Rogue's Reward (16 page)

“I owe you an apology,” she said, her cheeks flaming. “Please have the grace to accept it.”

“Good heavens! Now you have me completely at a loss. For what small transgression could you possibly feel remorse?”

“Stop it,” Eleanor said bluntly. “This isn’t in the least bit easy. But when I’ve wronged someone, it’s only right to say I’m sorry. I know now you never took my mother’s letters and instead somehow recovered them from the real blackmailer. Mama told me so two days ago. I’m sorry that I ever accused you, and I want to thank you for what you did. You saved Lady Acton from certain ruin.”

He laughed. “Very well, I am found out. I tried so very hard to act the villain. Instead you have discovered that I’m really a saint.”

Eleanor turned on him, her eyes blazing. “I didn’t say that! I don’t think you’re at all saintly. There’re still innumerable things I shan’t forgive you, but I did wrong you over this one thing, and I had no right to accuse or even suspect you.”

“‘There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark / But he’s an arrant knave.’ You had every right, brown hen,” he said lightly. “I was a likely enough rogue. This apology is entirely unnecessary, since I myself allowed you to continue your suspicions. And I had already shown you my true colors the very first time we met, when you found me drunk, maudlin, and totally irresponsible.”

Eleanor wouldn’t allow herself to think about how she had felt when he first kissed her, nor the passion that had flared between them at Deerfield. If she did, she’d never get through this.

“Why did you ask me about blackmail at the Three Feathers?” she asked, instead.

“As an idle amusement, of course.”

“You mean you can’t tell me the truth. Very well, it’s none of my business. I suppose it’s to do with Manton Barnes.”

Lee pulled up his horse. “Now, how the devil did you hear about him?”

“Walter told me he was a friend of yours who died in an accident and that’s why you were drinking at the inn. I’m sorry. I thought perhaps his death was connected to all this, but I had no right at all to mention it, and unless you forget I did so this instant, I’ll have to apologize for that, too.”

“Your remark remains unsaid, my lady. Nevertheless, I am completely cast down that you won’t forgive the rest of my foolish behavior.”

“And that,” Eleanor said, truly meeting the violet gaze for the first time, “really is arrant nonsense. Your behavior may be many reprehensible things, Mr. Campbell, but I suspect that it’s never foolish.”

“Very well. We’ll leave foolishness to the schoolgirls. Talking of schoolgirls, how do you like the marriage mart?”

“Not at all, as it happens.”

“Alas! As Dr. Johnson said: ‘When a man is tired of London he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.’ I could introduce you to a much more intriguing world, you know.”

“No doubt you could. I don’t suppose my mother would approve?”

And then he gave way to genuine laughter. “I can’t say,” he said at last. “I doubt she would even approve of your talking to me in the park. Your youth and innocence will be all that saves you. The gossips will happily lay the blame for such an indiscretion at my door.”

“You’re not accepted at very many places, are you?”

“Brown hen, don’t say you are dredging up wells of compassion for the poor landless orphan? I am welcome at all the interesting places, I assure you. Save your concern for poor Lord Ranking, Lady Eleanor. He needs it a great deal more than I do.”

Mr. Leander Campbell tipped his hat and put the black into a canter. Eleanor held her horse back and watched him go. So he would deliberately block any attempt to make even limited amends!

In a few minutes, he was out of sight and she suddenly became aware of the curious glances she was getting.

“My dear Lady Eleanor,” a voice said behind her. “It can hardly be wise to be seen talking openly to Mr. Campbell. A man of his birth! You won’t take it amiss, if I drop a friendly word in your ear? Not the done thing at all.”

Muffled to the ears in cloaks and wraps, Lord Ranking sat in a pony cart.

“Nor is it wise for you to be out, my lord, on such a brisk day,” she said. “Even balsamic elixir won’t save you if you should catch your death.”

She spun the dun about and rode away from him, with the gaze of Lord Ranking and several bystanders boring into her back.

How dare they! Leander Campbell was an earl’s son. And, as only she knew, he was also now the true Earl of Hawksley himself. Yet he had burned the papers that proved it and sworn her to silence.

Until she had come to London, she’d had no real idea of quite how much he had given up. But the importance of rank and wealth was now being brought home daily. The content of a man’s character meant nothing without it and less with it. It wasn’t right, but it was the way of the world.

If Leander Campbell instead claimed his birthright, even Lord Ranking would be fawning over him. Instead, he had willingly destroyed his own future to save Diana’s. There was no other motive that made any sense.

Eleanor felt a wave of confused indignation. It was absolutely none of her business, and anyway the man was impossible.

“It shall be the saddest crush of the Season,” Lady Augusta said. “We’ll invite everyone. The ball that I gave last year will be nothing to it. What do you say, Diana?”

“As you like, Mama.” Diana was idly staring from the window of the Hawksley townhouse.

Eleanor watched her with guarded concern. Lady Diana Hart seemed truly unhappy of late.

“I declare, Felicity, these girls will be the death of us!”

Lady Acton smiled and waved her fan. It had not escaped her notice that Diana was in a positive decline. Eleanor’s beautiful friend seemed to care nothing for the delights of the Season, even though she could have taken her pick of any of the most eligible beaux.

The reason was obvious, of course, to everyone except Lady Augusta, and went by the name of Walter Feveril Downe.

Eleanor’s lack of interest in the entertainment offered was harder to explain. Her daughter was usually the soul of good sense, and she had never looked more attractive. Yet she seemed to go through assemblies and balls in a distracted dream, and none of the desirable bachelors was anywhere close to offering for her, in spite of the Acton name and fortune.

“No doubt a grand ball will lift all our spirits,” she said serenely.

* * *

Eleanor was provided with a new gown for the occasion. The curved neckline swept low in folds of silver gauze, embroidered with a pattern of tiny flowers. As was the fashion, the high waistline further accentuated the curve of her breasts, and beneath them the skirts fell to the floor in a shimmer of silk. Long evening gloves covered her arms to the elbows, and delicate white silk slippers peeked beneath the hem.

She thought she would be entirely indifferent to the result, but when her maid had finished dressing her hair, and she saw herself for the first time in the long mirror, she was amazed. The soft fabric made her creamy skin look as smooth as satin, and her maid’s hour of brushing had brought out deep russet highlights in her hair. She would never be a beauty, but the overall effect was quite presentable.

“You are ravishing, dear child,” Lady Acton said with approval from the doorway. “Now, let’s hurry. It’s one thing to be fashionably late, but hardly the thing to miss supper.”

The earl was to escort them. Eleanor’s formidable father had laced himself into his stays and poured the overflow of his bulk into white silk breeches. He would undoubtedly spend the evening in the card room. The countess, it went without saying, would be one of the most beautiful ladies there.

They had barely handed their wraps to the footmen and entered the ballroom, when Diana hurried over and whisked Eleanor away.

“Walter will be here,” she whispered. “And I shall dance a waltz with him. Perhaps Mama mightn’t notice just one. We can hardly ever meet privately. It’s been torture. Oh, Eleanor, there he is now! Did you ever see anyone who looked more distinguished?”

Eleanor followed her friend’s gaze and knew the color was draining from her face. Walter looked perfectly unexceptionable, dressed quietly and correctly for the evening’s dancing, his hair golden in the light of the candles. He was handsome enough, but she would hardly have described him as distinguished. That word would, however, fit to perfection the gentleman standing beside him.

“Mr. Campbell is here?” she said at last.

“I made him come. I wouldn’t let Mama give me a ball otherwise. Everybody is so stuffy about him, except for the young gentlemen, of course. And Lee probably won’t dance, out of consideration for the dowagers’ sensibilities. It’s enough to give the mamas apoplexy to think that their daughters might fall in love with someone so ineligible.”

Eleanor watched him for a moment. It was outrageous. It was less than a week since she had last seen him, yet Leander Campbell could still make her heart behave like a drum set.

Diana tugged at her arm, and Eleanor was forced to acknowledge the suitors who came swarming after them. Soon her dance card was almost filled, and she was being led into the first set. She hardly noticed her partners. Instead, her eyes were drawn back to that dark head and wicked smile, until he disappeared into the card room with some other gentlemen.

At last she found a moment to herself and she slipped into a chair beside a potted palm. It was now very hot. Eleanor fanned her cheeks with her pearl-and-ivory fan and watched the dancers swirl by. The faint smell of moist dirt from the palm was cool and refreshing compared to the heavy scent of hot wax and perfume that otherwise permeated the room.

“Well, brown hen,” a familiar voice said behind her. “Has the marriage mart improved?”

Eleanor spun around. Leander Campbell was leaning on the back of the empty chair beside her. He seemed perfectly cool and relaxed, the starch of his high collar and cravat still crisp and white, the cut of his jacket accentuating the breadth of his shoulders.

“I am being discreet, as you see,” he added lightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied. “Do you mean that it wouldn’t be politic to be seen sitting beside me, so instead I must crane my neck like a goose to talk to you? This palm tree would screen an elephant.”

He moved around the chair and sat beside her. “You
want
to talk to me?”

Eleanor looked away from the violet gaze and steadied her breathing. Let him mock her if he must! An idea had been slowly crystallizing in her mind, and now it suddenly came to her how it might work. Only Mr. Campbell could help, if he would.

“Something must be done about Diana and Walter Downe,” she said firmly. “Your sister is pining away. She barely eats and I know she’s not sleeping. It makes her all the more beautiful and ethereal, and the beaux are hounding her to death. But if the situation doesn’t change soon, she’ll become really ill.”

“She is sick with longing,” he said quietly. “She needs him like a desert dweller needs a well. After a few days away from him the thirst becomes overwhelming, and without another draught, the sands will bury her forever. It’s known as love. They should elope.”

Eleanor spun back to face him. “They never will and you know it. But can’t we at least help them see more of each other? Lady Augusta watches over Diana like a hawk. She’s even afraid to have more than one dance with him tonight. Walter never comes to call, because Diana can’t bear the thought of her mama finding them out. Yet I can go places with her. Can’t you arrange for Walter to be there to meet us?”

“I am stunned,” he said. “I had no idea you were a conspirator in this, too.”

“I want to help Diana, and it’s the only thing I can think of to do.”

“You have a kind heart,” he said seriously.

“Oh, fiddlesticks! I just don’t want to see Diana make herself ill. Say you will help, Mr. Campbell?”

“Kind enough to override your own distaste for my person in order to help your friend,” he continued. “Of course I will. If I’d known you would feel this way, I’d have suggested it myself.”

“Then send me a message at Acton House,” Eleanor said. “And now I suppose I must go and circulate again. It’s not at all the done thing for we flowers of the marriage mart to hide behind palm trees, especially in order to conspire with wicked rakes. I’ll never find a rooster for the brown hen like this. What is the matter?”

He had closed his eyes for a moment, but they flew open and met hers as he laughed openly. The deep blue was dark with self-mockery.

“I am only thirsty,” he said lightly. “Now, let me slip away before we cause a scandal.”

He strode off, but not in the direction of the refreshment table.

Eleanor was left sitting in the chair. She felt totally bereft. Good heavens! So she must still be suffering this ridiculous schoolgirl crush for him. Well, it didn’t matter, did it? These last few weeks had made it more than clear that anything serious between them was impossible.

With determination, she stood up and went to join her mother, who sat at the side of the room with the other mamas and the dowagers.

“He looks so like his father. You remember the late Earl of Hawksley, don’t you, Lady Acton?” one of the ladies said as Eleanor walked up.

“La! Who doesn’t?” another high voice replied. “Hawksley was a devil and so is his son! I’m amazed that Augusta allowed him to attend tonight. One can’t be too careful about maintaining the proprieties.”

“I remember Gerald Hart well enough,” Lady Acton said lazily. “Yet I believe his son is nothing like him.”

“Worse, no doubt! It’s a scandal that Mr. Campbell is here in a room full of innocent young girls.”

“Why?” Lady Acton said. “Do you think he might abduct one of our daughters from under our noses? He even refrains from dancing, yet I really see no reason why he should.”

“You think a partner from a respectable family would give countenance to the by-blow?” the first lady said. “When his mother was some peasant girl from the Highlands? I’m afraid nothing can save him. He will sink inexorably to the gutter. Circumstances of birth always tell in the end.”