No, he would not tell Eleanor anything of that conversation as yet, preferring to make his own private and discreet enquiries, at least going some way towards proving—or disproving—Richmond’s fears, before so much as attempting to broach the subject to her. Fears, which, in view of his grandmother’s own doubts on the subject, Justin had no choice but to take seriously.
For what decent young woman, especially a young and beautiful woman newly entered into society, would want to be burdened with the stigma of learning that her father, her real father, might be none other than Lord Dryden Litchfield, an inveterate rake and gambler, whom all of decent society shunned?
Chapter Nine
Ellie was painfully aware of Justin’s sinfully handsome appearance as he stood beside her in a perfectly tailored superfine of sapphire blue, setting off buff-coloured pantaloons and brown-topped Hessians. There was an awkward silence between them, forcing her into making some sort of conversation.
She lifted her chin even as she tilted her head back in order to look up at him, feeling the physical discomfort at her nape in having to do so. ‘Goodness, you are prodigiously tall!’
Blue eyes, the exact same shade as his superfine, widened briefly, before those chiselled lips twisted into a rueful smile. ‘And you, brat, are incredibly rude, that you can never address a gentleman in the normal fashion of a well-bred young lady!’
‘Perhaps I have been keeping company with you for too long?’ she came back pertly.
‘Perhaps you have,’ he allowed. ‘Shall we?’ He held out his arm to her. ‘Unless you wish to put my grandmother to the trouble of coming in search of us, which I am sure she will do if we do not soon join her in her parlour,’ he prompted as Ellie hesitated.
No, she had no wish to involve the dowager duchess in this battle of wills that ensued between herself and that lady’s grandson each and every time they met.
Her hesitation in taking his arm was for another reason entirely. Already aware of everything about him, she had no wish to place herself in the position of touching him, of once again feeling his warmth beneath her gloved fingertips, the leashed strength of his tautly held muscles. To be so close to him that she could not help but be aware of that intensely seductive smell that was unique to him—clean healthy male and a fresh yet sensual cologne, which seemed to wind itself in and about her, until she longed for nothing more than to have him kiss her again, touch her again, make love to her again...
She straightened her spine in defence of that onslaught to her emotions as she deliberately placed her hand lightly upon the duke’s arm. ‘I should not at all wish to put the dowager duchess to such trouble as that.’
‘And, in your opinion, how is she today?’ her grandson enquired as they ascended the staircase together.
Ellie gave him a startled glance. ‘You want my opinion...?’
He nodded. ‘I received your note earlier, informing me of Dr Franklyn’s visit this morning, and as that gentleman prefers to keep his opinion of my grandmother’s health to himself,’ he added with clear disapproval, ‘it leaves me with no choice but to try to elicit the opinion on the subject from the one person who is with her the most.’
In truth, with all the excitement of the flowers arriving constantly throughout the day, the ride in the park, the encounter with the disagreeable Lord Litchfield, and then Justin’s unexpected arrival a short time ago, Ellie had all but forgotten the note she had sent him following Dr Franklyn’s visit.
Although Ellie could not help but admit to a certain grudging admiration for Dr Franklyn, in that he was insistent upon protecting his patient’s confidentiality...much to the duke’s obvious annoyance. She gave an inward smile.
‘I believe her to be quite well, considering she was hostess to a ball yesterday evening, and the late hour at which we finally retired for the night,’ Ellie said. ‘Perhaps the doctor’s visit was simply a precautionary one rather than a necessity?’
Justin pursed his lips. ‘Perhaps.’
But, in Ellie’s opinion, he did not sound at all certain. ‘The dowager duchess did breakfast in her rooms, which is not her usual custom. But she did join me not long after that and we ate luncheon together. And it was her suggestion that we should ride in the park this afternoon.’
Justin’s expression turned grim as he recalled who had been there with them when he had finally found Eleanor and his grandmother in the park earlier. ‘I believe I warned you as to the unsuitability of Lord Litchfield’s company?’
‘You did, yes.’
‘And?’
Two wings of angry colour brightened Eleanor’s cheeks as she came to a halt in the hallway outside Edith’s private parlour. ‘And, as your grandmother has already informed you, Lord Litchfield chose to inflict his company upon us without the least encouragement. From either of us.’
Justin’s nostrils flared. ‘I cannot emphasise how strongly I wish for you to avoid that man’s company!’
‘And I cannot emphasise how strongly I resent this second implication from you that I would ever wish to encourage the attentions of such an unpleasant man!’ Green eyes sparkled with that same anger as Eleanor glared up at him.
Justin held back the sharpness of his own reply and instead drew in a deep breath in an effort to calm his own turbulent emotions, knowing the worst of them, his anger, was caused by fear—for her safety, for her emotional well-being.
Litchfield was proving to be something of a nemesis in their lives at the moment, somehow seeming to be there, whenever Justin turned around. And, after Richmond’s revelations about the man, Justin did not wish for Dryden Litchfield to be anywhere near Eleanor. Or for Eleanor to be anywhere near him.
He forced the tension from his shoulders as he straightened. ‘I believe you are determined to misunderstand me—’
‘Is that you at last, Royston, Eleanor?’ his grandmother, obviously having heard the sound of their voices outside in the hallway, now called out impatiently.
Justin bit back his own impatience at this interruption as he lowered his voice so that only Eleanor might hear him. ‘We will talk of this again later.’
‘No, your Grace, I do not believe we will,’ she snapped back, and obviously tired of waiting for him to open the parlour door for her, opened it for herself and preceded him into the room.
‘Do not believe you will what, my dear?’ the dowager enquired.
Justin followed Eleanor into the room. ‘Will not—Good God, it is like a florist’s shop in here!’ He almost recoiled from the overabundance of perfume given off by the multitude of flowers in the room, vases and vases of them, it seemed, on every available surface. ‘How on earth can you possibly breathe in here, Grandmama?’ He strode across the room to throw open a window before turning to glare across at Eleanor. ‘I suppose we have your success last night to thank for this gratuitous display?’
‘Royston!’ his grandmother rebuked sharply.
Justin’ continued to glare at Eleanor. ‘I am only stating the obvious, Grandmama!’
‘That is no excuse for upsetting Ellie.’ The dowager duchess rose to her feet to cross to Eleanor’s side and place an arm about her shoulders. ‘I am sure Royston did not mean to be so sharp with you, my dear,’ she soothed as the younger woman looked in danger of succumbing to tears.
He had meant to be sharp with her, Justin realised in self-disgust. In fact, that was exactly what he had meant to do!
Because he felt somehow...unsettled by this garish tribute to her obvious success the evening before, he acknowledged.
And also, he realised uncomfortably, because it had not so much as occurred to him to send Eleanor flowers himself.
Why should it have done? Even the women whose bodies he availed himself of for however long before he grew tired of them had never received flowers from him. A pretty and expensive piece of jewe
llery as a parting gift, perhaps, but never flowers. Justin considered flowers as being somehow more personal, a gift chosen for the woman herself, rather than with an eye to how much money they might cost.
And here Eleanor had received dozens of such tokens of admiration, probably from all those young bucks who had flocked about her at the ball!
Again Justin asked why that should bother him? If those young idiots wished to make fools of themselves over a new and beautiful face, then who was he to care one way or the other?
He stood stiffly across the room, arms behind his back. ‘I was merely taken by surprise at—’
‘—such a gratuitous display,’ Eleanor completed challengingly as she straightened out of the dowager’s embrace, her chin held proudly high, sparks of anger in her eyes now rather than tears as she glared across at him. ‘If you will both excuse me, I believe I will go to my room and tidy my appearance before dinner.’ She sketched a brief curtsy before leaving the parlour with a swish of her skirts.
‘Royston, what on earth was that all about?’
Justin closed his eyes momentarily before opening them again to look across at his grandmother, sighing deeply as he saw the reproach in her steely blue gaze. ‘You no doubt wish for me to go to Eleanor and apologise for my churlishness?’
The dowager gave him a searching glance before replying. ‘Only if that is what you wish to do yourself.’
Did he? Dare he follow Eleanor to her bedchamber? Allow himself to be in a position, a place, where he might be tempted into kissing her, making love to her once again?
‘Obviously not,’ his grandmother said acidly at his lengthy silence. ‘Ah, Stanhope.’ She turned to greet the butler warmly as he arrived with the brandy and tea. ‘Wait a moment, if you please, and take this cup of tea to Miss Rosewood in her bedchamber.’ She bent to pour the brew into the two delicate china teacups.
Justin was still fighting an inner battle with himself, aware that he had been overly sharp with Eleanor just now, and that he did owe her an apology for his behaviour, if not an explanation. For he had no intention of admitting to anyone, not even himself—least of all himself!—the real emotion that had washed over him when he had first looked upon all those flowers and realised they were tangible proof of the admiration Eleanor had received from so many other gentlemen the evening before.
Jealousy...
* * *
Insufferable, impossible, cruel, heartless man! Arrogant, hateful, hateful man!
And Ellie did hate at that moment. Hated his cynicism. His sarcasm. His mockery. His overbearing arrogance. His—
‘I have brought you a cup of tea...’
Ellie turned sharply, from where she lay on the bed, to look across at Justin as he stood in the doorway to her bedchamber, aware of her reddened cheeks and the soreness of her eyes from the tears that she had allowed to fall the moment she entered the room and which had been flowing unchecked ever since.
Tears of frustration and hurt, at the unfairness of his accusations.
Tears of pain and humiliation, at his unkindness about the flowers that had been sent to her today, and which she had so enjoyed receiving.
They were also tears which Eleanor had never intended for Justin to bear witness to!
She sat up and began dabbing at the evidence of those tears with the lace handkerchief she had retrieved from the pocket of her gown. ‘Are you sure you should be in here?’
His answer to that was to step further into the room and close the door behind him. ‘I have brought you a cup of tea,’ he repeated. ‘And I will bring it across to you if you promise not to throw it over me the moment I place it in your hand!’ he teased gently.
Ellie replaced the handkerchief in her pocket. ‘You are an exceedingly cruel man.’
‘Yes.’
‘An insufferable man.’
‘Yes.’
She frowned. ‘Hateful, even.’
‘Yes.’
Ellie blinked at his unexpected acquiescence to her accusations. ‘Why do you not defend yourself?’
He sighed deeply. ‘Possibly because, on this occasion, I know you are correct. I am all of the things you have accused me of being.’
Ellie eyed him guardedly, looking for signs of that sarcasm or cynicism she had also accused him of to herself just minutes ago. He met her gaze unblinkingly, the expression in those blue eyes neither cynical nor sarcastic, but merely accepting. ‘I do not understand...’
‘I am merely agreeing with you, Eleanor.’ He crossed the room until he stood before her, the delicacy of the saucer and teacup he held out to her looking slightly incongruous in his lean hand.
She reached up slowly and took the cup and saucer from him. ‘That is what I do not understand.’
He looked down at her beneath hooded lids as he gave a shrug of those broad shoulders. ‘I have no defence, when everything you accuse me of, I undoubtedly am.’
‘And that is your apology for such insufferable behaviour?’ Ellie asked.
A humourless smile curved his lips. ‘No.’
‘Because you offer no apology,’ she realised. ‘Only tea.’
‘Is it not the panacea to all ills?’ he drawled as Eleanor took several sips of the steaming brew.
‘I believe I should have appreciated an apology more!’
‘Would you?’ he asked enigmatically.
Where had all her anger towards this man disappeared to? Ellie wondered crossly as she continued to sip her tea. Because, she realised, she was no longer angry. Or tearful. In fact, a part of her felt decidedly like smiling. Or perhaps even laughing at the incongruousness of seeing such a guilty-little-boy expression on the face of one as impossibly arrogant as he was. It was also totally illogical, in view of the way his sarcasm had hurt her just a few short minutes ago.
Except...
That ridiculous expression aside, she very much doubted that Justin had ever bothered himself to take tea to a woman in the whole of his privileged life before today. The fact that he had done so now, and to her, was in itself an apology of sorts. Not the grovelling appeasement that some would have made in the circumstances, but from this arrogant duke, Ellie recognised it was as good as another gentleman having got down upon his knees and begged her forgiveness.
She placed the empty teacup and its saucer on the bedside table. ‘Thank you. I do feel slightly better now.’
‘Good.’ He moved to sit on the side of the bed beside her and took one of her hands in both of his much larger ones. ‘And I do sincerely apologise for my bad temper to you just now, Eleanor.’
Ellie, already disconcerted at the touch of his hands on hers, now looked at him in surprise. ‘You do?’
He nodded. ‘I was boorish, to say the least. I was a little...unsettled after seeing Litchfield, of all people, beside my grandmother’s carriage in the park. But I accept I should not have taken that bad temper out on you.’
Ellie’s heart had begun to beat faster at his sudden proximity, her cheeks feeling warm, her breathing shallow, and he surely must be able to feel the way her hand trembled slightly inside his? ‘I really do not think it quite proper for you to be in my bedchamber. The dowager duchess—’
‘Made it plain to me just now that she, at least, considers me to be nothing more than an uncle to you and, as such, feels it is perfectly permissible for me to visit you here,’ he revealed drily.
The utterly disgusted expression on his face that accompanied this revelation only made Ellie feel like laughing again. How strange, when just minutes ago she had felt as if she might never laugh again...
Justin was completely unprepared for the way in which Eleanor’s lips now twitched with obvious humour, before it turned into an open smile, to be followed by husky laughter. ‘I fail to see what it is you find so amusing?’
‘
That is probably because—’ She broke off, still smiling as she shook her head. ‘The thought of you being considered in an avuncular role by any young woman is utterly ridiculous!’
Justin scowled. ‘I could not agree more.’
Those green eyes danced. ‘Your reputation in society as a rake would be ruined for ever if that were to become the general consensus!’
He stilled. ‘My reputation in society is that of a rake?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded.
‘And is that what you think of me, too?’ He frowned darkly. ‘That I choose to spend all of my days and nights bedding young women at every available opportunity?’
‘Well...perhaps not all of your days,’ Eleanor allowed mischievously. ‘You do, after all, have to find the time in which to attend to your ducal responsibilities! And there was gossip, yesterday evening at the ball, that not all of those ladies have been quite so young or available...’
‘I am accused of bedding married women, too?’
She raised auburn brows at his harshness. ‘You sound surprised that your affairs are quite so widely known.’
‘What I am surprised at is that you were subjected to overhearing such errant nonsense!’ He released her hand and stood up to restlessly cross the room before standing stiffly in front of the window. ‘Who made these scurrilous remarks?’
She looked puzzled. ‘I am not sure that I remember who exactly...’
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Try!’
She gave a slow shake of her head. ‘The remarks were not made to me directly, I merely overheard several people speculating as to who your current mistress might be, and which husband was being made the cuckold last night.’
‘I assure you—’ Justin broke off, realising he was angry once again, but this time at remarks made in Eleanor’s hearing as to what society thought of him—a reputation which had not bothered him in the slightest until he had heard it from her lips... ‘I wish you to know that I have the deepest respect for the married state, and as such have never shown the slightest inclination to bed a married woman. Nor,’ he continued grimly, ‘do I have a “current mistress”.’
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