The Scandal of Lady Eleanor

by Regina Jeffers

  James paused before responding. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Only to those who are looking for love.”

  “What do you require of me, Miss Aldridge?” James resigned himself to aiding her.

  “Help me find someone to make Bran insanely jealous—enough that he will declare himself rather than let me go.”

  James hesitated before answering. “Fowler may have supplied his own undoing. I know just the man. Gabriel Crowden, the new Marquis of Godown. He and Fowler are so competitive—whether it be cards or swords or clothing…”

  “Or women?”

  “I have never known them to compete over a woman, but I imagine it would be so. Surprisingly, they were at university together before joining me in our adventures. Godown is more dangerously introspective than Fowler—do not forget my warning on that point, Miss Aldridge.”

  The woman appeared satisfied with her thoughts. “Would the Marquis help me?”

  “If it meant bedeviling His Grace, I suspect Godown would be willing,” James said guardedly.

  “Would you speak to Godown on my behalf? Seek out his help?” she implored.

  “What do I get from all this?”

  “More time alone with my cousin.” Velvet walked away from him. “You really did not think I became lost this afternoon, did you, my Lord?”

  James self-consciously slid his hand in his pocket, fingering the pebble his son had given him. It was silly, but he carried it everywhere he went. Touching it now made him think of Daniel and of Ella and how they might all be together some day. “No, Miss Aldridge, I suppose I did not.”

  “Then I have your assent, Sir?”

  “Most definitely, Miss Aldridge. Operation Velvet Touch is underway,” he teased.

  Velvet’s smile grew with the thought. “Oooh! I like that, Lord Worthing. Operation Velvet Touch! Perfect!”

  Shortly, Ella appeared at the drawing room door. “My brother sent me, Lord Worthing, to request your joining him in his study.”

  James turned suddenly upon hearing her voice. “I thought to take my leave, but I will see what His Grace needs.” He crossed to where Ella still stood in the open doorway. Impulsively, he paused; mere inches separated them, and their eyes locked on one another.

  Realizing the impropriety of standing so close, where everyone could see, James pushed off to step past her, but then the lightest touch held him in his place. A glance down showed him the source. Ella’s hands remained at her side, but, intuitively, her index finger reached out to him—extended, it seductively stroked the back of his hand. No one could see the gesture, but James felt his breath catch in his chest.

  “Would you be able to join us for supper, Lord Worthing?” When she licked her lips to add moisture, James swallowed his moan. “It will be a simple fare…only the family…even Sonali.”

  James’s vision rested on her mouth and the way her tongue glided across the seam of her lips and imagined being able to taste her whenever he wanted.“It would be my pleasure, Lady Eleanor.Thank you for including me.” Despite not wishing to do so, he stepped away, moving through the hall toward where her brother waited.

  Ella glanced over her shoulder to watch him go before turning to her cousin. “Aunt Agatha wishes us to meet her in her sitting room.”

  Velvet moved at last, catching up with Ella as they climbed the stairs. “That was some display of flirting,” Velvet sniggered. “How did you learn to do that?”

  “Do what?” Ella asked, confused.

  Velvet whispered, protecting their words from servants’ ears. “Hold a man’s interest so intently.”

  Ella responded with surprise, “Did I do that?”

  “As well as any woman would ever do.” Her cousin squeezed Ella’s hand. “I need to start taking notes.”

  “It was great fun. I did not plan it.” Ella smiled all at once. “Lord Worthing makes me feel different—as if I could be pretty.”

  “You are pretty,”Velvet insisted.

  Ella shook her head. “I am a duke’s daughter; that is my appeal…what I have to give a suitor, but with, His Lordship, I feel he sees me, not my father, or Bran, or the dukedom. Is that bizarre?” She reveled in the intimacy she just shared with Lord Worthing, although the desire—the sensations it caused frightened her.

  “That, dear Cousin, is love.”

  “So, Shepherd believes Shaheed Mir seeks revenge for our foray all those years ago?”Worthing sipped on a brandy.

  “Until of late, we kept our identities to a minimum recognition level. Now, each of us claims our place in British Society.”

  Worthing had to ask. “What does your family know of Ashmita?”

  “Not the truth, if that is what you ask.” Fowler shifted uncomfortably.

  James paused for a long time. “And Shepherd’s contacts found out what exactly?”

  “Mir claims one of us walked out of that confrontation with an emerald the size of a man’s fist. The Baloch wants it back.”

  “An emerald?” James mused. “Who had time to look for an emerald?”

  Fowler steepled his fingers before him, tapping them to his lips. “I cannot see any one of our men taking something of that value without the rest of us knowing.”

  “I assume, as you confide in me, you do not suspect I am culpable?”

  “As we fought back to back through much of the hostilities, I cannot imagine your having the opportunity to rummage through Mir’s tents; but even if that were not true, I would never suspect you of such thievery.”

  “Then what do we do next? I cringe with the knowledge that our families are in danger.”

  His friend became businesslike. “Obviously, we need to inform the others, although Shepherd feels we should not mention the emerald. If one of us has it, that person would know the Realm would not look on it in a positive manner. We need to find out if anyone else suffered attacks such as what I experienced.” James simply nodded, digesting what Fowler had just said. Engrossed in those thoughts, James did not anticipate the shift in the duke’s line of thinking. “Now, Worthing, do you want to tell me what you know of my sister’s sleepwalking episodes?”

  James looked about uncomfortably. “I suppose the proper thing would be to respond in the negative, denying any knowledge of what you speak.”

  “But you will not offer me such prevarications.”

  “I will not.” James experienced anxiety’s twinge under Fowler’s close inspection. “I…I came upon Lady Eleanor my first night at Thorn Hall. I…I said nothing because I chose not to embarrass the lady. On two other occasions, when I found her wandering alone, I returned Lady Eleanor to her room.” Fowler waited in silence to see what else James might divulge, but James knew the technique—used it himself on more than one occasion. “When did you discover your sister’s meanderings?”

  “Actually, I have not encountered them firsthand. Eleanor’s maid sought me out before we left Thorn Hall. As my sister’s sleepwalking incidents increased and as no one here was aware of them, Hannah thought I should know. She let slip your involvement. I am not sure, Worthing, that I appreciate your intimacy with Ella.”

  “I assure you,Your Grace, that any interest I have in Lady Eleanor is purely honorable.”

  “Really?” Fowler sat forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desktop. “You affect Eleanor?”

  James swallowed hard. Fowler was five years his junior, and he did not enjoy being on this side of the “desk”—questioned by Ella’s brother. “If I thought Lady Eleanor would accept my plight, I would make my feelings known immediately. As it is, I plan to be somewhat of a nuisance during the Season and pray Lady Eleanor chooses me by the end. So, Fowler, you should prepare your objections if you have any; otherwise, I will expect your permission when the time comes.”

  His friend simply smiled at him. “I wish you success,Worthing.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” James started to stand and then thought better of it. “Bran…” he paused again, “find out what happened to
Lady Eleanor while you were away. Something is driving your sister from her bed.”

  Fowler’s head snapped up in attention. “Do you know something else about Ella you are not sharing?”

  “I cannot say for sure, but it seems odd to me that your sister’s somnambulant sessions stopped with your father’s passing and began again when you announced this upcoming Season. Remember her words when you told Lady Eleanor your plans.Your sister expects censure because of your father. There must be a connection.” James finally stood, not wishing to add his personal assumptions to the conversation.

  Fowler let out a long sigh before following James to his feet. “You give me much to consider,Worthing.”

  “I want Lady Eleanor free of her demons, and I will do what is necessary to protect her from her past, and, if required, from you.”

  “Is that a threat, Worthing?”

  James’s pretense at nonchalance dissolved immediately. “It is a guarantee, Thornhill.”

  Because Fowler had an appointment with Shepherd, he left “his” ladies on Bond Street, ordering ball gowns, morning and day dresses, intimates, hats, gloves, pelisses, ball slippers, half boots, and everything else needed for a successful Season. By silent assent the women had decided to begin the Season in colors of half-mourning, not wishing to seem callous over William Fowler’s passing. In reality, they should wear black, but no debutante would appear in black for the Season. Again, under Bran’s orders, they would tell everyone the late duke’s long illness served as the mourning period.

  Fittings for Presentation gowns took up much of the morning. Queen Charlotte expected young ladies to take a step back in time—unfortunately, they stepped back while wearing hooped skirts. “I think this might be the place to show respect for your late father by having the Presentation gown made in black,” Agatha conjectured.

  “Black?” Eleanor and Velvet exclaimed in unison.

  “Queen Charlotte is a stickler for decorum.Your father passed but three months ago, Eleanor. If he was a simple nobleman, we might consider ignoring the Queen’s edicts without engendering censure; but as a duke is directly below a prince in peerage, I would not wish to upset Her Highness. Black should be the color.”

  Ella looked at Velvet, trying to judge her cousin’s thoughts. “We bow to your opinion, Aunt Agatha.”

  However, she heard Velvet murmur, “So much for using my Presentation dress for my wedding.”

  James waited patiently beside his carriage for the ladies’ appearances. After sending his own carriage home, carting boxes and boxes of new items, Fowler called on Shepherd for the latest on the investigation, but Fowler’s footmen still stored many more purchases in James’s coach. He had brought his mount, intending on riding beside the coach where he might observe those whom they passed along the way.Yesterday, at the Royal Academy, he had noted a swarthy-looking man closely following them. He did not tell Fowler what he marked as unusual, but today James searched the crowd milling along the busy street.

  Beside him, Gabriel Crowden lounged leisurely against a support beam of the nearest shop. The marquis had arrived in London late the previous evening, but had called on Worthing early enough for a morning ride along Rotten Row and through Hyde Park. Amused with his captain’s constantly shifting eyes, Crowden smirked when those same eyes met his.

  “What?” James seemed irritated.

  Crowden pushed off from the building. “I just wondered what it was about Fowler’s family that has you on alert.”

  “I will let His Grace explain it to you when he sees you later.” Finally, James’s gaze found her—his Amazon, moving gracefully along the street. Ella and Miss Aldridge closely followed the indomitable Dowager Duchess. When they were near, he advanced and took the elder woman’s arm on his.

  “You are a sight for these old eyes, Lord Worthing,” the duchess exclaimed. “I forgot how tiring spending money can be.”

  James chuckled with her frankness. “I am happy to be of service, Your Grace.” He led her to the waiting carriage.

  Crowden stepped forward to do his duty and bowed nicely to the women. “Your Grace, may I present my acquaintance, the Marquis of Godown. Crowden, this beautiful lady is the Dowager Duchess of Norfield.” The marquis bowed again; then James turned to the woman who consumed his every thought. “I wish you also to make the acquaintance of Lady Eleanor Fowler and Miss Velvet Aldridge.”

  “Fowler spoke so fondly of you both; you will excuse me if I claim a prior acquaintance.”

  “It is always pleasant to greet one of my brother’s dear friends.” Ella smiled at Crowden, but the flicker of excitement belonged to him, and James drew in a sharp breath of desire.

  His duty carried him forward, as he reached to steady the Duchess’s entrance to his carriage. “Let us see you ladies home,” he said as he braced Velvet on the step. In reality, Eleanor should precede her cousin by rank, but he knew Ella would not object, and he might hold her hand those few extra seconds if she went last. “You look beautiful today, Lady Eleanor,” he murmured close to her hair as he handed her into his carriage, a place he would wish her to readily accept.

  With the ladies settled, he and Crowden mounted and followed behind his town carriage. James continued to survey the streets, but he saw nothing out of place. Crowden moved close enough to speak. “So, that is Fowler’s Miss Aldridge. She is everything he described.”

  “I suppose she is.” James’s thoughts lay on another in the carriage.

  “Does Fowler still hold her in high regard?”

  James glanced at his friend. “Fowler is funding his cousin’s Come Out, but I believe he secretly hopes she will not find another. It is all tied up somehow in Fowler’s perverted sense of honor…all that situation with Ashmita and her child.”

  “Then I should look elsewhere?”

  “If I tell you something, will you keep Miss Aldridge’s secret?”

  Crowden edged closer again. “Is it something I will enjoy knowing?”

  James tugged the reins to keep his horse in line. “Miss Aldridge looks for someone to make His Grace jealous enough to declare himself.”

  “She does, does she?”A smile crept across Crowden’s face. “Tormenting Fowler was always one of my favorite pastimes.”

  “So I explained to the lady.” James said nothing more. If Crowden wished to become involved in the craziness of Fowler’s life, then he was free to do so.

  “How is Mary?” Crowden asked suddenly.

  James flinched. His thoughts rarely fell on his mistress these days. “I have seen her but once in nearly a month, and even then…” He did not finish his thoughts.

  “Ah, like Fowler, you have the sweet love fever, I see.” Crowden never let his smile fade.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Crowden’s horse sidestepped a sweeper before he could answer. “When a man employs a mistress but never employs that said mistress, a woman of the upper class is at fault. As you spent the last few weeks with Fowler’s family, I conjecture it to be the lovely Lady Eleanor.”

  Irritated that his attentions were so obvious, James ignored Crowden’s last remark and edged his horse forward where he might see Eleanor as she sat in his carriage. The previous evening, they had spent time together on the pianoforte bench—shoulders touching—arms brushing against one another. Now, he needed to look upon her again.

  “You and Lord Godown will join us for tea, will you not, Lord Worthing?” Ella asked through the open window when James came close.

  “I believe I have told you, Lady Eleanor, that unless you employ hired guards to protect Briar House, then I shall be a nuisance.”

  Ella traced his form. She could not but feel a rush of desire, seeing Lord Worthing as he sat a horse. He was very masculine, and she knew it—her body recognized his. “Still no guards, Lord Worthing,” she teased. When he smiled at her; Ella found anticipation skimming her nerves. The blatant provocation scattered her thoughts and weakened her knees. He dared her to live again. “Never to yo
u.”

  Returning to Briar House, James was sore to leave Eleanor so he encouraged Godown to entertain the three ladies, and even Sonali, with tales of their unusual adventures. Laughter emanated throughout the room. “I swear,” Godown gestured with fingers barely apart, “they are no larger than this.”

  “But they are snails!” Eleanor wiped at her eyes, laughing joyously, making her more beautiful in James’s estimation.

  “Oh, yes, escargot are truly snails,” he assured her.

  Godown, standing before the mantel at center stage, pulled himself up to his full height. “Be exact, Worthing,” he warned goodhumoredly. “Not every snail is used. Only the petit-gris or the Helix pomatia make good escargot. Did you know, Miss Aldridge, they actually have snail farms in France?”

  “You tease me, Lord Godown? Maybe we should speak to Brantley, Ella, about converting some of the cottagers to snail farming. After all, if a Frenchman can do it, an Englishman must be able to do it better.”

  From the doorway behind them, Fowler joined the conversation. “The British farmer prefers his crops above ground,” he observed as he strode forward to join the group. He extended his hand to the marquis but did not interrupt the flow. Instead, he lifted Sonali and took the seat she occupied, placing the child on his lap.

  “Between the escargot and the roe, we were quite surprised, even those of us who had made a Grand Tour and thought we knew everything,” James added.

  The Dowager Duchess turned to him.“Roe?You mean venison?”

  “Roe in French cuisine are fish eggs, usually in a salty sauce,” Fowler informed them.

  “What else?”Velvet demanded, focusing all her attention on the marquis, a fact of which Fowler quickly took notice. James watched a scowl cross the duke’s face.

  Godown did not hesitate in his response. “The Persian food surprised me; I expected something spicy, along the lines of what I found in India, but it was different…more herbs than spices: saffron, cinnamon, and diced limes. His Grace was quite fond of sesanjan, were you not?”