by Olivia Drake
Would he? The thought had left her breathless. She didn’t know if she could resist his seduction. Or if she even wanted to resist him. Oh, why was her mind so muddled on the matter?
Later, Mrs. Tomkins had come to say that the master had been called away to his club and would not be joining her for dinner in the dining room. So Ellie had requested a tray in her room and had settled down to work on the drawings in her notebook.
As darkness fell, she had stayed awake late by lamplight. Eventually she’d curled up in the feather bed, listening for his footsteps, hoping to hear the door opening. It was useless to fool herself anymore; she did want him with her. But he had not come to her during the night. Evidently, he had taken her cold stipulation to heart. She had made her views on their marriage quite clear.
And wasn’t that for the best, anyway? Being together as man and wife would only complicate their eventual parting. Nevertheless, she yearned to be swept away by his passionate kisses, to feel his strong body against hers again …
The carriage came to a gentle rocking halt, and a footman opened the door. As she stepped out in front of Pennington House in Hanover Square, Ellie struggled to reorient her thoughts to the confrontation that lay ahead. Was her uncle at home?
She glanced up at the brick façade of the town house with its tall windows. On the floor above, the blue draperies of the drawing room stood open. So the house hadn’t been closed up. Since the beginning of the season was still a few weeks away, perhaps the scandal had not yet sent her family scurrying to the earl’s country seat in Lincolnshire.
The temptation to climb back into the carriage overwhelmed Ellie. Then she wouldn’t have to face censure from any of them. But she also wouldn’t be able to retrieve the packet of illustrations from her old bedchamber, which was one of the purposes of her visit.
She took a deep breath and marched toward the portico with its maroon door and the polished brass fittings. On countless occasions, she had gone in and out the front entry, accompanying Beatrice to the shops or running errands for the countess. How strange to think that now she would enter as a guest.
An unwanted guest, she feared.
Lifting the brass knocker, she rapped hard. After a moment, the door swung open and a young footman stood gaping at her. His cheeks flushed red beneath his white wig, an indication that the gossip of her running off with a scoundrel must have been the subject of much discussion in the servants’ hall this past fortnight. “Miss Stratham!”
“Hello, Joseph.” She stepped past him and into the foyer with its black-and-white tiled floor and the mustard-brown walls displaying age-darkened scenic paintings. “Is my uncle at home? I would like an audience with him and with my grandmother, too, if she’s here.”
He gulped, then glanced furtively up the stairs. “I don’t … don’t know if they’re available, miss.”
Ellie pursed her lips. Well, at least now she knew for certain that they were in residence. Had the staff been ordered not to admit her? She felt insulted and angered and unsettled all at the same time. But her family would receive her whether they wished to or not.
She removed her bonnet and pelisse and thrust them at the footman. “Never mind announcing me,” she said. “I shall go and find them for myself. You may tell everyone that I pushed straight past you in a most unladylike manner!”
With that, Ellie clasped her skirts and hurried up the wide marble staircase in the center of the entry hall. She had timed her visit for eleven o’clock on purpose. In late morning each day, Lady Anne and the countess had a habit of doing needlework in the sitting room that overlooked the tiny garden. The earl often sat chatting with them for a time before going off to take luncheon at his club. Beatrice would likely still be in her bedchamber, which was all for the best, since Ellie didn’t want any bids for attention to distract from her purpose.
At the top of the stairs, she proceeded along an ornate corridor that seemed suffocating in comparison to the airy freshness of Damien’s house. Or perhaps the oppressive sensation she felt arose from her dread of this interview. She had never been one to defy the edicts of her uncle or grandmother. It had always been easier for her to avoid trouble by being obedient and agreeable, while escaping to the fairy-tale world of her imagination.
Nearing the back of the house, Ellie slowed her steps. This would be an unpleasant encounter, she knew. But it had to be done. The air must be cleared. There were points that needed to be spoken.
She reached the morning room with its faded green draperies and the clutter of outdated furnishings that the earl was too tightfisted to replace. For a moment, no one noticed her standing in the doorway.
Ellie’s grandmother and uncle sat conversing on the chaise near the fire. Her stout form encased in puce silk, the countess was working at her tambour frame, moving her needle in and out, embroidering a cover for one of the ugly cushions that she liked to give away as Christmas gifts. The Earl of Pennington tapped a folded newspaper against his leg in an irritated gesture. Across from them, Lady Anne was making herself invisible as she always did during quarrels, her slender form hunched over the basket of embroidery threads in her lap.
“I refuse to withdraw to Lincolnshire,” the earl was expounding to his mother. “As if I am at fault for this shameful scandal! There are my duties in Parliament to consider…”
Ellie stepped forward. “There is no need to leave London, uncle. You’ll be pleased to hear that my abduction has come to an end.”
As one, everyone turned to gape at her in shock. Lady Anne was the first to move. She half rose from her chair, the basket tumbling from her lap and spilling its contents over the shabby floral rug. “Ellie, my dear girl! Thank heavens you’re safe!”
Ellie had time for only a quick, gratified smile in the woman’s direction before her uncle surged to his feet. A look of aversion twisted his florid features and his nostrils flared with anger. “What is the meaning of this, Eloise? I gave strict orders that you were not to be admitted to this house!”
His cold manner cut her to the quick. With effort, she forced herself to curtsy. “I must beg you not to chastise the footman, my lord. I came upstairs before he could stop me. I should like to speak to you—to all of you, if I may.”
“Your request is impertinent,” the countess said, without rising from the chaise. Her eyes like sunken raisins in her wrinkled face, she looked Ellie up and down. “I see that the Demon Prince is garbing you in expensive gowns. It is plain that you have become his mistress. Well, it only proves that bad blood will tell. You are just as wicked as your father was!”
Ellie held tight to her temper. Nothing would be served by engaging in a shouting match. “The proper name for the Demon Prince is Mr. Damien Burke, and he is now my husband. It has been several days since we spoke our vows in front of a minister.”
Once again, she had succeeded in shocking all of them. She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction as the countess and her son exchanged a disbelieving glance.
“Oh, my gracious!” said Lady Anne, one dainty hand fluttering to the cameo necklace at her throat. “That is wonderful news!”
“Rubbish,” Pennington snapped at his sister-in-law. “I cannot think of a more disastrous match.” When she shrank under his sharp words and bent down to collect the fallen bundles of thread, he added, “Leave that be and run along from here. This conversation has nothing to do with you.”
Lady Anne stammered an apology and hurried out the door, her head down, the white spinster’s cap on her silvering dark hair hiding her face. Ellie compressed her lips at the boorishness of her uncle’s decree. Yet perhaps it was for the best. What she had to say was bound to cause a squabble that would only upset the gentle woman.
The earl watched Lady Anne go, then turned on Ellie. His face was flushed with displeasure. “Did you think I would welcome such an unfortunate connection? Burke is a gamester and a ruffian. You should never have wed him without my permission.”
“I quite agree,” her grandmot
her said. “Who is he but a baseborn rogue? He may have attended Eton on scholarship, yet he is a mere commoner without a drop of blue blood.”
That wasn’t true, Ellie wanted to say. Damien had very likely been born of the gentry—perhaps even a royal. Though he was skeptical, she believed there could be truth to the claim made by his late guardian, Mrs. Mims, that he was a prince. But no proof existed. The only clue was that missing key.
Slapping the folded newspaper against his palm, Pennington paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “I suppose, Eloise, that he has sent you here to apply to me for a settlement. He must be too cowardly to face me, man to man. Well, you may tell him I will not give him tuppence! He has wed you for naught.”
“That isn’t why I’m here,” Ellie objected. “He doesn’t even know that I came to Pennington House today.”
“Then he married you in the hopes of finagling his way back into society. He will gain no sponsorship from me. Rather, I will see to it that he is not admitted to any of the best homes!”
“How do we even know this is a real marriage?” the countess asked as she fixed a sly stare on Ellie. “The scoundrel may have tricked her.”
Despite her determination to be polite, Ellie took great pleasure in saying, “Oh, it was no sham. Lady Milford was there as witness. In fact, you may thank her for making all the arrangements.”
The countess dropped her needle and thread onto the tambour frame. “Lady Milford!” she uttered in astonishment. “Do you mean to say that she traveled all the way to Scotland on your behalf?”
“I do indeed, Grandmamma.”
Let the bitter old woman stew on that, Ellie thought. Her grandmother knew that Ellie had been in Scotland because Walt had been forced to confess everything to his family, including showing them the letter from Damien that had contained instructions on where to bring the stolen key. Yet no one in her family had bothered to fetch her home. They ought to be ashamed to learn that a pillar of society had felt compelled to involve herself in the affair—all because they would not rescue Ellie.
Her uncle and grandmother were frowning at each other as if in silent communication. The earl looked about to explode. Ellie had only a moment to savor her victory before he turned sharply and flung his newspaper onto the coal fire, making the flames flare bright.
“Blasted woman! How dare she interfere without my permission. I’ve a good mind to—”
“Basil! Pray, do not say anything you might regret.” Rising to her feet, the countess patted her son on the sleeve of his dark brown coat. “We must think of how to make the best of this situation. Remember, Lady Milford is an influential woman. Her intervention may be beneficial to Beatrice. Since Eloise is now safely married, the scandal is not quite so damaging as we feared it to be.”
“Nevertheless, I am the head of this family and these matters are mine to decide,” Pennington said testily. “But I don’t suppose I should be surprised at her effrontery after the way she came here, asking all those prying questions, forcing Walt to—” He pinched his lips shut, his surly gaze focused on Ellie.
“Lady Milford told me that she made Walt retract the vicious lie that he’d told about my character,” Ellie said. “Is that what you were about to reference, Uncle?”
The scowl on his broad features spoke volumes. Walt had made the outrageous claim that he’d seen Ellie sneak out of the house at night, ostensibly to meet the Demon Prince. Walt had wanted it to appear as if she had run away voluntarily so that his father wouldn’t learn of the gambling debt that had triggered Damien’s plan to abduct Beatrice. How mortified Pennington must have been to discover his eldest son’s dishonorable actions, both in gambling and lying.
“I have dealt with Walter in my own way,” he said stiffly. “And Lady Milford ought to have kept her nose out of our affairs.”
Her gloved fingers gripped at her sides, Ellie took a step toward him. “Well, I am glad that she did not. You had left me to fend for myself. And if not for Lady Milford, you’d still believe that I’d gone off with Mr. Burke of my own volition.”
He had the good grace to flush. “I must beg your pardon for that.”
“Thank you, but the true apology should come from Walt.” Ellie wondered suddenly if she might discover what had happened to the stolen key. “Is he upstairs? Perhaps a footman should be sent to fetch him.”
“My, you have become quite strident under the influence of the Demon Prince,” the countess declared, her wrinkles shifting as she arched an eyebrow. “If you must know, Walter isn’t here. He has been sent away for a time.”
“Sent away? Where?”
“To rusticate in the country,” the earl said. “I will not permit him to be lured into losing his quarterly allowance to men like your husband.”
Ellie felt the impulse to defend Damien—but how could she? There was no denying that he owned a gambling club. And for all she knew, he had lured Walt into that game. “Damien cares nothing for Walt’s money. He merely wants the return of a key that was stolen from him. Do you know what Walt did with it?”
The earl narrowed his eyes to slits. Turning away, he began to pace again, throwing a scornful glance her way. “Ah, yes, the mythical key. If it ever existed, it was tossed into the rubbish years ago.”
Ellie had had enough of his condescending manner. Damien seemed certain that Walt still had the key, and she would sooner believe her husband than her uncle or her cousin. “The key does indeed exist. If Walt claims that it does not, then he is fibbing. This is no small matter, either. After all, your own daughter was very nearly kidnapped in order to force Walt’s hand.”
Pennington said nothing. He merely gave her a stony stare.
“Eloise does bring up a salient point,” the countess said. “Beatrice might have been ruined. Only think what a tragedy it would have been if she had been abducted and forced into marriage to such a man.”
She and the earl exchanged another long glance. Again, Ellie had the impression of a silent message being passed between the two of them.
“Quite so,” he said crisply, before looking at Ellie again. “I’m sorry, Eloise, I would not have wished this fate upon you. However, what is done is done, and I’m afraid there is nothing I can do to rectify your unfortunate situation.”
So that was the end of it, Ellie thought, her throat tight with bitterness. To them, it would have been a calamity if Beatrice had been the one whose reputation was sullied. But not the unwanted daughter of the prodigal second son. They had shunned Ellie’s father and now they shunned her. It had been foolish of her to hope they might offer her a scrap of affection, or show even a smidgen of joy over her safe return.
She had a sudden longing for the sunny tranquility of her bedchamber at Damien’s house. The oppressive atmosphere here was weighing on her spirits. She wanted to be curled up on the chaise longue with her sketchpad and escape into the world of her imagination …
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said stiffly, “I shall go upstairs now to pack my belongings. You may rest assured that I shan’t bother you—any of you—ever again.”
With that, Ellie turned on her heel and departed the sitting room. She wanted to be out of this house as swiftly as possible. But as she headed down the corridor to the staircase that led up to the nursery and schoolroom, a slim girl in a lemon-yellow gown came rushing around the corner and nearly collided with her.
They both stopped to stare at each other.
Lady Beatrice’s lips parted in shock, her blue eyes rounded against pretty features that were framed by strawberry-gold curls. “Ellie!” she squealed. “My maid told me you were back. I was afraid I might miss you!”
Ellie found herself enveloped in a perfumed embrace. Her heart squeezed and she blinked back tears. It was gratifying to know that at least someone besides Lady Anne was happy to see her. Ellie had always felt an exasperated affection for her headstrong, self-absorbed cousin, even though the girl had been spoiled by her father and grandmother.
She stepped back. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long, Beatrice. I’ve only come to fetch my trunk from the nursery.”
Her cousin’s gaze held an avid interest. “Papa said that you couldn’t live here anymore now that you have been ruined. And by that wicked scoundrel, the Demon Prince! Tell me, is he as handsome as people say?”
“Damien Burke is indeed handsome, yes, but more importantly, he is…” How could she describe him? Despite his ill-planned abduction of her and his reputation as a gambler, Damien had depths of character that she was only just beginning to see. “He is a kind man, a true gentleman. And he is now my husband.”
Beatrice gasped, her fingers fluttering to her bosom. “You’re married? To the very rogue who abducted you?” She scanned Ellie from head to toe. “Why, no wonder you’re dressed so finely. He’s a very wealthy man, I’ve heard. Oh, how did it happen? Did you fall in love at first sight? Or did you scold him into doing right by you?”
“It was a mutual decision.” Ellie didn’t care to go into all the details, so she threw out a distraction. “And how have you been faring without me? Did you manage to charm the Duke of Aylwin?”
“Oh, the duke!” Beatrice wrinkled her pert nose. “I have quite changed my mind about marrying His Grace. Lofty title or not, he is far too uncouth for my tastes. His house was cluttered with Egyptian artifacts, and when I suggested that he clear them out so that the rooms might be seen to a better advantage, he very rudely ordered Lady Milford to take me away at once. Can you imagine how humiliating that was?”
Ellie bit back a smile. “Then I presume you will not be decorating your come-out ball with an Egyptian theme, after all?”
A mournful look drew down that bow-shaped mouth. “There will be no ball for me, I fear. Papa means to cancel it because of the scandal…” She paused, her face brightening again. “But now you have returned a married woman. Oh! Do you suppose that means the scandal will go away? That I might still have my season, after all?”
“You may wish to ask your papa. I spoke to him just a few moments ago in the sitting room.”