“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.
Chapter 11
“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.”
Eleanor clenched her fists. How dared these mean old biddies disparage Leander Campbell! She knew him to be a rake and accepted it, but she was also slowly coming to realize that what Richard had said must be true. Her brother was a superb judge of character, and his friendship wasn’t lightly given.
Over and over again she had thought about that extraordinary night when he had burned the evidence of his mother’s marriage. Which means that Lord Hawksley’s marriage to Lady Augusta wasn’t valid and that Lady Diana Hart of Hawksley isn’t a Lady and doesn’t belong to Hawksley at all. He had done it to save Diana from the stigma of illegitimacy, which he had borne unfairly all his life.
No one knew better than he did what that meant, yet he had sacrificed everything for his sister. Eleanor knew now that nothing in her experience had ever been a finer or more selfless action. And then he had rescued her mother from someone who would have blackmailed her, even possibly at some cost to himself.
Choked with anger, Eleanor spun on her heel and walked directly after Mr. Campbell.
He turned with surprise when she appeared at his elbow. The gentleman to whom he’d been talking raised both brows, but bowed and took his leave. Several pairs of eyes began to swivel in their direction.
Eleanor no longer cared.
“I would like to ask you to dance, Mr. Campbell,” she said.
“What on earth has brought on this sudden desire for unsuitable exercise, Lady Eleanor?” he asked with a smile.
“The unfairness of this whole place,” she said indignantly. “Why shouldn’t you dance?”
“Because the band is striking up a waltz, for a start,” he replied instantly.
“Does it make a difference?”
“Perhaps not. After all, I am expected to sweep ladies into my arms every day. Why not include Lady Eleanor Acton? Of course, the waltz offers a most discreet embrace, though so very public. Surely you can understand that I prefer those which are both less elegant and more private?”
“You are deliberately trying to embarrass me,” Eleanor said, furious that he could so easily make her blush.
“On the contrary, I am trying to make you retract your request, brown hen. Do you always charge in with the cavalry when you think something is unfair?”
“I hate meanness.”
“And I think I prefer being the recipient of your heavy guns to being the beneficiary of them. It’s simpler.”
“You’re impossible, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” he said with a devastating smile. “I take pride in it, remember?”
“Then damn you for a stiff-necked—”
“Bastard,” he finished. “Now retract your invitation to this waltz, or I shall make you very seriously regret it.”
“How?”
“Good God, brown hen! Do you really think I can’t make good on my word?”
Eleanor was already regretting her impulsive action very bitterly. She had no idea what he might do, but there was no question in her mind that he had no intention of dancing with her, and the more she persisted, the less dignity she would have left.
“All right, you win! I am suitably humiliated and chastened. And anyway the next dance, being a staid promenade, is promised to Lord Ranking. I suppose I should go and prepare myself to be mauled about like a piece of dough.”
She turned and left him.
Lee watched the silver skirts as they retreated toward the ladies’ powder room. Her neck rose like a slender column from the perfect skin of her shoulders, shadowed only by her brown hair. She was wearing the gold locket that he had found at the Three Feathers: the one she had so bravely been prepared to rescue from the clutches of a rogue.
“I say, old chap, are you all right?”
Walter stood beside him, his open face unusually clouded with concern. Lee turned to his friend and laughed.
“A devilish thirst has come on me—like a thunder
bolt, you might say. Lead me to some fine brandy and a gaming table, for I think I’m ready to lose a great deal of money. What say you to hazard?”
Eleanor managed to survive the rest of the evening, yet not even Lord Ranking’s absurdities were able to lift her spirits. Why on earth should it bother her how Diana’s profligate brother behaved?
She had been a fool to expose herself to him once again, when she knew that it would only cause her pain. Yet she was involved, because Diana was her friend. If only Lord Hawksley had waited another two months to marry Lady Augusta! Then both marriages would have been valid, and Mr. Campbell could have been recognized as Earl of Hawksley and probably already been wed to an heiress, and Diana could freely marry Walter.
Eleanor remembered the spiteful comments that the dowagers had made about Lee’s mother. What kind of girl had Moira really been? Surely Blairgour House was more than a cottage? Even if it was the simplest place in Scotland, she had won marriage to a future earl. How could she have known that he would abandon her?
For Eleanor knew now just how deeply Gerald Hart must have entranced poor Moira Campbell.
It was because of his son that she herself wasn’t interested in any of the beaux she was meeting on the marriage mart. It was the most humiliating thing to have to admit. His smile, his eyes, the way he moved. However disgracefully Leander Campbell acted, everything about him bewitched her.
Well, besotted or not, Lady Eleanor Acton was not going to sit about and mope. The morning after Lady Augusta’s ball, she pulled out a fresh sheet of paper from her writing case and sharpened a new pen. If she wanted to find out about Moira Campbell—if that would somehow help lay to rest this insistent longing for the Highland woman’s arrogant son—then there was no better time to start than the present.
It took several drafts before she had penned something tactful enough and with a sufficiently plausible reason for her curiosity. Eventually she sanded and sealed the final version, and addressed it to the minister who had witnessed the wedding in Strathbrae, Scotland. She remembered quite clearly all the details she had read before Lee had burned the marriage lines, and knew the man’s name.
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