpopular Corn Laws but the mob had no reason for anger tonight, no reason to seek out the homes of unpopular ministers and break the windows.

Such a disreputable group as they were gained a few funny looks, but the pavement was still supposed to be free to anyone, and so they strolled along without interference.

Near Deveril's house they pa.s.sed Hal and Francis, every inch the gentlemen and apparently chatting while waiting for a friend or a carriage. Francis held up two fingers as they pa.s.sed. He thought there were two men in the dark house.

They continued to Upper Brook Street, then slipped down the alley to Blackman's Mews, which ran behind Deveril's house. It was dark and slimy underfoot.

Nicholas seemed to have a mental map, for he stopped by a path leading up to a house. "All right," he said. "You go up first, Blanche, and get in there. They'll be cautious about opening the door-Deveril was a tough master and they don't know he's dead-but they'll open for you quickly enough. Keep them distracted and make a lot of noise. I'll climb on the roof of the scullery and in the upstairs window. It shouldn't take more than a minute or two to do the job. Lucien and Miles will watch near the kitchen, and Tom will watch back here with Beth. All right?"

Beth grasped her courage and pulled away from Lucien. "I think I should go, too." She carried on over his protests. "Two on two will be so much easier, and it's only for a few minutes. Please, Lucien?"