Eleanor pressed her hands together. ‘I know all about my husband’s absence, my lord,’ she said steadily, looking him straight in the eye. ‘He has told me all—’
Darke gave a crack of laughter. ‘And you believed him? My dear, you are more foolish than I had thought!’ His tone was spiteful. ‘It is simply that you have no stomach for the game any more, is it not, sweet Eleanor? Assure you, you’d find me more than a match for Mostyn—’
‘Excuse me if I wrest my wife away from you now, Darke. You should have enjoyed the dance while you could.’
Eleanor heard Kit’s voice with inexpressible relief. She turned to him. ‘There you are, my dear! Would you take me home now? I fear I am rather fatigued!’
‘Certainly,’ Kit said with aplomb. He offered her his arm and gave Darke the slightest and most insulting of bows.
‘Do not even think about approaching my wife in future, Darke,’ he said smoothly. ‘She has made it quite plain that she does not wish to speak to you and I wish it even less. So unless you would care to meet me over this…’ He let the sentence fade away. ‘No, I thought not. Eleanor my dear, if you are quite ready…’
Eleanor swept past the curious guests as though they were not present, but by the time they reached the entrance hall she was shaking with shock and reaction. Kit took her cloak from the hovering footman and wrapped it around her, and she drew its folds closer for comfort. They went out to the carriage.
‘A word of advice for future reference, my love.’ Kit’s voice was light. ‘When you choose to divest yourself of your next admirer, pray do so in more private circumstances! That is if it is your expressed wish to present a façade to the Ton rather than make yourself an entertainment for them! I imagine people have not been so diverted by a public disagreement in an age!’
Eleanor’s temper gave way. ‘If you had not left me alone with Lord George the problem would not have arisen, my lord! Upon my word, I cannot do right for doing wrong!’
Kit laughed. He was sitting across from her and in the shadowed interior of the carriage Eleanor could not discern his expression. He sounded quite indifferent, however, and somehow that made Eleanor even more cross.
‘I am sorry, my dear,’ Kit said easily, ‘but how was I to know that you wished to discourage Darke? I assumed that it was an indication of you going your own way, as mentioned the other night…’
‘Piffle!’ Eleanor said crossly. ‘Nonsense, my lord! I was trying to get rid of Lord George just as I was trying to deter Sir Charles the other night! Why must you wilfully misunderstand me?’
‘I am sorry,’ Kit said mildly. Eleanor could hear the undertone of amusement still in his voice. ‘You did indeed make it quite clear—to the entire room—that you wished to discourage Darke! So are there any other admirers whose pretensions you would like me to…er…depress, my love?’
Eleanor looked at him suspiciously. She was sure he was laughing at her and the matter did not seem in the least amusing to her.
‘Yes, my lord! All of them!’
‘Dear me,’ Kit said gently, ‘and will there be that many? You have been unconscionably popular, my dear!’
Eleanor gave an exasperated squeak. ‘How many times must I tell you that it is none of my doing, my lord! If you will believe all the scandal you hear in the Clubs…’
‘Yes, I do apologise,’ Kit murmured. ‘And as I was not here to protect you before, the least I can do is to look after you now. You will find me the most attentive of husbands, I promise you.’
Eleanor shifted on the seat. She felt a little mollified. ‘Thank you, my lord. If you can pretend to a certain degree of possessiveness…’
‘No indeed…’ there was a smile in Kit’s voice ‘…I shall be quite genuinely protective, I assure you, my love. All in the interests of our…ah…friendship, of course!’
‘Of course,’ Eleanor echoed. She frowned a little, feeling slightly confused. Did that mean that Kit really cared or that he did not? She was not going to risk asking him. She wished it did not matter to her.
Chapter Six
The singer came to the end of her aria and Eleanor applauded politely, as did the rest of the company. Lady Seaton was so very proud to have persuaded so famous an opera singer as La Perla to perform at her musicale, but it was not to Eleanor’s taste. She preferred country airs and slightly less rarefied songs—such heavy emotion seemed too much for the drawing-room, especially a drawing-room as crowded as Lady Seaton’s.
‘Are you enjoying the music, my love?’ Kit asked, a twinkle in his eye. He was sitting beside her and Eleanor was tolerably sure that he had been asleep during the performance, if that were possible whilst La Perla was forcing out those top notes. She smiled at him prettily.
‘La Perla is a consummate performer, I believe, my lord! It is my fault not hers that the music is not really to my taste!’
Kit laughed. ‘I think we are all in need of something to revive us after that! Shall I fetch you a glass of lemonade, Eleanor?’
Eleanor nodded. ‘Thank you, my lord. That would be most pleasant.’
She watched him go, a little mischievous smile on her lips. Despite protestations to the contrary, she had to admit that it was very pleasant to have her husband dance attendance upon her. They had spent the best part of the previous week together, driving in the park, attending the theatre, dancing together at all the balls…Eleanor sighed. It had been delightful. Better still, it had been safe. Certainly there was nothing for her to fear, for they had slipped into the easiest and most undemanding of friendships.
Eleanor wrinkled up her nose. And yet…Perhaps it was not entirely a simple friendship, for she had the oddest feeling that Kit was waiting for something, holding back, biding his time…She flicked her fan open. She felt as though she was being courted, but so gently that it was scarcely noticeable. But perhaps she was imagining it. With so much unspoken between them it would be impossible…
Beth was waving at her from across the aisle. Eleanor smiled back. That evening they had avoided the embarrassment of Marcus, Kit and Justin coming to blows by arriving at different times so that they sat as far away from each other as possible. Fortunately the Dowager Lady Trevithick was also present and made such a fuss of sitting down and fidgeting around after the music had started that she drew all attention. Eleanor acknowledged that it was hardly a permanent solution but it saved face in public. She made a mental note to speak to Beth about the feud as soon as she could. The whole business was becoming tiresome, like a schoolboys’ game. She would almost swear that the men were enjoying it.
Eleanor waited until Kit had disappeared into the refreshment-room then made her way over to where Beth, Charlotte and the Dowager Lady Trevithick were sitting. After the flurry of greetings, Charlotte said mischievously:
‘Do you think that one of us should go to keep and eye on matters in the refreshment-room? Marcus and Justin are in there and it would be most unfortunate if there were pistols over the lemonade!’
‘Oh, let us both go!’ Beth said hastily. She gave Eleanor a speaking look. ‘I apologise for leaving you, dearest, but I am sure you will enjoy a comfortable coze with your mama. I will call on you tomorrow if I may.’
‘Of course,’ Eleanor murmured. She was not so sure that she would enjoy a tête-à-tête with Lady Trevithick, who had turned so strangely unpredictable of late. At the moment her mother was rocking backwards and forwards and humming a little under her breath, but as she caught Eleanor’s eye she sat bolt upright and snapped: ‘What are you staring at, girl? Didn’t I teach you it was rude to stare? Never catch a husband if you look him straight in the eye!’
Eleanor blinked. It did not seem possible that her mother had forgotten she was already married. ‘Yes, Mama. I was only concerned because you did not seem quite yourself tonight. Are you enjoying the music?’
Lady Trevithick made a vague gesture that knocked her diamond tiara askew. ‘Ridiculous wailing noise! Wish I’d stayed at home!’ She took a deep
swallow of her lemonade. ‘Pooh! Insipid stuff! Get me a glass of ratafia, there’s a good girl!’
Eleanor looked around, hoping that Kit would be coming back so that she could escape with him. Unfortunately he was nowhere in sight. Instead a smooth voice said:
‘Ladies, a glass of wine? Allow me…’
Lord Kemble had paused beside them, proffering two glasses and his obsequious smile. Lady Trevithick grabbed a glass so hastily that she almost spilled it. ‘Kemble! Good man!’
Eleanor took the other glass rather more reluctantly. She did not care for ratafia and she cared even less for Lord Kemble, who now showed every sign of lingering by her side, a look of unwholesome admiration in his eyes. Eleanor looked around again a little desperately for Kit. How long could it possibly take to fetch a glass of lemonade?
‘If you are looking for your husband, my dear, I fear he has found metal more attractive in the refreshment-room,’ Kemble murmured, bending close to her ear. ‘La Perla, you know. Mostyn is…renewing their acquaintance, I suppose you could say…I hear that they were quite…intimate…in Italy this winter…’
Eleanor caught her breath as a sharp pain seemed to stab her just below her breastbone. So this was the opera singer whom rumour had so persistently linked to Kit, and he had the effrontery to escort her to a performance by his mistress! A consummate performer indeed! Eleanor blushed scarlet. She hardly needed to tell Kit what he must know already!
Kemble was looking odiously pleased with himself. ‘You did not know? Oh, dear me…’
Eleanor looked him straight in the eye. ‘You are speaking nonsense, my lord, and you know it! Furthermore it is nonsense that I do not care for—’
‘Nonsense!’ Lady Trevithick agreed, unexpectedly. ‘Mostyn’s been in Ireland, not Italy, don’t you know! Heard it from the servants!’ She thrust her wineglass at Eleanor. ‘Hold my glass, there’s a good girl. I need something from my reticule!’
Eleanor looked in some consternation from her mother to Lord Kemble, who was not smiling any more. ‘There you are, my lord!’ she said clearly. ‘Ireland, not Italy. A simple mistake to make if one is not accomplished in geography…’
Kemble flushed. ‘Very well, Lady Mostyn. I stand corrected…’ He looked with ill-concealed contempt at the Dowager, who had grabbed her glass back and was gulping the ratafia down.
‘I would watch Lady Trevithick most carefully, if I were you,’ he added spitefully. ‘She is making a fool of herself for the entertainment of the whole company! Good evening, Lady Mostyn.’
He straightened up and strolled off, and Eleanor blushed bright red and drank several mouthfuls of her ratafia to try to steady herself. It was true—Lady Trevithick was becoming so very odd and unpredictable that one had to wonder just what she would do next. Eleanor could see any number of their acquaintance sniggering and watching with avid curiosity as her mother calmly took all her personal possessions out of her reticule, placed them on the chair beside her, then started to put them all back again. She was humming again and seemed quite happy. Eleanor felt an acute embarrassment mixed with a sudden protective loyalty that made her want to denounce them all for spiteful scandalmongers.
‘Mama!’ She hissed urgently, trying to help Lady Trevithick push her combs, handkerchiefs and laudanum bottle back into the reticule, ‘are you sure that would not prefer to retire—’
Lady Trevithick carried on as though she had not heard.
‘My bottle,’ she murmured. ‘It is empty of laudanum…’
A chill stole into Eleanor’s heart. Surely her mother had not taken to dosing herself wherever she went?
‘I believe you have some more at home, Mama,’ she said calmly. ‘Why not wait until you go back…’
‘Ask Kemble for some more!’ the Dowager said fretfully, clutching her purse to her breast. ‘Tell him that I can pay this time!’
Eleanor took the purse gently from her mother’s hand and placed it in the reticule, snapping it closed and handing it back.
‘No, Mama. Look, Marcus is returning now and the concert about to start again. If you are sure you are well enough to stay—’ Once again she broke off in consternation. Lady Trevithick had fallen asleep.
Eleanor finished her ratafia and handed the glass back to a passing servant. No, she did not like the drink and lemonade would have been preferable. Which reminded her about Kit…She looked around, but he was still nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, Eleanor went back to her seat and wondered waspishly whether La Perla would resume her performance or whether she would not be able to drag herself away from Kit’s side. Could Kemble have been correct? The rumours had been so very persistent.
Someone slid into the seat that Kit had vacated and Eleanor turned, startled. It was Sir Charles Paulet, a lascivious gleam in his eye. Eleanor sighed sharply. The evening was fast becoming most tiresome.
‘Good evening, Lady Mostyn. You are looking quite, quite radiant tonight, truly a sight for delight.’
Eleanor inclined her head coldly. ‘Good evening, Sir Charles.’
Sir Charles tittered. ‘I see that Lord Mostyn is entranced with La Perla—the Pearl of great price, or should I say great vice…’
Eleanor snapped her fan together with a force that broke two of the struts. ‘Excuse me, Sir Charles. I find your verse does not agree with me tonight. In fact it does not agree with me at all and I wish to hear no more of it!’
She saw that Kit was finally returning with a glass of lemonade and felt even more annoyed. La Perla was strolling back to her place at the top of the room, her silken skirts swaying suggestively, an arch little smile on her lips. Eleanor felt hot and flustered and frumpish.
‘Good evening, my lord,’ she snapped as Kit came to stand beside her chair. ‘I thought you must have gone to Gunters to procure my lemonade—or possibly made it yourself!’
Kit raised a quizzical eyebrow at this display of bad humour.
‘I beg your pardon, my love, for keeping you waiting!’
Eleanor hunched her shoulder against him and turned away. She saw that Sir Charles was smiling and it made her even angrier. The whole evening was degenerating into a farce in which her husband paid court to his mistress, her brother behaved like a stiff-necked fool, her mother displayed her bizarre antics for all to see and Eleanor herself was beset with the attentions of tiresome admirers.
Kit took charge of the situation.
‘Paulet,’ he drawled, ‘you must be remarkably slow of understanding for a man of letters! I am sure that I warned you not to pester my wife with your attentions again!’
Sir Charles scooted away and Kit took his seat and handed Eleanor her glass.
‘Something seems to have upset you, my love,’ he said with commiseration. ‘Can I help at all?’
‘It is nothing, my lord!’ Eleanor said crossly. She was watching as La Perla, the smile still on her red lips, held court amongst a group of five eager men. ‘In your brief but eventful absence I have had to contend with Lord Kemble and Sir Charles as well as a host of other irritations! Whilst you…’ her annoyance finally got the better of her ‘…have been renewing your acquaintance with La Perla—or so I understand!’
Kit’s amused gaze went from her face to La Perla and back again.
‘Acquainted with La Perla?’ There was puzzlement in his tone. ‘Indeed I am not! I apologise for my absence but I was speaking to Charlotte whilst Justin’s back was turned. I barely addressed the diva—although I felt obliged to compliment her on her singing since she was standing next to me just now.’
‘Don’t seek to gammon me, sir,’ Eleanor snapped. ‘There are those who say you knew her in Italy…’
‘I have not been to Italy recently,’ Kit said. His gaze was very steady. ‘What is this, Eleanor?’
Eleanor was starting to feel uncertain and a little silly. ‘It was Sir Charles,’ she admitted. ‘And Lord Kemble. They were intimating that you…That the lady was a friend of yours…’
‘Ah…’ A smile curled K
it’s lips. ‘Our inestimable friend, Sir Charles! Always stirring up trouble! And in rhyming couplets to boot!’
Eleanor smothered a giggle. ‘I am sorry.’ She looked up, met Kit’s eyes and fell silent. There was a curious feeling inside her now that the indignation had gone. She felt foolish for rising to the provocation, and she knew she had made it easy for those who had deliberately tried to upset her. But that was because she lacked confidence in Kit’s affection and also…
‘The rumours have been very persistent,’ she said, blushing a little, ‘and I did not know…You had not told me…’
Kit held her gaze very deliberately. ‘I thought that we had agreed that you did not want to know?’
‘Yes…’ Eleanor fidgeted with the beading on her evening bag. She looked up unhappily and saw that Kit was still watching her. It made her feel curiously breathless.
‘I was jealous!’ She blurted out. The colour rushed to her face and she dropped her gaze at once, unable to believe what she had done. To confess such a thing, and in public! Why, anyone could have heard and now Kit only needed to laugh at her to shrivel her confidence completely.
He took one of her hands in his. His touch was casual but warm and it filled her with a curious tingling.
‘Eleanor…’ his voice was low, in her ear ‘…you have no cause for jealousy. Upon my honour, you never did.’
Their eyes met again, the deep blue of Kit’s capturing and trapping hers. Eleanor took a shaky breath. ‘Oh…Why did I say that?’
She saw Kit smile and it did strange things to her insides, making her dizzy.
‘Friends can say anything to each other,’ he said, tucking her hand through his arm. ‘Old friends, good friends…’
Eleanor felt slightly disappointed but was not sure why. This friendship of theirs was becoming a little confusing and perhaps it was not exactly what she wanted after all. She struggled to sort out her feelings but was conscious of nothing but a rather peculiar languor coming over her. The room was full and very warm and now that the concert was starting again, La Perla was insisting on all the lights being doused because she preferred to sing by candlelight. Eleanor relaxed sleepily. They had been to a ball the night before and it had been a long day, but that hardly accounted for this strange feeling, which was a mixture of acute awareness and lassitude. She was very conscious of Kit next to her; her skin seemed to prickle where his arm brushed hers, and she imagined that she could feel the warmth of his body and told herself that she was becoming foolish.
The Notorious Marriage Page 11