“Have something in your eye?” Jack murmured.
“No,” she hissed while trying to keep a smile plastered on her face. At least Ned had stopped glaring; now he looked merely puzzled.
“It was very pleasant,” he said.
“Oh, yes.” Miss Wharton nodded vigorously. “It was wonderful. Lord Edward is very good with the ribbons—almost as good as you, Lord Jack.”
“Never say it, Miss Wharton! I will have to challenge him to a race, then, to prove my superiority.”
Ned snorted. “You’d only prove your reckless stupidity. I’d refuse to race you.”
“Come, Lord Worry, don’t you wish to impress these lovely ladies and have them swooning in the snow?”
There were going to be bodies in the snow, but they’d be Ned’s and Jack’s if Ned’s clenching fists were any indication. Why did Jack insist on twitting him at every opportunity?
Ellie dug her fingers into Jack’s sleeve, hoping to encourage him to stop taunting Ned. “It’s far too cold to swoon; I don’t care to get all covered with snow.” She turned to Ash. He’d already built one wall of the fort up to chest height and was working on a turret. “You’re coming along with that quite well.”
“Yes, Lord Ashton,” Miss Wharton said. “It’s wonderful. I’ve never seen such an impressive snow fort.”
It was impressive, but then anything Ash constructed was. He’d built a fairytale castle once when they were children that she and Jess and Cicely had played in for hours—until the boys decided to be French troops and attack. Percy had led the charge and kicked down one of the walls when he’d got close, so infuriating Ash he’d jumped on Percy’s back. Then the two of them had rolled around punching each other, taking down the rest of the building in the process.
Cicely had cried for hours, even with Ned and then Percy trying to comfort her, and Ellie had been very sad herself, but Jess ... Jess had laughed.
Ellie had never been able to tell how Jess felt about anything—except Ash.
“It’s not hard to build,” Ash said, adding another handful of snow to the turret. “This snow is just the right wetness.”
“Oh, I could never manage anything like this,” Miss Wharton said, “no matter how good the snow was.”
“Indeed,” Ned said. “Don’t let my brother fool you. He could build a castle out of mashed potatoes.”
Jack laughed. “I’ve seen him do so. Confess, Ash: You’d rather be an architect than a duke.”
“Oh, no.” Ash smoothed the turret’s side. “This is just a hobby. I need something to do to keep myself busy; you know Father doesn’t really need my help with his properties.”
Ned and Jack exchanged a look, but neither said anything. There was one property over which the duke wished Ash would take complete control—Blackweith, where Jess lived and Ash never went.
“Is the snow also good for snowballs, Lord Ashton?” Miss Wharton asked.
“Yes, indeed. You might wish to begin assembling some, though I thought once everyone is back, we’d start by building some snowmen we can use for target practice.”
“What, no real snowball battle?” Jack asked. “If I can’t race Ned, I’d like to knock his hat off.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Ned said, “especially with your arm in a sling—or have you recovered sufficiently to use both hands?” His voice held a touch of sarcasm.
“I can throw one-handed quite well, but, yes, I believe my other arm is feeling much better. Thank you for your concern.”
Ned rolled his eyes.
“I can’t imagine the ladies would care to watch you pelt each other with snow,” Ash said.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Ellie would definitely enjoy that. She’d even like to fling a few well-placed snowballs at them herself.
“Oh, Miss Bowman, you must be joking,” Miss Wharton said, looking appalled. “I have only sisters, as you may know, so we didn’t have snowball fights at home, but I was shocked one winter when my male cousins visited after a snowstorm. They chased and tackled each other, smashed snow into each other’s faces, and dropped handfuls of it down each other’s backs.” She shuddered. “They seemed to enjoy the violence.”
Ellie would admit that while throwing a snowball at Jack or Ned would be satisfying, getting hit by one would only hurt. “You are likely right, Miss Wharton.” She looked at Ash. “Where do you want us to put the invading army, Lord Ashton?”
“Over there,” Ash said, pointing to a treeless patch of snow about twenty yards away. “And look, here are the others now.”
The sleighs were indeed drawing up, the couples in each windblown and laughing. The duke and duchess had come down from the terrace to greet them. Ellie watched Ned’s parents pause to talk to each couple in turn, and then the duke helped the duchess into the first sleigh, took the reins from Mr. Cox, and headed off for their turn around the park.
The Duchess of Love must be in alt. This had to be her most successful party to date.
Once the others joined them, they made their way to the mock battlefield. Ellie watched Ned walk with Miss Wharton; her head came just to his shoulder.
It should be Ellie’s head by Ned’s shoulder, but no—she was stuck with Jack.
“You can still throw a snowball or two at the snowmen, you know, and pretend the fellow you’re decapitating is Ned,” Jack said.
Ellie snorted. “Or you.”
He sighed dramatically. “Oh, ye of little faith. I said I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? And I will.”
She couldn’t prevent a little flutter of hope. “How are you going to do that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It will be a spur of the moment thing.”
“I see.” What she saw was she shouldn’t rely on Jack for help. But that was fine. Hadn’t she decided just last night that she must do something herself if she wanted to marry Ned? The time for being the quiet, dependable, old friend, hoping Ned would see her as something else, was long past.
But what should she do? She couldn’t very well tackle him and sit on him in the snow until he agreed to marry her, no matter how much that plan appealed to her at the moment.
“Do you want to make the snowman’s head, Ellie, while I work on the body?” Jack asked.
“Very well.” She began with a small ball of snow and in no time had a sizable one. She was enjoying the exertion—perhaps she’d turn this head into a chest.
She put her own head down and pushed harder, rolling farther and farther until she bumped up against a dainty boot.
“Oh!” She looked up into Lady Juliet’s face; the other girl was sitting on what could have been the bottom of a snowman but which had been turned into a chair. Mr. Cox was about ten feet away, building their snowman by himself.
Lady Juliet pointed back the way Ellie had come. “I believe you’ve strayed out of your territory, Miss Bowman.”
“Er, yes.” Ellie looked over her shoulder. She was rather far from Jack. She looked back at Lady Juliet. “Why aren’t you helping Mr. Cox?”
Lady Juliet yawned. “I’m far too exhausted to move.”
“But all you’ve done today is ride around the park in a sleigh.”
Lady Juliet’s lips slid into a small, satisfied smile; she strongly resembled Sir Reginald after he’d consumed a large saucer of cream. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Why—oh.” Realization hit Ellie like a punch in the stomach. Lady Juliet had spent the night with Mr. Cox.
No, she couldn’t have. The thought was too shocking—but for some reason, she felt certain she was right.
Lady Juliet smiled back at her, not embarrassed in the slightest.
“Well, then, I’ll just go back to work,” Ellie said. She was horrified—and horridly envious. Not that she wanted anything to do with Mr. Cox, of course, but Ned ...
She pushed her snowball back the way she’d come as quickly as she could.
“That’s far bigger than a head, Ellie,” Jack said when she reach
ed him.
“Then use it for something else.” Even she could hear the annoyance in her voice.
Jack’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t comment.
“I say, Jack, can you give me a hand here?” Ned said from a few feet away. He was struggling to lift an extremely large ball of snow. “Miss Wharton was a bit overzealous—she could have stopped when this was half its size.”
“Of course. I’ll be right there.” Jack smiled at Ellie.
“Seems like Miss Wharton has taken a leaf from your snowman building book, eh?”
“Oh, stop teasing me.” Ellie pushed a strand of hair out of her face. She was feeling terribly out of sorts. She wanted to do something. “Here, maybe I can help.”
Jack grinned at her. “Maybe you can.”
“Jack,” Ned said, “this isn’t getting any lighter.”
“Right.”
Ellie was already on her way—stupid, even she realized that. She was nowhere near strong enough. Jack was right behind her. She should just get out of his way.
She was starting to step aside when she heard Jack whisper, “Forgive me.” Then she felt a hand on her back and a quick shove.
She went flying straight at Ned.
What the hell was taking Jack so long?
Ned heard something that sounded like an outraged squeak and looked around his ball of snow just in time to see Ellie coming at him.
“Uh!” He dropped the snow and grabbed Ellie, but he had no hope of saving their balance. They fell backward like a tree going down in a storm. “Oof!”
At least the snow cushioned their landing somewhat. He could still breathe if he restricted himself to shallow pants. “Are you all right?”
Ellie gasped and nodded. Likely she’d had the breath knocked out of her as well.
He took inventory. He wiggled his toes, shrugged his shoulders. Nothing felt broken. His rump was sore and would likely be much sorer later, but his back seemed fine. He shifted—oh.
He closed his eyes briefly as lust, finally freed from the shock of his sudden change in altitude, roared through him. Ellie might be covered in a multitude of layers, but he could still feel the imprint of her breasts mashed against his chest and the wide, soft expanse of her hips right above ... Somehow they’d fallen so her legs were on either side of his and ...
Oh, damn. Hopefully she’d assume the hard length suddenly pushing up against her woman’s place was a rolled up bit of one of their coats. She was quiet; she’d laid her head on his chest, probably still working on getting her breathing under control.
And then everyone else appeared, looming over them with expressions of surprise and concern.
And amusement, damn it. What else should he expect from Jack?
“Need some help?” Jack asked, extending a hand.
At Jack’s voice Ellie stiffened and tried to scramble to her feet. Oh, blast! Ned grabbed her hips, pressing them to his to preserve his hope of ever fathering children.
She lifted her head, which had the distracting effect of pressing her more tightly against his cock, and glared at him.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Your knee almost squashed my, er, ah ... a very sensitive part of me.”
“Oh.” She turned bright red.
Wonderful. Their audience must be enjoying the show. He’d swear he heard someone—likely Jack—snigger.
“Let me just ease out from under you,” he said, lifting her off him. Then he got to his feet and pulled her up. He frowned at Jack. “Did you have something to do with what just happened?”
“Yes,” Ellie began, “why did you—”
“Fail to catch you when you slipped?” Jack said. “I’m very sorry.”
“Are you both all right?” Ash asked, clearly concerned.
“Yes,” Ned said. Well, he shouldn’t speak for Ellie. “Are you all right, Ellie?”
She nodded but glared at Jack, who looked back at her with an expression of angelic innocence. Ned frowned. He’d seen that look countless times growing up. Jack was definitely guilty of something.
“You shouldn’t be standing here in the cold,” Jack pointed out helpfully. “You’re both covered in snow and will be damp very soon.” He smiled. “You don’t want to catch a chill, especially before tomorrow’s ball.”
Ned would just as soon miss the damn ball, but he didn’t want Ellie to get sick.
“Lord Jack is very right, Lord Edward,” Mr. Humphrey said. “You can’t be too careful. Why, just last winter I was out in the snow and caught a very bad cold that went to my chest and might have carried me off, the doctor said, had it not been for my youth and my hardy constitution. And of course Miss Bowman, being of the delicate sex, must be guarded most carefully by us stronger and more knowledgeable men, so I really must urge you to think of her safety”—he bowed—“or I shall be happy to take it upon myself to escort her to the castle where she may procure dry clothes and sit by the fire with a bracing cup of tea.”
Ned felt Ellie bristle. Humphrey’s hardy constitution might be more at risk than he knew if she got her hands on him right now. “Very true, Humphrey,” he said, ignoring the glare Ellie had now turned on him, “about being cold and damp, that is. I definitely think dry clothes are in order. I assume you can manage without us?”
“Indubitably,” Jack said. “And Mama and Father might help once they return from their sleigh ride.”
Ash laughed. “Yes, do go ahead. You both look exceedingly bedraggled, and I believe I just saw Ellie shiver.”
“I’m f-f-fine,” Ellie said, teeth chattering.
“Oh, Miss Bowman,” Miss Mosely said, “do hurry inside. I am quite worried for you.”
Ned took Ellie’s elbow and tugged slightly. She was still glaring at Humphrey—a waste of effort as the man was completely oblivious to her displeasure. He was currently conferring with Miss Mosely about the most efficacious treatment for the ague.
“Then we’ll be off,” Ned said, tugging again. This time Ellie came along.
“Mr. Humphrey is very annoying,” she muttered as they walked away from the group.
“Yes, he is, but he is right in this instance. We do need dry clothes.”
“Only because J-Jack pushed me into you.”
“What?” He stopped, pulling her to a stop as well. “What do you mean? Jack might be reckless, but he’s not insane. He wouldn’t do something like that.”
She lifted her chin. Her cheeks and nose were bright red from the cold. “Well, he d-did.” She swatted impatiently at a strand of hair that had fallen over her face and shivered.
He should be shot for keeping her standing in the cold. He took her arm and started walking again. “We can talk about this later; now we have to get you inside.”
“I am not some hothouse f-flower,” she grumbled, but she came along.
This was actually a good thing, now that he thought about it. Everyone would be outside for a while, so he’d have some time alone with Ellie—the perfect opportunity to discover if she required a husband.
He stood aside to let her precede him into the house. “Careful, the floor may be slippery.”
“I kno—eek!”
He caught her as her feet started to slide out from under her, and for a moment she clung to him. He rather liked the feel of her in his arms.
“Oh.” She flushed redder than she’d been from the cold and jerked backward. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing, Ellie.” He extended his arm. “But do hold on. Falling here on the marble will hurt far more than tumbling in the snow.”
They made it across the entry and up the stairs to the bedroom floor without further incident. He stopped outside her room. “Meet me downstairs in the library once you’ve changed, will you? I’ve a subject I wish to discuss.”
She gave him a cautious look and then nodded. “Very well.”
He continued to his room to find Reggie sprawled in a patch of sunlight on his bed. Mama’s cat did not care to be disturbed; he gave Ned an annoyed lo
ok and jumped down, leaving behind a rumpled but empty coverlet.
“No red drawers for me today?” he asked Reggie’s departing tail. Reggie ignored him.
Ned pulled his wet shirt over his head. Perhaps Ellie had taken his advice and worn the scandalous things under her skirts. He still couldn’t understand how she’d come to have them. He peeled off his wet pantaloons. They were something a woman like Lady Heldon might wear. Very shocking and ...
Stimulating apparently. He frowned down at his bouncing cock. Clearly it was past time for him to marry again.
He’d rather wed Ellie than Miss Wharton, now that he considered the matter without Miss Wharton’s tale of woe echoing in his ears. He and Ellie had a shared past; he was comfortable with her ...
He frowned as he buttoned the fall of his dry pantaloons securely over his misbehaving organ. He had been comfortable with her, but surely they could be comfortable again. If it was a monthly issue, it would pass, though he’d seen Ellie enough over the years that he thought he’d have noticed if she had regular moods.
He shrugged and pulled a clean shirt over his head. He’d learned once he’d married Cicely that he wasn’t ever likely to understand female emotions.
He reached for his cravat. And Ellie would like Linden Hall. It wasn’t very far from Greycliffe—she could see her family regularly. And she liked Mama, too. And Mama liked her—she looked upon her almost as a daughter already. In fact, Mama and Father would be delighted, even though Ellie wasn’t the match Mama had arranged for him.
He snorted. The Duchess of Love couldn’t want him to wed Lady Juliet now that the girl was clearly enamored of Cox—and especially if she and Cox had been doing what he suspected they’d been doing last night.
He paused with his cravat half tied. Why had Mama never thought to match him with Ellie?
He shrugged. She must think, as he had, that he considered Ellie an honorary sister.
He picked up Cicely’s miniature from his desk and looked at the young girl in the picture. Surely Cicely would approve as well. Ellie had been her closest friend.
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