The Masked Heart

Chapter Thirteen

"I swear by me sainted mother, that nobody in the 'ole bleedin' place knows anythin', guv." Jasper Pickles hung his head at the shame of it all.

Talbott Stoddard glared at the ragtag creature who shifted from foot to foot as if uncomfortable in the handsomely paneled library. He had to keep himself in hand not to shout at the shuffling figure but his patience was sorely tried.

It was three days since he had seen La Solitaire at the Rose and Trellis but in all that time he had not been able to discover the present location of the beautiful actress. She had not returned to the Green Mews Theatre and according to John Tibbles, she had sent a note saying she was ill. The only bright spot in all of this, was the fact that he had seen Drew Farrington and, by the surly look of the man, he did not know where La Solitaire was either.

"What about the little abigail that you said offered such promise?" Stoddard snarled across the desk at Pickles.

"She was ripe for a tumble, is all," he said.

Shuddering at the gap-toothed smile of the man, Stoddard prodded, "Did you even question the slut?"

" 'Course I did. And she tol' me that aside from the little blond, the brat and the ol' lady, there was no one else in the 'ouse than there oughta be."

Pickles voice had the nasally whine that Stoddard associated with the more deplorable members of the servant class. He was sorry now that he'd paid the little weasel to get information, but the rogue had demanded payment before he would take on the task. Despite that, or maybe because of it, the man had produced practically nothing.

"And you are quite positive that you have told me everything?"

"On me word, guv." Pickles raised his hand as though testifying before a magistrate. "Nobody saw nobody in the 'ouse what shouldn't have been there. At first, I thought it might o' been the sister but me fluff tol' me she ain't ever been there."

"Sister? Whose sister?" Stoddard asked irritably. He hated to prolong the interview with the odious man but he couldn't believe that his three day watch of the Portman Square house hadn't turned up a single clue to La Solitaire's whereabouts.

"The little blonde’s sister," Pickles said. By the sudden tension in the figure across the desk, he suspected that he finally had reported something the nobleman didn't know. He smiled triumphantly as he announced, "The sister's name is Blaine Meriweather."

"Where does she live?" Stoddard asked, sitting forward in his chair.

"Dunno," Pickles answered. At the flash of anger in the nobleman's eye, he hurriedly continued. "Ellen said no one knew where this Blaine was. She'd only 'eard the little blond talking about 'er. Do you want me to go back and see if I can pick up anything else?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Pickles," Stoddard said. "You've been of inestimable help."

After Stoddard had waved the man out of the library, he leaned back in his chair and considered the nuggets of information he had. He had seen La Solitaire entering the Portman Square house. Obviously she had slipped out sometime that night or the following morning before Jasper Pickles had arrived to watch the place. The only significant piece of information his informant had come up with was the fact that Fleur Meriweather had a sister.

Was it possible that Fleur's sister was La Solitaire?

On the face of it, the idea was clearly ridiculous. The more he thought of it however, the more the ridiculous theory seemed to fit. For one thing, it would explain the lack of information on Maggie Mason's background. He had never considered the fact that the actress might be from a respectable family. If true, he could understand why no one knew where she had come from or where she lived. It was, at the least, worth pursuing because as it stood he had absolutely no other avenues to follow.

A smile touched Stoddard's face but it did not reach his eyes. Perhaps he ought to have a little chat with Fleur Meriweather. He suspected once he pointed out to her the magnitude of the scandal, if the identity of her sister became known, the girl would cooperate. For the price of La Solitaire's address, she could purchase his silence.





"Give over, Fleur. You know Timour the Tartar was far more fearsome than Bluebeard," Val cried as he burst in the room behind his sister.

"I hated both of them!" she declared. She shuddered for emphasis as she blew Blaine a kiss and untied her bonnet.

"Softly, children, softly." Blaine put down the book she had been reading. "Kindly close the door, Val, and then come tell me all about Astley's. I take it that the outing was a success."

"Rather!," the boy said, drawing out the syllables of the word. He quickly closed the door then raced to the chaise longue so he could fill his sister in on all of the details. Fleur pulled up a chair, sharing a smile with Blaine at Val's enthusiasm.

"It was absolutely wizard! I can't wait until tomorrow when I meet with Jamie. I have ever so much to tell him. He'll be positively green!" His eyes sparkled in anticipation of having such a choice morsel to pass on. "There were hundreds of horses and the tricks they could perform quite put my Fatima in the shade."

"Please remember when you return home, dear, that your pony is moving into her gracious matronly years," Blaine cautioned. "You would not wish to do her an injury."

"Oh, Blaine!" His tone was aggrieved. "I would not be so buffleheaded."

"Besides, Robbie already lectured him," Fleur finished in sisterly smugness.

"It was very generous of Robbie to take you both for such a treat," Blaine added at the thunderous look of the boy. "Did Puff enjoy the show?"

"She certainly did," Fleur answered. "She has gone upstairs for a rest. As she would say, 'I have had a day of the greatest exhaustion.' "

"You should have seen her, Blaine. I think there is Tartar blood in Puff's family," Val crowed. "We were seated on the very edge of the equestrian ring and she got caught up in the excitement of it all. During the scene at the Tartar camp, the Baghwan chief was a particularly expert rider. When he leaped on the back of a galloping stallion, Puff quite forgot herself and sprang to her feet cheering loudly."

"Everyone around us just stared at her," Fleur said. "I was too embarrassed for words."

"Oh stubble it!" he cried. "You were just as bad. Screeching like a cock being slaughtered whenever things were exciting."

"I did not!"

"Did too! What about when they stormed Bluebeard's castle?" he scoffed. "It wasn't me what was caterwauling. Clinging to Robbie like the veriest ninnyhammer when Timour and Bluebeard were slain."

To keep the discussion from dissolving into the usual name calling, Blaine said, "It sounds as if it was quite a wonder-filled production."

"Oh, Blaine, I wish you might have been there," Val cried. "It was super!"

"Now that I know what a lively event it was, I am sorry I missed it," she admitted. "It seemed such a perfect opportunity to be lazy with everyone out of the house. Ever since you left, I have been reading which is something I never get a chance to do."

"I must say, Blaine," the boy said, his face suddenly serious. "Ever since you came home from Cousin Lavinia's, you have not been looking quite yourself. I know the old girl is unwell, though I do not know what disease she has. Jamie thought it was most probably influenza. He had been holding out for the 'French Sickness' but I told him that was the pox."

"Great Heavens!" Blaine gasped, trying to hold back her laughter. "I begin to wonder if Jamie Wildebrand is a very good influence on you."

"He's top of the trees!" Val considered this encomium his highest compliment. "I suppose I am not supposed to say 'pox' in front of ladies but you and Fleur are just sisters and that doesn't count. What I wanted to say was, since you've been looking so peaky, if there was any possibility that you were coming down with the same thing that Cousin Lavinia has?"

"Oh, Blaine!" Fleur cried, eyeing her sister with dismay.

At the expression of worry on the two young faces, Blaine could no longer contain her laughter. She was happy to see that the sight of her amusement relieved some of their concern and she quickly got up from the chaise to give each of them a hug.

"Such a farrago of nonsense, my dears," she said. "I have just been sunk in the doldrums, not sickening. No need to get out the black crepe yet. I promise you I have several good years left."

"What is the matter with Cousin Lavinia? Does she have fits?" Val asked with ghoulish relish.

"What a vulgar thought," Fleur said with a shudder of distaste. "Use your noodle, Val. She is just a very old lady."

"Although I might have put it more tactfully, Fleur is right, my dear. I fear Cousin Lavinia has only a little more time left until she is only memory."

The sadness in their sister's voice, dampened the enthusiasm of the youngsters mood so it was a welcome relief when Tate arrived with the tea tray. Fleur brightened considerably when the dresser presented her with a gaily-wrapped box.

"Ellen was just about to take this to your room. Your abigail looked decidedly flustered when I took it over. Said they came by messenger, but the butler knew nothing about it. I trust, Miss Fleur, you have not been encouraging any unacceptable gentlemen," Tate finished with minatory glance.

"Of course, I haven't," the girl snapped.

She accepted the box, and gingerly opened it to reveal a delicate bouquet of spring flowers. She smiled in relief at the unexceptional bijou, handing it regally to the dresser to be put in water. A frown of curiosity creased her brow as she opened the card. After reading only a few lines, her face whitened and for a moment it looked as though she was about to swoon.

"What is it, Fleur?" Blaine asked, her voice sharpening in concern.

"We are surely undone!" the girl cried. "We shall be the laughingstock of London and it is all my fault!"

"What does the note say?" Blaine snapped.

Fleur's violet eyes clouded with tears and they overflowed, running unheeded down her cheeks as she continued to sob. "All I wanted was to have a little fun and now I have brought ruin to our name and Robbie will never propose. I shall turn into an old, crotchety spinster like Cousin Lavinia!" she wailed.

With a look of supreme disgust, Val snatched the note from his weeping sister and, after blotting the tearstains on the sleeve of his jacket, he smoothed out the crumpled parchment . He looked questioningly at Blaine who nodded her permission for him to read it aloud.

" 'Please accept these flowers as a token of my good faith. If you wish to keep all of London from talking about your sister's masquerade, I would ask you to meet me tomorrow in Hyde Park. Due to the necessity for discretion, I would suggest you contrive some excuse to come alone.' At the bottom, there are directions and a time. The note is signed by Lord Stoddard," the boy concluded, looking thoroughly confused.

There was a heavy silence in the room when Val finished reading. Blaine's eyes leaped to Tate's and she saw the same question on her dresser's face as she had in her own mind. What exactly did Stoddard know? Since neither Fleur nor Val knew of the double masquerade, they assumed the letter referred to Blaine's pretense as Aunt Haydie. Blaine was not convinced of that. With a sinking feeling in her heart, she suspected that the infamous man had somehow stumbled on the far more damaging intelligence that she was La Solitaire.

"Oh, Blaine, whatever are we going to do?" Fleur wept. "I shall absolutely die, if everyone is sniggering at us behind our backs."

"Stow it, you henwit," Val snapped, losing patience with her wailing. "How can anyone think with all your squawking."

Despite his sharp words, Blaine could tell the boy was also troubled. He could not like the fact that his family might be held up to ridicule. He would be appalled, she knew, if he realized the full implications of this situation. Quickly she took a hand before things could get further out of hand.

"Sit up and dry your tears, Fleur. Nothing will be served by such behavior." Blaine bit her lip as she tried to organize her thoughts. "While this appears to be the end of the world, I assure you it is nothing of the kind. If we can manage to keep calm, I suspect we may be able to brush through without a scratch."

She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping she was not just giving the children empty promises. Their expressions were a mixture of hope and fear, overlaid by a belief in their sister, that for her was considerably daunting.

"What will I tell Lord Stoddard?" Fleur whispered.

"You will have absolutely nothing to do with such a villainous person. I myself will deal with Lord Stoddard," Blaine announced to the girl's obvious relief. "For this evening, you will cancel any plans and remain quietly in your room. This has been a shock for you. Although you have done exceptionally well so far, you are not a good enough actress to pretend nothing is the matter. Until this business is settled, you will not be home to anyone."

"Not even Robbie?" she asked in a very small voice.

"Not Prinny himself!" Blaine answered. "Now run along with Tate and she'll tuck you up for a rest before dinner. We will carry on exactly as usual. Be warned though, Fleur," she cautioned as the girl sniffled her way toward the door. "If you tell any of this to Ellen, I shall wash my hands of you completely. Tate will tell Puff what is afoot but not one word of this is to go beyond these walls."

Once Fleur was dispatched, Blaine turned her attention to Val. The boy had watched wide-eyed as his older sister had taken charge but now there was a stiffness to his shoulders that told her he would not be content to be summarily sent to his room. Reseating herself on the chaise, she patted the cushions beside her.

"Well, laddie, we've gotten ourselves in the soup once again," she said as she placed a comforting arm around his narrow shoulders.

"I did not much like the tone of that man's letter, Blaine," he said.

"Nor I."

"It sounded very much like one I read about in one of those gothic novels that Fleur reads. The wicked count was planning to do something dishonorable and he sent just such a letter to the heroine of the piece. She was all fluttery like Fleur, but not half so nice." The boy tilted his head to look up at his sister. "Did it sound to you as if Lord Stoddard was planning to do something not quite cricket?"

Looking down at the grave little face, Blaine's first instinct was to shield the boy. For one so young, he had dealt with enough tragedy and she hated to add to his already heavy load. It was the thought that he looked to her for guidance, that convinced her, she must treat him with honesty. She always had stressed that he must face the truth before he would be able to work through a problem.

"His letter did sound that way to me, too." She hugged him tightly before she pushed him slightly away so that she could look down into his face. "I am afraid that Lord Stoddard is not a very good man. He has tumbled to our secret and is planning to use it to his own advantage."

"If I were older, I would call him out."

"Oh no!" Blaine cried. "When you are older, sweetheart, try to remember that a duel is never the answer to a problem. The death or injury of another is a terrible thing and just creates further complications."

"Will you meet Lord Stoddard in the park?"

"Yes." She tried to appear disinterested, grateful that her brother could not feel the pounding of her heart at the very thought. "I shall have words with him and that will be the end of that."

"I could go with you," was his hopeful response.

Blaine hugged him again. "Though I would like nothing better than to have a brave champion at my side, I must go alone according to the instructions of the note. No need to look so worried. Lord Stoddard knows how birdwitted your sister is and that is why he sent her the note. In me, laddie, the man has met his match."

Perhaps the confidence of her voice and the humor of her last words, convinced Val that the nature of the discovery was not quite as serious as he had first imagined. Blaine was relieved when a smile stretched his mouth and his eyes twinkled with merriment.

"I begin to feel rather sorry for Lord Stoddard," he said. He chuckled, then his face sobered once again. "You are not going to confine me to my room like Fleur? I was to meet Jamie tomorrow and we have enormous plans for the rest of the day. Sarge was going to drive us down to the docks to see the ships."

Blaine surveyed the pleading in her brother's eyes and knew it would be easier to have him busy, under Sarge's watchful eye, then moping around the house.

"I will agree to your meeting with the irascible Jamie if you give me your solemn word you will tell him nothing of this matter."

"Word of honor," he said without hesitation. Then he jumped to his feet and solemnly placed one hand over his heart and the other over his eyes. "If I break my word, may the animals of the forest eat my heart and the bats of hell pick out my eyes." Then he dropped his hands and spit on the carpet.

"Good God, child!" Blaine screeched. "Where on earth did you learn such a thing?" Before he could speak, she held up her hand for silence. "Don't tell me. Let me guess. Jamie, perhaps?"

"Righto, Blaine. Smashing, isn't it?"

"Give me a kiss, you loathsome child, and then run along."

The grinning boy did as directed and left Blaine with a smile on her lips. She tried to hold on to her amusement but it was difficult to get through the rest of the day. Her thoughts whirled round and round in her head but she could come up with no viable way to avoid the meeting with Stoddard. In the evening, she consulted with Tate and Puff but neither woman had any ideas to offer. She would meet with him and then decide on a further course of action. So much depended on what Lord Stoddard knew and what he wanted for his information.

The next morning dawned gray and cloudy. There was a chill dampness to the air that did little to cheer Blaine. Val, more quiet than usual, had stopped by on his way to meet Jamie to wish her good luck in her meeting with Stoddard. She was able to give him a confident smile which remained, stiffening on her face, until the door closed behind the boy.

Fleur was also subdued when Blaine invited her to join her in her room for breakfast. The girl's eyes were red-rimmed as if she had cried half the night. Her voice had a lackluster quality in answer to Blaine's questions. After breakfast she left, promising to remain in the house until her sister's return.

Once more Blaine donned the costume of Lady Haydie Yates. She had the feeling that it would be the last time that the old woman would make an appearance. The dress she chose was funereal black to suit her mood of depression. She eschewed the white makeup, preferring instead to wear the black hat with the veil Fleur had bought her at a happier time. She grasped her cane and her reticule in her mittened hands and then turned toward Tate.

"Thank you for your help," she said. "Your loyalty has been one of the mainstays of my life in the last six years, you know."

"Get along with your nonsense, my girl." For all her ferocity of manner, there was an unaccustomed softness in her voice as she continued. "I wish you would let me go with you, lambie."

"It is something I must handle alone." Blaine's tone permitted no argument. "I do not think there is anything to fear. If I read Stoddard's note correctly, he means to intimidate Fleur by his threat to bandy his great discovery about town. I would assume he is contemplating blackmail. All I need do is determine the price of his silence. Besides, Tate, I need you here to keep an eye on Fleur."

"I do not like your taking a hackney," the dresser said as she tied the satin band around the veiling at Blaine's throat. "I would feel far more comfortable if Sarge were driving you."

"He is much better occupied keeping Val and that scamp Jamie out of trouble." As she started out the door, she tried to reassure the older woman. "I will be meeting Stoddard at noon in a public park. There can be little danger in that."

Blaine repeated those words over and over as the hackney jolted through the streets. She hoped that Stoddard already would be at the meeting place because she wasn't sure he would make contact with her instead of Fleur. The blood pounded at her temples in the beginnings of a headache and stared bleakly through the veiling of her hat at the passing buildings. She would offer the man money, but she doubted that he was out for money. If she was correct in her conclusions: Lord Stoddard's price was La Solitaire.

The hackney driver set her down just inside the park. He was already out of sight before she got her bearings and pulled out Stoddard's note to confirm the meeting place. With a quick glance at the watch pinned inside her pelisse, to see that she still had ten minutes to spare, Blaine readied herself for her performance.

She shook out the heavy folds of her black dress and adjusted the padding of her matronly bosom more securely. Looking around, she was pleased to note she was able to see remarkably well through the veiling even though the sunshine, even at noon, was almost nonexistent. She pulled the netting away from her mouth and nose to ensure that the features of her face would remain invisible. She slipped the strings of her jet-beaded reticule around her wrist and then taking a breath, she leaned heavily on her stick as she walked stiffly along the path.

If she was right, Stoddard had guessed that the real name of La Solitaire was Blaine Meriweather. She was counting on the fact that he might not have discovered that she was also playing the part of Lady Yates. If not, he would be under the impression that he had only an old woman, a young girl and a child to deal with. In underestimating his adversaries, Stoddard would give her an advantage.

The already gloomy day appeared more threatening as Blaine approached the rendezvous. When she discovered the spot and realized its isolation, she was grateful that Fleur had not come. An iron bench with wooden slats was tucked into a shadowed bend of the walking path. The path was dark, covered over by heavily leaved, massive oaks. An army could hide in the hedges, she muttered. She surveyed the area but could not see anyone other than the wretched Stoddard who leaned arrogantly against the trunk of a tree beside the bench.

For a moment, she experienced the same fright she felt prior to a performance. Her throat was dry and her heart was pounding erratically. In point of fact, she was involved in a play, one with more tragic consequences if she did not act her part well. Thus reminded of her theatrical experience, she took a deep breath and stormed onto the scene.

"Well, young man," she rasped in Lady Yates' throaty voice.

Stoddard pulled away from the tree he had been leaning against with the speed of a scalded cat. He stared in confusion at the veiled woman in black who was confronting him. Blaine pushed her advantage.

"What is the meaning of all this rubbish?" she snapped.

"Lady Yates!" He could not keep back his start of surprise.

"Don't Lady Yates me, you disreputable rake! How dare you send secret notes and flowers to my niece. What kind of a girl do you think she is that she would be privy to such hugger-mugger goings on?"

"W-where is Fleur?"

It was obvious that Stoddard had not twigged to her imposture of Lady Yates. His face was a picture of confusion at the appearance of the old woman and his stammered words clearly showed that he was stunned. Blaine pressed her advantage hoping to rout the man.

"Such underhanded dealings, Lord Stoddard, indicate a certain want of moral rectitude." Blaine rapped out her words in stentorian tones and was pleased to see the flush of color that stained his cheeks at her insult. "My niece will not be here today and as far as I am concerned you are never to seek to converse with her again."

Stoddard blinked when she finished then his face changed from the tint of embarrassment to the deep red tones of fury.

"I am not so easily gulled, madam," he said through gritted teeth. "If you are here, you have read my note and are well aware of the reason for this meeting. I was hoping to deal with Fleur but you will do equally as well."

Since her berating of the man had failed to make him turn tail, she decided it was time to come to business. She planted her walking stick firmly in front of her feet and leaned on it with both hands, while holding the rest of her body stiff with offended dignity. "What do you want, Lord Stoddard?"

"I want your niece, Lady Yates."

"Fleur?"

"Don't be stupid," he snarled. "I want La Solitaire!"

At his unrestrained anger, Blaine swallowed a lump of fear and tried to keep her voice bitingly cold. "Quite impossible, young man. Do you really think, I would turn the girl over to you?"

"If you do not want your reputation, and that of your innocent little niece, to be dragged into the muck of scandal, you will tell me what I want to know. Where is La Solitaire?"

"I don't know." Blaine was shaking so much, she had little need to fabricate the querulous tones of an old woman. "I sent her away. It was too dangerous for Fleur to have 'the actress' in London. I have told her, we will never receive her again. She is a disgrace to the Meriweather name!"

There was silence after her angry speech. She prayed that Stoddard would believe her and look elsewhere for answers. Her body felt chilled with fear at his words which confirmed that he was not out after gain. He wanted La Solitaire. Through the veiling, Blaine could see that he was wavering. Suddenly, his expression changed and her heart plummeted.

"I do not believe you, Lady Yates," he said, his voice gloating. "If you had meant to cut the actress, you would have done it long ago. I am sure you and the little Fleur have worked out ways to contact her."

"Fleur knows nothing," Blaine snapped in fear and anger. "She can tell you nothing."

"Perhaps not, Lady Yates. We shall just have to see."

"Leave her alone!" Blaine was not sure if her cry was for her sister or herself. She clenched her hand on the knob of her walking stick, the urge to strike out at the man almost overpowering.

"I had the feeling you Meriweathers would be difficult to deal with. I had made my plans for Fleur but I suppose you will have to do," he said.

Before Blaine could take in his meaning, he raised his hand and two men appeared on either side of her. The size and generally disreputable appearance of the men did not encourage her to struggle. She knew in her encumbering skirts, she could not hope to outrun them. Worst of all, any intimate contact with her body might reveal the falseness of her padded figure. She would be in far less danger, if Stoddard and his bullies continued to think of her as the aged Lady Yates.

"I would say you have the advantage, milord," she said.

"If you would be good enough to follow me, Lady Yates."

Without another word, Lord Stoddard moved off the path into the bushes. She spared a brief glance for the walkway, empty of strollers on this gloomy day. A call for help would be useless. Her eyes flickered to her escort and their very immobility was daunting. She gritted her teeth, forcing away her fear.

"Your arm, sirrah!" she demanded.

She was surprised at how quickly one of the brutes thrust out his arm in a courtly gesture. She placed her shaking hand on the stained woolen sleeve and leaned heavily on her walking stick as she moved after Lord Stoddard. A short distance away, a coach waited with curtains already drawn. Stoddard sneered as she approached, his lip curled as she graciously accepted the help of the two ruffians to enter the carriage. The door closed behind her and the men moved to the head of the horses, out of her earshot.

The carriage was luxuriously appointed, apparently Stoddard's own. She quickly rummaged through the interior but could discover no pistols or anything else she might use as a weapon. Since she could hear nothing except vague creakings and groanings from the carriage, she was afraid to prolong her search for fear Stoddard would return. She shuddered at the thought of having to share a seat with the frightening man. She moved to the center of the seat and placed her walking stick across her knees as a barrier.

With a sharp snap, the door was snatched open and Talbott Stoddard entered. He gave a snort of annoyance as he glanced at the cane but without further comment, he threw himself on the opposite seat with his back to the horses. One of the ruffians shouted and the carriage took off with a jerk.

"Once society hears of your outrageous conduct, Lord Stoddard, you will no longer be received," Blaine announced.

"No one will care what happens to the Meriweathers. The family of an actress is of little import to the members of the ton ," he replied.

"I find it hard to believe, sir, that your parents were ever joined in lawful wedlock. You have the distinct odor of le bar sinistre ."

A wave of fury crossed Stoddard's face at her words. "Shut up, you vicious old biddy!"

Afraid he would strike her, Blaine shrank against the squads. His unleashed anger was terrifying. She tried to control her breathing, knowing she could not let him see her fear. She took courage from her role as the indomitable Lady Yates

"What do you hope to accomplish by this idiocy, young man?"

"A simple trade, madam. I will return you to Portman Square, the moment you tell me where I can find La Solitaire."

"Quite impossible," she said in bored tones. "I have already told you that the actress is gone. Not only is she beyond your reach, milord, but she has always been above your touch."

"Bitch!" Stoddard snarled. "Have a care, Lady Yates. I could just as easily abandon you far from civilized London. At your age, the vultures would be picking your bones before anyone could find you."

"Their company would be a decided improvement," she retorted.

"Damn your blistering tongue!"

At his latest outburst, Blaine subsided. She could sense that he was on the ragged edge of violence and it was no plan of hers to incur injury as well as abuse at his hands. She could see little hope of bettering her situation but she was at heart an optimist and far too stubborn to give up in despair. She kept her body in the stiff posture of an angry dowager but tried to relax. She knew later on she would have need of her strength.

It was difficult to control the fear which sent her thoughts spinning in endless mind pictures. She did not know what would happen when she did not return to the house on Portman Square. Tate would be frantic and Fleur, once she heard, would go into the usual hysterics. When they returned from their tour of the docks, Val and Sarge would be told, but there was little that a servant and a child could do against the strength of a titled lord.

Even if she managed to escape on her own, she knew that, in his fury, Stoddard would blacken the name of the Meriweathers. He would take great delight in spreading the tale of how Blaine Meriweather had taken the name of Maggie Mason, the notorious La Solitaire. The thought of Val and Fleur's humiliation at such a scandal was too painful to bear.

For the love of her family, could she bargain with Stoddard? She knew his price. If she agreed to his terms, could she trust him? She truly didn't know. And if she could trust him to keep his half of the bargain, could she bring herself to become his mistress?

The thought of Talbott Stoddard's hands touching her, made the bile rise in her throat. From the candid speech of the chorus girls in her early years in the theatre, Blaine was aware of the details of lovemaking. The only actual experience she had had was the kiss she had shared with Drew Farrington. Without question, Stoddard's embrace would not give her the joy she had found in Drew's arms. She knew by the coldness and the fury she had seen in his eyes that he would not be gentle with her. He would make her pay for her insults and rejections. Stoddard would degrade her and defile her, destroying her very soul.

She had only herself to count on, Blaine thought as she fought back tears of self-pity. There was little hope of rescue. There was no one with curly brown hair and flashing green eyes who could save her from this nightmare. No one at all.