The Scandal of Lady Eleanor

by Regina Jeffers

  Fowler stepped reluctantly into the room. Looking distracted, he simply offered them the required greeting. “I have work, Ella; I will beg your pardon. Please enjoy your game.”

  She and James Kerrington sat at a chessboard, preparing to start the match. “We might find other amusements.”

  James recognized the look on Bran’s face—he had seen it often enough over the years. Any time Fowler held a puzzle where all the pieces did not fit, his countenance took on such gloom and doom. Releasing his friend to tend to the points of the investigation, he said, “Do you fear my besting you, Lady Eleanor?”

  Predictably, Ella flushed with color, reacting to his attentions. “You should know, my Lord, I take no prisoners when I play chess.”

  “She does not, Worthing,” Fowler warned before bowing from the room.

  Alone again, James leaned forward to flirtatiously tease her. “No prisoners when you play chess, Lady Eleanor?”

  “Absolutely not,Your Lordship,” she smirked.

  “When do you take prisoners, Lady Eleanor? I willingly sacrifice myself to such punishments.”

  Eleanor smiled despite her embarrassment. Her acceptance of his flirtation pleased James. She had over the past few days become more comfortable with him. Part of his plan. “You are a wretched man, Lord Worthing; you say the most bizarre things. I should chastise you for your forwardness, but you would just apologize and feign real remorse. Then I would have to forgive you despite the impropriety. We will skip all those steps and simply return to the game.”

  James’s smile reached the corners of his eyes. “Yes, my Love.”

  “Lord Worthing, I must insist you not call me by such endearments,” she protested.

  “I will think of other endearments more appropriate. Do you prefer Darling, or Sweetling?”

  Picking up the chess piece and making her first move, Ella rolled her eyes in disbelief. “There is no arguing with you, Lord Worthing. You are beyond reform.”

  “And you, Lady Eleanor, prefer me that way.”

  Ella said nothing, turning her attention to the board instead, but she thought him correct; she did enjoy Worthing’s gallantry more than she expected. In fact, she thought about him all the time, which often vexed her more practical side, but, generally, Ella found spending time with Lord Worthing the most important event of her day.

  Later in the afternoon, James sought Fowler in the duke’s study. He knew Fowler’s nature; the long solitary hours indicated his friend suffered from some sort of self-recrimination. “Your Grace, may I be of service?”

  Fowler nursed a drink; half-heartedly, he gestured for James to join him. Kerrington poured himself a drink and took the suggested seat. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Fowler finally said, “It is so ironic. Ella and Velvet survived the self-imposed loneliness associated with living under my father’s roof. They survived rumors of his lustful nature, and they survived running an estate in a world disinclined to value a woman’s worth.”

  James did not respond for several elongated moments. “You wonder how it is you who brings danger to the women you love. I understand. If not for my weakness, Elizabeth would be alive. I rue the day I brought my lust to her doorstep.” James would have reminisced, indulging himself in his personal anguish, but tonight his losing Elizabeth became secondary to protecting Ella.

  Fowler continued, “I knocked Velvet to the ground when someone attacked us, and you saved Ella and captured her assailant. However, the peril is of my making. I must find a way to protect them in London.You will help me, will you not,Worthing?”

  “Of course,Your Grace. The Realm serves together.”

  “You idiot! You were to wait until I told you to act!”

  The man pulled out of his attacker’s grasp. “I have my own agenda. I need Fowler’s money, and the best way to secure it is to let him know that despite his title and his consequence, he is not in charge.”

  “There are bigger issues than your gambling debts! I told your business partner what I expected. I am after something that will make us all richer than Croesus. Now, you have put Fowler and Worthing on guard. I will have no way of making sure they do not have the prize, thanks to your meddling buffoonery. No wonder the British are tucking tail and running from Bonaparte.You are a bunch of pompous asses!” The dark-skinned assailant pushed the weaker nobleman out of his way as he strode from the darkened hallway and into the night.

  Over the next week, Eleanor tried to forget those few sensational moments in His Lordship’s embrace, but every time he walked into a room she melted. She clearly remembered the heat of his body—the way her breasts swelled in anticipation—and the shallowness of her own breathing. She thought that after the first one, he might try to steal a kiss in the garden or in an empty room, but he remained the perfect gentleman, at least, in action—sometimes he verbally flirted with her. No one could guess that they had shared such an intimate moment. Part of her prayed he did not pursue her, but the other half secretly wanted to know this man. Ella wanted to be free of her past and to leave William Fowler’s memory behind. She had thought she might find satisfaction in travel and in her studies, but now she envisioned the handsome man who called her “Love” and “Darling.” However, with his continued reluctance to approach her again, she began to wonder if she had imagined it. Maybe he was right; they experienced a traumatic moment, and the kiss grew from the joy of escaping death. Such a thought brought a scowl to her face.

  Twice during the week, James found Eleanor in her nightgown, roaming the halls. Both times, he gathered her in his arms and carried her safely to her room. As he was leaving soon, he suggested Eleanor’s maid make her pallet closer to the door, but secretly he took pleasure in holding Ella close to him. He dreamed of making her nightmares disappear, kissing her awake and sating his needs in her body. Never—even with Elizabeth—had he desired a woman so desperately. He did not know how he could watch her be the object of other men’s attentions. If he thought Fowler might approve, and the woman might accept, a proposal hung ready on his lips. He would leave them on the morrow to return to his own town house, a posh dwelling on Pall Mall. His father rarely left the country estate, so James spent most of his time in town.

  “Will we have the pleasure of your company in London, Lord Worthing?” Ella asked over supper, her question interrupting James’s musings.

  He teased, “As Briar House is less than a mile from Worthing Hall, you may need guards to keep me from making a pest of myself, Lady Eleanor.”

  A calmness she had not felt earlier with the knowledge of his leaving slowly crept across her face. She would see Lord Worthing again. Ella possessed no reasonable conjecture as to why that was important, but it was. “No guards,Your Lordship,” she assured him.

  James smiled—a contented sigh escaping before he could stop it. “I promised to claim dances from both you and your cousin, Lady Eleanor, and I am a man of my word.”

  “Where is Eleanor?” Aunt Agatha demanded.

  “Here, Aunt,” Ella swept into the room followed closely by Velvet. They had arrived at Briar House an hour before. Ella felt the situation’s weight, and her dread smothered her. Her brother simply did not understand how hard this was for her. The only benefit, in her estimation, would be seeing James Kerrington again.

  Aunt Agatha, the Dowager Duchess of Northfield, was their mother’s older sister. Both Braton daughters married dukes, but Agatha certainly received the better bargain. Her only problem was that she had had but ten years of happiness. The previous Duke of Norfield lost his battle with a weak heart, leaving his wife a widow at the age of nine and twenty. Now, as she approached her fiftieth birthday, she spent most of her time matchmaking among the ton’s members. Notoriously manipulative, Agatha Braton Norris had the connections and the money to be loved by everyone, including her niece and nephew. “Oh, Eleanor,” she beamed,“I cannot look upon you, my Child, without seeing my dear sister. You look more like her every day.”

 
; “Thank you, Aunt.” Ella bestowed a brief kiss on the Dowager’s cheek. With the comfort of family, Ella allowed herself to breathe easier.

  Velvet followed suit. “How are you, Child?” Agatha captured Velvet’s hand and gave it a brief squeeze.

  “I am well,Your Grace.”Velvet made a quick curtsy. “It is most kind of you to offer your sponsorship for my presentation, Ma’am.”

  “Child, you know I live for such revelry.” Agatha laughed lightly. “Do I not, Brantley?”

  “That you do, my Dear.” Fowler took a chair close to hers, before expelling a ragged breath as he surveyed the room. Ella recognized his uneasiness. She had noted that at Thorn Hall he had limited his residence to the east wing’s rooms and the common rooms below. He had yet to enter those quarters once occupied by their parents. However, at Briar House, he would need to face his demons firsthand. Privately, she relished the idea that their coming to London also affected her brother’s peace of mind; he certainly had caused her numerous moments of anxiety. “I am obliged to you for taking on Ella’s and Velvet’s presentations,” he told their aunt. “What do you plan for my sister and cousin?”

  Out of habit, Eleanor ordered tea, and they joined together before the hearth, but she took no pleasure in hearing of Aunt Agatha’s preparations. “I am pleased, Brantley, that you came to town in time to order Presentation gowns for these two. In another week, the press of people demanding the best modistes will be many. I have fittings set for tomorrow; we will be about most of the day.”

  “Are the Presentation gowns as awful as everyone says?”Velvet could not keep the worry out of her voice. Eleanor listened intently; Velvet gave voice to her own fears about meeting the Queen.

  “They are a bit cumbersome, but young ladies have survived them for years. Do not worry, my Child; I will teach you everything. In fact, we will begin this afternoon. We will borrow a tablecloth from the new housekeeper your brother hired and use it to practice the dress’s train.”

  Ella glanced at Bran. “New housekeeper?” She wondered about her brother’s maneuverings.

  “I brought in Mrs. Smithson and Mr. Horace, as well as a few other key staff members from Cornwall. They may not know London, but they do know what I expect in my household.”

  Ella quickly realized he meant they would protect him; he knew these people. Obviously, someone at Thorn Hall had helped with the attacks. She understood his fear; Ella saw it in Lord Worthing’s face that day. Bran wanted to take control. “Excellent idea,” she observed.

  “Brantley, I hope your pockets are deep,” his aunt uncharacteristically blurted out, and Ella found herself smiling at the serious tone.

  “Why might that be, Your Grace?” They adored their aunt; when they were children, she had never spoken down to them. It was she who explained their mother’s death. They always knew she would speak her mind, and right now, the truth—even if it hurt—was important to hear.

  “Well, I do not wish to be indelicate, but if the gowns Ella and Velvet currently wear are indicative of their wardrobes, they simply will not do. The style is from at least three years ago. As the Duke of Thornhill, you must see to this deficiency.” Agatha was not condescending, just matter-of-fact in her analysis.

  Ella blushed immediately. “I do not remember my last new gown. Neither Velvet nor I have been off the estate for some time.”

  “Nearly five years,”Velvet whispered into the suddenly silent room.

  “Five years?” Agatha gasped. “Whyever so long?”

  “Papa did not wish it.” Despite her best efforts, Ella’s voice came out small and vulnerable.

  Several long seconds passed before Agatha finally let out a deep sigh. “Then we are agreed, Brantley; the ladies need new wardrobes.”

  Ella and Bran exchanged glances, their discomfort obvious. “Whatever you think best, Aunt Agatha.”

  Ella felt the mortification of her aunt’s remark. Who was she fooling? She knew nothing about Society or even how to hold a polite conversation. She had had no friends since the age of thirteen when her father had fondled one of the girls visiting her at Thorn Hall. Her friends had left the house that day, never to return. After that, Eleanor shunned everyone’s company, everyone of her own age. She had had no childhood.

  “New gowns sound heavenly, do they not, Ella?”

  Eleanor heard the words, but she could muster no enthusiasm for the idea. She swallowed hard, trying to recover her composure. “They do, indeed, Velvet. We must trust Aunt Agatha to make our Come Outs first rate.”

  “You will accompany us, Brantley, to the ton’s many outings?” Agatha’s question came out as a command. Ella could do without constant reminders of her upcoming social disaster.

  “As many as my business and my establishing my name in Parliament will allow,” he assured their aunt.

  Agatha bristled just a bit with his exception. “And what shall your wards do if your obligations take you elsewhere?”

  Ella looked on as Bran smiled at Agatha—she was always one to tell her own son his duty—she would not hesitate to take the duke to task. “Lord Worthing offered his arm as needed.”The mention of James Kerrington made Ella’s heart skip a beat.

  “Worthing? Martin Kerrington’s son?” Agatha’s reaction was priceless; she eyed Bran with amusement. “I assume His Lordship is a friend of yours, Brantley?”

  Her brother smirked, “Worthing recently spent a fortnight at Thorn Hall. I believe my sister and my cousin would find Kerrington a suitable escort. I also asked the Marquis of Godown to be a regular member of our party.”

  “Gabriel Crowden?”Their aunt nearly choked on her tea.

  Bran’s smile spread like butter. “Yes, Aunt. Is there a problem?”

  “A problem? No, Brantley—no problem. My niece and our cousin will regularly be escorted by three of the ton’s newest and most eligible bachelors. Definitely, there is no problem. It will only increase Eleanor’s and Velvet’s value as this year’s debutantes.”

  Ella listened to this exchange. How could she attract Lord Worthing, or any other suitor for that matter? She had no social skills, and she wore outdated gowns. Now that her brother’s friend was in fashionable London, he would not look twice at her. She heard herself saying the words, “I am sure His Lordship has other things to do with his time.”

  Her brother teased, “Do not go on so, Ella. I will set a bet at White’s that Worthing calls today at Briar House.”

  She wanted to believe her brother, but a part of Ella always expected the worst. She only half listened as Aunt Agatha planned to have Lord Worthing and the Marquis of Godown show them about town.The Dowager Duchess thought it a social coup to have them seen on the men’s arms. Eleanor thought little of the possibilities. She simply wanted the Season over. The disbelief in her aunt’s voice brought Ella’s attention to the ongoing conversation: one dealing with Bran’s marriage and with Sonali.

  Before their aunt could comment further on her nephew’s choice of a wife, Ella interrupted. “Aunt Agatha, you will love Sonali. She is the most precocious child—so intelligent—and so beautiful.” For some reason, Ella felt a need to protect her brother. He was family, and she always did what was right for family.

  “Of course, I will love her. She is my dear Amelia’s first grandchild.”

  “As you can tell, Aunt, Sonali has stolen Ella’s heart.”

  Undaunted by the new information, Agatha waved a dismissive hand. “Well, it just proves I need to find you an appropriate match as well, Brantley.”

  Bran opened his mouth to protest, but Mr. Horace appeared to announce Worthing’s call, and their friend bowed his entrance into the Briar House drawing room.

  Eleanor was on her feet immediately; she missed him despite the foolishness of the concept and the foolishness of her previous personal chastisement. Bran and Velvet rose too, along with the Dowager Duchess. Ella heard Bran whisper, “I told you so.”

  James bowed to the room, but his eyes remained on Eleanor. His Amazon
was in the same room as he, and his body reacted accordingly. “I came to assure myself you experienced no problems with your journey,Your Grace.”

  Fowler’s voice betrayed a twinge of amusement. “As you can see,Worthing, we are well. Please come in and meet my aunt. I have just assured her you would serve as an escort for my family in my absence, and here you are.”

  “At your service, Your Grace.” He ar istocratically inclined his head.

  Fowler motioned James forward. “James Kerrington, Lord Worthing, may I present my mother’s sister, the Dowager Duchess of Norfield.”

  “Your Grace.” James bowed graciously over the woman’s hand. “Thank you for receiving me. My father asked that if I was fortunate enough to make your acquaintance, Your Ladyship, that I forward his regards.”

  Agatha chuckled. “You are certainly Martin Kerrington’s son. Not only do you resemble the man as he was in his prime, you possess his charm. I will keep my eye on you,Your Lordship.” The regally coiffed woman reminded James of his mother.

  He often heard similar acknowledgments of his father’s vitality as a young man. “I understand you have a long-standing acquaintance with my mother.”

  “Your mother and I spent our first Season together, with your father pursuing her from the beginning.”

  James gave her his best smile. “That does sound like the tales they each share of their courtship, Duchess.”

  “Come join us, my Lord.” Ella gestured to the other half of the settee on which she was sitting and then rang for fresh tea.

  “Thank you, Lady Eleanor.” James’s heart leapt with being close to her again. The past week was hell. He should have waited for his call, but he could not stay away while Eleanor was in residence at Briar House. When he returned to London, he had paid Mary a visit, thinking he simply wanted to satiate his rising need for a woman, but he ended up spending an evening on Mary’s chaise and going home to an empty bed. The moment he saw Eleanor the blood rushed straight from his brain to his groin. Damn! He had lost his bloody mind! He was more in tune to this woman in this drawing room surrounded by her family than he had been to any woman in his life, even Elizabeth, although he did not like to admit that fact. His infatuation with Ella grew so quickly, he was sore to keep it under control.