Gail Whitiker - No Place For An Angel

How fortunate she was not one of those women.

‘Thank you,’ she said, returning her gaze to the stairs. ‘I would not have thought Promises the type of play a man like you would enjoy, but I shall certainly pass your comments along to Mr Templeton.’ She flicked another glance in his direction. ‘I cannot recall having seen you in the audience.’

‘Why would you? I am but one of the many thousands who stare at you every night,’ Valbourg said. ‘In such crowds, all faces blur into one, none of them distinguishable or particularly memorable.’

And yet, yours would be, Catherine found herself thinking. In fact, as she glanced at Valbourg again, she realised there was something familiar about his features. The black, wavy hair, the dark slash of eyebrows above expressive eyes and a slender, aristocratic nose. And that mouth, capable, no doubt, of humbling a man with a few carefully chosen words, or of bringing a woman to ecstasy with a lingering kiss—

‘I say, Brother, what gem have you brought into the house tonight?’ A very different voice cut into her musings. ‘Can it be the Angel of London come to grace us with her presence?’

Valbourg stopped and turned around, causing Catherine to do the same.

‘Ah, Hugh, I wondered when I would be seeing you. Miss Jones, allow me to introduce my brother, Lord Hugh Nelson. Hugh, Miss Catherine Jones.’

Brother. Yes, Catherine could see the resemblance. Though he looked to be younger than Valbourg, Lord Hugh shared his brother’s dark hair, sculpted cheekbones and slender, aristocratic nose. But where Valbourg’s eyes were a warm chocolate brown, Lord Hugh’s were the cool clear grey of a winter morning. His clothes were more dandified than Valbourg’s, and where the latter’s build suggested a man who enjoyed outdoor pursuits, Lord Hugh’s was already tending towards corpulence.

But it was in their attitudes towards her that Catherine saw the biggest difference. Valbourg’s regard was polite but uninterested. Lord Hugh’s was engaged and appreciative, leaving her in no doubt as to the nature of his thoughts.

‘So, we are to be treated to a performance by the Angel of London,’ he murmured, reaching for her hand. ‘How honoured we are.’

His words were as flattering as his regard, but Catherine suspected honour had very little to do with them. ‘Thank you. I was delighted to be asked and look forward to performing for your father’s guests.’

‘Not nearly as pleased as we are to have you. I say, Val, why don’t you leave Miss Jones in my care until Mary is ready for her to sing?’ Lord Hugh said, his hands pressing moist heat into hers. ‘I’m sure you have more important things to do.’

‘As a matter of fact, I do not,’ Valbourg said, pointedly freeing Catherine’s hand from his brother’s. ‘Mary charged me with the responsibility of looking after our guest and that is what I intend to do. Come, Miss Jones, the music room is just ahead. I’m sure you would like a chance to rehearse before the guests start arriving. One of the footmen will keep watch outside.’ He levelled a warning glance in his brother’s direction. ‘I have left instructions that no one is to be admitted until you are ready to begin.’

With that, he placed his hand in the middle of Catherine’s back and gently propelled her forward.

Catherine was not sorry to walk away. She was familiar with Lord Hugh’s type: men who had been indulged since birth and were used to having what—and who—they wanted. He no doubt enjoyed the company of actresses and ballet dancers, many of whom were, for the most part, elegant prostitutes, and while Catherine did not think of herself in that way, she was realistic enough to know that others did.

For that reason, she was surprised when a few minutes later, Valbourg said, ‘I apologise for my brother’s behaviour, Miss Jones. There is nothing he likes better than to find himself in the company of beautiful women, and while I cannot say he would not have made an improper advance, he would certainly have tried to monopolise your time.’

Catherine slowed, her expression thoughtful. Valbourg thought her beautiful? ‘Thank you, my lord, but there is no need to apologise. I have encountered your brother’s type before and am perfectly able to take care of myself.’

‘Are you?’ A glint of amusement warmed the brown eyes that suddenly turned to meet hers. ‘Have you a bronzed Nubian bodyguard you call upon at such times?’

Catherine allowed herself a small smile. ‘No, but I do know a few techniques that can come in useful. Ways in which to deflect a gentleman’s unwanted amorous attentions.’

‘If force is required to put distance between you and an admirer, he can hardly be called a gentleman.’

‘Ah, but he can,’ Catherine said. ‘A man will always treat a lady with respect, but he is not obliged to show the same consideration when in the company of an actress.’

‘He is when in this house,’ Valbourg said. ‘If you are treated with anything less than the respect you deserve, you are to find me at once and I shall deal with it.’

There was no trace of amusement in his voice now and Catherine was flattered by his concern. For all her fame, actresses were seldom accorded such consideration. It was refreshing to know there were still decent men in the world and that Lord Valbourg was one of them. What a pity their situations in life would prevent her from having a chance to know him better.

‘Thank you, my lord, but I doubt any of your father’s guests would be so inconsiderate as to misbehave beneath his roof. It would be a poor repayment of his hospitality.’

‘It would indeed, Miss Jones,’ Valbourg said. ‘And for everyone’s sake, I hope they remain aware of it.’

* * *

After making sure that Miss Jones was safely ensconced in the music room, Valbourg left her alone to practise, insisting she lock the door as soon as he left. The lady might believe herself wise to the ways of the world, but Valbourg knew there was very little she would be able to do against a man who had serious seduction on his mind. For that reason, he waited until he heard the click of the lock falling into place before making his way back to the ballroom.

Not surprisingly, his brother was waiting for him; a drink in his hand and a scowl on his face. ‘I say, Val, I didn’t care for the way you spoke to me back there. You had no right to be so dismissive in front of Miss Jones.’

‘And you had no right to move in on her the way you did. Dear God, Hugh, she is a guest in our father’s house,’ Valbourg said tersely. ‘Could you not have restrained yourself?’

‘She is an actress, not a guest,’ Hugh informed him. ‘One no doubt possessed of the same questionable morals as all the rest. She is only here to sing for her supper, and you can be damn sure she’ll be looking for a wealthy man to take her home. For a hefty price, of course.’

‘Which just goes to show how little you know about her. Catherine Jones hasn’t been any man’s mistress since she arrived in London,’ Valbourg said. ‘Her reputation is spotless. Would that the same could be said of yours.’

‘I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,’ Hugh said, securing a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter. ‘Just because you choose to live like a bloody monk doesn’t mean I have to.’

‘No, but something resembling restraint would be nice for a change,’ Valbourg drawled. ‘Speaking of conduct, watch what you say around Sebastian in future. I’d rather not have him thinking your conduct with women is one worth emulating. As for Miss Jones, keep your distance. She is here for our sister’s enjoyment. Not for your own personal pleasure.’

His brother’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why so protective, Valbourg? It’s not like you to warn me away from a woman. Can it be you’ve a mind to bed the wench yourself?’