by Wendy Vella
“The doctor is coming soon, yes?” he asked as she led him through the house to the front entrance.
“Yes, my lord, though I am sure I have no need of him.”
“You took a heavy blow to the head. You have need of him,” he told her.
“Do you know why it happened?”
He paused by a pillar in the entrance hall and placed his hat on his head. “The belt must have become worn. These incidents are not unheard of.”
“I only hope it does not happen again to anyone else.”
He scowled. “I keep my machinery well maintained. I am not a miserly master, whatever you may think, Ellie. I have little intention of letting it happen again.”
But he had to admit, the incident puzzled him. Accidents might happen but it rarely involved faulty machinery. An incident like that slowed down production and cost him far more than simply ensuring the machinery ran well and all was up to scratch. He could not fathom how a worn belt had slipped past the foreman.
“I do not blame you for it, Lucian.”
Her habit of slipping his name in her softer moments was beginning to grate on his nerves. He far preferred being addressed by his name, but not when it was used tactically.
“Of course you do not. As I just said, you are a far better person than I. Yet you should. I’m to blame for much I fear. Now if you will excuse me. Your doctor shall be along soon, I am sure, and I see that you are well, so there’s no need for me to stay. Good day.”
Lucian tipped his hat and hurried out of the hall as fast as he could. How that woman forced these words from his lips was beyond him. Little Ellie was a mystery. Soft and tender one moment, while declaring bold intentions the next. Forgiving and soft then shooting daggers of annoyance his way. A portrait of plainness with berry lips and soft skin. Even his body didn’t know what to do with itself. Just the thought of those lips made his blood boil.
It was no good, he thought, as he strode down the steps and in what he hoped was the direction of the stables. He’d not even stopped to ask for his horse to be fetched. He would simply have to behave more a cad than he already was. Scare her off completely. It had worked last time. Hell, she had gone and travelled the world after he had kissed her. Maybe she would take off and do it again if only he managed to keep his wits about him and make her realize she had no place in the world of cotton. Or even in his world.
Chapter Nine
Mama is Always Right
Two days later, a letter had arrived from Eleanor’s mama, announcing her imminent arrival. Now, on the third day, Eleanor had finished her meeting with the housekeeper and the butler and they were just about ready for the Baroness’s visit. Her father was to stay in London it seemed, but Mama had tired of it now that the season was coming to an end and after all she had not seen her daughter in over a year. The last time had been at Edward’s funeral and there had been no time to catch up. Both their lives were busy but Eleanor had to admit, she had missed her mother’s positive presence.
Now that enough food had been bought in for mama and her entourage—her Aunt Sylvia, two lady’s maids and a handful of other servants—the menus had been planned and the guest rooms had been prepared, there was nothing left to do but wait.
Eleanor peered out of the window of the Box Room, so called because of its shape, and twined her hands together. Heavy clouds hung in the sky and she prayed they did not bring rain. Being trapped indoors didn’t appeal, even if they did have much to catch up on. She had hoped to give Mama a proper tour of the estate, particularly as her previous stays had only been brief on her and Edward’s infrequent stays in England, and Aunt Sylvia had not visited Broadstone Hall at all as she usually remained in Scotland for much of the year.
She allowed herself a smile. Aunt Sylvia had probably seen her opportunity to poke around the hall and spend time with her niece, the countess, and had thus made the effort to travel to the south in the hopes of the baroness arranging a visit. Eleanor did not know her aunt all that well with her reluctance to travel to England but, as with her mama, she had been told she was prodigiously proud of her niece’s accomplishment at gaining such a rank. What sort of achievement it was to gain a rank by marrying an old man, she didn’t know.
And still Lucian had not sent the accounts. A fine thing, probably, with all she had to deal with now, but she suspected he was delaying. If she had time, she would ride over to Balmead and demand to know what the delay was, but alas she did not have time.
Not to mention his odd behavior the other day. He had seemed concerned for her, then snappish and then out came these strange admissions... It was all very vexing. How was she to continue nurturing her dislike of him when he spoke of her being the better person? It was untrue. Oh, morally, she might be, but in looks and manner, and achievement, he was far better. Whatever she thought of his past antics, she had to admit he seemed to work hard at keeping his father’s businesses thriving and from what she had heard, he took care of his estates well. What could she say for herself? She had travelled the world, hanging onto the coattails of her husband and achieved a rank merely by being available and a sort of unfussy type of woman. Edward had admitted in the past that her lack of ‘pomp and prissiness’ appealed to him because he knew he would have no trouble travelling with her.
What he meant was she was plain and dull, and would not worry should her hair get messy or her dress get crinkled. Not that he had ever said as much. Edward had been a kind man—more than many ladies could say of their husbands.
The sight of a carriage rounding the corner made her straighten. Butterflies filled her stomach, ready to take off. It was so important Mama enjoyed her stay at Broadstone. She had always harbored big dreams for her daughter, dreams Eleanor feared she would never achieve. She still recalled her mama’s beaming smile on her wedding day. That, and the proud look on her father’s face had been the best moments of that day.
The closed carriage drew close, travelling up through the pruned trees and carefully plotted gardens. Eleanor was out on the front step before the carriage had come to a halt. The two footmen came forward to open the door and pull down the stairs and four women alighted from the vehicle.
A burst of warmth bubbled in her chest and it took all her strength of keep her feet still and wait for her mama to ascend the steps towards her.
The baroness, a lady of slender figure and absolute elegance, hurried towards her daughter and took her in a warm embrace. “My dear, you look so well. It has been too long. I am sorry I couldn’t get away sooner. You know how it is and your father was being a terrible nuisance. I had hoped to bring him with me but business would not allow it. He shall, however, be along before the winter sets in, I promise you that.” Breathless, her mama drew back and grinned. “Oh, how I have missed you.” She pressed a kiss to Eleanor’s cheek and Eleanor laughed.
“I have missed you too, Mama.”
The lonely ache in her chest had dissipated in a moment with the arrival of her mother. Eleanor took a second to study her mother and saw she looked in good health. Her cheeks were vibrant and though her skin could not be described as youthful, her mama’s lively eyes and wide smile never failed to make her look young and beautiful.
“Of course you remember Aunt Sylvia.”
“Of course I do. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Aunt.”
The tall woman, as slender as herself and her mother, smiled warmly. They were all of similar looks, the women in their family. Slightly severe brows, strong noses and unshapely figures. Yet her mother and Aunt Sylvia always carried it off with far more grace than she did. Aunt Sylvia’s dark hair had only the merest spot of grey and while Mama had Eleanor’s coloring, her hair had always been lighter, adding a delicate effect. It was now almost white but with it swept under her hat, she still looked elegant and endearingly petite.
Her aunt drew her close and tears touched Eleanor’s eyes. It had been so very long since she’d had much physical affection. Edward tried his best but he simply wasn’t in
terested in touching her. Not that she blamed him.
She led them into the Cube Room while the footman brought in tea and cakes, and laid them on the marble table in the center of the chairs. Mama settled herself on the long settee and Aunt Sylvia followed suit. The admiration on her aunt’s face was abundantly clear and Eleanor smiled.
None of the women in her family could be accused of possessing the talent of hiding their emotions—though Eleanor had always been the worst for blurting out every thought or emotion that ran through her head. That was, until she had been dragged away from Lucian that night. After that she had been determined to do better, to prove herself a better person.
“How was your journey, Mama?”
The baroness leaned forwards and helped herself to a delicate meringue. “A little bumpy, dear. Some of the roads from the train station were a little rough but at least it is dry here.”
“Yes, we’ve had quite a dry spell though I fear we shall see rain by this evening. I am glad you have come, Mama, Aunt. How long shall you be staying?”
“Several weeks, I expect,” Aunt Sylvia put in, before running her gaze about the room. “Eleanor, this room is simply divine.”
Eleanor smiled her acknowledgement. She rarely used the Single Cube Room, but it still even stole her breath occasionally. The high painted ceilings and gilded cornicing created a grandeur that rivalled some of the palaces in England. One large portrait of Edward’s family spanned the rear wall while several older paintings occupied the rest of the white walls.
“Tell me, do you have word from Jane?” Eleanor asked eagerly. She’d not heard about her favorite maid for some time.
“She is not so well I am afraid,” her mother said. “You know she has always been fragile, at least since...”
Eleanor nodded. Jane had doted on her as a young girl but after a factory accident harmed Jane’s daughter, she withdrew into herself. For people like Jane, she had to make a difference, and the mill was just the opportunity to do that.
“Anyway, how are things since Edward’s passing, Ellie? I hope you are not too lonely. I longed to come and see you in Paris, but your papa said you would not welcome it.” Her mama sounded quite put out.
“Edward was quite ill, Mama. It wouldn’t have been advisable and you know I do not need you to hold my hand any longer.”
The baroness sighed. “Yes, you have been terribly insistent on being independent, but you must allow me to worry for my daughter. Have you met many of the families around here?”
“A few visited with me when I first returned, but I have no need for parties and suchlike. I would much rather spend my time on other matters.”
“I must say, Eleanor, I do not remember you being quite so serious,” Aunt Sylvia declared. “You always enjoyed parties and dances.”
“Oh Ellie is quite the serious creature now,” her mama said with a smile. “She has travelled the world and of course though she might still be little Ellie to us, she is a countess. We must not forget that, Sylvia.” Her mama lifted both her brows in a teasing manner and they all laughed.
“Mama, if you keep speaking so, I shall have no choice but to believe myself entirely above your company and send you all away.”
Her mother leaned across and laid a hand across hers. “You know I jest, my dear, but I am so very proud of you. That said, you really must spend more time with the local families. You are well out of mourning and it would not be disrespectful to start thinking of your future.”
“Another husband you mean?” She knew it was inevitable. She would have to marry again eventually, if only to make sure the un-entailed estates did not fall to ruin. She had no control over the Scottish estate that had passed to Edward’s cousin but Broadstone had been his favorite house. He had made her promise to ensure that nothing happened to it once he willed everything he could over to her. Not that she was sure she was even capable of creating those heirs every man so sorely longed for.
“Well, there is no need to rush. What of...a companion?”
Eleanor shifted her gaze from her aunt to her mama, warmth flowing into her cheeks. But both women looked completely placid. Had she misunderstood? “A companion?”
“Why, yes. Your aunt and I were just saying we thought you deserved something just for yourself.”
“Yes,” Aunt Sylvia concurred. “You have achieved more than many of the women in our family have, but you are not an innocent any longer.”
“Mama! Aunt!”
“We are simply saying there would be no harm in you taking a little time for yourself and maybe taking a...a lover,” Mama whispered the last part. “With your status, you’re practically above reproach.”
Resisting the desire to slap her hands over her face and hide, Eleanor shook her head. “Mama...”
“Just think on it. We cannot all be lucky enough to have love matches or for our relationships to even grow into one. Goodness knows, my mother never expected me to fall for your father, but thank the Lord I did or I should not be able to put up with his terrible habits. But a mother wants two things for her daughter. For her to be well looked after, which you are, and for her to be happy. I’m not sure you have achieved that yet. You are a wonderful daughter and I am blessed to have such a dutiful child, but I would not object to you being a little selfish for a while.”
Exhaustion swamped Eleanor suddenly. She had spent the past seven years trying her best to be the dutiful daughter, to live up to expectations that she had feared she had dashed as a hopeless young girl who had allowed herself to be kissed by a rake. And now her mama wanted something different from her. She hardly knew what to think.
“I appreciate your concern, Mama, but I have no need or want to take a...a lover.”
Aunt Sylvia stuffed a meringue into her mouth and eyed them both avidly as if she were watching an exciting scene at the theatre.
Her mother nodded. “You know I only speak out of love for you. You are no innocent, my dear, no matter what your father may say. But will you at least make an attempt to make some new friends? A female friend would do wonders for you. You have spent far too long in the company of one man and you used to have several female friends if you remember?”
Eleanor remembered. There were several girls she spent time with but none liked her all that much. She was too clumsy and ugly to be seen with them. They merely tolerated her. But in her eagerness to see good in the world, she overlooked their disdain for so many years.
“I shall try my best, Mama.”
“A ball,” Aunt Sylvia declared suddenly, as if it was the most original idea on Earth.
“Oh, yes, what a fine idea,” the baroness agreed.
Eleanor narrowed her gaze at both the older women. Had they been planning this all along? Or perhaps even talked of her taking a lover? Was this some plan to find her a one?
“If you shall forget the idea of a lover, then I shall consent to holding a ball,” Eleanor replied coolly.
Her mother sat up straight and her smile widened. “Wonderful idea, Ellie. And do not forget to invite your neighbor, Lord Rushbourne. I’ve not seen him in years and I hear he is quite handsome.”
Oh Lord. Eleanor fought the desire to sink to the floor. Her mother was plotting, and for some strange reason, she appeared to be plotting an illicit liaison between her daughter and the man she once thought so dangerous to her innocence that she had her married off to an old earl.
Chapter Ten
An Unlucky Hand
Lucian lifted his gaze from his cards and peered at the new arrivals for a moment. Then he dropped his gaze to the cards and concluded he had little chance of winning with such a poor hand. And therefore it was definitely not worth sitting around and waiting for the Earl of Banridge to spot him.
What was the man doing in the Eights anyway? No one but poor travelers stopped at the dilapidated inn, which was exactly why he chose it as his hide out. On the rare occasion he took a break from his duties, he headed to The Eight Bells.
He lowe
red his head as Banridge headed to the bar. Throwing in his hand, he made to leave while the earl had his back turned, but his movement must have drawn Banridge’s attention.
“Rushbourne?”
Lucian rotated slowly, and tried to keep his unmarred side towards him. “Banridge,” he said, dropping his head in acknowledgment.
However, the earl did not let him on his way and stepped back from the bar to stand in front of him. “Good Lord it is you. Why, I haven’t seen you in, well, over a year, surely? I knew you had a seat in the country nearby but did not think you would be at home or else I would have called upon you. Someone said you were in France or something, recovering from...” He paused and smiled. “Well, it is good to see you.”
“And you, Banridge.”
“Shall you be coming to London next summer?”
“I doubt it.”
He hardly wanted to come and be center of attention, and for all the wrong reasons. Once he might have relished it—his escapades were often talked of—but this was different. Now they would be speaking of his scars and how grotesque he was.
“Too much on your hands, eh?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I shall be sure to tell my sister where you are. Kitty was terribly fond of you. She married recently, you know?”
His sister, Lady Catherine, had been terribly fond of him indeed. Fond enough to let him share her bed on frequent occasions after her first husband passed. Banridge clearly had no idea or else he would be calling him out, but that did not surprise Lucian. He was not the brightest of men.
“I had not heard. Please pass on my congratulations. Forgive me, I must hurry, I’m late for an appointment.”
The well-dressed man nodded genially. “Absolutely, Good to see you, Rushbourne.”
“Likewise.”
Lucian noted how Bainridge’s gaze fell upon his scar briefly as he turned, and the look of astonishment that came across his face made Lucian curl a fist. He strode briskly out of the inn and squinted in the bright daylight. Being early afternoon, the sun had split the thick clouds and cast the hills in golden sunlight. For the end of summer, it was still surprisingly warm but no doubt rain would be upon them soon, as it often was in England.