Tomorrow, or possibly the next day, was another matter, however...
* * *
‘What an unpleasant man.’ Ellie could not resist a quiver of revulsion when Justin finally rejoined her and the two of them turned to walk their horses back to Royston House.
‘Very,’ he agreed.
‘Will he be attending the ball this evening...?’
The duke gave a scathing snort. ‘My grandmother would never allow one such as he to step over her threshold.’
She eyed him curiously. ‘And yet he is obviously a man of your own acquaintance, is he not?’
‘We have shared a card game or two, which he has invariably lost.’ Justin shrugged dismissively. ‘His reputation is such that much of society shuns him. And while we are on the subject,’ he added harshly, ‘I forbid you to so much as acknowledge him should you ever chance to meet him again.’
‘You forbid it?’ Ellie gasped incredulously.
The duke looked implacably at her. ‘I do, yes. Unless, of course, I am mistaken and you would welcome Litchfield’s attentions?’
She gave another shudder just recalling that unpleasant man. ‘Of course I would not.’
‘Then—’
‘Whilst I accept that we are distantly related by marriage, Cousin—’ Ellie’s bland tone revealed none of her inner anger at his high-handedness ‘—and that you are the grandson of my employer—’
‘—and your newly appointed guardian—’
‘Perhaps that is so—’
‘There is no perhaps about it!’ the duke swiftly interjected.
‘Even so, I cannot—I simply cannot allow you to forbid, or allow, any of my future actions,’ Ellie informed him firmly, with far too many memories of how his cousin Frederick had held such sway over her poor mother for the last years of her life.
Justin reached out and grasped the reins of her horse as she would have urged her horse into a canter. ‘In this instance I must insist you obey me, Eleanor.’
Tears of anger now blurred her vision. ‘You may insist all you please, your Grace, but I refuse to allow myself to be bullied by any man.’
Justin scowled his frustration as Eleanor wrenched her reins from his grasp, leaving him to sit and watch as she urged her horse forwards and away from him.
Damn Litchfield.
Damn his troublemaking hide!
Chapter Six
‘I believe, Royston, that if you do not cease scowling, you are in danger of taking your duties as Ellie’s guardian to such a degree that you will succeed in scaring away all but the most determined of eligible young gentlemen!’
Justin turned to raise one arrogant brow as he looked down to where his grandmother had moved to stand beside him at the edge of the crowded dance floor in her candlelit ballroom. Still slightly pale, and uncharacteristically fragile in her demeanour, the dowager duchess had, as she had said she would, rallied from her sickbed in order to take her place as hostess of the Royston Ball.
Justin’s mood had not improved since he and Eleanor had parted so frostily upon returning to the stables behind Royston House. For the most part because Justin knew he had handled the situation badly, that issuing orders to a woman as stubborn as Eleanor was proving to be was sure to result in her doing the exact opposite of what was being asked of her—an accusation, which if repeated to Eleanor, would no doubt earn him the comment of ‘the pot calling the kettle black’! Not that Justin thought for a moment that she would ever encourage Litchfield’s advances, but he had no doubt she would find some other way in which to bedevil him for what she had considered his high-handedness this afternoon.
He had known, the moment Eleanor walked down the grand staircase at Royston House earlier, and he had seen the light of rebellion in those emerald-green eyes and the defiant tilt to her chin, that she intended for that punishment to begin this very evening...
At first glance Justin had wondered at his grandmother’s choice of attire for her young protégée. But the longer he gazed upon Eleanor’s appearance, the more he realised how astutely clever the old lady had been; brightly coloured silks were now the preferred fashion for the ladies of the ton, as were the garishly matching feathers and silks worn in their hair.
In contrast, Eleanor’s gown was the palest shade of green silk Justin had ever seen, as were the delicate above-elbow-length lace gloves that covered her hands and arms. Her hair, those glorious red curls, had been swept back and up and secured at her crown, before being allowed to cascade gently down to brush lightly against the slenderness of her nape. Her bare nape. For, unlike the other women of society, of any age, who often chose to wear their wealth, quite literally, upon their sleeves and about their throats, Eleanor was not wearing a single piece of jewellery. Her wrists, her hair, the lobes of her ears, the creamy expanse of her throat and breasts, were all completely unadorned.
As a consequence, Justin realised that Eleanor Rosewood’s understated elegance gave her the appearance of a dove amongst garishly adorned peacocks. A pure, unblemished, perfectly cut diamond set amongst roughly hewn and gaudy-coloured sapphires, emeralds and rubies.
As predicted, the crowded ballroom had fallen deathly silent the moment Stanhope had announced their entrance. But Justin was fully aware the speculative attention was not directed solely towards him this evening, but included the young lady standing so coolly self-contained at his side—admittedly, it was a façade of calm only, as hinted at by the slight trembling of her gloved hand as it rested lightly upon his arm, but to all outward appearances Eleanor was a picture of composure and elegance. She was also, as his grandmother had intended, instantly recognised as the same young woman who had been seen riding in the park with him this afternoon.
The ladies, as Eleanor had previously suggested might be the case, had gazed openly and critically at her from behind fluttering fans—with not a single sign of recognition, Justin noted ruefully, that the elegant Miss Eleanor Rosewood was also Ellie, the previously nondescript companion of the dowager duchess. The gentlemen, Justin had noted with more annoyance, had been much more open in their admiration.
An admiration confirmed by the fact that at least a dozen of those same gentlemen had crowded around begging to be introduced the moment Justin had finished presenting Eleanor to his grandmother and her two close friends, the Dowager Countess of Chambourne and Lady Cicely Hawthorne, all of them expressing a wish to claim a dance with her before the evening should come to an end.
As her guardian and protector, it had been Justin’s duty to claim Eleanor for the first dance, of course, and he had politely done so—much to the increasing interest of his grandmother’s other guests; the Duke of Royston never stood up to dance on these occasions. Indeed, Justin had always made a point of not doing so, making his attentions to Eleanor all the more noticeable. It would, as his grandmother had always intended it should, secure her place in society.
The two of them had not exchanged so much as a word as they danced that first set together, Eleanor’s expression one of cool detachment as Justin studied her beneath hooded lids, finding himself pleasantly surprised by her grace and elegance on the dance floor; proving that she had indeed been shown how to ‘behave in the company of ladies and gentlemen’.
Justin had not been quite so pleased by those same gentlemen who had rushed to fill Eleanor’s dance card the moment he escorted her back to his grandmother’s side. Or the fact that Eleanor appeared to blossom under their avid attentions.
His mouth thinned anew as he continued to gaze across to where Eleanor was now laughing merrily at something amusing her current dance partner had said to her. ‘Lord Braxton can hardly be considered young or entirely eligible,’ he remarked curtly to his grandmother.
‘Nonsense!’ Edith dismissed as she continued to smile benevolently at her young protégée. ‘Jeremy Caulfield is a widower
as well as being an earl.’
Justin grimaced. ‘He is also twice Eleanor’s age and in need of a stepmother for all of those children he keeps hidden away in the nursery at Caulfield Park!’
His grandmother raised iron-grey brows. ‘There are but three children, Justin, the heir, the spare and a girl. And anyone with eyes in their head can see that Braxton is smitten with Ellie herself, rather than having any thoughts of providing his children with another mother.’
Justin was only too well aware that Jeremy Caulfield’s admiration of Eleanor was personal; that was made more than obvious by the warm way the other man gazed upon her so intently, and the way in which Caulfield’s hand had lingered upon hers as they’d danced together. That Eleanor returned his liking was obvious in the relaxed and natural way in which she returned the earl’s smiles and conversation. Nor could Justin deny, inwardly at least, that it would be a very good match for Eleanor if Caulfield were to become seriously enamoured of her, enough so that he made her an offer of marriage.
It would, Justin also acknowledged, bring a quick end to his reluctant role as Eleanor’s guardian.
An occurrence which, surprisingly, he found far less pleasing than he had thought he might.
* * *
‘—am afraid that I have already promised to eat supper with the dowager duchess, Lady Hawthorne and the Countess of Ambridge, my lord,’ Ellie shyly refused the invitation of the handsome and attentive Lord Jeremy Caulfield, Earl of Braxton, placing her hand upon his arm as they left the dance floor together.
After the disastrous end to her ride in the park with Justin earlier, Ellie had been in a turmoil of trepidation about attending the Royston Ball with him this evening, only to find, once the tension of dancing the first set with Justin had been dealt with, that she was actually enjoying herself. Mainly due, she admitted, to the genuinely warm regard of such gentlemen as the attentive earl.
Her smile faded somewhat as she looked up and saw the imposing Duke of Royston standing so disapprovingly beside his smiling grandmother; he had certainly made no effort to put Ellie at her ease this evening. How could he, when he had barely spoken two words to her since his arrival some hours ago, causing her to give a sigh of relief when their dancing together finally came to an end?
Surely it only confirmed how deeply Justin disapproved of his grandmother’s determined interest in settling Ellie’s future, and his own reluctant involvement in it? He had made it more than obvious he would never have contemplated agreeing to it if not for his deep regard for Edith and that lady’s recent bout of ill health.
Thankfully, the dowager duchess really had seemed to improve a little over the last few days, and although she was still pale, she gave every appearance of enjoying the evening; Ellie knew that dear lady well enough by now to know that Edith St Just would never admit to it if she were not!
The Earl of Braxton looked genuinely disappointed by Ellie’s refusal to sit with him at supper. ‘Perhaps if I were to ask the dowager duchess’s permission—’
‘As Miss Rosewood is my own ward, it is my permission you would need to receive, Braxton,’ the cold voice of Justin St Just cut in.
The older man turned, a pleasant smile curving his lips. ‘Then perhaps you might consent to allowing me to escort Miss Rosewood into supper, Royston?’
‘I am afraid that would not do at all, Braxton.’ The duke looked down the length of his nose at the other man.
‘Oh, but—’
‘It will not do, Eleanor,’ Justin repeated firmly as she started to protest. ‘Forgive my ward, Braxton.’ He turned back to the earl. ‘I am afraid Eleanor is new to society. As such she is unaware of the attention she has already drawn to herself by her naivety and flirtatiousness.’
Ellie’s eyes widened at the unfairness of the accusation. Admittedly she had not sat down for a single dance since that first one with Justin, but she believed that her popularity was only because she was considered something of a curiosity, an oddity, if you will. Certainly she had not sought out any of the attentions that had been shown to her, nor did she consider she had been in the least flirtatious!
‘If you will excuse us, Braxton?’ Justin did not wait for the earl’s response as he took a firm grasp of Ellie’s arm before turning away.
‘Justin—’
‘We will await you in the supper room, Grandmother,’ he said to the old lady who had come up behind them, his expression grimly unapproachable as he strode rapidly towards the room in which supper was now being served, practically dragging Ellie along beside him.
‘Now who is the one responsible for drawing attention? To us both?’ Ellie’s cheeks burned with humiliation as she stumbled to keep up with the duke’s much longer strides, at the same time as she kept a smile fixed upon her lips for those watching them.
Justin’s jaw clenched and he ground his back teeth together as he glared at the members of the ton who dared to so much as glance in their direction. Glances which were hastily averted under the fierceness of his chilling blue gaze.
‘Your Grace—’
‘Do not “your Grace” me in what can only be described as a feeble attempt to mimic my grandmother’s disapproving tones!’ Justin rounded on Eleanor sharply, only for his breath to catch in his throat as he saw how pale her cheeks had now become, those freckles more evident on her nose and cheeks, and that there were tears glistening in those deep-green eyes as she looked up at him reproachfully.
Damn it to hell!
He forced himself to slow his angry strides and loosen his tight grip upon her arm before speaking again. ‘It may not appear so, Eleanor,’ he explained, also attempting to soften the harshness of his tone, ‘but I assure you I am only acting in your best interests. For you to have singled Braxton out so soon, by eating supper alone with him, would have been as good as a declaration on your part.’
A puzzled frown marred her creamy brow as she blinked back the tears. ‘A declaration? Of what, exactly?’
‘Of your willingness to accept a marriage proposal from him should one be forthcoming.’
‘That is utterly ridiculous...’ she recoiled with a horrified gasp ‘...when I have only just been introduced to him!’ If anything her face had grown even paler.
Justin nodded grimly. ‘And being new to society, you are as yet unaware of the subtle nuances of courtship.’
She shook her head, red curls bouncing against the slenderness of her creamy nape. ‘But I am sure the earl meant no such familiarity by his supper invitation. He merely wished to continue our discussion, to learn my views, on the merits or otherwise, of engaging a companion or governess for his five-year-old daughter.’
Justin’s breath caught in his throat. ‘He discussed the future care of his young daughter with you?’
‘Well, yes...’ Ellie could see by the grim expression in his hard blue eyes that she had obviously done something else unacceptable. ‘It was a harmless enough conversation, surely?’
He gave her a pitying glance. ‘It is the sort of conversation that a gentleman has with the lady who might perhaps become the new mother of that child.’
Ellie eyes widened. ‘Surely you cannot be serious? I hardly know the man!’
Justin gave a derisive snort. ‘Can it be that you are really as naïve as you appear to be, Eleanor? Because if that is so, then I believe my grandmother should have waited a while longer before introducing you into society.’
‘I do not—’
‘This afternoon you were all but propositioned by one of the biggest blaggards in London,’ Justin continued remorselessly. ‘And this evening you have committed the faux pas of discussing a man’s nursery with him!’
Ellie’s cheeks now burned with humiliated colour, but she was determined not to give in without a fight. ‘Must I remind you that I would not have so much as spoken to that “blaggard”
this afternoon, if not for your own acquaintance with the man? And I truly believe the earl was merely making polite conversation just now—’
The duke cut her off with an incredulous look. ‘By consulting with you on what is best for the future education of his young, motherless daughter?’
Ellie gave a pained frown. ‘Well...yes.’
Had she been naïve in taking Lord Caulfield’s conversation at face value? She had not thought so at the time, but Justin knew the ways of society far better than she, after all. Yet it had seemed such a harmless conversation, Jeremy Caulfield so terribly bewildered and at a loss as to how best to bring up a little girl on his own—
Oh, good lord...!
‘I believe my evening has now been quite ruined!’ Ellie almost felt as if she might quite happily sit down and cry rather than attempt to eat any of the delicious supper laid out so temptingly before her.
Justin gave her a humourless smile. ‘Do not take on so, Eleanor, a single inappropriate conversation with a gentleman does not commit you to spending a lifetime with him. Indeed, I should not give my permission for such a marriage even if such an offer were forthcoming. And I have no doubt my grandmother is even now excusing your behaviour by reiterating to Braxton your inexperience in such matters.’
‘And that makes me feel so much better!’ Ellie snapped, her earlier feelings of well-being having completely dissipated during the course of this conversation.
She had believed herself to be doing so well, to be behaving with all the dignity and decorum as befitted the supposed ward of the Duke of Royston, and instead it now seemed she had been encouraging the Earl of Braxton into believing she was in favour of him furthering his attentions towards her.
NOT JUST A WALLFLOWER Page 7