The Scandal of Lady Eleanor (7 page)

James's smile reached the corners of his eyes. “Yes, my Love.”

“Lord Worthing, I must insist you not call me by such endearments,” she protested.

“I will think of other endearments more appropriate. Do you prefer
Darling,
or
Sweetling
?”

Picking up the chess piece and making her first move, Ella rolled her eyes in disbelief. “There is no arguing with you, Lord Worthing. You are beyond reform.”

“And you, Lady Eleanor, prefer me that way.”

Ella said nothing, turning her attention to the board instead, but she thought him correct; she did enjoy Worthing's gallantry more than she expected. In fact, she thought about him all the time, which often vexed her more practical side, but, generally, Ella found spending time with Lord Worthing the most important event of her day.

Later in the afternoon, James sought Fowler in the duke's study. He knew Fowler's nature; the long solitary hours indicated his friend suffered from some sort of self-recrimination. “Your Grace, may I be of service?”

Fowler nursed a drink; half-heartedly, he gestured for James to join him. Kerrington poured himself a drink and took the suggested seat. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Fowler finally said, “It is so ironic. Ella and Velvet survived the self-imposed loneliness associated with living under my father's roof. They survived rumors of his lustful nature, and they survived running an estate in a world disinclined to value a woman's worth.”

James did not respond for several elongated moments. “You wonder how it is you who brings danger to the women you love. I understand. If not for my weakness, Elizabeth would be alive. I rue the day I brought my lust to her doorstep.” James would have reminisced, indulging himself in his personal anguish, but tonight his losing Elizabeth became secondary to protecting Ella.

Fowler continued, “I knocked Velvet to the ground when someone attacked us, and you saved Ella and captured her assailant. However, the peril is of my making. I must find a way to protect them in London.You will help me, will you not,Worthing?”

“Of course,Your Grace. The Realm serves together.”

“You idiot! You were to wait until I told you to act!”

The man pulled out of his attacker's grasp. “I have my own agenda. I need Fowler's money, and the best way to secure it is to let him know that despite his title and his consequence, he is not in charge.”

“There are bigger issues than your gambling debts! I told your business partner what I expected. I am after something that will make us all richer than Croesus. Now, you have put Fowler and Worthing on guard. I will have no way of making sure they do not have the prize, thanks to your meddling buffoonery. No wonder the British are tucking tail and running from Bonaparte.You are a bunch of pompous asses!” The dark-skinned assailant pushed the weaker nobleman out of his way as he strode from the darkened hallway and into the night.

Over the next week, Eleanor tried to forget those few sensational moments in His Lordship's embrace, but every time he walked into a room she melted. She clearly remembered the heat of his body—the way her breasts swelled in anticipation—and the shallowness of her own breathing. She thought that after the first one, he might try to steal a kiss in the garden or in an empty room, but he remained the perfect gentleman, at least, in action—sometimes he verbally flirted with her. No one could guess that they had shared such an intimate moment. Part of her prayed he did not pursue her, but the other half secretly wanted to know this man. Ella wanted to be free of her past and to leave William Fowler's memory behind. She had thought
she might find satisfaction in travel and in her studies, but now she envisioned the handsome man who called her “Love” and “Darling.” However, with his continued reluctance to approach her again, she began to wonder if she had imagined it. Maybe he was right; they experienced a traumatic moment, and the kiss grew from the joy of escaping death. Such a thought brought a scowl to her face.

Twice during the week, James found Eleanor in her nightgown, roaming the halls. Both times, he gathered her in his arms and carried her safely to her room. As he was leaving soon, he suggested Eleanor's maid make her pallet closer to the door, but secretly he took pleasure in holding Ella close to him. He dreamed of making her nightmares disappear, kissing her awake and sating his needs in her body. Never—even with Elizabeth—had he desired a woman so desperately. He did not know how he could watch her be the object of other men's attentions. If he thought Fowler might approve, and the woman might accept, a proposal hung ready on his lips. He would leave them on the morrow to return to his own town house, a posh dwelling on Pall Mall. His father rarely left the country estate, so James spent most of his time in town.

“Will we have the pleasure of your company in London, Lord Worthing?” Ella asked over supper, her question interrupting James's musings.

He teased, “As Briar House is less than a mile from Worthing Hall, you may need guards to keep me from making a pest of myself, Lady Eleanor.”

A calmness she had not felt earlier with the knowledge of his leaving slowly crept across her face. She would see Lord Worthing again. Ella possessed no reasonable conjecture as to why that was important, but it was. “No guards,Your Lordship,” she assured him.

James smiled—a contented sigh escaping before he could stop it. “I promised to claim dances from both you and your cousin, Lady Eleanor, and I am a man of my word.”

“Where is Eleanor?” Aunt Agatha demanded.

“Here, Aunt,” Ella swept into the room followed closely by Velvet. They had arrived at Briar House an hour before. Ella felt the situation's weight, and her dread smothered her. Her brother simply did not understand how hard this was for her. The only benefit, in her estimation, would be seeing James Kerrington again.

Aunt Agatha, the Dowager Duchess of Northfield, was their mother's older sister. Both Braton daughters married dukes, but Agatha certainly received the better bargain. Her only problem was that she had had but ten years of happiness. The previous Duke of Norfield lost his battle with a weak heart, leaving his wife a widow at the age of nine and twenty. Now, as she approached her fiftieth birthday, she spent most of her time matchmaking among the
ton's
members. Notoriously manipulative, Agatha Braton Norris had the connections and the money to be loved by everyone, including her niece and nephew. “Oh, Eleanor,” she beamed,“I cannot look upon you, my Child, without seeing my dear sister. You look more like her every day.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Ella bestowed a brief kiss on the Dowager's cheek. With the comfort of family, Ella allowed herself to breathe easier.

Velvet followed suit. “How are you, Child?” Agatha captured Velvet's hand and gave it a brief squeeze.

“I am well,Your Grace.”Velvet made a quick curtsy. “It is most kind of you to offer your sponsorship for my presentation, Ma'am.”

“Child, you know I live for such revelry.” Agatha laughed lightly. “Do I not, Brantley?”

“That you do, my Dear.” Fowler took a chair close to hers, before expelling a ragged breath as he surveyed the room. Ella recognized his uneasiness. She had noted that at Thorn Hall he had limited his residence to the east wing's rooms and the common rooms below. He had yet to enter those quarters once occupied by their parents. However, at Briar House, he would need to face his
demons firsthand. Privately, she relished the idea that their coming to London also affected her brother's peace of mind; he certainly had caused her numerous moments of anxiety. “I am obliged to you for taking on Ella's and Velvet's presentations,” he told their aunt. “What do you plan for my sister and cousin?”

Out of habit, Eleanor ordered tea, and they joined together before the hearth, but she took no pleasure in hearing of Aunt Agatha's preparations. “I am pleased, Brantley, that you came to town in time to order Presentation gowns for these two. In another week, the press of people demanding the best modistes will be many. I have fittings set for tomorrow; we will be about most of the day.”

“Are the Presentation gowns as awful as everyone says?”Velvet could not keep the worry out of her voice. Eleanor listened intently; Velvet gave voice to her own fears about meeting the Queen.

“They are a bit cumbersome, but young ladies have survived them for years. Do not worry, my Child; I will teach you everything. In fact, we will begin this afternoon. We will borrow a tablecloth from the new housekeeper your brother hired and use it to practice the dress's train.”

Ella glanced at Bran. “New housekeeper?” She wondered about her brother's maneuverings.

“I brought in Mrs. Smithson and Mr. Horace, as well as a few other key staff members from Cornwall. They may not know London, but they do know what I expect in my household.”