A burst of warmth bubbled in her chest and it took all her strength of keep her feet still and wait for her mama to ascend the steps towards her.
The baroness, a lady of slender figure and absolute elegance, hurried towards her daughter and took her in a warm embrace. “My dear, you look so well. It has been too long. I am sorry I couldn’t get away sooner. You know how it is and your father was being a terrible nuisance. I had hoped to bring him with me but business would not allow it. He shall, however, be along before the winter sets in, I promise you that.” Breathless, her mama drew back and grinned. “Oh, how I have missed you.” She pressed a kiss to Eleanor’s cheek and Eleanor laughed.
“I have missed you too, Mama.”
The lonely ache in her chest had dissipated in a moment with the arrival of her mother. Eleanor took a second to study her mother and saw she looked in good health. Her cheeks were vibrant and though her skin could not be described as youthful, her mama’s lively eyes and wide smile never failed to make her look young and beautiful.
“Of course you remember Aunt Sylvia.”
“Of course I do. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Aunt.”
The tall woman, as slender as herself and her mother, smiled warmly. They were all of similar looks, the women in their family. Slightly severe brows, strong noses and unshapely figures. Yet her mother and Aunt Sylvia always carried it off with far more grace than she did. Aunt Sylvia’s dark hair had only the merest spot of grey and while Mama had Eleanor’s colouring, her hair had always been lighter, adding a delicate effect. It was now almost white but with it swept under her hat, she still looked elegant and endearingly petite.
Her aunt drew her close and tears touched Eleanor’s eyes. It had been so very long since she’d had much physical affection. Edward tried his best but he simply wasn’t interested in touching her. Not that she blamed him.
She led them into the Cube Room while the footman brought in tea and cakes, and laid them on the marble table in the centre of the chairs. Mama settled herself on the long settee and Aunt Sylvia followed suit. The admiration on her aunt’s face was abundantly clear and Eleanor smiled.
None of the women in her family could be accused of possessing the talent of hiding their emotions—though Eleanor had always been the worst for blurting out every thought or emotion that ran through her head. That was, until she had been dragged away from Lucian that night. After that she had been determined to do better, to prove herself a better person.
“How was your journey, Mama?”
The baroness leaned forwards and helped herself to a delicate meringue. “A little bumpy, dear. Some of the roads from the train station were a little rough but at least it is dry here.”
“Yes, we’ve had quite a dry spell though I fear we shall see rain by this evening. I am glad you have come, Mama, Aunt. How long shall you be staying?”
“Several weeks, I expect,” Aunt Sylvia put in, before running her gaze about the room. “Eleanor, this room is simply divine.”
Eleanor smiled her acknowledgement. She rarely used the Single Cube Room, but it still even stole her breath occasionally. The high painted ceilings and gilded cornicing created a grandeur that rivalled some of the palaces in England. One large portrait of Edward’s family spanned the rear wall while several older paintings occupied the rest of the white walls.
“Tell me, do you have word from Jane?” Eleanor asked eagerly. She’d not heard about her favourite maid for some time.
“She is not so well I am afraid,” her mother said. “You know she has always been fragile, at least since...”
Eleanor nodded. Jane had doted on her as a young girl but after a factory accident harmed Jane’s daughter, she withdrew into herself. For people like Jane, she had to make a difference, and the mill was just the opportunity to do that.
“Anyway, how are things since Edward’s passing, Ellie? I hope you are not too lonely. I longed to come and see you in Paris, but your papa said you would not welcome it.” Her mama sounded quite put out.
“Edward was quite ill, Mama. It wouldn’t have been advisable and you know I do not need you to hold my hand any longer.”
The baroness sighed. “Yes, you have been terribly insistent on being independent, but you must allow me to worry for my daughter. Have you met many of the families around here?”
“A few visited with me when I first returned, but I have no need for parties and suchlike. I would much rather spend my time on other matters.”
“I must say, Eleanor, I do not remember you being quite so serious,” Aunt Sylvia declared. “You always enjoyed parties and dances.”
“Oh Ellie is quite the serious creature now,” her mama said with a smile. “She has travelled the world and of course though she might still be little Ellie to us, she is a countess. We must not forget that, Sylvia.” Her mama lifted both her brows in a teasing manner and they all laughed.
“Mama, if you keep speaking so, I shall have no choice but to believe myself entirely above your company and send you all away.”
Her mother leaned across and laid a hand across hers. “You know I jest, my dear, but I am so very proud of you. That said, you really must spend more time with the local families. You are well out of mourning and it would not be disrespectful to start thinking of your future.”
“Another husband you mean?” She knew it was inevitable. She would have to marry again eventually, if only to make sure the un-entailed estates did not fall to ruin. She had no control over the Scottish estate that had passed to Edward’s cousin but Broadstone had been his favourite house. He had made her promise to ensure that nothing happened to it once he willed everything he could over to her. Not that she was sure she was even capable of creating those heirs every man so sorely longed for.
“Well, there is no need to rush. What of...a companion?”
Eleanor shifted her gaze from her aunt to her mama, warmth flowing into her cheeks. But both women looked completely placid. Had she misunderstood? “A companion?”
“Why, yes. Your aunt and I were just saying we thought you deserved something just for yourself.”
“Yes,” Aunt Sylvia concurred. “You have achieved more than many of the women in our family have, but you are not an innocent any longer.”
“Mama! Aunt!”
“We are simply saying there would be no harm in you taking a little time for yourself and maybe taking a...a lover,” Mama whispered the last part. “With your status, you’re practically above reproach.”
Resisting the desire to slap her hands over her face and hide, Eleanor shook her head. “Mama...”
“Just think on it. We cannot all be lucky enough to have love matches or for our relationships to even grow into one. Goodness knows, my mother never expected me to fall for your father, but thank the Lord I did or I should not be able to put up with his terrible habits. But a mother wants two things for her daughter. For her to be well looked after, which you are, and for her to be happy. I’m not sure you have achieved that yet. You are a wonderful daughter and I am blessed to have such a dutiful child, but I would not object to you being a little selfish for a while.”
Exhaustion swamped Eleanor suddenly. She had spent the past seven years trying her best to be the dutiful daughter, to live up to expectations that she had feared she had dashed as a hopeless young girl who had allowed herself to be kissed by a rake. And now her mama wanted something different from her. She hardly knew what to think.
“I appreciate your concern, Mama, but I have no need or want to take a...a lover.”
Aunt Sylvia stuffed a meringue into her mouth and eyed them both avidly as if she were watching an exciting scene at the theatre.
Her mother nodded. “You know I only speak out of love for you. You are no innocent, my dear, no matter what your father may say. But will you at least make an attempt to make some new friends? A female friend would do wonders for you. You have spent far too long in the company of one man and you used to have several female frien
ds if you remember?”
Eleanor remembered. There were several girls she spent time with but none liked her all that much. She was too clumsy and ugly to be seen with them. They merely tolerated her. But in her eagerness to see good in the world, she overlooked their disdain for so many years.
“I shall try my best, Mama.”
“A ball,” Aunt Sylvia declared suddenly, as if it was the most original idea on Earth.
“Oh, yes, what a fine idea,” the baroness agreed.
Eleanor narrowed her gaze at both the older women. Had they been planning this all along? Or perhaps even talked of her taking a lover? Was this some plan to find her a one?
“If you shall forget the idea of a lover, then I shall consent to holding a ball,” Eleanor replied coolly.
Her mother sat up straight and her smile widened. “Wonderful idea, Ellie. And do not forget to invite your neighbour, Lord Rushbourne. I’ve not seen him in years and I hear he is quite handsome.”
Oh Lord. Eleanor fought the desire to sink to the floor. Her mother was plotting, and for some strange reason, she appeared to be plotting an illicit liaison between her daughter and the man she once thought so dangerous to her innocence that she had her married off to an old earl.
Chapter Ten
An Unlucky Hand
Lucian lifted his gaze from his cards and peered at the new arrivals for a moment. Then he dropped his gaze to the cards and concluded he had little chance of winning with such a poor hand. And therefore it was definitely not worth sitting around and waiting for the Earl of Banridge to spot him.
What was the man doing in the Eights anyway? No one but poor travellers stopped at the dilapidated inn, which was exactly why he chose it as his hide out. On the rare occasion he took a break from his duties, he headed to The Eight Bells.
He lowered his head as Banridge headed to the bar. Throwing in his hand, he made to leave while the earl had his back turned, but his movement must have drawn Banridge’s attention.
“Rushbourne?”
Lucian rotated slowly, and tried to keep his unmarred side towards him. “Banridge,” he said, dropping his head in acknowledgment.
However, the earl did not let him on his way and stepped back from the bar to stand in front of him. “Good Lord it is you. Why, I haven’t seen you in, well, over a year, surely? I knew you had a seat in the country nearby but did not think you would be at home or else I would have called upon you. Someone said you were in France or something, recovering from...” He paused and smiled. “Well, it is good to see you.”
“And you, Banridge.”
“Shall you be coming to London next summer?”
“I doubt it.”
He hardly wanted to come and be centre of attention, and for all the wrong reasons. Once he might have relished it—his escapades were often talked of—but this was different. Now they would be speaking of his scars and how grotesque he was.
“Too much on your hands, eh?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I shall be sure to tell my sister where you are. Kitty was terribly fond of you. She married recently, you know?”
His sister, Lady Catherine, had been terribly fond of him indeed. Fond enough to let him share her bed on frequent occasions after her first husband passed. Banridge clearly had no idea or else he would be calling him out, but that did not surprise Lucian. He was not the brightest of men.
“I had not heard. Please pass on my congratulations. Forgive me, I must hurry, I’m late for an appointment.”
The well-dressed man nodded genially. “Absolutely, Good to see you, Rushbourne.”
“Likewise.”
Lucian noted how Bainridge’s gaze fell upon his scar briefly as he turned, and the look of astonishment that came across his face made Lucian curl a fist. He strode briskly out of the inn and squinted in the bright daylight. Being early afternoon, the sun had split the thick clouds and cast the hills in golden sunlight. For the end of summer, it was still surprisingly warm but no doubt rain would be upon them soon, as it often was in England.
He retrieved his cabriolet from the side of the inn and set off at as fast a pace as possible. Apprehension drummed through him, making him drive more recklessly than usual—and that was saying a lot. There had been times after the fire when he had longed to meet a quick ending. For the vehicle to tip and spill him from it, breaking his neck or cracking his skull. Then the pain would be gone and he would not have to deal with the shame of his appearance. The pain had since vanished, with the exception of the occasional morning of agony, but the shame had not.
By the time he reached Hunston, the horses had worked up quite the sweat as had he. His butler, Fairfax greeted him with his usual warmth, which was the equivalent to none. But that mattered little to Lucian. He had served his father well and continued to serve him with quiet efficiency. He had enough people worrying for him with his housekeeper taking on the role of his mother as best as she could.
“A letter arrived for you, my lord,” Fairfax told him as he held out a silver platter. “From Broadstone Hall.”
Those three words made him stiffen. He felt like a rabbit about to be hunted down. Muscles tense, senses alert. He took the letter off the platter and tore it open. Grimacing, he flung the letter onto the console table.
A ball. She was holding a bloody ball. Dancing, music...people. He snorted. His worst nightmare. The last thing he would do is go to Broadstone and take part in a ball. He would rather gouge out his eyes with spoons.
Drawing off his jacket and hat, and handing it to Fairfax, he requested some tea and strode in the direction of the study. First, he would turn his attention to some correspondence he needed to catch up on and then he would send his humblest apologies to Ellie. A damn ball. Not even the hounds of hell could drag him to a ball, regardless of how enticing the hostess’s lips were, or how he could not seem to stop thinking of her.
***
The air in the double room was stifling. Eleanor struggled to catch her breath as she finished up her dance with a gentleman whose name she could not remember. She had not been lacking for dance partners for the first time in her life, but she knew her wealth and status was the only thing attracting the multitude of partners.
Thankfully, she had danced well, though dancing had never been much of a problem for her. She’d always enjoyed it. It was things like walking and eating and drinking that posed a problem. Even now, as she walked off the dance floor on her partner’s arm, she had to concentrate on not catching the hem of her gown.
She did a quick sweep of the room with her gaze and failed to find Lucian again. He had confirmed the invitation yet he had not been there when she had been greeting her guests. He could have been late, she supposed, many people were. Bodies filled the room, their elegant dresses and dark evening suits complimenting the gilded furniture. The mirrors on all walls created the effect of there being even more people in attendance.
Eleanor thanked her nameless partner and muttered something about needing to speak with the butler, though her words were lost to the orchestra anyway. He nodded as if he had understood her but she doubted he had. She watched him walk away and slip into a crowd of other gentleman. Well-dressed, and cutting a fine figure, she had to wonder why he did not interest her one bit. In fact, why had none of the men that night appealed?
Was it simply a need to be alone or was it something else?
A scowling vision of a man with a scar on his cheek and an insolent expression flashed in front of her. Whatever it was, it was not Lucian she needed, she told herself. Certainly not Lucian.
Eleanor pressed a hand to her waist and tried to draw a breath past her corset, but it was no good. She would have to get some air. Escaping from her own ball was perhaps not the proper thing to do but the crowd was growing thicker, with elegant ladies and gentleman jostling against each other. Conversation was difficult and Eleanor had found it hard enough to think of topics to talk of with the other ladies. How many had shared h
er experiences of life?
With the exception of aged husbands that was. There were a few young ladies with ancient men in tow tonight and from what she could tell, none of those matches were happy. And there she differed too. Theirs might not have been much of a traditional marriage—one in which husband and wife shared their bodies as well as their lives—but they had been well matched in many respects and she could never claim to be miserable. So, even on the matter of old, crotchety husbands she had little to say.
Eleanor released a long breath and began to make her way through the crowd. She smiled and paused to speak with a few people who spoke of the grandeur and how successful the ball was. She had little idea. Most of the balls she’d attended had been small country ones. Being married before she had really entered society had always frustrated her but now she wondered if she should not be grateful for missing out on such things. It seemed she took little pleasure in balls. The golden glistening light of the room, the huge crystal chandeliers in their splendour, the way the deep red wallpaper finally came to life and how the polished floor squeaked happily with footsteps—none of it brought her much pleasure, even though she felt at least the house was finally being used properly.
When she reached the door to the courtyard, she took her heavy silk skirts in hand and stepped out. Air filled her lungs and a breeze immediately cooled her skin. She shivered as the air tickled her bare shoulders but it was appreciated. Her skin had already grown damp from the heat in the Double Cube Room.
She tipped her head back and strode across the courtyard with the intention of slipping through the rear of the house and out onto the back terrace. It was likely a few lovers might have snuck out there but there were many dark corners and the ornamental garden would allow her to get lost.
A dark figure slipped out of the corner shadows and her heart thudded against her rib cage. “Lucian.”
He peered at her with a tilted smile. “Escaping?”
“No. Yes,” she admitted.
“Little Ellie Browning’s first ball and she cannot wait to escape...”
Rogues and Ripped Bodices Page 18