She had the satisfaction of seeing she had surprised him, though his eyebrows were raised only for a fraction of a second. ‘I am pleased to hear that, Lady Fearnoch. It would be a great shame if you mistook this little conceit the pair of you are playing out for form’s sake as anything other than that. I would hate you to get hurt.’
‘What on earth do you mean by that? Are you warning me off?’
‘Good gracious, no. I am merely suggesting that for both your sakes it would be better if your arrangement remained on a platonic footing.’
Sir Marcus got to his feet. ‘I have detained you long enough. Lady Fearnoch, it has been a pleasure talking to you, but I am loathe to keep you from your guests.’
‘Now that you have marked my card, you mean?’ Eloise exclaimed, thoroughly rankled.
Sir Marcus, quite unruffled, merely smiled benignly.
‘We assumed, my sisters and I, that Alexander was a mere clerk,’ Eloise persisted. ‘When he arranged for us to dine at Admiralty House on our wedding day, I surmised he must be much more senior than that.’
‘Did you indeed?’
‘I even speculated, when I realised where he was taking me, that I was to be introduced to His Highness, the Duke of Clarence. I realise that was fanciful.’
Sir Marcus held out his hand, giving her no option but to get out of her chair. ‘Not so much fanciful as impossible. You forget that York died in January. Clarence is still technically in mourning for his brother.’ He saluted her hand once more, very gracefully. ‘Alex is a lucky man, Lady Fearnoch. Now, shall we go and find him before he sends a search party?’
The ballroom was crowded, but even before she stepped over the threshold, Alexander was at her side, and Sir Marcus had melted into the crowd. ‘I had the oddest conversation with him,’ Eloise said. ‘You might have warned me that he knew the truth about us on account of you apparently having to obtain his permission to marry. I had the distinct impression that he was concerned that I might somehow compromise your work, though why he thought that I have no idea.’
‘Don’t read too much into what he says,’ Alexander replied, ‘Sir Marcus revels in being enigmatic. It’s almost time for our first waltz.’
‘What does Sir Marcus do now?’
‘Do?’
‘He said he was your mentor. Now that you have taken over as Victualling Commissioner, what is his role at the Admiralty?’
‘He has no official title. You could say that he’s in charge of all our foreign postings. Forget Sir Marcus. The orchestra are striking up the waltz. May I have this dance, my love?’
Alexander’s smile was so very distracting. Her strange encounter with Sir Marcus receded into the background as she smiled up at him just as his loving wife would do. ‘It will be an honour, my love.’
The dance floor cleared as Alexander led her on to the floor, holding her at arm’s length as he bowed and she curtsied. She was acutely conscious of the crowds of people watching her, and for a moment felt quite sick. She had never in her life performed in public like this. She couldn’t even remember the first steps they were to take. Her knees were shaking. She would stand on his toes or trip on her gown or simply stand rooted to the spot.
Alexander pulled her into a hold, his arm on her waist, his other hand clasped in hers. ‘You can do this,’ he said, squeezing her fingers. ‘Forget about everyone else. Remember, my love, you have eyes only for me.’
She did as he bid her. The first chord was struck. And he swept her into a waltz.
* * *
‘Thank you, Lady Teasborough, it is one of Madame LeClerc’s creations.’
Alexander, listening with half an ear to a long and convoluted tale about the near death and miraculous recovery of a prized racehorse, kept a watchful eye on Eloise, surrounded by a group of women who were purporting to admire her dress but who were, he was willing to wager, more intent on discovering how a complete unknown had managed to snare one of the richest men in England. Not that they would admit as much, but he knew what the gossip was. Tonight would hopefully put a stop to it.
He excused himself as soon as the racehorse’s owner got to the point of assuring him that any future bets he might make on the creature would be worthwhile, and slipped into the group of women to stand beside Eloise.
‘Even for a newly married man, Lord Fearnoch, you are remarkably attentive. We have had your wife to ourselves for barely ten minutes. Lady Fearnoch has been regaling us with the story of your long-distance romance. It seems she has not exaggerated the depth of affection which has burgeoned between you, despite your time together being limited to your occasional visits home.’
‘Mere words cannot do it justice,’ Eloise said, gazing adoringly into his eyes. She was in danger of over-gilding the lily!
‘I suspect Mr Raymond Sinclair, your cousin, is equally lost for words,’ Lady Teasborough said waspishly. ‘He has just arrived, apparently. I did not think he would have the nerve to show his face, after—oh, I do beg your pardon. I know I speak for all of us, Lady Fearnoch, when I tell you that after tonight, seeing you and your husband together, no one could doubt that yours is a match made by cupid and not...’
‘What Lady Teasborough means,’ Lady Rasenby intervened, ‘is that we are all delighted to see you both so happy. Are we not, ladies? I am sure that you will be inundated with invitations. It is a pity that you have arrived in London just as the Season is ending. Do you intend to retire to the country for the summer? Or perhaps you are thinking of taking a wedding trip to Europe?’
‘Our plans are not yet formed,’ Alexander said, pulling Eloise closer. ‘If you will excuse us now, I am anxious to introduce my wife to my cousin.’
‘Alexander,’ Eloise said urgently as he extricated them both from the circle of women. ‘Sir Marcus told me that your cousin has been saying...’
‘I know what he’s been saying,’ he said grimly, ‘and I intend to put a stop to it.’
‘But he’s been saying it to everyone. You heard Lady Teasborough.’
‘Who is now, thanks to you, completely convinced that my cousin’s bile is just sour grapes. As are every one of those ladies and every other person I’ve spoken to.’
‘Perhaps it was our dance that did it.’
‘No, I won’t have that. It was you. And I. Together. Now are you ready to perform once again? I would dearly love to take my cousin to task in a very different way, but I’d rather not get his blood on my precious new waistcoat. We will put to bed any doubts he has as to the nature of our union, and then he will either put up or I will shut him up.
‘Raymond.’ Alexander forced a smile as he cornered his cousin. ‘Better late than never. Shall we retire to the Blue Room? No need to show you where it is. I am sure you have familiarised yourself with every nook and cranny of Fearnoch House.’
* * *
Raymond Sinclair looked taken aback, but he made for the Blue Room without hesitation. Eloise could see no family resemblance between the first cousins. She knew Raymond to be of similar age to Walter, but he looked a lot more than eight years older than Alexander. His hair was mousy brown and lacking any lustre. It was combed forward from far back on the crown in a failed attempt to disguise its receding nature, and then trimmed as if his barber had repeatedly tried and failed to cut a straight line across his forehead. His brows were sparse, his eyes were dark brown, but the whites were a jaundiced yellow. His lids drooped, a fretwork of lines aged him considerably, his nose was overlarge for his face, his mouth too small with a petulant twist to it. When he bowed over her hand after Alexander introduced them, Eloise noticed that his collar was grimy and flecked with dandruff. He was a poor shadow of a Fearnoch male compared to Alexander. It reminded her that she had not yet found the time to explore the portrait gallery, and she made a mental note to do so soon.
‘I expect I must offer you my felicitations on your marriage,’
Raymond said as he sat down, accepting a glass of brandy.
‘What is the point,’ Alexander said coolly, taking his seat beside Eloise, ‘since you obviously don’t wish us well.’
The brandy was inhaled in one gulp. ‘Very well, if you prefer the unvarnished truth I will tell you that you would have done much better to carry on counting cannon balls or whatever it is you do at the Admiralty, and left the earldom to a true Fearnoch man.’
‘A true Fearnoch man like yourself, I presume?’
Having nursed his empty glass for all of three minutes, Raymond got to his feet and helped himself from the decanter, sparing himself another return journey by bringing it with him when he sat down again. ‘Walter and I were very close,’ he said. ‘We kept the same company, we were members of the same clubs. I dined here at Fearnoch House at least once a week, I’ll have you know.’
‘I hope you do not expect me to continue the tradition.’
Raymond snorted. ‘You’ve been in residence a fortnight and you’ve not given a single dinner. As far as I can discover, you’ve not a solitary friend in our social circle. I have no interest in dining with Admiralty clerks and Irish refugees.’
Alexander stiffened, though his expression remained bland. His hand covered hers in warning, but Eloise was too shocked to say anything. ‘An interesting choice of epithets. I would strongly suggest you don’t use either again in my presence,’ he said evenly.
‘I’m only repeating what Walter told me. As to the new Lady Fearnoch—I felt it my duty to enquire into the background of the female who has captured the family fortune.’
Alexander’s grip on her hand tightened painfully. ‘The only thing Lady Fearnoch has captured is my heart, Cousin.’
‘And yet she married you only when you became heir to the earldom.’
‘That is where you are wrong. We became engaged to be married eighteen months ago. Our marriage is neither unexpected nor a sudden rash decision.’
Raymond’s pallor drained even further, if that were possible. ‘Walter never mentioned this to me,’ he said suspiciously.
‘That’s because he didn’t know,’ Alexander said blithely. ‘He died before I could inform him of my happy news. We could have made our betrothal public in April, once the year of mourning had elapsed, but we decided there was no need to postpone the happy event any further, and announced our nuptials instead.’
Raymond downed another brandy and set the glass down with a scowl. ‘Conveniently, just in time for you to qualify to inherit.’
‘Convenient? Perhaps. Coincidental, certainly.’
‘Your brother would never have wished you to inherit, do you know that? He thought...’
‘I know what he thought of me, far better than you.’ The change in Alexander’s tone startled Eloise as much as Raymond. ‘Let us be plain, Cousin. You have been doing your very best to undermine my marriage and more importantly, you have been making some very insulting comments regarding my wife’s character.’
‘I do not know...’
‘Hold your tongue.’ Alexander got to his feet. ‘Here is how it will be from now on. You will not speak of my wife unless it is with respect—though I would infinitely prefer you did not speak of her at all. Nor will you use our family name to obtain any further credit. You see, I am well aware of your nefarious actions to bankroll your vice.’
Slack-jawed, Raymond was staring up at his cousin, who was quite deliberately towering over him. Eloise would find it comical were she not so astonished at the change in her husband. He spoke as she imagined a general would to a recalcitrant cadet, with a mixture of contempt and authority.
‘I assumed it was a safe bet,’ Raymond said, staring desperately at the empty decanter. ‘Your thirtieth birthday was looming with no prospect of your marrying, as far as I was aware.’
‘This safe bet has turned out to be as successful as all your other bets,’ Alexander said witheringly. ‘You do not deserve it, but I will bail you out as a one-off gesture of goodwill in my brother’s memory. I will pay off your debts. Not your gambling debts, those are your responsibility, but I will not have honest tradesmen going unpaid. If you will send every outstanding bill to my lawyer, I will see that the accounts are settled.’
Alexander pressed the bell, which was answered immediately by the butler. ‘Goodbye, Cousin. We will not expect you to call on us again. Mr Sinclair is leaving, Wiggins, be so good as to see him out.’
The door closed on Raymond, and Alexander set his shoulders against it. His fists were clenched. Now that his cousin had gone, the suppressed anger was evident on his face, but by the time Eloise reached him it was gone. ‘I suppose I should feel sorry for him,’ he said.
‘It’s his wife and children I feel sorry for.’
‘I am sorry you had to witness that. I don’t think he’ll trouble us again.’
‘Not after you gave him one of those looks. I was glad I wasn’t on the other end of it, believe me.’
‘Talking of looks,’ he said, his face relaxing into a smile, ‘I do believe you managed a besotted gaze while we were chatting to the ladies, you who claimed once that it was quite beyond her.’
‘Necessity is the mother of invention. I felt that simply doting wouldn’t do the trick.’
‘I had no idea there was a difference.’
‘You can dote on a lapdog, but you can’t be besotted by it.’
‘Tell that to Mrs Blessington!’
Eloise chuckled. ‘She has twenty-five of the little darlings, she told me. It was only when I did the sums that I realised she must be talking about the dogs and not the children, for she cannot be any more than thirty. We should get back to our guests, it must be long past the first supper break.’
‘In a moment.’ He took her hand, lifting it to his lips. ‘Thank you. Not only for helping me see off Raymond, but for all the effort you’ve put into making tonight such a success.’
‘It’s not over yet.’
‘But it will be a success. And so are you, Lady Fearnoch. Thank you.’
He kissed her. Their lips met and held for an achingly sweet moment before he pulled away. ‘Let us go and see if our guests have left us any of Phoebe’s carefully planned and no doubt delicious supper.’
Chapter Eight
Eloise slept late the morning after the ball, having tumbled exhausted into her bed in the early hours after the last of their guests had departed. His lordship, her maid informed her, had already breakfasted, and had ordered his wife’s usual repast to be brought to her room. Having an aversion to crumbs in her bed, she drank her tea at her escritoire while pondering the pile of thank-you notes, invitations and cards which were already accumulating. These could mark the dawn of her new social life as Lady Fearnoch, if she wished. It would be easy for her to fritter away her time shopping, taking tea, making calls and attending parties, the life of a lady of leisure that she and her sisters had joked about, but it held no genuine appeal. She was accustomed to doing something productive with her time.
Pulling her notebook towards her, she flicked through her initial ideas for transforming Fearnoch House. There was plenty there to keep her occupied in the short term, at least. She could always invite her sisters to visit. Though what she really wanted, if she was completely honest, was to get to know her husband better.
Last night had proved how little about him she actually did know. Now that their formal introduction into society had been achieved, would Alexander want to return to the Admiralty? It was wrong of her to want to have him to herself. The Admiralty was Alexander’s life, his one and only love, according to Sir Marcus Denby. Eloise shivered, recalling that strange conversation with him last night. It seemed astonishing that Alexander had needed the man’s permission to marry. Even more extraordinary that a Victualling Commissioner was not usually permitted to marry at all. What on earth did he do that was so important? What
ever it was, he performed his duties well enough for Sir Marcus to be prepared to bend the rules for him.
The way Alexander had effortlessly slapped down his cousin had been another eye-opener. And the assured way he’d conversed with their guests last night had also been a revelation, so confident and socially at ease. He knew how to talk to everyone in just the right manner, neither condescending nor obsequious, yet he never doubted that he’d be listened to. That natural authority she’d witnessed, of a man accustomed to being obeyed when he put the frighteners on Raymond, which is surely what he had done—where had he learned that particular skill? From Sir Marcus? She remembered, finally, what it was that the man from the Admiralty had said that was niggling her. Alexander didn’t like to play by the rules. He’d said it as if that was a positive attribute, but surely a Victualling Commissioner’s job was to follow rules to the letter, fastidiously counting his weevils and his anchors! One thing was for certain, that was not what he did.
Though her waistcoat with the secret weevil had been the perfect present. Eloise smiled to herself, setting down her empty cup, recalling with a warm glow just how touched he had been. She pulled the leather box containing his gift towards her, opening it, caressing the diamonds. The kiss they had shared last night had been so delightful, yet so very different from those other kisses in the ballroom, and they had been different again from that first kiss on the balcony. She’d had no idea there could be different kisses, that kisses could make her feel so many different things, that they could have a language all of their own. She had not expected to enjoy kissing so much. To relish kissing. To want more than kissing.
Trying to imagine Alexander touching her more intimately, she realised that she had no idea precisely what that entailed. She was familiar with the crude basics of the actual act, having lived all her life in the country, but until now she’d never understood that there was a lot more to it. Lovemaking. Making love. Words which usually conjured fear and loathing, because she associated them with her mother.
The Earl's Countess of Convenience Page 14