An unhappy first marriage had soured Hawthorne to repeating the experience. Until he had met and fallen in love with Magdelena Matthews, an occurrence which Hawthorne did not at all seem to regret. Indeed, the very opposite was true; Justin had never seen the other man look happier than he had these past few weeks.
Where were Hawthorne’s feelings of resentment at the thought of conceding his freedom? Of being led about by his nose and his manhood for the next forty years? Of the possibility, unless he took a mistress, of sharing his bed with the same woman for decades? Also, Hawthorne had a young daughter from his first marriage—had he thought of her welfare in all of this—?
‘Magdelena and your ward, Miss Rosewood, have become such fast friends these past few days.’
Justin straightened abruptly as he realised he had once again allowed himself to become so distracted by his own thoughts, he had not been paying attention to Hawthorne’s conversation. ‘Did you say Miss Matthews and Eleanor are now friends?’
The other man nodded. ‘They have become inseparable since the night of the Royston Ball.’
Which explained why Eleanor had been accompanying the dowager on her visits to Lady Cicely’s home recently, as Miss Matthews was residing with Lady Cicely until after the wedding.
‘Indeed,’ Hawthorne continued, ‘the two of them are out together now, in the company of our mutual grandmothers, deciding upon material for Magdelena’s wedding gown.’
Damn it, it appeared that Hawthorne knew more about Eleanor’s movements than he did! Which, given the circumstances of her complete aversion to his own company, was not so surprising...but was incredibly galling.
‘My young daughter, Amanda, who is to be a bridesmaid, is also with them,’ Hawthorne relaxed back in his chair. ‘A great concession on her part, believe me, as she would much rather be in the stable with her pony than shopping for dresses. I believe it was her deep affection for Magdelena and Magdelena’s for her—and, of course, the bribe of calling at Gunter’s for ice-cream, once the unpleasant task has been completed—which went a long way towards convincing Amanda otherwise!’
So it seemed that Hawthorne’s daughter from his first marriage had not been in the least excluded from her father’s happiness in his forthcoming marriage. Or, quite obviously, the time and affections of her future stepmother.
Hawthorne quirked a questioning brow. ‘Why are you looking at me so strangely?’
Justin’s jaw tightened; he had not realised he was being so obvious. ‘You appear—’ He stopped, gave a wave of his hand and then tried again. ‘You actually seem to be happily anticipating remarrying, Hawthorne.’
The other man grinned. ‘Incredible, is it not, considering our conversation on the subject just weeks prior to the announcement of my betrothal?’
A conversation in which both men had voiced their aversion to entering into the married state—Hawthorne ever again, Justin until some distant time when he could no longer avoid his duty of providing the heir—both men bemoaning their grandmothers’ machinations in trying to bring that unhappy event about for them.
‘Perhaps we are all to receive news of another betrothal quite soon...?’ Hawthorne suggested.
Justin stiffened warily. ‘What on earth do you mean?’ Close as Eleanor’s friendship with Miss Matthews was purported to be, he could not imagine Eleanor confiding their lovemaking to the other woman. And even if she had, Eleanor’s aversion to his company did not in the least give him the impression that she hoped there would be more of the same, or that it would eventually lead to a proposal of marriage. The opposite, in fact! It was—
‘I am referring to Endicott and Miss Rosewood, of course.’ Hawthorne eyed him curiously.
Lord Charles Endicott and Eleanor?
That young pup Charles Endicott and Eleanor!
What the devil was going on? He almost couldn’t think straight as lights seemed to explode behind his eyes.
‘It would be considered a good match for your young ward,’ Hawthorne continued conversationally, seemingly unaware of Justin’s sudden turmoil of emotions. ‘Endicott is both wealthy and second in line to a dukedom.’
Admittedly, Endicott was indeed as Hawthorne described, and at two and twenty, he was also considered charming and handsome by those society mamas looking for a suitable and wealthy son-in-law. But as far as Justin was aware Eleanor had only met the other man once, on the evening of the Royston Ball, when she stood up to dance a single set with him. Of course, he had noted that one of those dozens of bouquets of flowers, delivered the day after the ball, could have been sent from Endicott, but even so...
Justin gave a decisive shake of his head. ‘I have no idea how you have hit upon such a misconception, Hawthorne, but I assure you that Eleanor does not have any such ambitions where Endicott is concerned.’
‘Oh?’ Hawthorne looked surprised. ‘In that case, perhaps it might be kinder if she were to discourage his attentions, rather than appearing as if she enjoyed them.’
Justin looked confused. ‘I have absolutely no idea what the devil you are talking about!’
The other man gave him a speculative glance before replying slowly, ‘No, apparently you do not...’
* * *
‘What do you think, Ellie?’ Miss Magdelena Matthews prompted as their party stood outside Gunter’s confectioner’s shop in Berkeley Square. ‘Was that not the most delicious ice-cream you have ever tasted?’
Ellie returned the smile. ‘Most certainly.’ It was also the only ice-cream she had ever eaten; there had been no money for such extravagance as this during her childhood and she had never been to London during her years as Lord Frederick’s stepdaughter, nor had there been the time, or the money, to indulge in such things since she had become companion to Edith St Just.
But Ellie had hoped—willed herself—to give every appearance of enjoying herself, as she conversed and smiled and ate her ice-cream with the others in their party, the enchanting Miss Amanda Hawthorne having most especially enjoyed the latter treat.
Yes, outwardly, Ellie felt sure she gave the impression of happiness and contentment. Inwardly, it was another matter, however...
This past three days, since the evening of her error in allowing Justin to make love to her in her bedchamber, and realising she was in totally and futilely in love with him, despite his behaviour, had been nothing short of hellish, made more so by the fact that the duke now also lived with her.
As arranged, he had duly arrived at ten o’clock the following morning, his entourage of valet and private secretary in tow, the former arranging for the excess of luggage to be placed in the ducal chambers situated at the front of the house—well away, thank goodness, from Ellie and the dowager duchess’ apartments at the back of the house—whilst the latter took over the study and library for the duke’s personal use.
Edith St Just, as predicted, had been beside herself with joy at this turn of events. Indeed, the dowager had been flushed with excitement ever since, thankfully showing no sign of the illness or fatigue that had previously plagued her, as she happily reorganised the household to fit around the duke’s daily schedule.
Ellie had been far from joyous. In fact, she had hoped, once Justin had time to consider the matter following the incident in her bedchamber, that he would have sensitivity enough to find a way in which to delay—indefinitely!—his plans to move in.
She should have realised that would be expecting too much from a man who obviously cared for nothing and no one, other than his grandmother’s comfort and, of course, his own!
Ellie was therefore left with no choice but to absent herself from Royston House as much as possible. Something that had proved only too easy to do when the invitations, to theatre parties, dances and assemblies, and alfresco dining, had flooded in following her success at the Royston Ball. And, too, she had developed a deep friendsh
ip with Magdelena Matthews, the two of them finding they had much in common as they talked together whilst the dowager was visiting with her dear friend Lady Cicely.
Indeed, if not for Justin’s depressingly broody presence at Royston House, and her unrequited love for him, Ellie knew she would have enjoyed her change in circumstances immensely.
Indeed, she was determined she would enjoy herself, in spite of the brooding, distracting Duke of Royston!
She turned to smile at the young, handsome gentleman standing beside her. ‘How fortuitous that we should meet you here today, my lord.’
Lord Charles Endicott gave a boyish grin. ‘Not so much, when you consider that I overheard you and Miss Matthews discussing the outing when I chanced upon you during your walk in the park yesterday.’
‘That was very naughty of you!’ She laughed merrily.
His eyes warmed with admiration for her appearance in a gown of pale green with matching bonnet. ‘A man has no shame when he is in pursuit of a woman!’
She raised auburn brows. ‘And are you pursuing me, my lord?’
‘Doing my damnedest, yes.’ He nodded, a gentleman aged in his early twenties, with fashionably styled dark hair and flirtatious brown eyes set in that boyishly handsome face. ‘Excuse my language, if you please,’ he added awkwardly.
‘I find your remark too flattering to be in the least offended,’ Ellie assured with another chuckle; Lord Endicott was perhaps a little too much of a dandy in his dress for her tastes, but otherwise she found his company to be both pleasant and uncomplicated. Unlike another certain gentleman she could name!
‘Will you be attending Lady Littleton’s musical soirée this evening?’ he enquired eagerly. ‘If so, might I be permitted to—?’
‘My ward plans to spend this evening at home, Endicott,’ a cold voice cut repressively across their conversation.
A voice Ellie recognised only too easily.
As indeed did the others in her group as they all turned in unison to look at him, the dowager with some surprise, Lady Cecil and Miss Matthews with some considerable curiosity.
Ellie took a moment to straighten her spine—and her resolve—before she also turned to look at him, instantly aware that neither her straightened spine or her resolve were sufficient for her to withstand the icy blast of his glittering blue gaze as it swept over her before alighting on the hapless Lord Charles Endicott, as that young gentleman bowed to the older man.
Lord Endicott was a picture of dandified elegance in his superfine of pale blue and waistcoat of pastel pink, the collar of his shirt uncomfortably high, neckcloth intricately tied at his throat, and giving him all the appearance of a posturing peacock when placed next to Justin’s sartorial elegance, in grey superfine, charcoal-coloured waistcoat and snowy white linen.
Although possibly only half a dozen years separated the two men, they were as different as day and night, the one so bright and colourful, the other a study of dark shadows.
Ellie bristled defensively as she saw the contemptuous curl of the duke’s top lip, and the scathing amusement in his gaze, as he also took in the other man’s foppish appearance. ‘I believe you are mistaken in that, your Grace.’ She refused to so much as blink or lower her gaze as he raised one haughty brow in question. ‘I am certain her Grace will concur that we have accepted Lady Littleton’s invitation for her soirée this evening.’
‘Then you, at least, will have to unaccept it,’ Justin informed her implacably.
Her eyes widened. ‘And why should I wish to do that?’
He looked down the length of his arrogant nose at her. ‘You are looking tired, no doubt from all the gadding about you have indulged in recently, and an evening at home will be far more beneficial to you than another evening out.’
Telling Ellie more succinctly, than if he had spoken the words aloud, that—despite the deliberate brightness of her gown and her efforts to give the appearance of being both contented and happy—he did not consider her to be looking her best!
As if she was not already aware of that. As if she was not also aware at whose highly polished, booted feet the blame for that lay!
Her last few days had been filled with a flurry of engagements, in an effort to keep busy and at the same time absent herself from Royston House. Her nights had been...restless and sleepless, to say the least, caught as she was in the puzzling dichotomy of deeply regretting that the intimacies she had shared with Justin had ever happened, and the quivers of pleasure, the love for him, which still coursed through her each and every time she thought of what they had done together!
Nevertheless, she did not welcome him bringing attention to her fatigue, or even in mentioning it at all! ‘I have no intentions of cancelling attending Lady Littleton’s soirée this evening.’
‘Oh, I believe that you will,’ the duke answered softly, dangerously, as their gazes remained locked, his challenging, Eleanor’s defiant.
‘No.’
‘Yes!’
‘Royston?’ the dowager duchess prompted sharply at this public battle of wills.
* * *
It had not been Justin’s intention to leave the carriage when he had instructed his driver to return to Royston House by way of Berkeley Square, but a single glance towards the establishment known as Gunter’s had revealed Eleanor and his grandmother to be standing outside, in the company of the female members of Hawthorne’s family.
And that blasted Endicott fellow!
Justin had not given himself time to think as he instructed his driver to stop, barely allowing his carriage to come to a halt before jumping out on to the cobbled road and marching towards where the happy group lingered in conversation.
Just in time, it would seem, to prevent Eleanor from making yet another assignation with Endicott, for later this evening!
Chapter Twelve
‘I trust you will forgive me for intruding on your outing, ladies.’ Justin chose to ignore Eleanor’s furious glare for the moment as he turned to bestow a charming smile upon the other ladies gathered outside Gunter’s.
His grandmother was predictably frowning her disapproval of his behaviour, Lady Cicely and Miss Matthews gazed at him with polite curiosity and Miss Amanda Hawthorne, a beautiful little angel with golden-blonde curls, still bore evidence of her recently eaten ice-cream about her little rosebud of a happily smiling mouth.
‘I happened to be passing by in my carriage,’ Justin continued lightly, ‘and could not help but notice you all standing here in conversation. It would have been rude of me to just drive past without stopping to pay my respects.’ He made a polite bow.
A gesture of politeness that was immediately answered by his grandmother’s loud and disgusted ‘humph’! ‘That is all very well, Royston,’ she snapped. ‘But what is your reason for denying Elli—Eleanor the pleasure of going to Lady Littleton’s soirée this evening?’
It had been Justin’s experience that such evenings were both tedious and tiresome, rather than a pleasure! ‘As I have already stated, Grandmama—’ he maintained a pleasant, reasoning tone ‘—Eleanor looks somewhat fatigued and I simply feel that an evening at home resting would be more beneficial to her health than another night out.’
‘I—’
‘You must forgive me, Eleanor, I had not noticed before now,’ the dowager duchess spoke over Eleanor’s angry protest, ‘but Royston is right; you are indeed looking slightly pale and fatigued this afternoon.’
‘There.’ Justin turned to Eleanor, triumph glittering in his eyes. ‘I do not believe the dowager and I can both be wrong?’
Ellie narrowed her eyes on her tormentor’s gaze, dearly wishing that the two of them were alone at this moment—so that she might launch another cup and saucer at his arrogant head! Or a heavy tome. Or perhaps something even deadlier than that! For she did not believe a word o
f what he had just said, from his ‘having just been passing by’ in his carriage to his obviously fake concern about her supposed ‘fatigue’.
Considering the size of the city, and the numerous other pursuits the duke could have been enjoying today, it seemed far too coincidental that he should have been ‘driving past’ Gunter’s at this precise moment. Nor did Ellie believe the duke had ever given a single thought about the state of her health, this day or any other.
No, Ellie was utterly convinced that Justin was merely determined to once again exercise his steely will upon her. As determined as she was that he would not succeed in that endeavour!
She smiled up at him now with sugary and insincere sweetness, a smile that instantly caused him to narrow his own eyes in suspicion. ‘I agree the dowager is never wrong, your Grace,’ she conceded lightly—at the same time implying that he, on the other hand, did not have that same distinction. ‘But in this instance she is misinformed. I feel perfectly well and am greatly looking forward to attending Lady Littleton’s soirée with her this evening.’
His mouth thinned. ‘And I would rather you did not.’
‘I have noted your objection, your Grace.’ She nodded.
‘But choose to ignore it?’
‘Yes.’ It was as if they were the only two present, so intense was their current battle of wills.
Something Justin was also aware of as his mouth tightened. ‘Perhaps we should leave these dear ladies to their shopping and continue this conversation in my carriage?’ he suggested through gritted teeth.
Her chin rose. ‘I believe we had finished shopping, your Grace, and are now returning to have tea with Lady Cicely.’
Nostrils flared on that aquiline nose. ‘We are leaving now, Eleanor.’
‘Oh, I say—’
‘Did you have something you wished to add to this conversation, Endicott?’ Cold blue eyes focused with deadly intent on the younger man at his interruption.
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