The Notorious Marriage

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘I find that I rather enjoy the Season,’ she said, in a brittle voice that did not sound her own. ‘Surely there is no hurry to leave town!’

  She saw Kit’s gaze narrow too perceptive, too searching for comfort. She turned her face away, knowing with relief that Kit would not press her on this, at least not at the moment.

  ‘I hear that Lady Knighton has engaged the services of a profile miniaturist tonight!’ she said brightly. ‘Shall we go and see his work?’

  Kit got to his feet and offered her his arm politely. The easy intimacy that had been between them a moment before had vanished and Eleanor felt as though she was chatting to an acquaintance.

  ‘They say he is very talented,’ she rattled on, as they walked towards the room that had been set aside for the silhouettist. ‘He cuts profiles from black card in a matter of minutes! They say he is a student of John Miers, who has his studios in the Strand—’

  ‘I know the place,’ Kit commented. ‘Perhaps you should have your silhouette cut, Eleanor!’

  Eleanor stole a glance at him. His face was closed and expressionless and her heart missed a beat from regret and pity rather than anything else. This was all so difficult! As soon as they had achieved their comfortable friendship it seemed that it had all been spoiled by the dangerous physical attraction that had flared between them. It was quite natural that Kit would assume they had reached a closer understanding and one that would lead in time to greater intimacy. Yet here was she, drawing back again, unwilling to take any further risk and quite incapable of explaining why…

  The miniaturist had just finished a silhouette of Charlotte Trevithick when they arrived and there was an awkward moment as Eleanor and Charlotte stood admiring his work whilst Kit and Justin gazed studiously in opposite directions. The silhouettist was an earnest young man with intense dark eyes and flowing black hair, who clearly took pleasure in their praise of his work. Once the compliments had run out there was an awkward silence until Justin recollected that he and Charlotte were dancing the next waltz together, and Eleanor sat down. The silhouettist snipped away to produce a likeness and handed it to her in a matter of minutes. She smiled as she looked at it. He had made her appear very pretty, right down to the tender sweep of her eyelashes across her cheek, and the stray curl that caressed her neck.

  Kit leant over the back of her chair to take a look and Eleanor, glancing at him over her shoulder, saw the genuine pleasure in his eyes at he looked on her likeness. Her heart gave another small lurch.

  ‘Why, that has captured you precisely, my love,’ Kit said, ‘although…’ He tilted his head a little, ‘I do believe that your nose is a shade too long! Yes, decidedly a little too long for perfection—’

  ‘That is because it is!’ Eleanor said firmly. She smiled her thanks to the miniaturist and tucked her hand through Kit’s arm. ‘You are too partial, my lord.’

  ‘There is nothing wrong in that!’ Kit protested. He placed the silhouette in his pocket. ‘I shall keep this—as a tribute to your beauty, my love, and to the fact that the miniaturist was evidently as much struck by it as I am!’

  Eleanor blushed, disclaimed and felt even worse. She could not think of anything to say to lighten the situation and yet she felt a fraud responding to Kit’s compliments. Some time soon she would have to make her feelings plain. It would be dishonest not to do so.

  ‘Kit! Eleanor!’ Charlotte Trevithick was hurrying towards them, her pale face flushed with distress. She put a hand on Eleanor’s arm. ‘I have lost my pearl bracelet! Have you seen it anywhere? I thought I must have dropped it whilst I was having my profile taken, yet it is not there! Justin will be so displeased, for it was a wedding present! I cannot believe I have been so careless!’

  She looked as though she were about to cry. Eleanor put an arm about her.

  ‘Oh, Charlotte, I am so sorry! Where have you looked?’

  ‘Everywhere!’ Charlotte was inconsolable. ‘I should not have worn it, for the clasp was loose, but it was so pretty and now it has gone…’

  Some curious impulse made Eleanor glance across the room to where her mother was sitting with Beth and Marcus. The Dowager’s chin was sunk on her chest and she was not speaking, but was rocking backwards and forwards gently to the strains of the music. There was one empty rout chair by her side.

  ‘Charlotte, were you sitting with Mama just now?’ she asked casually. ‘I see that there is a spare chair…’

  Charlotte nodded miserably. ‘We were all sitting together, for Lady Trevithick has softened towards Justin since his marriage, you know! But I fear she is not in good spirits tonight—she has scarce spoken a word and Marcus is also very morose tonight, so it has been a most subdued party!’

  ‘You did not drop your bracelet over by the chairs, then?’ Eleanor asked. She was beginning to feel rather cold at the direction her thoughts were tending. The last time she had seen a bracelet disappear had been at the Trevithick ball, and she knew exactly what had happened there.

  Charlotte brightened. ‘Well, I did not think so, but I had not checked. Perhaps I should take a look…’

  Eleanor gave Kit an apologetic smile. ‘I shall accompany Charlotte to look for her bracelet, my lord, but will be but a minute. Perhaps it would be better…’ she paused delicately, ‘…were you to wait for me here?’

  Kit bowed ironically. ‘I will hunt up some company in the card-room!’

  Eleanor linked her arm through that of her sister-in-law and they strolled over to the party from Trevithick House. At close quarters Eleanor could see the truth of Charlotte’s words that the group was as sad as a wet Monday—Marcus and Justin were conversing together but there was a deep frown on Marcus’s brow and at his side Beth was sitting flicking her fan with mock-innocence. The Dowager sat like a grounded ship, massive and a little apart from the others.

  ‘Nell!’ Beth said with a warm smile, ‘how lovely for you to join us. Is Kit not with you?’

  That gained her a glare from Marcus. Justin looked extremely uncomfortable. Beth smiled sunnily.

  ‘No,’ Eleanor said, trying not to laugh, ‘he has gone for a hand of whist.’ She turned to her brother and cousin. ‘So perhaps the gentlemen should avoid the card-room.’

  Both Marcus and Justin had the grace to look embarrassed and Eleanor felt a little spurt of pleasure. She might not be able to employ Beth and Charlotte’s tactics but she could at least show them up for their bad behaviour. She turned to her mother.

  ‘Mama, I believe that Charlotte has dropped her bracelet somewhere around here, and I wondered if you had seen it? She has searched everywhere else but it is not to be found.’

  The Dowager had ignored the previous conversation but now she stopped rocking, opened her little dark eyes and surveyed her daughter calmly.

  ‘I do not think I have seen it. That pretty pearl bracelet, was it? What a great shame! You should be more careful, Charlotte dear.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ Charlotte shot a guilty look at Justin. ‘I cannot see how I came to lose it!’

  Eleanor looked her mother straight in the eye. ‘For my part I believe that some unscrupulous person has taken it! What do you think, Mama?’

  There was an odd silence whilst the Dowager’s eyes narrowed on her daughter’s flushed face. The others were looking puzzled but did not say anything.

  ‘Perhaps if we were to search…’ the Dowager Lady Trevithick murmured. She leant forwards on the chair and its spindly legs trembled. Eleanor could hear her stays creaking under the strain.

  ‘You look, Eleanor,’ the Dowager instructed. ‘Down on your knees, girl, beneath my chair!’

  Eleanor flushed. When she had started this she had had no intention of drawing the gaze of the whole room, and now she began to wonder if her suspicions of her mother could be in any way justified. Just because one bracelet had disappeared under mysterious circumstances it did not logically follow that her mother was a jewel thief, stealing to support her penchant for laudanum. Eleanor, who had shie
d away from this idea from the first, was now desperate not to pursue it. It felt wrong to impute such criminal behaviour to her own mother and she could scarcely ask Lady Trevithick to turn out her reticule or accuse her in front of the assembled throng.

  But there was no need. Lady Trevithick twitched her skirts, there was a little thud, and the bracelet rolled out from under the chair to rest at Eleanor’s feet. She bent to pick it up.

  ‘It was there all the time!’ the Dowager murmured. ‘Beneath my skirts! I am sorry, Charlotte dear, I did not notice! Perhaps if you were to be more careful…’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Charlotte murmured submissively. She gave Eleanor a grateful smile and clipped the bracelet about her wrist. ‘I shall have the catch mended immediately!’

  Eleanor smiled back. She deliberately did not look at her mother. She knew that it was only the combination of the Dowager’s size and a lack of opportunity that meant that Charlotte’s bracelet was not gracing Lord Kemble’s pocket by now. No doubt her mother had been waiting for a chance to scoop the bracelet up when she was unobserved. Eleanor knew her mother had to be stopped—and that she had to stop covering up her behaviour…

  She saw that Beth had picked up on her uneasiness, for her sister-in-law patted the seat beside her and deliberately broke the strained silence.

  ‘Did I tell you that Lady Salome arrived this afternoon? She was too fatigued to join us this evening but asked me to tell you that she would call on you tomorrow…’ The conversation eased into more comfortable channels and after a while Justin and Charlotte went off to dance, Lady Trevithick nodded off to sleep again and it was suddenly easy for Eleanor to imagine that nothing was wrong. Except, of course, that it was and she knew that she had to do something about it.

  ‘Oh ma’am, was the ball so very glittering and romantic? Packed with handsome gentleman and beautiful ladies?’ Lucy, her eyes sparkling, helped Eleanor out of the lilac dress and went to hang it in the wardrobe. ‘Oh, how I wish I could have seen it!’

  ‘No, it was not really,’ Eleanor said on a yawn. She had been turning the problem of her mother’s thefts over in her mind and come to no useful conclusions other than that she must speak to Marcus about it.

  ‘To tell the truth, Lucy, it was a deadly dull affair and full of the same boring faces and tedious gossip! At this rate I shall be retiring to the country! I would rather stay at home and do my needlework.’

  Lucy giggled. She gestured to the chair at the dressing-table. ‘Oh, ma’am, I cannot believe that! If you would like to sit down, I shall brush your hair out. Do you wish to take your necklace off first?’

  ‘No, please leave it for now.’ Eleanor yawned again and sat down, her fingers touching the diamonds and emeralds at her throat. The Mostyn necklace glowed softly above the neckline of her chemise, shimmering against her creamy skin. Eleanor smiled. It was indeed a beautiful piece and the Dowager would never get her hands on it.

  The maid started to unpin the flowers from Eleanor’s hair and brush out the long, dark strands. ‘Lord Mostyn looked so dotingly on you this evening, my lady.’

  ‘Lucy, you may be in need of spectacles,’ Eleanor said, a little wearily. The maid’s romantic obsession was particularly hard to bear when her own feelings were in such turmoil. ‘Pray do not imagine that my marriage is anything other than one of convenience! It is the way of the world to marry for money and position—’

  ‘May I come in?’

  Eleanor closed her eyes in mortification. She must remember to tell Lucy to shut the bedroom door properly, for here was Kit, standing in the doorway and eyeing her with an interrogatory look that suggested he had just heard her unflattering opinion of their match. This was disturbing, but more unsettling still was the fact that it was three in the morning and she was in her shift and Kit—Eleanor swallowed hard. Her husband was partially undressed, having removed his jacket, waistcoat and neck-cloth, and he looked so rakishly dishevelled that her heart started to beat a quick pit-a-pat. She did not believe that the current terms of their relationship quite allowed for this. Nor should it. This was where she had to call a halt.

  Lucy bobbed a curtsey and laid the hairbrush down, and Eleanor caught her arm in an urgent grip.

  ‘Lucy, wait! I need you to help me remove the necklace—’

  ‘I can help with that,’ Kit murmured. There was a wicked twinkle in his eye.

  ‘And to brush my hair and to help me undress—’ Eleanor rushed on.

  ‘I can help with that too.’ Kit sauntered into the room, holding the door open for the maid to depart. Lucy, the romantic sparkle restored to her eye, sped out and the door closed behind her.

  Eleanor stood up. ‘My lord! Why are you wandering the corridors half-dressed and giving rise to servants’ gossip…?’

  ‘There is a bolt in place on the other door, my love,’ Kit said, gesturing to the communicating door, ‘so I was obliged to approach this way! As for being half-dressed, just be grateful that I am not in my dressing-gown!’

  Eleanor was, but she did not wish to admit it. She sighed crossly.

  ‘By what right are you in my bedroom in the first place, sir?’

  ‘The right of a husband,’ Kit said easily. He came towards her. ‘You would not deny that, I think!’

  Eleanor snatched up the hairbrush and held it to her breast.

  Kit frowned. ‘What do you intend to do with that, Eleanor? Brush me to death? You have no need to fear…’ He took the brush from her clenched fingers and laid it down. ‘I only wished to speak with you.’

  ‘Can it not wait until the morning, my lord?’ Eleanor said, a little faintly. Her defiance was weakening now that he was so close. ‘It has been a difficult evening and I am tired and wish to retire…’

  ‘In a moment. You need me to help with your necklace, remember? Turn around…’

  Once again Eleanor closed her eyes as she felt him lift the heavy swatch of her hair over one shoulder so that he could reach the clasp. The air was cool on the nape of her neck. Kit’s fingers were on the catch of the necklace; his touch grazed her skin, setting it alight. Oh, this was the most dreadful torture, but she had to withstand it. She did not want him to see that he could affect her so, for it would only encourage him to think he could ask for that little bit more.

  She heard the clink as Kit laid the necklace down on the dressing-table, then his hands were on her shoulders again, warm and strong as they had been at the start of the evening when he helped her on with her cloak. Only then the action had been innocent. This time, her shoulders were bare. Eleanor shivered.

  ‘There…’ Kit’s voice was a little husky. He was running strands of her hair through his fingers. ‘Shall I brush your hair for you now?’

  ‘No!’ Eleanor snapped. She could feel the warmth spreading from his hands where they still rested on her shoulders, down her whole body, flushing her skin pink with desire, making her blood feel heavy in her veins.

  ‘No,’ she said again, trying to speak lightly. ‘Boys always pull girls’ hair. It is inbred from childhood.’

  In the mirror she saw Kit smile slightly. He was rubbing his hands very gently up and down her upper arms, stroking, caressing. ‘I could try to make amends for that,’ he said softly.

  His hands returned to her shoulders and the pressure increased slightly. Eleanor found herself sitting down again—she had to, for her knees would have crumpled otherwise. Kit picked up the brush. The long strokes were soothing and stimulating at the same time, from the crown of her head to the end of each thick brown curl. Eleanor’s skin prickled with awareness. She closed her eyes briefly.

  ‘I am sorry that you did not enjoy the ball,’ Kit said gently. ‘Perhaps in future matters will be easier. Now that we have reached an understanding…’

  Eleanor bit her lip. Such a comfortable phrase hardly reflected her feelings at that moment.

  ‘I am sure matters will improve,’ she agreed, trying to strike the same bright note. ‘I used to love the Season’s balls a
nd parties…’

  ‘I remember…’ Kit’s voice was as soothing as the caress of the brush through her hair. ‘And you dance so beautifully. It was always a pleasure to partner you…’

  Eleanor looked at him in the mirror. His gaze was fixed on the reflection of her face and there was a turbulent heat in his eyes that made her feel quite light-headed. She had to put a stop to this.

  ‘Enough, thank you…’ She realised with horror that her voice had come out as a whisper and cleared her throat.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said again, not quite steadily. ‘That will be quite sufficient.’

  ‘That was nowhere near one hundred strokes…’ She could hear the undertone of amusement in Kit’s voice. ‘I hope it is not because you are dissatisfied with my attentions…’

  ‘No…’ The word came out on a shaky sigh. Eleanor took a deep breath to steady herself and stood up. ‘You are a more than competent ladies’ maid, my lord,’ she said, as coolly as she was able. ‘So much so that one wonders where you have learned your skill! I believe that is quite enough of your attentions for one night!’

  ‘Ah,’ Kit flashed her a grin. ‘I am dismissed! But as to my skill, there is no mystery, my sweet. It is simply that I am prepared to be patient when there is something that I want so very much…’

  Their eyes met again in the mirror. Eleanor watched their reflection as once again, Kit lifted the heavy curtain of her hair to expose one bare shoulder. She willed her feet to move, to carry her away from this insidious danger, but she found she could not take a single step. She did not want to. She shivered convulsively as Kit bent his head and she felt his lips touch the sensitive skin below her ear, then drift down the line of her neck to the hollow above her collarbone. She could feel his breath against her skin, the warmth of his hands holding her still. She leaned back against him. If he had let her go she was certain she would have fallen.