by Wendy Vella
He retrieved his cabriolet from the side of the inn and set off at as fast a pace as possible. Apprehension drummed through him, making him drive more recklessly than usual—and that was saying a lot. There had been times after the fire when he had longed to meet a quick ending. For the vehicle to tip and spill him from it, breaking his neck or cracking his skull. Then the pain would be gone and he would not have to deal with the shame of his appearance. The pain had since vanished, with the exception of the occasional morning of agony, but the shame had not.
By the time he reached Balmead, the horses had worked up quite the sweat as had he. His butler, Fairfax greeted him with his usual warmth, which was the equivalent to none. But that mattered little to Lucian. He had served his father well and continued to serve him with quiet efficiency. He had enough people worrying for him with his housekeeper taking on the role of his mother as best as she could.
“A letter arrived for you, my lord,” Fairfax told him as he held out a silver platter. “From Broadstone Hall.”
Those three words made him stiffen. He felt like a rabbit about to be hunted down. Muscles tense, senses alert. He took the letter off the platter and tore it open. Grimacing, he flung the letter onto the console table.
A ball. She was holding a bloody ball. Dancing, music...people. He snorted. His worst nightmare. The last thing he would do is go to Broadstone and take part in a ball. He would rather gouge out his eyes with spoons.
Drawing off his jacket and hat, and handing it to Fairfax, he requested some tea and strode in the direction of the study. First, he would turn his attention to some correspondence he needed to catch up on and then he would send his humblest apologies to Ellie. A damn ball. Not even the hounds of hell could drag him to a ball, regardless of how enticing the hostess’s lips were, or how he could not seem to stop thinking of her.
***
The air in the double room was stifling. Eleanor struggled to catch her breath as she finished up her dance with a gentleman whose name she could not remember. She had not been lacking for dance partners for the first time in her life, but she knew her wealth and status was the only thing attracting the multitude of partners.
Thankfully, she had danced well, though dancing had never been much of a problem for her. She’d always enjoyed it. It was things like walking and eating and drinking that posed a problem. Even now, as she walked off the dance floor on her partner’s arm, she had to concentrate on not catching the hem of her gown.
She did a quick sweep of the room with her gaze and failed to find Lucian again. He had confirmed the invitation yet he had not been there when she had been greeting her guests. He could have been late, she supposed, many people were. Bodies filled the room, their elegant dresses and dark evening suits complimenting the gilded furniture. The mirrors on all walls created the effect of there being even more people in attendance.
Eleanor thanked her nameless partner and muttered something about needing to speak with the butler, though her words were lost to the orchestra anyway. He nodded as if he had understood her but she doubted he had. She watched him walk away and slip into a crowd of other gentleman. Well-dressed, and cutting a fine figure, she had to wonder why he did not interest her one bit. In fact, why had none of the men that night appealed?
Was it simply a need to be alone or was it something else?
A scowling vision of a man with a scar on his cheek and an insolent expression flashed in front of her. Whatever it was, it was not Lucian she needed, she told herself. Certainly not Lucian.
Eleanor pressed a hand to her waist and tried to draw a breath past her corset, but it was no good. She would have to get some air. Escaping from her own ball was perhaps not the proper thing to do but the crowd was growing thicker, with elegant ladies and gentleman jostling against each other. Conversation was difficult and Eleanor had found it hard enough to think of topics to talk of with the other ladies. How many had shared her experiences of life?
With the exception of aged husbands that was. There were a few young ladies with ancient men in tow tonight and from what she could tell, none of those matches were happy. And there she differed too. Theirs might not have been much of a traditional marriage—one in which husband and wife shared their bodies as well as their lives—but they had been well matched in many respects and she could never claim to be miserable. So, even on the matter of old, crotchety husbands she had little to say.
Eleanor released a long breath and began to make her way through the crowd. She smiled and paused to speak with a few people who spoke of the grandeur and how successful the ball was. She had little idea. Most of the balls she’d attended had been small country ones. Being married before she had really entered society had always frustrated her but now she wondered if she should not be grateful for missing out on such things. It seemed she took little pleasure in balls. The golden glistening light of the room, the huge crystal chandeliers in their splendor, the way the deep red wallpaper finally came to life and how the polished floor squeaked happily with footsteps—none of it brought her much pleasure, even though she felt at least the house was finally being used properly.
When she reached the door to the courtyard, she took her heavy silk skirts in hand and stepped out. Air filled her lungs and a breeze immediately cooled her skin. She shivered as the air tickled her bare shoulders but it was appreciated. Her skin had already grown damp from the heat in the Double Cube Room.
She tipped her head back and strode across the courtyard with the intention of slipping through the rear of the house and out onto the back terrace. It was likely a few lovers might have snuck out there but there were many dark corners and the ornamental garden would allow her to get lost.
A dark figure slipped out of the corner shadows and her heart thudded against her rib cage. “Lucian.”
He peered at her with a tilted smile. “Escaping?”
“No. Yes,” she admitted.
“Little Ellie Browning’s first ball and she cannot wait to escape...”
“I am not little Ellie Browning anymore, Lucian,” she reminded him, feeling her hackles rise.
He insisted on seeing her as that young, awkward child. Likely in his eyes she would always be that girl. Bumbling, silly, frivolous. Even a hugely expensive gown in heavy purple silk could not make him see her as anything else.
His gaze travelled over her, making her aware of every inch and even forcing her nipples to press against her bodice. Of course, he was beautiful. The light from the rooms cast a glow across the courtyard allowing her to admire the fine cut of his evening suit and the way it emphasized his broad shoulders. His hair was slightly ruffled as though he had been running his hands through it. Or perhaps a lady had been. Jealousy struck strong and sharp but when she glanced around, she saw no one hiding in the shadows or trying to slip away.
A second time, his gaze raked up and down, lingering on where she knew her breasts made an admirable attempt at cleavage. With the cut of the gown, they looked relatively plump. It seemed Lucian had noticed but did he appreciate them or was he comparing her to other more endowed women?
“You certainly are not.”
“Pardon?”
“You are not little Ellie Browning anymore,” he replied, his grin turning almost wicked.
Eleanor swallowed. Was he...flirting? Surely not. “Why are you skulking about around here? There are many fine ladies looking for dance partners.”
“Are you lecturing me on my duties as an eligible gentleman?”
She laughed. “I hardly think I am one to lecture on duties when I am slipping away from my own ball, but I know many ladies were asking after you.”
He let out a huff. “No doubt wanting to see how I fared after the fire. Well, I won’t give them the satisfaction.” Eleanor scowled and was about to correct him, knowing full well they simply wanted a chance with the gorgeous rake, but he held out his arm. “Can I escort you to wherever it is you wish to escape to?”
She had taken his arm before she’
d even thought about it. He held her quite close so the skin above her long gloves brushed the fabric of his jacket. If she closed her eyes, she might imagine she was a beautiful, elegant lady, arriving on the arm of her handsome beau. But if she closed her eyes, she would likely trip, so that was out of the question.
“I was planning to sit in the gardens.”
“Come then, let us make our escape.”
Lucian was being surprisingly agreeable. She felt herself warming to him—a dangerous thing indeed. Had she not witnessed Lucian’s raw male power already? That kiss would haunt her forever and now she was agreeing to spend time alone with him out in the gardens. Thank goodness she was a widow. No one cared what a widow got up to and there would certainly be no family members discovering her and sending her off to marry an old earl this time.
“I have not heard from you in several weeks. Is all well? I was hoping you might give me the chance to look over those records soon.”
“I heard your mother was here and did not wish to get in the way. The majority of the records you requested are at Balmead now.”
“I would have liked to have known. May I see them soon?”
“Of course, I said you could, did I not?”
They stepped through the house and out of the back onto the terrace. Sure enough a young couple darted around the corner upon spotting them and Eleanor had to suppress a giggle.
“Looks as though some people are having a very fine time indeed,” Lucian commented. “Secret assignations and much to gossip about. I think you can consider your ball a success, my lady.”
“I suppose I can.”
She lifted her skirt as they took the steps to the gardens. Laid out in a square with paths cutting it in four, the box trees provided ample hiding places and Eleanor was grateful not to come across any other lovers. Lanterns lit the way and the scent of roses filled the night air. Though the evening was cloudy, stars made a good attempt at breaking through, leaving the night sky speckled with them in certain places.
“Will you let me view the records then? Perhaps I could come by?”
She didn’t trust him to get around to sending them to Broadstone. He clearly didn’t think she had anything useful to put into the matter.
His brows dipped and he paused in the middle of the path. “I suppose.”
“It would be much easier than having them sent here,” she insisted. “You would not need to be present and I will not make a pest of myself, I promise.”
“I’m sure you would not.”
“I know you don’t think I can help, but I have a keen eye. I manage all the accounts at Broadstone. Edward trusted me completely.”
“Edward—” He let out a frustrated growl and released her arm so as to face her. “Edward was damned lucky to have you and he knew it. Likely he would have let you do anything you wish. Honestly, dragging a young girl halfway around the world, what was he thinking?”
“Edward was a fine man! He treated me like a grown woman, unlike many people.”
“If you were mine I would not have made you suffer for the sake of bugs.”
“I thought you admired Edward’s work!” Indignation made her straighten. How dare he insult her late husband! How dare he dismiss everything she had done these past seven years!
Lucian paused and seemed to shake himself. Just the tiniest movement of his tall form. His gaze locked firmly onto hers and it grew dark. “You deserved better.”
His words rang in her ears. What game was this? “I was lucky to marry Edward, not the other way around,” she said quietly. “Many ladies would suffer far worse than what I have to achieve such a rank, and I did not suffer. I enjoyed travelling and Edward was kind to me. Do not disparage our match when you know full well no other man would have had me.”
“Nonsense.”
“You were more attracted to your horse, was that not what you said?”
“I said I was no more attracted to you than my horse.”
“Exactly.”
He closed the gap between them so that their toes were almost touching. A hand came up to grip her arm. She felt herself being coaxed back.
“I may have been wrong about that.”
“You are attracted to your horse?” she asked snidely.
“I was wrong about you, Ellie. I was wrong to speak in such a manner. I regret that night sincerely.”
Eleanor shook her head. “I don’t believe you feel an ounce of regret. You were happy to continue in your usual rakish manner with no thought for me. I may have been out of the country but Mama kept me apprised of your adventures.”
“Just because a man does not know of any other way to behave, does not mean he doesn’t have regrets. I have many. You are my biggest.”
She sucked in a breath. What was he talking of? Was this a ploy? An attempt to charm her and keep her out of his business perhaps? He leaned over her, forcing her to lift her chin to look at him. The prickly touch of a bush against her back made her jolt.
A deep ache gathered low in her body and her skin grew hot. The breeze around them could not be called a gale of any sorts, yet she felt as though she was caught in a tempest when she stared at Lucian. Snared in a whirlwind with no escape.
He pressed his chest to hers and her nipples jabbed against her bodice again. She kept her hands to her sides and curled her fingers back into the tree to grip the branches. The great fog that crowded her mind refused to dissipate and her thoughts would not come free. What was she doing?
“My biggest regret, Ellie,” he murmured. “How shall I ever redeem myself?”
His lips were tauntingly close. She still recalled their firm heat upon hers, the shock of them and how he had tasted of whisky. The roll of desire through her body was familiar too but at seventeen she hadn’t been aware of what it meant. Now she knew. She wanted Lucian as a wife wanted a husband and a husband usually wanted a wife. But Edward had not. He did his duty when he had to but he struggled. She was simply too bony and plain to entice him, she supposed.
So why did she believe, even for a moment, that a man like Lucian would find her appealing?
Eleanor released her death grip on the tree, pulling some of the leaves with her. Many moments longer and it would be too late. His lips were so close. Would one kiss hurt?
Yes.
“I’m not doing this again.” She flattened her hands to his chest. “I will not let you do this to me again. I am not a toy, Lucian. You can’t play games with me.”
Regret shuttered his gaze but he did not move back. “I know very well this is no game. I would be a fool to play it if it was. Hell, I am a bloody fool.”
He closed the gap with a muttered curse.
Chapter Eleven
Rakes Don’t Dance
“Ellie!” a shrill voice rang out.
Lucian jerked his head back. Ellie remained frozen and he realized his hands had snaked around her waist. When in the devil had that happened? Her eyes were smoky as she gazed up at him. Damnation, he really had learned nothing since last time. What was he thinking? That kissing her might make up for his disgusting behavior towards her? Or that it might push her away once more and keep her out of his business for good?
Either way it was a bad plan. Yes, he had regrets about what he had done to her. Funny what a near death experience did to a man. He had reflected on every wrong thing he had done and though he could not claim to be a changed man or even a remotely honorable one, he regretted hurting Ellie. Most of his antics had involved willing women. Ellie had never deserved such treatment.
“Ellie!”
It was the baroness. Bloody hell, he certainly wasn’t going to let history repeat itself. He dropped his hands from her waist and saw the dreamy haze snap away. Small lines furrowed her brow and her lips—those tempting lips like a splash of red wine—pursed in annoyance.
He had only just stepped back by the time the older woman’s footsteps sounded nearby. He saw the way Ellie’s composure snapped into place. Her posture grew regal, her
chin lifted. Outwardly, she appeared serene, but surely she could not be? Not if she was anything like him.
A raging fire had been set alight inside him and it would not go out. If it was any other evening, he might have blamed the wine but he had not indulged yet. He’d been keen to slip through the ballroom and linger long enough to ensure the hostess had seen his presence before making himself scarce. He’d never really intended to come, yet had somehow responded with an affirmative and found himself standing outside the hall weeks later. And he had certainly not counted on catching her outside
Lucian had enjoyed touching her though. Far too much. Something very wrong was going on here. Was it the purple gown and the way the ruffles drew attention to her cleavage or the way her long body was emphasized perfectly by the cinched waist? Perhaps it was the artful arrangement of curls that softened her jaw and displayed a graceful neck.
In fact, the longer he peered at her, the more he found things to admire. Like the dip of her collarbone that had a slight sheen right now and the narrowness of her wrists that he knew his hand could wrap around easily.
When he heard the footsteps nearly upon them, he offered Ellie his arm. She took it without question and they strode out onto the main path as if they had been taking a leisurely stroll.
“Ah, there you are,” the baroness said breathily. “Your guests are asking after you. And Lord Rushbourne, how are you? I did not think you had come though we did get your response.”
“Forgive me, my lady, I was delayed and didn’t wish to make an entrance. Ellie needed some air, so I thought it wise to ensure she did not faint.”
“How thoughtful of you.” Lady Browning’s expression softened and a twinkle entered her gaze.