The Scandal of Lady Eleanor (21 page)

 

Eleanor slid the bolt into place and then returned to the drawing room. She straightened the pillows and retrieved her discarded
drawers, making sure nothing in the room would betray what had happened there. “How can I ever enter this room without thinking of James?” she whispered aloud. He had called her
his love
and said she was
the blood
that kept him alive. How marvelously salacious! Ella hugged herself joyously and twirled around the room before rushing up the stairs to her own chambers. The heat of James Kerrington's mouth on her lips and her breasts and the feel of his hands upon her body still lingered. Tonight she would dream of a marriage proposal and a wedding before the Season's end.

The room filled in the afternoon, a plethora of gentlemen vying for their attentions, but neither Velvet nor Eleanor cared. Velvet minded only the fact that Brantley Fowler called on Mrs. Warren at her lodgings. In fact, she was so vexed by his sudden interest in this particular military widow that she was very nearly rude to all her potential suitors. Eleanor cared only for her dreams of last night, and her disinterest in her callers showed. Both women feigned exhaustion from their Come Out ball and sent the men on their way earlier than usual.

“How could Bran?”Velvet whined once they were alone.

“I am sure my brother is simply looking for a suitable companion. He assumes you do the same,” Ella reminded her.

Velvet slammed the pillow she clutched into the chair and then followed it down. “But we both know I am only trying to make him jealous.”

“Evidently, you succeeded in convincing Bran you took Lord Godown seriously.”

Frustrated, Velvet bit her lower lip. “I do not know what else I might do to make Bran notice me.”

“Maybe you should just tell him the truth—stop playing games,” Ella suggested. She thought how such silliness would never work with James Kerrington, and her brother and Lord
Worthing shared some of the more essential qualities.

“Oh, yes, I can hear me now: ‘Bran, I want you to love me as I love you.' He would laugh me out of his study and marry me off to the first interested caller.” Velvet punched the pillow again. “The thing is—how may I compete with Mrs. Warren? She knows how to talk to men about something besides hats and parties. She knows how to kiss a man—fuel his desire.”

“You know about things other than fashion,” Ella protested. “Did not Bran seek your help with the cottagers?”

“But I do not know how to kiss a man and make him want me.”

Ella laughed lightly. “I should hope not, Cousin.”

“How do you kiss Lord Worthing?”

Ella flushed with color. “I beg your pardon.”

“Come, Ella; it is important. How did you know what to do? Lord Worthing is definitely besotted with you.”

Ella looked about uncomfortably, wishing she had never partaken of this conversation. “I have no secrets to share, Cousin. I simply allowed His Lordship some freedoms, and he showed me what he wants from his partner.”

Velvet considered this tidbit carefully. “Maybe I should petition Bran to teach me how to kiss,” she thought aloud.

“I do not think I want to hear this. The less I know of your schemes to win my brother's heart, the better.”

Suddenly, Velvet was on her feet. “I need to make plans. Some way, I need to convince Bran to teach me about love. It is sure to work; I am positive of it. How can your brother resist me once we kiss repeatedly?”

Ella stammered, “I…I still believe telling Bran the truth would be best.”

“Forgive me if I seek my own counsel,” Velvet declared. “You have just admitted you know nothing about making a man love you. It is obvious that His Lordship adores you, but you did naught to earn his regard. He pursued you; you did not have to even lift a little finger.”Velvet was already moving toward the door. “With
Bran, I have to do it all, but one day he will thank me for showing him what he needs in life.”

“Velvet,” Ella called, trying to stop her, but her cousin was halfway up the stairs. Alone in the room, Ella rested across the settee upon which she had shared intimacies with Kerrington the previous night.
Was Velvet right? Had Lord Worthing pursued her?
She knew him to be more experienced, and for the most part, she let him lead the way, but she took chances, like the kiss in his library. Did she need to do more?
She had not even told James of her devotion to him.
He expressed his adoration all the time, but she only accepted his words—never saying them back to him.
Tonight
.
Tonight, I will tell James Kerrington how much I love him.

Some time later, engrossed in her thoughts of Lord Worthing, Ella resented the tap on the door that interrupted her private time. A footman brought in a note on a silver salver addressed to her. She lifted it from the tray and examined it. She did not recognize the handwriting nor was there a marking in the wax. She hoped it was from James, but she knew inherently it was not, even before she opened it. Her hands nervously broke the seal, and she unfolded two pages, one nestled inside the other.

The inserted page resembled one from a diary or journal, and she curiously turned it over in her hand several times before opening it.

Ella's breath came in short bursts; her hands shook so violently she could barely see the paper. The page spoke of her.

Ella remembered that evening as if it were yesterday. Her father often came to her room late at night when everyone else was asleep. Her mother was but two months in the grave when he first came to her, telling her he needed to know she loved him. When she swore she did, he begged her to prove it.
No one has ever truly loved me, Ella
. And then he would plead with her to touch him because people who loved one another showed it by touching. He placed her hand on him and began to move until he screamed out in what sounded like pain, but which later she found out to be pleasurable for him. For a few weeks, he brought his friend with him, both of them smelling of alcohol and his friend of a sweet tobacco. Her father allowed the new baronet to touch her breasts—only her breasts—although the man bargained for more. That particular night, the Duke brought the man and a woman. When her father caught her to him, he told Ella not to move. If she did, he would make Velvet love him instead. She promised her obedience, and he held her for his friend's pleasure.

The realization of what this meant shook Ella to her core, making her stomach lurch in disgust. Someone knew her secret, someone from the
ton
; her worst fears had just become a reality. James. James would never understand—she would lose him.

Frantically, she flipped to the second page. It was in a different handwriting.

Sir Louis Levering. He had proof of her greatest shame: his mother's diary. Levering held all the cards, and he planned to ruin her. Tears sprang to her eyes. She—her stupidity—ruined everything. Because of her—Bran, Velvet, Sonali, James, Aunt Agatha—they would all suffer—because she allowed her father's sickness to invade her life. What could she do now? If she did not do as Levering asked, all of Society would know. The tears flowed easily now, but she dashed them away with her knuckles. She needed to think—needed to find a way out of this mess. Oh, Lord, James! She was to meet James tonight at the party. After what they had shared, how could she ever convince him she cared for another?

First things first—despite how she felt about the baronet, she was going to have to see Louis Levering once more; it was pointless to think otherwise. She would meet Levering tonight and find out what he wanted from her. Somehow she would protect them from herself, after all, she was the phoenix.

Ella wanted to be any place but the Donne's soiree, but her duty to family forced her to do the impossible: accept Louis Levering over James Kerrington. Entering the main room of the Donne's stately home, her eyes automatically searched the assembled throng for Worthing; however, the viscount seemed nowhere to be found. Customarily, he arrived before the Fowlers and greeted her after acknowledging Bran and Aunt Agatha. Part of her applauded his absence, keeping her from having to face him; part of her prayed he was in attendance, wanting desperately to be in his arms and to let him solve this dilemma for her. However, she was alone, as she always was, facing the worst of what William Fowler rained down on them; she could do it again. Somehow she would prevail.

Gabriel Crowden joined them after bowing nicely over the ladies' hands. “I fear I bring bad news,” he told the group. “Lord Worthing sends his regrets. The Earl has taken a turn for the worst, and Her Ladyship summoned Kerrington home. He sent word he will return to London as soon as possible.”

“Oh, poor Martin Kerrington!” Aunt Agatha exclaimed. “I do so hope this is not as serious as it sounds.”

“I will write Worthing in the morning to see if we may be of assistance,” Fowler declared.

By silent assent, they began a slow promenade about the room, needing to greet the others in attendance. In doing so, Crowden dropped back to walk with Ella, offering her his arm. “His Lordship was most distressed about missing your company this evening, Lady Eleanor. He asked that I might give you a personal note if you wish to accept it.”

“I would, Lord Godown,” she whispered.

Without releasing her arm, he took a carefully folded piece of paper from his glove. Bringing her hand to his lips in a show of respect, he helped her palm it for safekeeping, and moments later, Ella slipped it into her reticule to read in private. When they paused to speak to the next of Agatha's “friends,” Godown returned to Velvet's side.

At least, I can confront Sir Louis without hurting His Lordship
, she thought. However, before she could adjust to that idea, Sir Louis approached with all the confidence of one who had achieved an easy victory. Toadying to the group, he spent time in greeting Fowler and the Duchess with great pomp and circumstance before turning to Ella. “Lady Eleanor, may I prevail upon you to take a stroll with me about the room?”