“Shepherd believes he has a lead on the coach.” Fowler handed over the hot wax after James wrote the directions on the outside. “Other witnesses saw a coach. It bore a crest, but the street hawker who first took note of it could not identify it. The coach nearly ran him down in its flight to escape you. With what you shared, I suspect the coach the hawker observed belonged to the fake Frenchie, rather than the Baloch.” James used his signet ring to seal the missive. Fowler rang for a footman to send the message on its way. “I had another reason to speak to you,Worthing.”
Leaning back into the chair, James eyed Fowler suspiciously. “I am all ears,Your Grace.”
“I spoke to my sister after her morning callers departed.”
James shifted uncomfortably. “Were there many?”
“It was a packed house between those who wished to see Eleanor, those to see Velvet, and those who would take either. It made me wish to clean my gun before them,” he mused. Fowler swirled the brandy he sipped. “I find I drink more often than I once did. It dulls my response to my cousin’s presence. Tell me, Worthing, how do I let her go if Velvet chooses another?”
“I assume that is a rhetorical question, and you seek no response from me.”
Fowler handed the footman the letter before returning to their conversation. “I noticed you not among Eleanor’s admirers,” he half mocked.
“As you must subjugate your desire to make Miss Aldridge your own, I find I am not so magnanimous regarding those who would place a claim on your sister. I am not of the persuasion to share Lady Eleanor’s attentions with a room full of would-be lovers.” James sighed deeply, accepting his fate.
“You will be happy to know, Worthing, that my sister prefers you to all the others.”
James sat forward, hands on the edge of the desk. This mad obsession with Ella consumed him. “Do not tease me, Fowler; I am not a schoolgirl seeking news of my latest infatuation. If you wish to speak to me of Lady Eleanor, then do so directly and truthfully.”
“I have told Ella,” Fowler smiled, the corners of his mouth turned up mockingly, “I would entertain a petition for her hand before the Season’s end if she found someone to her liking. I suggested some time—perhaps a fortnight, shall we say—after her official Come Out ball. It would be unseemly to do so before that event. Aunt Agatha would be most livid.”
“Do you speak the truth, Fowler?”
“Make her happy, Kerrington.Teach Ella to love. I wish never to see her begging for my father’s attentions again. My sister received ill treatment of the worst form, and I cannot bear to think she might spend the rest of her days without knowing love.” Fowler leveled a stare on Kerrington. “Tell me you really love Eleanor, and I will fight the heavens and the earth to bring you together.”
James did not flinch. “I love Lady Eleanor with every inch of my heart.You will not believe this, but when I am with Ella, I do not think of Elizabeth—never has that happened.”
“Then you have a month to convince Ella to be your wife.After that, any exclusivity I have allowed you as my friend will no longer exist,” Fowler warned.
“I understand,Your Grace.” James stood to make his leave.
Fowler gestured to stay him. “One thing more, Worthing; get rid of Mary. If Eleanor finds you have a mistress, it will kill her. I will not see her hurt ever again. If you choose to make Ella your wife, you must do so with the understanding you find pleasure only in her arms. If I hear of your doing something contrary to that, you and I will meet on a dueling field, and I would dislike losing you as a brother.”
“I have seen Mary but once since the day your sister stumbled into my arms at Thorn Hall, and even then I left to spend my evening alone. I think of no one but Eleanor. I give you my word on it. If Eleanor is mine, I will release Mary to another protector.” James finished his speech and strode from the room. Although he knew he could not keep Mary if he engaged Lady Eleanor, he certainly did not relish the idea of his friend issuing such orders.
From behind him, Eleanor’s voice stopped him flat. “My Lord,” she began. Without thinking, she touched his shoulder lightly. “James.” Her hand caressed his arm. “May I help?”
CHAPTER 6
WHEN HE LEFT THE ROOM, James nearly went straight to his curricle and freedom, but then her voice came to rescue the depths of his soul. Her hand stroked the line along his shoulder and down his arm, and James’s anger dissipated instantly. May I help? she said. Did she not realize that she just did?
“I am well, Lady Eleanor.” He turned to give her the perfect smile. “I was simply anxious to find you; I had finished my business with your brother.Would you be ready for our outing?”
“I would, my Lord.”
“Then let us be about it.” He took Ella on his arm and led her to his vehicle. “I have waited for this moment all day, Lady Eleanor—the moment when you returned to my side.”
For the next week, their lives became the Season’s routine. Each evening comprised a number of invitations, and they chose among the ones the Duchess deemed most worthy: dinners, soirees, musicales, balls, and the theatre. For the ladies, the days filled with entertaining callers, shopping, and attending at-homes. The men attended to Parliamentary duties, fencing or boxing, and afternoons at White’s.
James arranged an outing with Ella every day. Recognizing Eleanor’s need for intellectual activities, they spent a great deal of time at lectures and museums. He combed the papers daily for entertainment he thought she might enjoy.
Much to Ella’s chagrin, Sir Louis became a regular among her callers, often bullying others into withdrawing or monopolizing her attentions with his constant references to her father and to his parents. He made no pretense of also desiring Velvet; the baronet spent his time in the Briar House drawing room and then withdrew to his personal business interests. Every time he called, Ella died a new death. Only James Kerrington gave her any hope for the future.
On one particular afternoon, James and Eleanor enjoyed exploring the antiquities at the Historical Society—relics from ancient civilizations—gold and silver and gems glistening in the lights. “Can you imagine of what their lives must have consisted?” They dwelt over a display of artifacts from Egypt.
“Your brother and I spent nearly a year in Persia. The civilizations are similar.” James stood as close to her as possible, where he might enjoy the heat of Ella’s body along his.
Ella leaned over the glass case for a better look at a golden torque. “I would love to travel and see the world some day.”
“Let me take you, Ella. Let me show you the world,” he murmured close to her ear.
She turned her face to him. The pure intensity of her gaze mesmerized him—in it he saw the hurt and the loneliness he recognized from his own soul, but James also saw the passion and the zest for life resting under the surface. He had served with her brother in what one could only call the most harrowing situations, and he had survived. He had survived for this moment with Ella. He and Eleanor both needed saving. They would fill the gaping holes in each other’s souls. “Can we have this, James? Can there be happiness out there? I am afraid—afraid to hope such a connection can exist—afraid if it does, someone will snatch it away.”
He laced their fingers as they rested them on the glass, unable to do more in such a public setting. “I have told you, Ella, I want to see you in my house, by my side, and in my bed. I want to be the one who gives you comfort—who brings you joy, but it will never be perfect, Eleanor. Outside forces will interfere always. We can only find that peace we both seek in each other.” He brought the back of her hand to his lips. “I will protect you with my body and with my title.”
Something in his tone induced her feminine embarrassment. “I am sure that if you knew everything about me, you would not think so highly of me.” Eleanor turned her head, purposely refusing to look at him. All of her self-doubts rushed to the forefront. Her countenance said, “I am undeserving of anyone’s devotion.”
James drape
d her hand over his arm and walked slowly to the next display. He needed a moment to consider what he should say. Eleanor held no idea of his suspicions about her life. Should he tell her? “Eleanor,” he began cautiously, “I will tell you what I know about you.You possess a quick wit and a strong intelligence, a delightful sense of humor, a loving heart, and a compassionate personality. You would make an excellent mistress for my estate; I have seen how you run a household. I have also observed your interactions with Sonali, and although I do not expect you to love Daniel as your own, I cannot imagine your ever being purposely cruel to Elizabeth’s child. My son could learn much from you about empathy, respect, and responsibility.”
James paused to maneuver her to a nearby bench. Eleanor continued her pretended examination of the display, and he knew he was on a precipice with their relationship. What he said in the next few minutes would make pathways or close recently opened doors. He distractedly ran his fingers through his hair. “Ella, I want to tell you about my first night at Thorn Hall, where I came across a scantily clad beautiful wood sprite on the main staircase.” Her head snapped around to look at him, pure horror implanted upon her face. She started to speak, but James silenced her with a touch of his finger to her mouth. “Let me finish, please.” He saw her swallow her dread, and he prayed he was correct in his evaluation of her.
“I held this riddle in my arms and tried to offer comfort while my beauty cried softly against my shoulder, and then I carried this wood sprite to her bed. This apparition came to me on three other occasions during my stay at Thorn Hall, and each time I held her close, my heart opened to the pain she had suffered, and I wanted to protect her from such anguish. True—I do not know exactly what my wood sprite suffered at the hands of a despicable, foul overlord, but it did not destroy her, and like the phoenix, she rose to be my life’s light.Without her, only darkness looms on the horizon, and now that I have seen the light, I can no longer live in the darkness; for the light is love and truth. Some day I may be worthy of holding the light in my arms.”
Tears coursed down Ella’s cheeks, and she forced the sobs down deep within her chest. “You know some of my secrets and still want me in your life?” she whispered hoarsely. His words stunned her senses. “You knew about my nighttime ramblings, but you still kissed me?” Disbelief played across her face.
“Actually, I have kissed you several times since then, and I would gladly do it again if you need reassurance,” he teased.
“James, I cannot fathom how you entered my life.”
Ella seemed pleased with his earlier responses, and he allowed himself a sigh of relief. “Actually, Lady Eleanor, you stumbled into my arms. Fate has a wicked sense of humor, does she not?”
“She does, Lord Worthing; yet, I am blessed she has showed me such favor.”
It was the closest to a declaration of affection he had ever received from Eleanor Fowler, and James beamed with happiness. “I have a strong desire for a cream ice. May I interest you in a side trip to Berkeley Square, Lady Eleanor?”
“Decadence, my Lord?” she taunted.
“The way to a man’s heart, my Lady.” He meant it as a tease, but Ella contracted when he touched her arm. Instantly, James regretted his words. “Eleanor, it was a jest,” he whispered to her hair. “Nothing more than a jest.You must believe me.”
“It is fine, my Lord Worthing. Just a taste of reality—it is sometimes a bitter pill to swallow.”
“But you do trust me?”
“With my life, my Lord.”
Two days before her Come Out ball, Ella joined James Kerrington, along with the rest of the Fowlers, at the theatre, her brother making use of his private box. Although they spent time together every day, the ton only suspected the viscount’s preference for Thornhill’s sister, having seen them in each other’s company only upon occasion, for they were generally in the company of her brother and her aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Norfield. Occasionally, someone made a comment regarding their public embrace after Ella’s horse tried to throw her, but they all explained it away as being true concern for dear friends. As they became better known to the gossips, they both took more care to assure their privacy. However, on this night things changed. Ella entered the theatre on James’s arm. In a fortnight, he would declare his intentions publicly, and then they could make plans for a marriage. Having Eleanor by his side gave him contentment—his life finally coming together after so many years of loneliness.
“It is a beautiful building; just look at the architecture,” she spoke softly to James alone.
“Only you, Ella, would come to the theatre for one of Shakespeare’s finest and comment on the building itself.”
“Do not tease me, Lord Worthing.You know my nature.”
“Indeed, I do, Lady Eleanor.” They shared a moment of intimacy before turning to the crowd.
Climbing the stairs behind Fowler and the Dowager Duchess, James had never experienced such pride as he did at that moment. Then, his world tilted, for at the top of the steps, a figure appeared, and he felt himself stiffen: Mary Cavendish stood on the upper level, clinging to a gentleman of some fifty years or so. She blushed and took a step back from the railing when their eyes met. James suffered a twinge of guilt, seeing the fear in her eyes—she thought him upset—after all, he still paid her bills—technically, Mary was his mistress, although he had called upon her but once in two months.
Having Fowler and Godown as part of the group complicated the situation. None of them could acknowledge Mary in public, especially with fine ladies on their arms, but James could tell she wished to offer an explanation as to whom her escort might be. Yet, Mary would not risk his wrath; she knew her place in his life.
Ella felt the change in the tension in James’s arm, in his bearing as they climbed the stairs. He hid it well, but something he had seen affected his mood. Her eyes began to search the crowd gathered on the upper landing. She half expected to see Sir Louis; such was the way Lord Worthing reacted to the baronet’s frequent intrusions, but Levering was not in the throng making its way to the seating.
Nearly at the top, Ella caught the slightest tilt of her brother’s head as he passed a rather buxom lady and an elderly gentleman on their right. They exchanged no words, but recognition was obvious. Who was the woman? It was not the man to whom Brantley inclined his head; the gentleman looked off to the side. It was the woman. Her eyebrow raised in amusement as Bran walked past, and then it was her turn. She and James came abreast of the couple, and Lord Worthing purposely turned his gaze away and increased their pace. Ella had never seen him give anyone a direct cut, and she could not help but to glance over her shoulder at the woman who dropped a quick curtsy to Gabriel’s simple nod of acknowledgement.
All at once, she felt sick—her stomach began to turn. Her brother and Lord Godown at least recognized the woman’s presence, but James did not. That meant that all three of them held an acquaintance with her, but Ella feared that only Lord Worthing knew the woman intimately. She thought she might swoon. Instinctively, James steadied her steps with his weight, but he did not look at her. His mouth remained set in a tight line; his thoughts were not on her, and Ella knew it.
They entered her brother’s box, and Worthing intentionally allowed the Marquis and Velvet to join Bran and Aunt Agatha on the front row. Normally, Ella would have enjoyed the privacy of the second row, thinking it romantic to be separated from their party, but not tonight. Tonight she wanted answers. Her eyes searched the crowd. The gentleman from before seemed well to do, but not fashionable, so although she realized it seemed snobbish, she did not search the plusher boxes for the couple. Instead, her eyes scanned the boxes and alcoves at the stage level until she found them in one of the two-chair box seats on the side incline of the pit area.
The gentleman seated the lady and then moved in close where he might hold her hand. Ella watched the woman smile at the man, but, predictably, her eyes came to where James sat. Ella noted how Lord Worthing stared intently at the empty s
tage as if expecting it to perform some sort of conjuring trick.
Needing to know and needing to know now, Ella caught his hand resting in his lap, oblivious to the fact the lights had not yet dimmed for the performance. He turned his head to look at her and tried to smile, but it came strained at best. Leaning toward him, she whispered in his ear, “Would you care to tell me who the woman at whom you are trying not to look might be, Lord Worthing?”
He looked deep in her eyes, obviously searching for an answer. “What woman?”
Tears sprang instantly to Ella’s eyes. He had lied to her. “Excuse me,” she said loud enough for the others. “I will step to the ladies’ retiring room before the play begins.”
“Shall I go with you?”Velvet offered.
Ella shook her head in the negative before springing to her feet. As she reached the draped opening, she turned to the left, needing to be away from him. Lord Worthing had looked in her eyes and lied to her. If he lied about the woman, where were the other lies?
She was nearly ready to break into a run when he caught her arm, pulling Ella off balance and back into his side. “Do not run,” he hissed under his breath. “We will settle this. Ba man bia. Come with me.” Opening the door to a closet containing brooms and mops and buckets, he pulled Ella in and blocked the door with his shoulder.
“Leave me alone!” Ella pushed against him trying to escape the semi-darkened space.
James set her away from him, as gently as possible. “Not until you listen to what I have to say.”
“Why? So you can lie to me again? Are you going to try to pretend you did not just lie to me? How could you?”Tears flowed, but Ella never backed down.
“Eleanor, please.” Panic constricted his breathing.
“Did you or did you not just purposely tell me an untruth?” She threw up her hands in disgust.
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