Educating His Elinor

by Viola Morne

  "Tell Mr. Frost I want to speak to him," he told the butler. "I'll wait outside." Frost's butler nodded, unable to keep a look of surprise from his face. "Get a move on, you old bag of bones. I haven't got all day." The butler withdrew in outraged silence , and closed the door in his face. Winter grinned, and flexed his fingers. He was going to enjoy this.

  The door opened, and Leighton Frost, the so-called handsomest man in London, stepped outside, not a hair out of place. That wouldn't last long.

  "Frost." Winter let a feral smile steal across his face. His former lieutenant stepped back a pace. For once Frost's legendary sangfroid had deserted him. He was shocked. Perhaps he was even frightened.

  "Major, you surprised me. What are you doing in Cornwall?"

  "Not going to invite me in?"

  Frost hesitated.

  "No need. Wouldn't want to get blood on your auntie's carpet."

  Frost swallowed. Then he squared his shoulders. "I will meet with you outside."

  Winter turned and went down the stairs, aware of the man following. He didn't trust him not to attack from behind. But Frost closed the front door , and walked onto the graveled drive. He stood, arms at his side, and waited.

  Winter removed his coat, laying it over a shrub. He rolled up his sleeves, keeping an eye on Frost as he did so. Frost pulled off his own coat. He assumed a fighting stance, fists held up in front of his face. The poor pretty boy was about to get his cork drawn in fine style.

  Winter went at him in a run. He leaped off the ground, landing with both his fists on Frost's shoulder. Frost He teetered and went down like a bowling pin.

  Winter stood over him. "Get up, you bastard."

  "You fucking broke my shoulder!"

  "Don't be dramatic. Stand up, and take your punishment like a man."

  Frost rose to his knees and staggered to his feet. He raised his fists, wincing at the movement of his injured shoulder.

  Winter hit him hard in the jaw. Frost spun around and collapsed on the ground. Winter pushed him with the toe of his boot.

  "That's it? That's the best you can do?"

  "Pax," Frost croaked.

  Winter exhaled. " How could you convince Julian to share his wife with you? You almost ruined his marriage, you selfish bastard. Are you sorry at least? That you endangered your best friend's marriage, for your own selfish gratification? "

  "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. Why do you think I'm moldering away down here? I couldn't face Julian, or his wife."

  "Very well." Winter reached down and extended his hand. Frost reached up warily.

  "Come, man, it's over." He helped him rise. Blood trickled over Frost's lip. His jaw had begun to swell.

  "I think you loosened my back teeth." He cradled his jaw gingerly.

  "We'll get some cold meat for that. You'll be fine. Christ, I need a drink."

  "I know exactly how you feel." Frost led the way inside. Winter rolled down his sleeves and picked up his jacket, whistling as he walked up the stairs. Justice had been served.

  #

  Winter folded the letter, and dripped hot wax over the fold. He affixed his seal, and let his gaze wander to the waves sweeping the shore below the inn. He'd written to Elinor, to let her know when he'd be home. He hoped to Christ she still cared. He felt like the tide, in helpless thrall to a heavenly influence. Elinor was his moon, and his sun, and all the goddamned stars in the sky.

  Winter dropped off the letter with the innkeeper, and paid his bill. He pulled out his timepiece. He had time to visit Frost again , before heading home. The incorrigible idiot was still his friend, after all.

  Frost's butler looked distinctly nervous , when he answered to door.

  "Don't bother to announce me . , I know the way." The major started across the hall, pulling off his gloves as he walked. He tossed these and his hat to the butler and strode into the drawing room.

  Frost looked up when the door opened, his finger caught between the pages of the book he'd been reading. He stood up when he saw Winter, and the book slid to the ground.

  "Have you come to hit me again?"

  "What? No, I just want a drink."

  Frost crossed the room to shake his hand. "Behold my relief. I haven't recovered from your last visit."

  "Nonsense. A trimming never did anyone harm." Winter flung himself in a chair. "Got any coffee?"

  Frost's raised an eyebrow. "Coffee," he repeated.

  Winter felt his cheeks warm. "I've stopped drinking."

  Frost eyed him. "Coffee it is." He reached for the bell. He bent to retrieve his book, but Winter got there first.

  "What's this tosh you're reading?"

  "Poetry."

  Winter turned the volume over. "Keats. Never heard of him." He flipped open the cover, the book opening to a well-read page. Two lines were underscored lightly with pencil.

  That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

  And with thee fade away into the forest dim

  "Seems I'm not the only one with problems." He handed the book back to Frost. The man looked haunted, his eyes shadowed with memories.

  "It's still Angeline, I take it."

  "It's always Angeline."

  Frost put the book away in a drawer and resumed his seat.

  The butler arrived with coffee for Winter and a brandy for Frost. He held up his glass in a toast.

  "To unforgettable women, and the damage they inflict."

  Winter sipped his coffee. He'd come here for company and, he realized wryly, for counsel. But poor Frost seemed in worse shape than he.

  "You can't change the past, old man."

  Frost nodded.

  "There's something you should know. A sharpshooter tried to kill Elinor."

  "What?"

  "He brought a rifle up the church tower, and fired on her while we were celebrating May Day on the village green."

  Frost cursed. "Who was it?"

  "I think his name was Dulac. Used to run with the marquis during the war."

  "He tracked you down after all this time?"

  Winter shrugged. "He's dead now, anyhow. I don't think there's anything more to it than revenge served cold. But keep an eye open anyway."

  "Yes, sir." Frost snapped him a mock salute. "So, why have you decided to part ways with your old friend, the bottle? I must say, that is an instance I would never predict."

  Winter looked away. A potent mix of guilt and shame churned in his gut.

  "I was getting out of control."

  Both eyebrows rose this time. "That is almost impossible to imagine. The great Major Winter Frost , mentor and benefactor, not trusting himself to take a drink. There must be a story in there somewhere. Do tell."

  Clearly, the man couldn't help being an ass. But Winter knew, beneath the air of hauteur and the ironic patter, there was a man with a heart, a man who grieved for a woman ten years dead.

  "It's Elinor. She's come home to stay."

  "I thought she'd be in town, enjoying her first Season."

  Winter drained his cup , and walked over to the coffee pot to pour another.

  "Elinor refused to have a season. She left my cousin her aunt , without my permission, and turned up at the house. She wants to be my housekeeper." He laughed, without amusement. "That's what comes of paying for her fancy education. A housekeeper."

  "Have you taken her to your bed?"

  Winter spun round. "Of course not. I'm her guardian, I..." He shook his head, at a loss to explain how he felt. He didn't have to.

  "You're in love with her, major."

  "No. I can't love her, or anyone else. It's too..."

  "Difficult? Terrifying?"

  Winter looked at his old friend. "Dangerous."

  #

  Elinor pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She was hot and disheveled, but she only needed another pint of raspberries for her pie. She could have asked the kitchen maid to pick the fruit, but the poor girl was busy enough with Cook, and in truth, the beautiful summer day had beckoned.


  "Miss Elinor!" Mrs. Henry beckoned to her from the garden gate. "Mr. Chadwick said there's a lady waiting in the parlor."

  Elinor picked up her basket , and headed to the house. She wasn't acquainted with many of the ladies hereabout. Who could it be? She dropped off the raspberries in the kitchen, pausing to wash her hands.

  "Who is it?"

  Mrs. Henry sniffed. "I'm sure I don't know, miss. She left a card with Chadwick." The butler hovered near the baize door leading from the kitchen. "Lady Wilde has called, Miss Elinor." Lady Wilde? The name sounded familiar.

  A voluptuous, red-haired woman turned from the window as Elinor entered the parlor. She was richly, even extravagantly, attired in a form - fitting gown that displayed her bountiful charms. The high poke of her bonnet framed a face of exotic beauty, with full lips and slanting eyes. Merciful heavens. It was Olivia, the major's paramour, here in the all - too - visible flesh.

  Olivia, in a cloud of rose-scented perfume, dropped gracefully onto a settee. "I understand the major is away from home."

  "Yes, although we expect him later today."

  "Excellent. I'll need a room prepared. Nothing facing east, I abhor the sun in the morning. Oh, and I never eat breakfast. A tray of tea in my room around eleven will suit me."

  Elinor looked at her in confusion. Why was this woman addressing her as if she was a servant? Was it her apron? She fumbled for the ties behind her back, and undid them, whisking the apron out of sight.

  "The major didn't tell me to expect any guests, I'm afraid."

  Olivia's eyebrow rose steeply. "My word, you speak quite forcefully for a servant."

  "I'm afraid you are under a misapprehension. I'm not the major's servant, but his ward."

  "Ah, you must be Elinor. Major Winter has told me so much about you." She rose, and advanced across the room, holding out a kid-gloved hand. Elinor took her hand and dropped a curtsy.

  "Won't you have a seat, Lady Wilde?"

  "So you are on holiday then?"

  "No, I have completed my studies, and returned home, for good."

  "At least until you marry. Did the major settle a decent portion on you?"

  Elinor paused. The lady was very frank. "Would you care for some refreshment, my lady?"

  "A glass of sherry and a biscuit would be fine."

  "Would you excuse me for a moment?"

  She ran back to the kitchen where Mrs. Henry was in deep conversation with Cook.

  "What should I do? Her name is Lady Wilde, she knows the major , and she expects to stay here."

  "Fine manners," sniffed the housekeeper. "The brazen hussy. I beg your pardon, Miss Elinor."

  Elinor waved a hand. "Never mind, Mrs. Henry, I feel sure you have the right of it. So, do we let her stay?"

  "I suppose we have no choice."

  "Oh, and she doesn't want an east facing room, and she doesn't eat breakfast, just a tray in her room at eleven." Elinor thought for a moment. "We could put her on the second floor, across from the nursery wing."

  Mrs. Henry stilled, her hands clasped tightly. "It's quite inconvenient for the servants, Miss Elinor. What about the Rose Room? It's right next to yours."

  As if Elinor wanted to hear the major knocking on Olivia's door, or even worse, hear Olivia sneaking away, en route for a tryst in the major's room. "Whatever you think best, Mrs. Henry." Could this day get any worse?

  Mrs. Henry opened her mouth, but thought better of it, and swept out of the room to instruct the maids.

  "Would you fix us a plate of biscuits, please, Cook. I'll have Chadwick decant some of the amontillado. I wish the major was here." She smoothed her hair and headed back to her unwanted guest.

  She found Olivia roaming the terrace, quite at home. Elinor wondered whether if the woman had visited here before. Well, things were different now. Winterhill needed no other mistress. She waved Chadwick outside and sat down on the bench , which overlooked the gardens and the maze .

  "Do join me, Lady Wilde."

  Olivia turned and prowled across the terrace. "Quite the lady of the manor, aren't you, Miss Kendall?"

  They made stilted small talk, until she heard Chadwick cough behind them.

  He advanced in his stately way. "Lady Sinclair and Miss Sinclair have called, Miss Elinor."

  Elinor started. "What? Why are they here?" She remembered herself , and glanced at Olivia, who laughed out loud.

  "Oh, don't mind me. This might be entertaining."

  Elinor eyed her with suspicion. "Why would you say that? I haven't even met them. The Sinclair ladies have never called on me before."

  "You'll see. Lady Diana Sinclair is quite something. She considers herself Caine's betrothed."

  Pain knifed through her. "The major is to be married?"

  Olivia spared her a glance. "Oh, don't look so worried. It's not official. The Sinclairs want s to ally with Winterhill. Caine has deep pockets, and Diana's father likes to gamble. It's the usual trade - off. Caine gets a brood mare with an impeccable lineage, and Lord Iverly gets his guineas. She's here to dangle the carrot , and see how hungry the rabbit is."

  The Sinclair ladies were ushered onto the terrace , but declined refreshment.

  Lady Sinclair, an angular woman lady with a gimlet eye, suggested a stroll in the shrubbery. Elinor agreed , and went to fetch her bonnet and gloves. By the time she returned, the major had come home , and was speaking with the ladies on the terrace. Elinor stepped back out of sight. She hadn't realized the Sinclair girl had a claim to him. The only women she'd ever seen him with were always married.

  Lady Diana looked up at the major, all smiles, and placed her hand on his arm. Elinor's fingers clenched inside her gloves. The thought of another woman touching him made her sick with jealousy. What would she do if he ever did decide to marry? Elinor retreated to the library. Let the major entertain his own guests.

  #

  Elinor had barely opened her book , when the library door slammed open. Olivia swept into the room like a summer storm. "I need a brandy."

  Elinor hesitated. "I was about to order a tray of tea."

  Olivia considered it , and then brightened. "We can put brandy in the tea!" She dashed over to the bell rope and rang it. The she turned her shrewd gaze to Elinor's pale face.

  "I told you not to worry, Elinor. Caine's not interested in some prim virgin. He's not exactly a marrying man."

  Elinor suppressed a sigh. "No, he's not."

  "There you are. You let me deal with Lord Iverly's little angel. I don't usually deign to meddle with the innocent, but I suspect a vulture lies under those white wings."

  Chadwick entered with a tea tray, laden with sandwiches and cakes. Olivia clapped her hands. "Get me some brandy, Chadwick. God knows we have need of it, considering the present company." The butler looked at Elinor, and she nodded.

  "You have got them all under control, haven't you?" Speculation gleamed in Olivia's green eyes.

  "It's my job."

  "Your job? My word, you are a clever little thing. Make the man comfortable, and yourself indispensable, and he'll never want to let you go. Do you love him?"

  Elinor fumbled for the teapot. "White or black?"

  "Has he bedded you yet?"

  "What? No!"

  "Hmm. Well, if you say so. Who am I to call you a liar? You know he won't marry you, any more than he'll marry the Sinclair chit. All Caine wants is someone willing beneath the sheets."

  "Or in the barn."

  "What did you say?"

  "Sugar?" Elinor lifted the tongs.

  Olivia eyed her suspiciously. "No cream, one lump. Where the hell is Chadwick with the brandy? Ah, there 's you are. Leave the bottle."

  Elinor shrugged and the butler placed the brandy decanter beside the tea tray. He bowed , and left the room.

  "Elinor! Elinor, where the hell are you?" The major's voice rang from the hall. Brisk footfalls sounded on the parquet floors , before the library's doors were flung open again.

  "There you are. Olivia,
you're in the library, too? I didn't even know you could read."

  "Very amusing, darling. Elinor and I are having tea."

  The major picked up the decanter. He raised a brow.

  "Well, what did you expect, saddling us with that awful girl? Oh, Major Winter, your house is sooo lovely. You big, strong man, with your big, deep...pockets." Olivia's mimicry was savage, but accurate.

  Winter grimaced. "I didn't invite them."

  "Then tell them to leave." Olivia adjusted her bodice, causing her large breasts to strain against it her bodice . "We haven't had any time together."

  Winter blew about a breath. "Even I can't be that rude. The Sinclairs are neighbors."

  "Darling, don't be stuffy. You don't want to marry that little shrew."

  "Of course not. Between her nagging me to death, and me trying to plug her dried-up cunt, I'd end up shooting myself. Or her."

  Olivia laughed, and Elinor stifled a giggle. Winter swung round to stare at her. "Christ, I'm sorry, Elinor. I forget how foul-mouthed I can be."

  Elinor sipped her tea , while a breath of happiness stole over her. He didn't want to marry Diana Sinclair. The major splashed a measure of brandy into a teacup and tossed it off.

  "Come to think of it, I didn't invite you either, Olivia." He poured another a drink and threw himself in a chair. "What in hell are you doing here? Where's Wilde?"

  Olivia flushed. "He's been called away, to Paris. Some diplomatic nonsense."

  "Your husband went to Paris and he didn't take you with him. So now you're looking for revenge."

  "No, I just wanted to see you." Olivia adjusted her dress, pressing her bosom even tighter against her bodice. Elinor eyed her with alarm. She was going to fall right out of her dress.

  "Perhaps Elinor could give us some time alone." Olivia moistened her lips, her tongue running along the lower one in blatant invitation.