Behind the Mask (House of Lords) (36 page)

The princess and her mother were sitting in the shade of the house. The duchess had some embroidery on her lap, but Victoria appeared to have nothing to keep her occupied. “It is lovely here, Lady Pierce. I do not like to travel very much,” she said with a pointed look at her mother, who kept her attention carefully focused on her embroidery, “but I should like to have a house like this someday, completely cut off from the world.”

“It is very peaceful,” Eleanor agreed, taking a seat across from her. “But I find myself missing London at times.”

“Will you return there before the winter?”

“No. My new husband and I will likely travel to visit his parents in Staffordshire and then he will need to return to Brussels.”

“Lord Pierce is a member of our diplomatic corps there, is he not?”

Eleanor was surprised by the princess’s knowledge, but then she remembered that Victoria’s uncle was the king of Belgium. She would take an interest in the affairs of that country, Eleanor supposed. “He is,” she said.

“I’m sure he does our nation credit,” Victoria said.

Eleanor thought of saying that she did not know Colin well enough to be sure, but she and her mother had managed thus far to convey that her acquaintance with Colin was rather longer than it truly was, that their marriage had not been as hasty as it seemed. Eleanor agreed with her mother that the royal visit would lend crucial weight to her marriage, and that the opportunity ought not to be wasted. If the princess were seen to approve of the union, everyone else would have no choice but to do so as well.

Soon it was time for them to take their stroll. Eleanor would rather have allowed the events of the day to flow naturally, but the duchess—or, more to the point, Sir John—had insisted on a regimented schedule detailing every moment of the visit. The back-and-forth that had taken place over the agenda had been part of the reason the masquerade had been planned—Eleanor had suggested the idea almost as joke in a moment of frustration, believing that the duchess would never approve an entertainment which her daughter could not even attend. But the duchess had been delighted by the thought of a costume ball, declaring it one of her chief pleasures in life, and had heartily approved of the amusement, much to Eleanor’s shock. So the evening of the ball had been set for the last night of the royal visit, the cap on a very full schedule. Now Eleanor was grateful for the endless parade of activities—it meant that she did not have to think about what would happen next, where she would take her guests, what they would do there. At least this part of her life could be mindless and carefree.

Colin came out of the house, followed by Leo. Eleanor took up a place beside her husband, and Victoria joined them. From the way Colin looked at her Eleanor knew he had heard about her visit to Meddur Udad that morning, but she did not give him time to say anything—he could not, anyway, in front of the princess and all the other guests. When everyone was assembled, Eleanor led the way out of the gardens and into the shaded parklands.

Smiling his most charming smile at his wife, Colin forced the fury he felt to the back of his mind. There was no sense being angry with her now, he told himself. That didn’t seem to help.

When the guard who had just left his duty outside the dressing room came to him and said that his wife had been to visit Meddur Udad, Colin had felt an intense, wildly varied range of emotions. Rage and fear and awe at her bravery and gentleness had mingled in his mind. But in the end his anger had won out. She
knew
that he would not like her visiting the captive assassin. She
knew
that it was insanely dangerous. And yet she had done it. Even worse than the fury was the awareness that he could not say anything to her about it, that having an argument about something so small as this single transgression would do neither of them any good and would cause far more turmoil than it was worth.

As they paraded beneath the shade of the old-growth trees that filled the park, Colin allowed his anger and fear to fade, to be replaced by that other emotion, by his awe of her. Here was a man who had tried to kill her, and she continued to show him kindness and caring. She was a far stronger person than he. Colin had been betrayed more times than he cared to remember, and he could not imagine treating any of those who had turned against him with such grace.

"What is Brussels like, Lord Pierce?" Victoria asked, her voice breaking through the cacophony of his thoughts.

"Not as enlightened as London," he said, though he knew it was not strictly true. In many ways Brussels was far more advanced than London—certainly it was nowhere near as
savage,
for all that they had just come out of a revolution. But Colin could hardly tell the future monarch of England that her crown city was a cesspool of poverty and want, could he? She had been so carefully sheltered under the rigid Kensington System that she would not understand if he tried to explain the hunger or desperation people experienced. Indeed, Colin was not sure he would ever understand them either, coming from wealth and privilege as he did. It was one of the reasons he dreaded his father's death. He could not imagine taking up the earl's seat in Parliament when he was so far removed from the needs of much of the country.

As they came out from under the shade of the trees, Georgina, who had stayed behind with a book, came hurrying across the lawn towards them. For and instant Colin felt a surge of fear, but her expression as she heard her sister held no terror, only confusion and worry. She spoke softly to Eleanor for a moment, and when she had finished his wife turned and came back to him.

"Your parents have arrived," she said.

Colin blinked at her. "My parents?" he asked.

She nodded. "Did you invite them?"

"Absolutely not," he insisted. "Are you sure it's them?"

"I've never met them," she said with a trace of bitterness, "And I cannot see them now, so I cannot say. We shall have to go back to the house, I suppose." She went back to where the princess and her mother were still ambling beneath the trees. After speaking quietly to them, she came back to his side. "Shall we go in?" she asked brightly.

He offered her his arm. "Certainly."

They walked towards the house in silence. But as they reached the terrace he slowed his pace. "I did not ask them to come here, Eleanor," he said. "I wrote to them of our marriage, of course, but I did not invite them. I know that their coming will be a burden."

"It's not a burden, Colin," she said earnestly. "We can make room for them, and I am excited to meet them. I would have liked a little more time to prepare, that's all."

"I understand." He brushed the lock of hair that was always coming loose out of her face.

"Do I look all right?" she asked.

He kissed her forehead. "Beautiful, as always."

She sighed. "No sense stalling," she said, more to herself than to him. He laid his hand atop hers where it rested on his forearm and led her into the house.

His parents were waiting in the salon, looking rather travel-weary. The Earl and Countess of Townsley had always appeared to Colin as the ideal picture of nobility, firm and upright and always impeccably dressed and coiffed, and though they looked a little bedraggled they still did not disappoint. Colin had not seen his parents in more than three years. They had visited him in Paris before he moved on to Brussels, but since then he had not been home and they had not been to the Continent. In the intervening years his father had aged a great deal, his salt-and-pepper hair more salt than pepper now, the dark shadows beneath his eyes deeper. Colin had always found his father’s aging disconcerting, since he knew that he was looking at an image of himself in thirty years every time he saw the man. His mother, too, had new lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, though she was still striking. The Countess of Townsley had never been a great beauty, but the word 'handsome' had often been used to describe her. It was true now more than ever, Colin thought as he watched his mother look his new bride up and down.

"Father, mother," he said warmly. "May I present Eleanor, my wife?"

There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity. Then, smiling, his mother said, "Of course. It is a great pleasure to meet you, my dear." She held out her hand and Eleanor took it, once more the lioness. "My husband, Richard."

"It is a great honor to meet you both, Lord and Lady Townsley," Eleanor said.

"Please, call me Elizabeth," his mother said, grinning like a schoolgirl at her new daughter-in-law. Colin had never seen her look quite so overjoyed before, and he was even more surprised when she said, "Oh, Colin, you have done well. We couldn't be more pleased."

"Thank you, mother," Colin said, trying to process this uncommon praise. He looked past her to his father, who still had not spoken.

“Oh, Richard, say something to the girl,” his mother chided.

His father harrumphed and said, “Welcome to the family, child. My son has made a wise choice.”

From the way Eleanor’s head tilted slightly to one side Colin knew she was as puzzled by this remark as he, but she sounded grateful and pleasant as she said, “Thank you, My Lord. I cannot tell you how thrilled I am.” Her fingers tightened on Colin’s sleeve.

Now that they had dispensed with the pleasantries, Lady Townsley transitioned to the slightly less polite part of the conversation. “We know you are entertaining guests, my dear...” she began, and then she looked at Eleanor, who seemed to recognize her cue.

“Of course you must both stay,” his wife said smoothly, “at least for a few days, so that we can get to know one another.”

“Oh,” Colin’s mother said, looking away gracefully, “we would hate to impose.”

“No, no,” Eleanor assured her, “It would be a pleasure to have you. It’s no trouble at all, really. I’ll just go and find our housekeeper and give you three a chance to catch up.” Then, wrestling her hand loose from Colin’s, she swept elegantly out of the room. Both his parents turned to watch her go.

“She is an angel, Colin,” his mother said when she had gone. “And so poised.”

“Indeed,” his father said, “quite exceptional. How did you ever convince the chit to marry you?”

Ah.
There
was the father he had joined the Foreign Service to escape. Colin could not resist saying, “I ruined her, of course.”

His mother gasped. “Oh, Colin! How can you even joke about such a thing?”

“Unfortunately it’s the truth, mother. Her brother insisted I marry her and I was more than happy to oblige. I thought you would be happy, father. She is the daughter of a viscount, and she had a dowry of forty thousand pounds.”

“I’m ecstatic,” his father said sourly. “When may we expect grandchildren?”

“We’ve only been married two days,” Colin said.

“Sooner the better, I say. I could drop dead any day, and then you’ll have only Miles for an heir.”

“Richard,” Colin’s mother scolded, “how can you say that? You’re as healthy as a horse.”

“So they tell me,” his father grumbled.

Colin heaved a deep sigh. “Well, pleasant as this has been, I must return to my duties. If you’ll wait here, I’m sure Eleanor will return shortly. I’ll see you both at dinner.”

Then he turned and strode back out onto the terrace. He did not look back—it was pleasurable enough to imagine the looks on their faces.

By the time Eleanor returned from muddling through the problem of where to put her new in-laws, Colin had disappeared, leaving them alone in the salon. Eleanor would have apologized for his behavior, but she thought they might be used to it by now, so she said nothing except, “I suppose you’d both like a little rest after your journey. I’ll show you upstairs, and a maid will be up shortly with tea.”

“That’s very kind of you, dear,” Lady Townsley said.

“Yes,” her husband agreed. Eleanor was having a hard time not staring at him. This, she told herself, was how Colin would look when they were old and gray.