No Place for an Angel Read online

  ‘I honestly don’t know. I was so sure I would be leaving with Thomas I didn’t give any thought to the alternative,’ Catherine said, feeling a tidal wave of desolation. ‘But now I must because they have refused to give him up.’

  ‘What made you think they would?’

  ‘Reverend Hailey said he would be willing to revisit the situation when Thomas turned five if I did as he asked and led an exemplary life.’

  ‘But you were an actress. Surely he couldn’t have approved of that.’

  ‘I wasn’t an actress at the time,’ Catherine said. ‘It was Miss Marsh who suggested I had a gift for music and that I use that gift to make a new life for myself. She paid for me to have singing lessons and arranged for me to have a companion when I arrived in London so that I never had to go out alone.’

  ‘But how would Hailey know if you complied with his request?’

  ‘He hired spies to keep watch on my movements.’

  ‘He’s the one who’s been spying on you?’ Valbourg said, incredulous.

  ‘He needed reports as to what I was doing. There are usually two men employed at any one time.’

  ‘You know this for a fact?’

  ‘I speak to one of them regularly,’ Catherine said. ‘He usually waits in an alley close by my house so he can see when I go out and at what time I come back.’

  ‘And he has been sending reports back to Hailey for five years?’

  ‘Yes. Unfortunately, the last report changed Reverend Hailey’s mind about giving Thomas back to me.’

  ‘Why? What did it say?’

  Catherine almost told him until she remembered that by doing so she would be involving him in something he would have no wish to be a part of. ‘It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t true, but Hailey believed it to be so.’

  ‘Did you tell him the report was in error?’

  ‘Of course, but he didn’t believe me. Why would he? I was the one who led his son astray.’

  ‘Forgive me, Catherine, but a man lets himself be led. It was not all your fault.’

  ‘Regardless, I am the one who must now bear the shame and accept the punishment,’ Catherine said, dangerously close to tears. ‘I feel as though my heart has been cut out.’

  ‘Are you sure there is nothing more to be done? No avenue you may have overlooked?’

  ‘If there is, I don’t know what it is. Not only have the Haileys forbidden me to see my son, they have sent him away and are refusing to tell me where. But I intend to find out. And when I do, I will get him and take him back to London with me. I don’t care how long it takes. I will find Thomas.’

  ‘And what then? Hailey isn’t going to let you keep the boy without a fight.’

  ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,’ Catherine said. ‘Right now, I intend to go back to Gwen’s house and talk it over with her. Then I shall make my decision.’ Knowing there was nothing more to be said, she stood up. ‘Thank you, Lord Valbourg. I appreciate everything you have done and the patience you have shown in listening to my sorry tale. But you and I both know this changes everything. I am not an angel; only a fallen woman forced to turn to the stage to earn a living. You will not counsel any of your friends to make me their mistress now. And since there was never any chance of my becoming yours, I will say goodnight. And goodbye.’

  * * *

  Valbourg did not enjoy the rest of the evening. His emotions were too raw, his shock at having found out the truth about Catherine’s past too great to allow him to enjoy the company of others. And while he did not speak to her again, he knew at what time she left. He saw her hesitate in the doorway and turn to look at him, but when he made no move to go to her, she quickly walked out.

  Lady Brocklehume found him a few minutes later. She assured him that while Miss Jones was feeling better, she still looked dreadfully pale, and that she had refused payment for the evening’s work.

  Valbourg nodded, drained the contents of his glass and then went to join several other gentlemen for billiards.

  * * *

  At midnight, realising that neither his heart nor his head was in the game, Valbourg bid his host goodnight and went up to his room, making sure to lock his door before he turned in. He had no desire to find Letty slipping into his bed in the middle of the night and he wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t try. But he had no patience for such things tonight. His thoughts were focused entirely on someone else; a lady who, as it turned out, was something quite different from what she had portrayed.

  Catherine Jones; a seemingly virtuous woman who went to church every Sunday and who was seldom seen without her companion at her side. A woman who kept to herself, refusing all offers, respectable and otherwise, and who had appeared to him a lady in every sense of the word.

  A woman who was, in fact, an unwed mother with a child; a son presently being kept by her dead lover’s father, a clergyman who, because of what Catherine had done, refused to give the child up.

  ‘Thank you, Terence,’ Valbourg said, slipping into the silk robe his valet held out for him. ‘I won’t be needing you any more tonight.’

  ‘Very good, my lord. What time will you be riding in the morning?’

  ‘Seven, but I’ll dress myself. I’ll see you when I return for breakfast.’

  The valet bowed and withdrew. Valbourg crossed to the table where his hostess had set out a bottle of cognac and two glasses and poured himself a generous measure. Swirling the golden liquid in the bowl, he raised the glass to his lips and downed the contents in one go. Then, pouring another, he took the glass and a book and climbed into the elegant four-poster bed.

  * * *

  An hour later, Valbourg’s glass was empty and the book still lay closed upon the coverlet. Something didn’t add up. Not the part about Catherine’s past. She wasn’t the first woman who had found herself pregnant and shunned, nor would she be the last. But she had come to Grafton expecting to leave with her son, yet upon arrival, had been told that a report had come from one of the clergyman’s spies and the contents of that report had made him change his mind.

  Why? What manner of damning information had it contained? Valbourg had heard nothing of a derogatory nature about Catherine’s activities in the past two weeks, nor indeed at any time before that. Prior to this evening, he had never seen her look anything but happy and light-hearted. Yet at some point since writing her letter to Reverend Hailey, something had happened to change his mind. Something serious enough that he had felt the need to send Catherine’s son away and not tell her where.

  Had his involvement in her life somehow become the topic of that last report? Valbourg wondered. Had the spies hired to watch Catherine seen her coming and going in one of his carriages? Might they even have witnessed him kissing her—?

  ‘Damn!’ Valbourg swore. Of course that was what had happened. He was the reason for the vicar’s sudden change of heart. Had he not sent his father’s barouche to collect Catherine at the theatre and then ridden home with her afterwards? Worse, had he not driven her home after the dinner party and kissed her passionately in the middle of the street?

  Clearly someone had seen them, and because the clergyman expected Catherine to misbehave, he had likely assumed that she had sinned in every sense of the word. Hailey no doubt believed a fallen woman would always be a fallen woman and that the mistakes Catherine had made in the past would be repeated in the future—and that she had repeated them with him!

  ‘Damn!’ Valbourg swore again. He threw back the covers and rang for his servant.

  Terence arrived, shrugging on his robe and looking bleary-eyed. ‘My lord?’

  ‘Sorry to rouse you so late, but I need you to find out where this man lives.’ He wrote Reverend Hailey’s name on a piece of paper and handed it over. ‘Tomorrow morning will be fine. And you’re not to say anything to anyone, do you understand
?’

  ‘Of course, my lord.’

  After his valet left, Valbourg began to pace. All right, so Catherine was not the innocent young woman she had led everyone to believe she was. That was the result of a mistake she had made and one that by her own admission she did not regret. But if his involvement in her life was the cause of her being denied access to her son, that was his mistake and a problem that needed to be resolved.

  He might not have been the reason she had lost her son in the first place, but Valbourg was damned if he was going to be the cause of her losing him a second time!

  * * *

  The Reverend Hailey was not at home when Valbourg paid a call the following afternoon. The housekeeper, a stern-faced woman with a north-country accent, informed him that the vicar was likely to be found at the church. She gave him a series of vague directions, then shut the door in his face. Tempted to call her back and inform her that she wouldn’t have lasted long in his household, Valbourg headed instead for the old stone church.

  As it turned out, Reverend Hailey wasn’t there, but his daughter, Miss Megan Hailey, was. ‘Papa should be back soon,’ she informed him as she efficiently sorted the contents of three white porcelain vases. She was a pretty girl with a sweet nature and dimples. ‘He went to visit one of his parishioners. Mrs Tupper had a baby last week and hasn’t been able to get out.’

  Valbourg nodded, wondering how a village parson could be so charitable to some and so cruel to others. ‘So, have you other brothers and sisters at home?’ he enquired, wondering about Thomas.

  ‘Just one. Thomas will be five next week.’

  ‘And you are...?’

  ‘I shall be sixteen in October,’ Megan said, blushing.

  ‘Quite a few years, then, between you and your brother.’

  ‘Actually, Thomas isn’t my brother.’

  Valbourg feigned surprise. ‘He isn’t?’

  ‘I had an older brother, but he died. Thomas is my stepmother’s nephew.’

  ‘Really? How did he come to be living with you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Megan admitted. ‘Papa said it wasn’t important that I know. Only that I look after Thomas and be kind to him.’ She looked up at Valbourg, eyes bright with curiosity. ‘Have you come all the way from London to see Papa?’

  ‘No. I’m staying with Lord and Lady Brocklehume.’

  ‘At Swansdowne?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, how lucky you are! It is such a beautiful house, is it not?’ Megan said breathlessly. ‘Papa calls there occasionally, but he never takes me with him. I wish he would. I should love to see inside.’

  ‘I’m sure a visit could be arranged,’ Valbourg said. ‘I shall speak to Lady Brocklehume when I return there this afternoon.’

  ‘You would do that for me?’ Megan said, sounding, if possible, even more breathless.

  Valbourg smiled. ‘I would be happy to.’ He picked up a hymnbook and idly flipped through the pages. ‘So you don’t know who Thomas’s real mother is.’

  ‘No. Stepmama brought Thomas here when he was only a month old. Papa said I was to open my heart and love him as though he were my brother, and I do,’ Megan said. ‘But sometimes I would like to know—’

  ‘Megan! What are you doing here, child?’

  Valbourg turned to see a man striding down the aisle towards them. Judging from the collar and gown, it was Reverend Hailey, an assumption confirmed by Megan’s greeting. ‘Hello, Papa. I came down to change the flowers, but as you can see they are still quite fresh. This is Lord Valbourg. He is staying with Lord and Lady Brocklehume at Swansdowne.’

  ‘Your servant, my lord,’ the vicar said, his expression of welcome changing to one of caution. ‘Run along now, Megan. Your stepmother is looking for you.’

  ‘All right. Goodbye, Lord Valbourg. It was very nice meeting you.’

  ‘And you, Miss Hailey. I will be sure to mention your wishes to Lady Brocklehume.’

  Megan blushed prettily, dropped a charming curtsy and all but skipped out of the church. Her father, clearly not as delighted by Valbourg’s presence, said, ‘So, my lord, what brings you here?’

  ‘I expect you know the answer to that.’ Valbourg crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against one of the pews. ‘I believe you had a conversation with Miss Catherine Jones yesterday.’

  ‘I did.’ The clergyman’s face took on a decidedly closed aspect. ‘I suppose I’ve no need to ask how you know we spoke.’

  ‘I saw her when she came to perform at Swansdowne last evening,’ Valbourg said, resenting the man’s insinuation. ‘Miss Jones was good enough to sing for Lord Brocklehume’s guests.’

  ‘Yes, well, that is what actresses do, isn’t it,’ Hailey said. ‘Sing for their suppers.’

  ‘Except on this occasion, she sang as a favour to the countess. No money was exchanged.’

  ‘I commend her generosity. Now I must ask you to let me get on with my work—’

  ‘Not just yet.’ Valbourg straightened and uncrossed his arms. ‘I’d like to talk to you about the conversation you had with Miss Jones, given that there seems to be some confusion as to the nature of the relationship that exists between us.’

  ‘There is no confusion, Lord Valbourg,’ Hailey said stiffly. ‘I know what she is and how she makes her living. What you do with her is certainly no business of mine.’

  ‘You would do well to mind your words, Reverend Hailey,’ Valbourg said quietly. ‘I am not doing anything with Miss Jones, and you do us both a disservice by implying that she is my mistress.’

  ‘If she is not your mistress, why are you here?’

  ‘Because she was very upset when she arrived at Swansdowne last night and, eventually, I persuaded her to tell me why.’

  ‘And what did she tell you?’

  ‘That she came to Grafton to collect her son, only to be turned away because you had changed your mind as a result of her perceived association with me.’

  ‘Miss Jones is not morally capable of looking after a child—’

  ‘Miss Jones is more than capable of looking after a child,’ Valbourg interrupted. ‘Gossip travels very quickly in London, Reverend Hailey. I’m sure even a country parson like you must know that. So if Miss Jones did something to bring herself to the attention of scandalmongers, it would be all over London before sunrise the next day. But the drawing rooms of society do not whisper her name and I have no hesitation in saying that the lady is as moral as any I’ve ever met. Indeed, I consider her a friend, as does the rest of my family.’

  ‘Yet she was seen riding in your carriage and you were observed kissing her in a darkened street. Perhaps in your world that does make her a friend, my lord, but God would put a very different name to it.’

  ‘Really? And what would that be?’

  ‘I prefer not to speak of such things in His house, but I’m sure we understand one another,’ Hailey said. ‘And while I do not know what your true reasons for defending Miss Jones are, I can assure you, they do not matter to me.’

  ‘They should because it is your biased perception of her that has stopped you from restoring custody of her son to her,’ Valbourg was stung into replying.

  ‘It is not my perception that has caused her to lose her son, but her own immorality.’

  ‘How many more times must I say it?’ Valbourg said, feeling his patience wearing thin. ‘Miss Jones is not my mistress.’

  ‘Lord Valbourg, I may not move in the elevated circles to which birth has entitled you, but I am wise enough to know that the distinction between classes cannot be breached. There is no reason for a man in your position to associate with a woman in Miss Jones’s, other than for the one of which I speak. You do not move in the same circles, you have nothing in common beyond an enjoyment of theatrical works, so the only reason for you
r being in her life is, for the lack of a better word, to be her protector.’

  Valbourg slowly set the hymnbook he was holding on the closest pew. ‘Are you calling me a liar, Reverend Hailey?’

  The vicar blanched. ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘Then you will do me the courtesy of not questioning my integrity when I tell you that Miss Jones is not my mistress. The only reason I am here is because I wish to see justice served and a boy returned to his mother. Something you were prepared to do until a misleading report found its way to you. Speaking of which,’ Valbourg added coldly, ‘I find your hiring of men to spy on Miss Jones reprehensible. Not in the least worthy of the conduct of a clergyman.’

  ‘I do not need to justify my conduct to you, Lord Valbourg,’ Reverend Hailey said. ‘I report to a far higher authority. One who is in a position to judge us all. And when it comes to the well-being of Thomas’s soul, I must do as I see— Megan, what are you doing here again? I thought I told you to go home.’

  ‘I did go home,’ Megan said quietly from the doorway. ‘But Mama asked me to find out whether or not you would be home in time for lunch.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I shall be there directly. Now run along. There’s a good girl.’

  Valbourg saw Megan cast an embarrassed glance in his direction before turning and walking back out into the sunshine. He wondered how much of the conversation she had heard.

  ‘Lord Valbourg, there really isn’t anything more to say,’ Hailey said. ‘I have made my position clear to Miss Jones, as I have now to you. My wife and I are not willing to relinquish Thomas into her care. Good day.’

  It was tantamount to a dismissal. Never having been treated so shabbily by anyone, let alone a country cleric, Valbourg didn’t budge. ‘Your living here is provided by Lord Brocklehume, is it not, Reverend Hailey?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘And such livings can be withdrawn, can they not?’

  Hailey’s eyes narrowed. ‘If the bishop or Lord Brocklehume believe I have been negligent in my duties then, yes, it can be withdrawn. But the welfare of my parishioners is of the utmost importance to me and I have done nothing to compromise that obligation.’