‘Indeed, my lord, most wise. Do not concern yourself. We will clear up here.’
Leo gave Melville a half bow of thanks for his timely intervention and hurried out behind the footman eager to find Eleanor before anyone else did. She was bound to be distressed after such an unpleasant incident.
Eleanor was glad to reach her room without meeting anyone. She hurried inside eager to remove the torn dress and wash the smell of her attacker from her person. Her maid was elsewhere and she was reluctant to ring; however discreet Mary was, the fewer people who knew about the incident the better.
In a matter of minutes the ruined dress was discarded and she had changed into a plain, long sleeved, primrose yellow gingham. She tossed the torn dress into a corner, doubting if she would ever wish to wear it again. Carefully opening her bedroom door she checked the corridor was clear, and then she flitted down the stairs and back into the Grand Salon where the ladies were taking afternoon tea.
‘There you are, my dear Eleanor, come and join us.’ Sophia patted the empty space beside her. ‘I have just been telling Lady Whitecastle about your treasure trove of fabrics.’
Eleanor slipped into the seat and smiled at her sister-in-law. ‘The gingham I used for this came from India, as well.’ She smoothed the material between her fingers. ‘It’s a lovely colour but rather too thin for the English climate.’
Sophia laughed. ‘Too thin for Rothmere, I think you mean. I do believe it is warmer outside in the stables, than in here.’
The tinkling laughter of the ladies was the sound that greeted Leo when he strode in moments later. He paused, his concern for his wife vanishing at the sight of her sipping tea and enjoying a comfortable coze as though she had not a care in the world. He had expected to find her collapsed in floods of tears, hiding in her room, waiting for him to comfort her.
Relieved this was not the case, but puzzled nevertheless, he strolled over to watch his wife from a distance. Eleanor felt his presence and her eyes flew to his. She saw the question there and smiled her reassurance.
‘Pray excuse me; I have something of importance to discuss with Lord Upminster.’ She stood up, dropped a polite curtsy, and walked over to him. ‘I am so glad to see you; I must talk to you in private.’
‘We will go to your bedchamber; we can be sure no one will wish to disturb us there.’ He pulled her arm through his possessively and they left, well aware their departure was being watched with amusement by some, envy by others and disapproval by a few of the more senior ladies present. Unfortunately the doting aunt of Eleanor’s attacker was one of them.
‘Have we created another scandal, Leo?’
‘I do hope so, my love; it’s far too long since anything out of the ordinary happened between these august walls.’ Chuckling quietly they mounted the stairs and quite flagrantly returned to their rooms hours before it could be considered necessary to change for dinner.
Chapter Sixteen
The skinned knuckles of Leo’s right hand caught Eleanor’s attention as they entered her room. ‘You’ve hurt yourself, Leo.’
He glanced down, flexing his fingers thoughtfully, before lifting her similarly bruised left hand. ‘As have you, my love. Shall we exchange stories, do you think?’ He led her to the comparative warmth of the fire. ‘Wait here; I’ll fetch some seats for us.’ She shivered and coughed as an icy blast of smoke-filled air belched out of the fireplace. ‘God’s teeth! This room is colder than a bivouac in Spain.’ He placed two chairs as close to the flames as was safe then kicked the logs, sending sparks flying out onto the carpet. Stamping out the embers warmed them up nicely.
She viewed the selection of holes left in the rug with horror. ‘Oh dear, now look what’s happened. We’ve ruined this priceless Persian rug.’
He was unashamed ‘Serves them right for allowing your fire to die down. Now the new logs have caught it will soon warm up.’
‘Monk’s Hall is so much warmer,’ she said pensively. ‘Being a duke is not really as much fun as I imagined.’
They settled companionably beside the roaring blaze and for a while neither spoke. ‘Leo, I’m sorry but Sir Bertram tried to kiss me whilst I was in the library and I’m afraid I punched him in the eye.’ She glanced across to see how her unladylike behaviour had been received by her husband. After all she had promised to behave with decorum.
Leo, smiling slightly, collected her damaged fist and raised it slowly to his lips. His touch sent a surge of heat pulsing round her body. She wanted to snatch the burning hand away but could not. Sensing her disquiet he released her. ‘A worthy injury, my love, and I’m proud of you.’
‘You are? I’m so relieved, I was sure you’d be angry. I know I should have fainted and screamed for help but I was so incensed I had to punch him.’
‘So did I, my dear. I think Bertram will not forget his visit to Rothmere.’ He grinned, stretching out his legs towards the fire. ‘I was going to throw him out of the library window but unfortunately Melville stopped me.’
‘Leo! How dreadful! It’s fully thirty feet to the ground, you would have killed him.’
‘If he touches you again, I will do so.’ There was no trace of amusement in that statement.
‘Then I’m glad he has left. But you must try and remember you’re no longer a soldier; you must not consider killing everyone who annoys you.’
He chuckled at her gentle scolding. ‘I promise, sweetheart, I’ll not kill anyone if you promise not to put yourself in such danger again?’ His words were spoken humorously that his meaning was clear. She shuddered but managed a weak smile.
‘I promise. Are all husband’s so bloodthirsty, or is it your military background that makes you fierce?’
‘Even Gareth, the mildest of spouses, would kill, without hesitation, anyone who had the temerity to offer injury to his beloved Sophia.’
‘Good heavens!’ She thought a little then nodded. ‘Well, it’s hardly surprising, I suppose, for you and Gareth are brothers after all.’ There was a tap at the door and Mary came in.
‘I beg your pardon, my lord, lady; may I light the candles and draw the curtains?’
Leo nodded and stood up yawning widely. ‘I’ll leave you to change, Ellie. We’re dining early tonight. Guests will start arriving for the ball at nine o’clock.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Are you looking forward to your first dance?’
‘Yes, of course. Will I be able to waltz now that I’m married?’
He frowned. ‘Only with me, Ellie, no one else.’
‘I’ve no wish to waltz with a stranger. But may I dance cotillions and quadrilles with other partners?’
‘I’ve no objection to that for I shall certainly not be doing so.’
‘Get your maid to call me when you’re ready to go down.’
‘There’s no need. I can find my way without getting lost.’
‘I’ll take you down, Eleanor.’ Surprised by his vehemence she nodded. The door closed behind him and Mary relaxed.
‘Are you wearing the green silk tonight, my lady?’
‘I am, Mary. I know emerald is an unusual choice for a first ball, but it’s such a beautiful gown and I doubt I’ll have an opportunity to wear it again anytime soon.’
By ten minutes before six o’clock Eleanor was ready. Mary arranged the flowing skirt of the first real ball gown Eleanor had owned. ‘I swear that dress is the exact same colour as your eyes, my lady. I never knew you had so much green in them.’
Eleanor leant over to examine herself. ‘Neither did I, I always think them more brown than green.’ She pinched her cheeks and compressed her lips hoping to add some needed colour. There was a soft knock on the communicating door. ‘Come in, Leo. I am ready,’ she called loudly quite forgetting a lady never raises her voice. ‘I’ve decided to wear the emeralds Aunt Prudence left me, they are a perfect match for this gown.’
Leo strolled in, an exasperated smile curving his mouth, prepared to take her to task. The words congealed in his throat. Could this beautiful s
tranger be his Ellie? The woman standing proudly before him, literally, took his breath away.
His eyes narrowed dangerously as they travelled slowly down her lustrous dark hair, arranged on top of her head and crowned with a circle of sparkling green gems, to the low neckline that emphasised her breasts and gave tantalising glimpses of their smooth white curves. His eyes followed the length of emerald silk, down to her toes peeping beneath the hem in matching dancing slippers. The skirt spread out around her feet made it appear she was standing in a shimmering pool of green.
He stepped forward, still without speaking, until he was so close they were sharing their breath.
She swayed towards him and his arms closed round her, holding her close to his pounding heart. His lips brushed hers in a gentle, tender caress and she was his for the taking. If he asked her she would have lain with him and given up the chance to go to her first ball.
‘Ellie, darling, you’re so lovely. I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful.’ He stepped back, to drop his arms and move away. ‘Now is not the time, my sweet. But, if you’re sure, then I will come to you tonight, after the ball.’
.‘I will be waiting, Leo, I hope you do not disappoint me.’
Startled, his eyebrows shot up. His bride was an innocent, what could she know about such things? He was about to ask exactly what she had meant but the moment was lost. ‘Come, Leo, I can no longer hear people going down. I don’t wish to be late, especially not tonight.’
Mary opened the door and they swept through, Leo taking her arm and tucking it firmly into his.
They arrived for dinner at precisely five minutes to the hour. They were so lost in each other they failed, at first, to notice the danger flickering in the air. Leo halted, and appeared almost to sniff, like a wolf sensing its prey. He stared down the long room to the tall man, leaning elegantly, in a pose exactly like his own, against the mantel shelf.
. He walked stiffly, his face expressionless, towards the father he had not seen for almost sixteen years, taking Eleanor with him. He halted and bowed formally.
‘Your grace, may I present my wife, Eleanor?’
‘How are you, my dear? I see you have not mentioned to my son that we have already met.’
She smiled enchantingly. ‘I am so sorry, your grace, I completely forgot.’ To the astonishment of the assembled spectators the duke roared with laughter.
‘Well, that has put me nicely in my place.’ He smiled at his son. ‘Leo, I have much to say to you, but I prefer to do it in private. Will you come to the study with me?’
‘It is six o’clock, your grace,’ Gareth reminded his father.
‘Then dinner will be late tonight. Will you come, my boy?’ His eyes implored Leo to follow, to take the first step to reconciliation. Leo looked from his wife, smiling innocently, then to his father, waiting hopefully.
‘I will come, your grace.’
Eleanor watched the tall men walk away together knowing that at last her husband could put his past behind him and learn to be a happy man. If he was content then, of course, she would be too. Total silence followed the departure of the duke and his youngest son. Sophia stepped across to Gareth, her face anxious.
‘It’s all very well for his grace to say dinner can be delayed this evening, but what about the hundred guests arriving at nine o’clock? We can hardly leave them seated outside in their coaches whilst we finish our meal.’
‘You are, as usual, quite correct, my dear. We will not delay dinner.’ Gareth turned decisively to the butler. ‘Have something sent in to his grace and his lordship, will you?’
Melville spoke quietly to a footman and then moved towards the door that led into the state dining room. Two flunkies flung open the doors and he announced loudly. ‘Lords, ladies and gentlemen, dinner is now served.’
Gareth and Sophia headed the queue and the rest fell in behind. Eleanor found herself on the arm of a young man with an extravagantly high collar and a violet silk waistcoat. Her eyes gleamed with barely concealed amusement as he tried to turn his head to talk to her.
His conversation was so vapid she was relieved when he abandoned the attempt and sat, pink faced, staring straight ahead for the rest of the elaborate meal. Sophia led the ladies out, not for tea, but to retire to their rooms to adjust their hair and smooth their gowns ready for the ball.
Sophia found Eleanor waiting, rather forlornly, on her own. ‘Come, my dear, the first guests are arriving I want to introduce you to everyone. You look wonderful; you have been receiving envious glances from several ladies already. There are will be a stream of them demanding to know who your dressmaker is before the evening is out.’
‘I wish Leo would return; he is to lead me out for the opening waltz and if he’s not here I’ll be obliged to sit it out with the debutantes.’
‘Remember, my dear, Leo and his grace have a lot of years to cover; a lot of bad feelings to bury. That cannot be done in five minutes.’
Eleanor sniffed. ‘I know that, but they have been closeted together for almost three hours, I cannot imagine what they can still have to say to each other after so long.’
Gareth joined Sophia and Eleanor on the stairs and the depleted reception line was ready to greet the first of their guests. For the second night in a row she was forced to bob and bow, smile and nod, to far too many total strangers. By the time the orchestra struck up she was exhausted and almost glad she was not to stand up for the dance.
She watched as Gareth led his lovely wife out in to the centre of the room to stand, poised, under the row of glittering crystal chandeliers. The conductor raised his baton.
‘I believe this is my dance, my lady?’ Leo bowed, and offered his hand; his eyes met hers and inexplicably her gown seemed too tight. Unable to speak she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her out to stand, as was his due, beside his brother.
The music started and Leo slid his arm around her waist and drew her close, far closer than was seemly. With her free hand resting against his chest he swept her away in the dance of love. Like all Wellington’s staff officers he had been obliged to dance, but unlike some he moved with a lightness of step that belied his size. She believed she was flying as he twirled her around; gradually other couples, including Gareth and Sophia, stood back to allow them to glide from end to end of the vast ballroom. They made a striking pair. Black and emerald intertwined. The young women sighed, wishing they had such a handsome husband, but the young men just watched, knowing they were outclassed. Only the dowagers muttered sourly that the behaviour of some young women left a lot to be desired.
The most vicious tongue of all was the aunt of Sir Bertram Jenkins. Her darling nephew had been doubly assaulted by the pair spinning round the hall. Then he had been sent packing and banned from ever visiting Rothmere again. She leant confidingly across to Lady Whitecastle sitting beside her. ‘My dear, Lady Whitecastle, did you hear that Lady Upminster met Sir Bertram in the library?’
Lady Whitecastle, an inveterate gossip, prickled with interest, anticipating a choice and tasty morsel was coming her way. ‘Surely you are not suggesting that Lady Upminster made an assignation? She is a new bride and so obviously in love with Upminster.’
‘It is not always as it seems. I know my nephew should not have gone to meet her, but he is young and susceptible, how could he refuse to meet such a beautiful young woman?’
Lady Whitecastle stared searchingly at the young woman smiling radiantly up at her husband as he led her from the floor. Lord Upminster bowed and kissed his wife’s gloved hand then turned and strode off leaving the young woman alone.
Instantly Eleanor was surrounded, like bees around a honey pot, with eager young men wishing to claim her for the next dance. Eleanor took the hand of one and allowed herself to be led to a set forming at the far end of the ballroom.
Lady Whitecastle turned back. ‘Pray continue; what transpired in the library?’
‘Well, the young hussy flirted outrageously and allowed herself to be kissed.
However when she saw her husband enter she screamed and pretended she had been accosted.’
Lady Whitecastle’s face paled and her eyes turned again to the lively young lady spinning down the room, drinking in the attention of every besotted young man. ‘Good heavens, what did Lord Upminster do?’
‘He attacked poor Bertram and knocked him unconscious. He then had the servants evict him from the premises.’
‘Why did he not protest his innocence, explain what had happened?’
‘How could he? He is a gentleman. He would never besmirch a lady’s reputation, however well-deserved.’ Her poison spread, Bertram’s aunt finally noticed Sophia sailing towards her, an ominous expression on her face. ‘Please excuse me, I see someone I must speak to.’
Sophia glared after the woman’s rapidly retreating back. ‘What did she want, Lady Whitecastle? Was she spreading slander about my sister-in-law?’
‘Of course, I don’t believe a word of it, everyone knows what a bounder her nephew is.’ But Sophia had detected a certain coolness in Lady Whitecastle’s glance as it rested on Eleanor, blissfully unaware of the storm about to engulf her.
Eleanor’s thoughts, when she had the breath to think any, were of the night to come when the man she loved would make her his true bride.
By the time the next waltz was called the gossip had spread and inevitably Leo overheard the lies as he was heading for the ballroom to claim the dance with his beautiful, desirable, wife. Two young men, who had not been lucky enough to claim a dance with Eleanor, were discussing what they had heard. Leo was standing behind them, scanning the ballroom.
‘Do you think it could be true? What they are saying about Lady Upminster?’ Leo stiffened, bristling with anger; how dare these whippersnappers discuss his wife?
‘That she agreed to meet Sir Bertram and it went sour? No, I do not. It is malicious rumour and best ignored.’
A Marriage of Convenience Page 11