“Then you will not reconsider—will not simply accept my buying your cooperation?” She seemed resigned to what he purported.
“By the week’s end, I will present myself to Thornhill. The announcements will appear in the Times, and the banns will be called. I expect you to convince your brother of your heart’s change.” He reined in the team before Briar House. “Now, offer me a smile as I hand you down. Your cousin watches from the window, and I would have her see your growing affection for me.” Levering hopped down and extended his hand for her support. As he instructed, Ella smiled at him before dropping her eyes. Levering kissed her knuckles and then escorted her to her door. Raising the knocker, he murmured close to her ear, “We will attend the theatre tomorrow evening—alone.” The door opened, and Ella slipped in, thankful for not having to respond verbally to his demands.
James Kerrington sat at his desk at Linton Park. His father still teetered on the brink; his health could go one way or the other.Yet, as much as he worried about his parents, his thoughts dwelled on one person: Eleanor Fowler. What was she doing? Did she miss him as much as he missed her? Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face—her neck’s sleek line, the glow in her eyes when she looked at him, the smell of lavender she left on his clothes, and the feel of her lips under his mouth’s press. It had been three days since he had seen her, and James ached with a need he could not explain. “I love you, Eleanor.” He heard the words ringing in his head.
He had written her again today. It was an act of impropriety; they were not engaged, but he could not resist. Eleanor instantly had become his life’s light, the all-sustaining air he breathed. He hoped she would break the rules and answer his messages. He needed for Ella to understand his absolute devotion to her and his dreams of their future. Sealing the letter with blue wax, he sent it on its way. Soon, he would return to London and claim her as his own—his Amazon.
Every day, his letters came as regularly as clockwork. Her Aunt Agatha buried her objections, obviously hoping Lord Worthing’s words might save her niece, but Ella maintained her feigned “devotion” to the pretentious Louis Levering. She did not like deceiving her family. She too had counted the days to His Lordship’s declaration, but not for the same reasons. The Dowager Duchess saw the advantages of temperament and status. Worthing would soon be an earl, an appropriate connection for a duke’s daughter. However, Ella desired James Kerrington because he taught her love—accepted her past mistakes as childhood gullibility. And what could Levering offer her? An unacceptable diminished status. A questionable title drenched in debt. Rumors of impropriety nearly as corrupt as that of the late William Fowler.
“Another letter from Lord Worthing?” Her aunt watched as Ella slipped the missive into her pocket. They sat in the morning room, enjoying a late breakfast. “Does His Lordship speak of his father’s health?”
“I would not know. I have read none of them.” Ella busied herself by spreading jam on her toast—anything to keep the focus off her words.
Aunt Agatha put down the newssheet she surveyed for the latest gossip. “I am not an advocate of His Lordship’s bending the rules of etiquette by writing to you directly, but it seems that if you choose not to read them, you should return the letters to Kerrington. Accepting them indicates that you also accept his attentions, my Dear.”
“I suppose you are correct, Aunt.” It was all Ella would say on the matter. She should send the letters back if she was to accept Sir Louis’s proposal, but Ella kept them for selfish reasons. She would spend a lifetime with Levering, and James’s letters would be her salvation. She would cherish them and keep them safe and remember when someone actually loved her. Otherwise, she would spend her whole life unloved. Therefore, each day she locked them in a box of mementos—things cherished from her childhood and from happier times.
“You wished to speak to me, Bran?” Eleanor knew why he had summoned her to his study; she had seen Levering make his call earlier. She stared at her hands and frowned.
Bran rose to meet her. “Come in, Ella.” He led her to the chairs before the hearth—more personal than the desk chairs. “I wish to consult with you on a matter of importance.”
Stalling, she straightened her dress’s seams. “I suppose I know of what you speak.” She did not look at him directly; Ella always had trouble lying to her brother and purposely avoided the eye contact.
“Sir Louis called earlier. He tells me he has made you an offer of marriage, and you have accepted. Is that correct, Ella? You accepted Louis Levering?”
“I have, Bran. It is acceptable to me in every way.” Since the baronet made his demands, she had spent the past week generating excuses for her acquiescence. “Louis is agreeable, and he expresses a growing affection. I believe he and I will get along well together. However, the main reason I seriously considered the baronet’s plight is that Huntingborne Abbey is our nearest neighbor to Thorn Hall. I might see you regularly—daily if I like. Our children will grow up together. We were separated for so long, Bran; I cannot bear it again, and if you and Velvet resolve your differences, we might all go on as before.”
Bran’s suspicious look did not go unnoticed. “What of Lord Worthing?”
“His Lordship is nearly ten years my senior. We have so little in common; I was unaware of the discrepancy until I became more acquainted with Sir Louis.The baronet and I have had many similar experiences.” Ella thought it best to speak the truth—although not the whole truth.
“You have explained this to Lord Worthing? He has expectations.”
“I never promised anything to the Viscount. Even now, I refuse to answer his letters. I do not wish to give him false hope.” Ella fought her emotional allegiance to Lord Worthing. For weeks, she had thought only of him. Now, she thought only of herself—of her survival.
Other than the span between their social ranks, Ella knew that Bran had no legitimate reason to deny the baronet’s request, but she realized he would not honestly give her his blessing. However, to convince him she would remind her brother of his promise to allow her to marry whom she chose. Ella saw him bite back his objection. “It was my wish, Ella, for you to enjoy a Season. Your devotion to Thorn Hall denied you that experience. It was not my desire for you to give yourself to another. Like you, I do not want us to part so soon after our reunion. May I suggest a compromise? Your relationship with the baronet seems a bit impetuous. I would prefer you wait until the end of the Season to announce your engagement. It will give us all time to become familiar with Levering and to welcome him into our family.”
Fear coursed through her. How would she silence the rumors for so long? “I am sure Sir Louis will insist on a speedier course of events. He would like the announcement next week and the banns called immediately afterwards.” Ella wondered how Levering would react to Bran’s stipulations. She knew he would not be happy; Sir Louis would see it as another snub.
Bran smiled his assurance. “Eleanor, you are the daughter of a duke and the sister of a duke; your wedding will not take place in some out-of-the-way chapel.You will be married, at a minimum, at St. George; your family will want to plan a magnificent wedding. One cannot do that in a matter of weeks. You know what Aunt Agatha will do if we try to spurn our responsibilities. Having you gloried in the best light is the Dowager Duchess’s motivation for coming to town this Season.”
Ella looked away nervously.“I have never desired such opulence.”
Her brother ignored her objection. “It is your birthright, Ella. I will not have you denied your place in Society.”
“Sir Louis will insist on, at least, an understanding, a pre-nuptial agreement, being apparent between us.”
Bran stood to end the conversation. “I will speak to Levering personally and explain what it means to marry into the dukedom. The connections will benefit him; therefore, the baronet will accept what I say as the final conditions to your union. He is a sensible man and will agree once I explain things to him.”
Ella prayed that Bran w
as correct; she could not imagine Levering to be so benevolent. With his plans ruined, she would likely pay the price.
If Ella had considered her brother’s nature, she would have realized that Bran plotted against her hasty decision; but Ella was too consumed with the misery of her own life to understand that the man who would rescue complete strangers in trouble would call upon all his resources to save his only sister from making the worst mistake of her young life.
“You have convinced the baronet to wait?” Crowden asked as he sipped a brandy, casually extending his leg across a hammock.
Fowler snarled his dislike of the subject. “Levering is most anxious to finalize his marriage. Considering he asked three times the conditions of Eleanor’s dowry, I suspect he is spending her settlement before the nuptials are read.”
“Has Lady Eleanor told Kerrington of her change of heart?” Crowden looked worried. Everyone associated with the Fowlers had recognized Worthing’s obvious love for Eleanor. They all hated to see his heart crushed again.
“She has not.” Bran absentmindedly ran his finger around the glass’s rim. “I take it upon myself to inform him. I will not have Worthing return to London expecting Eleanor to receive him nor will I have him hear it secondhand.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Find out everything you can about Levering. Leave no stone unturned. I want to know when he gets up in the morning and when he goes to bed at night and everything in between. What attracts my sister to the man? Everything I know of Ella says she should feel revulsion, not affection. Something in my gut says Levering is not what he appears. I demanded a delay to make this right for Ella.”
The Marquis finished off his drink. “I will see to it immediately. Possibly, we need to bring in someone the baronet does not know.”
“John Swenton or Aidan Kimbolt?”
“I was thinking both. Kimbolt can weasel his way into anyone’s company, and Swenton knows every gaming hell in London. If Levering has debts, John will discover who holds the baronet’s blunt.”
Bran made himself some notes. “You will take care to bring them up to date?”
“Absolutely, Your Grace.” Crowden eased from the chair. “Will you escort Mrs. Warren this evening?”
“I must marry eventually and set up my nursery. I am just looking at the possibilities.”
His friend nodded his understanding, but Crowden made his own suggestion. “Look at all the possibilities, Your Grace. It is an important decision for any man.”
James hesitantly opened the letter from Brantley Fowler. He had heard from Ella’s family only once—right after his return home—now it was a fortnight later. He had continued to write to Eleanor each day, but he had yet to receive even one word in response. At first, he had told himself it was because Eleanor would not want anyone to know of her growing ardor; however, each day had brought him such disappointment. His heart ached for her. Feeling the ax preparing to fall, James reluctantly read the letter: Bran’s message spelled things out quite plainly.
Worthing,
I pray this letter finds you well. We at Briar House remember the Earl and all your family in our daily devotion. If you require anything, a simple word will send me rushing to your side.You are one of my closest friends.
As such, it falls on my shoulders to inform you of my sister Eleanor’s acceptance of Sir Louis Levering’s proposal of marriage. As you are aware, I wished Ella to enjoy a Season, so I have insisted that the couple wait until the end of this year’s social calendar to exchange their vows. Ella has expressed a desire to remain close to Thorn Hall after all our years of separation, and Sir Louis’s estate is our nearest neighbor. We may see each other daily if we choose. Our children will know one another as more than distant cousins.
As your friend, I would not have you return to London without prior knowledge of these events.
Thornhill
Pure cold rushed through his veins. He had lost her, but there was no way James could purge Eleanor Fowler from his heart or from his mind. He reread the short note three times trying to comprehend how it could be so. The night before he had left London, he held Eleanor in his arms and gave her pleasure. He knew her—inside and out. James knew her eccentricities and her delights. How could she willingly give herself to another man? Did she not understand she was the other half of his heart? These sobering thoughts plagued him.
“Sir Louis!” He screamed as he threw the nearest thing upon which he could get his hands. A Grecian-styled urn smashed and crumbled against the far wall, and he did not stop there. One after another he destroyed decorative pieces he had cherished for years.
For elongated minutes, no one entered the room, until Lady Linworth jerked open the door. “James Martin Kerrington, put down that vase this moment!” she ordered. “Have you lost your mind?”
It was a moot point; James turned slowly to his mother, utter agony evident on his face. “Yes, Mother, I have lost my mind and my soul and much more than I can ever explain.” With that, he strode from the room, barking orders to everyone in sight.
He had ridden hard most of the day, hoping the pounding and the abuse his body took would ease his heart’s pain, but it made little difference. Now, as he finished off his first decanter of brandy, alone in his own chambers, James found that no amount of alcohol lessened the hurt. How could Eleanor Fowler pretend that nothing had happened? Had he misjudged her so completely? Maybe she was as wanton as her father’s reputation!Yet, even as he thought it, he knew it was impossible. Ella’s innocence was never in doubt. As he further analyzed each of their interactions over the last few months, he saw how his obsession had grown. He could not get enough of her, but, in reality, as he considered it, only once did Ella kiss him without his initiating it; and that was after the attack in Hyde Park. Could she have just been tolerating his advances? The kisses—possibly, but not what happened after her Come Out ball. She had maneuvered his presence in the family room. Ella wanted him; he was sure of it.
Sitting in his chambers in the dark, he forced himself to face the truth. Eleanor simply did not care for him even a fraction of what he felt for her. He was her security—someone to whom she turned when she felt uncomfortable around strangers. He was, after all, her brother’s friend. Well, she would not see him again; he would be no one’s second best.Whether his father improved or not, James would not return to London this Season—maybe ever. He could choose a lady from the country when he was ready to take a wife—someone like Miss Alice Westerly. She was pretty enough, after all. With Daniel, he had his heir; it was not necessary for him to produce another. He might never marry again. Trying to replace Elizabeth was foolish in the first place; a perfect love could not be found twice in a lifetime. A second decanter awaited him as his declaration sprang to his lips. “To hell with you, Eleanor Fowler!”
“James,” his mother tapped on his study’s door. “May I come in?”
Still half inebriated—a hangover from the brandy dulled his senses—he forced himself to his feet to welcome his mother to his private domain. “Certainly,” he said as he went to lead her to a nearby chair.
Lady Linworth no more took her seat before she began her prodding. “James, I am concerned about what happened yesterday. It was so uncharacteristic of you; I have not seen you so distraught since Elizabeth’s passing. I would like to be of support; your father’s illness takes much of my time, but you are still my son, and I worry about you. I was never one to simply visit you in the nursery; I doted on both you and your sister.”
“I apologize for giving you any moments of concern, Mother. It will not happen again.” James assumed the responsibility for his family with his father’s afflictions. He felt guilty for demonstrating his weakness.
Lady Linworth’s eyes teared with his words. “I do not criticize your emotional outburst, James. In fact, I am proud that you are not ashamed to show your feelings; it speaks to the depth of the man you have become. My only moments of disquiet come from the fact you
suffer alone. I cannot resolve your problems, but I may serve you by listening.”
James looked away, uneasy with anyone knowing his grief. “I assure you, it is nothing of consequence.”
“Who is she?” Camelia Kerrington probed.
“Really, Mother!”
Her Ladyship ignored his brushing aside her scrutiny. “Considering you spent much of the last month and a half with Brantley Fowler’s family, I assume it is someone of His Grace’s acquaintance.”
James rolled his eyes in disbelief. Last evening over his first decanter of brandy, he had sworn never to say Ella’s name again. He wanted to avoid speaking of Eleanor Fowler, but his mother was relentless once she latched onto an idea. Resigned to telling her, he began,“I developed a fondness for Fowler’s sister Eleanor.That lady, however, has accepted Sir Louis Levering.”
“Is Lady Fowler beautiful?”
He smiled at her insistence even though it was a bit frustrating. “Mother, did you not hear me say Lady Eleanor will marry another?”
His mother shook her head in the negative. “The chit is not married, and until she is, do not give up hope. If you really want Lady Eleanor, then you should stake your claim to her. Now, tell me about your lady.”
“I wish I had your faith, Mother, but I fear the worst when it comes to Fowler’s sister.” Could he survive such heartbreak a second time? “Yet, even as I tell myself to forget her charms, I cannot wish her to throw her life away on a man of such low repute as the baronet. According to His Grace, Lady Eleanor speaks of accepting Levering in order to remain close to Thorn Hall and her brother, but the Eleanor I know wanted to see the world and claim her independence.” He now fell into an easy narrative regarding Ella.
“You would love her, Mother. Lady Eleanor defies what you think I might choose.” He smiled in remembrance.“I often thought of her as my Amazon, not that the lady is so warrior-like, but Ella is tall and majestic with golden hair and the greenest eyes one ever saw. The odd thing is, when I found Ella, I quit grieving for Elizabeth. I actually spent whole days when I did not think about what my life was. Instead, I considered what it might be. I suppose that sounds foolish.”
The Scandal of Lady Eleanor Page 16