Page 28 of A Perilous Passion

“If they developed a tendre for each other,” Thea said, warming to her subject, “they might have to elope on foot.”

Charlotte’s patience reached its limits. “Enough! What has poor Lord Beckport done to the pair of you, that you mock him so cruelly? Have you nothing else to talk about? And what on earth has possessed you to link my name with his in such a way?”

Hester came to a halt and looked at her askance. “There’s no need to fly up into the boughs. We’re only teasing, aren’t we, Thea?”

“Of course, for why would anyone as lovely as you care for him? He must be a good ten years older than Justin, and dark, not fair, although he is exceedingly handsome under that very unfashionable beard and eccentric mustachios.”

“You’ve seen him, then?” Charlotte inquired, reining in her impatience. The more they derided Rafe, the more she wanted to leap to his defense. It was beyond frustrating that she could not.

“Only from a distance. He rarely comes this far south.”

“According to the Spectator, he’s as rich as Croesus,” said Hester, “and was very popular with the ladies before all the trouble with the army and being snubbed by the ton. It’s rumored he’s had several mistresses and one or two quite scandalous affaires.”

“Dozens of mistresses, I’ve heard,” Thea put in, tugging on Charlotte’s arm to get them moving again. “He’s known to have an eye for beauty. Beckport House contains a vast collection of classical statues, mostly female. Some are kept in a room where only close male friends are allowed.”

“I’m sure many gentlemen of taste have similar collections,” Charlotte said, trying to banish a vivid image of Rafe disporting himself with his dozens of mistresses.

Thea said, “There were rumors about Harriette Wilson—”

“There always are,” interrupted Hester with a sniff.

Charlotte found it difficult to reconcile the reclusive, secretive Lord Beckport she knew with the wealthy, lascivious rake her friends were making him out to be. Experience had taught her that gossip was a cruel weapon. It could ruin one’s character in a single blow—often without good reason—and she set little store by it.

Yet, this new picture of Beckport held a particular fascination. It seemed he was more dangerous to her than she’d thought. Had she been aware of the voraciousness of his…appetites, she might have been much more alarmed when she’d woken to find him in her bedchamber.

Or more excited, a devilish voice within her murmured.

“I wonder if the highwayman will attend the ball.”

“Thea, whatever made you think such a thing?” Hester said with a snort.

“He is supposed to be very dashing and bold…and used to wearing a mask.”

Charlotte chuckled, despite herself.

“Well,” Hester said, “the Culverdales are hardly likely to send a voucher to a high toby. Even if they had his direction, which I’m sure they don’t.”

“But he could be anyone, couldn’t he?” Charlotte ventured, her imagination taking flight.

“Exactly,” Thea said. “So, no one would know him. I think he sounds quite gallant, myself. He held up Martha Weeks and Philip Carey the other day, and he kissed Martha on her cheek, took only a little of her coin, and refused to touch the locket she inherited from her grandmother. He said a beautiful object like that belonged on the bosom of a beautiful woman.”

“Did Philip Carey do nothing to protect her?” Charlotte asked, intrigued by such benevolent behaviour in an outlaw.

“What could he do? He had only a sickle and a basket of eggs he was carrying for Martha, while the robber had a brace of pistols. Carey had no coin on him at all, but the highwayman took away a few eggs in his pocket.”

She laughed again and digested the fascinating tale a moment, then told Thea, “You won’t be meeting this generous thief at the assembly. If he has to resort to stealing eggs for his supper, I can hardly imagine he’ll have even a bed sheet to wear for a costume, let alone get his hands on an appropriate mask.”

“No,” disagreed Hester. “He’ll put in his appearance after two o’clock, on the road, in hopes of catching out unwary guests returning homeward.”

“He’ll hang if they catch him,” said Thea, becoming serious as she opened the lych-gate into the churchyard. “Whether gentleman or commoner.”

Hester frowned. “What a gloomy thought. I’d far rather talk about the ball.”

“Yes! I’m so looking forward to it,” Thea said, her whole face lighting up.

“Oh dear,” said Hester, as they drew nearer to the church. “Someone’s moved your display into the porch, Thea, and it’s wilted.”

“Bother!” exclaimed Thea, her face falling. “Why didn’t I think to bring a watering pot with me?”