A Lady's Deception

by Pamela Mingle

  “Hugh?”

  Holy God, he had been staring—and daydreaming. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “Eleanor. I’m overwhelmed. You are so beautiful.”

  Her smile melted him, sent heat straight to parts that didn’t need it right now. Her eyes were lit by the branches of candles in the entrance hall, and he fancied they gleamed with warmth. For him. He didn’t want to let her go. “Hugh,” she said. “I’m so happy to be here, but I should move on.”

  He laughed, like a schoolboy in the throes of first love. “Yes, but not before you’ve promised me the opening set.”

  “Of course.” And then she was gone, shaking hands with all his family, and finally disappearing into the main room. What if he couldn’t find her again? Ridiculous thought. He turned to the next guest. The musicians were already playing, and before too much longer, the formalities were at an end.

  After they’d greeted all the stragglers, Hugh said, “My thanks to all of you. I must find my partner, as we’re to lead the dance.”

  His family were all gazing at him with peculiar expressions. Adam was scrunching his face up painfully, as though to beat back a grin, while Cass beamed openly. His mother smiled. “She’s lovely, Hugh.”

  Good God, is it that obvious? He supposed it was, so he took it in stride and smiled. “Enjoy yourselves.” And then he went in search of Eleanor.

  He found her near the entry, speaking to friends. Conversation came to a halt when he approached. He crooked an arm at her. “Miss Broxton? My dance, I believe.”

  …

  Eleanor had been debating with herself whether she should tell Hugh about Lili tonight, or wait until they were completely alone. Of late, her sleep had been restless rather than restful, and she was shocked when Hugh had said she looked beautiful. Obviously, he hadn’t looked closely enough. When she’d glanced in the Cheval glass before leaving her chamber, a gaunt face with dark circles under the eyes stared back at her. She felt as if she’d been sucked into a bog, unable to claw her way out.

  They took their places at the top of the line, nearest the musicians. Someone gave the signal, and the dance began. It was one she knew well. She could dance her way through the steps and patterns without paying too much attention. When she glanced at Hugh, though, he was staring at her with worried eyes.

  She mustered a smile and kept it in place. It wasn’t hard. Hugh was magnificently, starkly handsome. His body was made for evening dress. A black coat fit snug across his shoulders—with his Knight Grand Cross badge pinned to it. Pale gray waistcoat with gold thread embroidery, and a perfectly arranged neckcloth. His pantaloons clung to his thighs like a second skin. To her amusement—or perhaps chagrin—she noticed more than a few young ladies who had their eyes on him. She had one thing to say to them.

  He’s mine, ladies. Hugh Grey is mine.

  She corrected her posture, arranged her arms in an elegant curve, and smiled at Hugh whenever the steps brought them in physical contact. When at last they were back at the top of the line, and the dance had ended, Hugh offered his arm. “Would you care for some lemonade, Eleanor? I’m parched. All that talking in the receiving line.”

  She nodded, and he led her toward the refreshment table. Instead of ending up there, however, Hugh changed course, veering toward a corner partially concealed by two large potted palms. He snatched a glass of lemonade from a tray held by a footman. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into the corner.

  “Hugh,” Eleanor protested. “Someone might see us.”

  “I very much doubt it. Look how dark it is. And nobody’s paying us any mind.” He gulped the lemonade until it was almost gone, then handed the glass to Eleanor. “My apologies. I should have offered it to you first.”

  She swallowed the rest and set the glass down. Hugh immediately caught her up in his arms and kissed her, a sweet, tender offering. He ended the kiss, and she cradled his face in her hands. “Congratulations, Sir Hugh. This has turned out to be quite a crush. You must be pleased.”

  He turned his head and planted a kiss on her palm before letting her go. “It appears I am not so disliked as I feared. I’m finally more than just Benjamin Grey’s son.”

  And then Eleanor could have kicked herself. How could she have contemplated for one moment giving him the news on this night? His night? The secret she was guarding was impairing her ability to think straight.

  “Your family is here,” she said.

  “Their names were on the guest list I was sent. I couldn’t very well ask that they be removed.”

  “They helped receive the guests right alongside you. You must have invited them to do so.”

  To her surprise, he said, “I’ve made up my mind to try for a reconciliation. The last time I saw my mother, at the dinner Adam hosted in London, I said some things I regretted. I made her cry, in fact. Afterward, I felt ashamed and disgusted with myself. And shortly thereafter, I did the same thing to you at the garden party.”

  She smiled. “And I forgave you.”

  “Yes. Thank you for that. With my family, it will be one step at a time. Perhaps tonight represents the first step.”

  She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy for you, Hugh. Now, hadn’t we better get back to the festivities?”

  …

  Hugh danced with several different partners, some amusing, some witty, some smart. And several who boasted a conventional sort of beauty. The sort that did not particularly appeal to him. Eleanor’s beauty was unique. Fragile, complex, rare. Not easily defined. Even the sadness he often perceived in her eyes added to her mystique and the allure she held for him.

  He glimpsed her off and on, dancing with Adam, Ned, and other young men in attendance. She was probably acquainted with many of them. And once he caught her standing alone, looking out at the dancers, a lost look on her face. Why hadn’t somebody engaged her for this dance? Men were such asses. He had the mad urge to beg the pardon of his current partner and hasten to Eleanor’s rescue. After this dance, he would seek her out and ask her to stand up with him again.

  To his disappointment, another gentleman, curse him, claimed Eleanor for the next set before Hugh could even make his way toward her. He snatched a glass of wine from a footman and retreated to the sidelines. In a moment, Adam strolled over and stood next to him.

  “The evening seems a great success,” he said.

  Hugh snorted. “So far. One never knows with these occasions.”

  “I’m glad, Hugh, very glad you allowed this. They asked me about it first, you know. If I thought you would agree. I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “You know me too well. But I decided it would seem crass not to.” He glanced around the room. “These people seem to like me, Adam. Of course, it may be that they enjoy balls and socializing more.”

  “Of course they do. And there’s nothing the good citizens love more than a war hero.” He looked askance at Hugh. “Someday I hope you’ll tell me something of your exploits in North America.”

  “And I’ve never heard exactly what happened to you at Walcheren. If I were a betting man, I’d wager it’s you who deserves the knighthood, not me.”

  “Every chap who’s suffered the horrors of this never-ending war with Bonaparte probably deserves one, but that’s as may be.”

  “You know, Adam, I’d grown tired of being thought of as nothing more than Benjamin Grey’s son. The one who is just like him.”

  Adam seemed shocked. “Do you think that’s how people view you?”

  Hugh shrugged. “Broxton certainly did. He glared at me every time I so much as glanced at Eleanor. And her mother still barely tolerates me. But overall, I believe most people hold me in higher regard than they once did.” He watched as Eleanor floated by in the arms of an older man. His hackles rose when he recognized the fellow as a widower from Haslemere. One who needed a mother for his brood. He’d better not be considering Eleanor for the position.

  “You have an interest there,” Adam said, amusement in his voice.<
br />
  Hugh looked at him squarely. “Very much so.” He paused a moment, considering. “Step outside with me a moment?”

  Adam nodded, and the two made their way toward the doors. His brother fished a cheroot from his pocket and lit it from a candle on his way outside. Hugh walked a short distance down the sidewalk before he stopped and said to Adam, “This is strictly between us. Agreed?”

  “Of course. Always.”

  Hugh swallowed the remainder of his wine before speaking and set the glass on a ledge. “Did anything happen to Eleanor while I was in Canada? Something that hurt her, wounded her in some way?”

  Adam puffed on the cigar before answering. “We didn’t see her for a long time, even though we dined with the Broxtons fairly often after the election. Other times I was there by myself. Eleanor was never present. I recall remarking to Cass once that it seemed odd she never made an appearance. Then, suddenly, we began to see her occasionally, although not at private dinners.”

  “Did they make excuses for her absence?”

  “Let me think. Cass would remember better than I. Once, they said she was ill, or indisposed, or some such. I honestly can’t recall beyond that.”

  Damn. “I see.”

  “What’s this about, Hugh?”

  He debated how much to reveal, then decided if he’d gone this far, he might as well tell all. “I’m in love with her, Adam. I want to marry her.” Christ, Hugh couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Something he hadn’t even admitted to himself yet.

  “But that’s wonderful news, Brother.”

  “Too soon to celebrate. I haven’t asked her yet.” He spun around and walked a few paces away. “She’s keeping something from me, I know it. Have you ever noticed the sadness in her eyes? Something terribly painful is buried deep inside her, and I don’t have a clue as to what it might be or why she’s keeping it hidden.”

  “Have you asked her about it?”

  “Not directly. Doesn’t it seem odd to you that she works so hard? That she doesn’t live in her family home, with her parents?”

  “I thought she did.”

  Hugh raked a hand through his hair. “Nominally. In truth, she spends most of her nights at that cottage where she runs her business. There’s a bed in the back room.”

  Adam cocked his head and lifted a brow at his brother. “And you know about the bed because?”

  “None of your damn business. That’s beside the point, anyway. Sometimes Eleanor looks so drained, I can’t bear it. I’ve asked her why she drives herself to such an extent. Her justification is that she wants to be independent, wants her life to have a purpose. But she doesn’t have to work herself into a state of exhaustion to achieve that.”

  “I’ve never paid much attention to the situation, but I’ll ask Cass what she knows. With your permission, of course.”

  “You’re sure she can be discreet?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll let you know if she can shed any light on this. I’m optimistic she may remember something, or have sensed something, I did not. Women are better at these sorts of delicate matters than we are.”

  “You’re right about that,” Hugh said ruefully. “We’d better go back in. And thanks for listening.”

  When they reentered the assembly rooms, the guests were streaming into supper. Adam went off to find Cass. Hugh looked around for Eleanor and glimpsed her with Ned, of all people. Well, better she eat supper with his friend than with the widower.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eleanor desperately wished she and Hugh were anywhere but this blasted ball. Someplace they could be alone and she could bare her soul.

  Ned had escorted her back to the main room after supper and was currently describing his work with the tenants in excruciating detail. She hoped her “mms” and “ohs” and “I sees” were coming at the appropriate places. Hugh, who had taken supper with his family, was leaning against the wall to one side, a glass of wine in hand, staring at her and Ned. He was alone. Earlier, the Grey brothers had been absent from the ball for a while, and Eleanor wanted to believe they were mending their fences.

  Eleanor had danced nearly every set. When at last she sat one out, the truth of her situation fell on her like a bag full of gold guineas. Hugh believed his own mother had deserted him, and as soon as he found out about Lili, he would find Eleanor guilty of a similar crime. And in a way, it was true. She wanted to weep when she thought about the necessity of surrendering Lili to the Abbots.

  Whatever her guilty thoughts were at present, she had to survive the ball. Later tonight, she would tell Hugh the truth. Losing her patience at last, she interrupted Ned. “My pardon, Ned, but would you escort me to Sir Hugh?”

  She’d embarrassed him. He stammered a reply and offered his arm. They headed toward Hugh, who watched her with blatant admiration the whole way. Ned excused himself and moved a short distance away from them.

  “I knew if I stared at you long enough, you would come to me,” Hugh said, giving her a slow grin.

  “I’m afraid I was rude to Ned. I interrupted him in mid-sentence.” Eleanor smiled wryly. “He’s certainly enthusiastic about his work.”

  Hugh laughed. “That he is.”

  Laying a hand on his arm, she said, “Hugh, I must see you about something. It can’t wait. Could we meet after the ball?” Glimpsing his smoldering eyes, she said, “No. Not for that.”

  “Damn.” When she didn’t smile, he stopped teasing and grasped her hands. “I thought something was amiss. Tell me now, Eleanor.”

  A voice seeking the attention of the gathering interrupted them. It was Mr. Beckwith, beginning the official part of the celebration. The reason for the ball. Hugh leaned toward her and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  She mustered a smile and nodded. Eleanor was relieved they’d been interrupted. She didn’t want to tell him until after the ball. Especially since the denizens of Haslemere were honoring him, acknowledging him as a respected member of the community.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve gathered here tonight to celebrate the knighthood of Sir Hugh Grey, an honor recently bestowed upon him by the Prince Regent.” There was a smattering of applause.

  “Sir Hugh is one of the first recipients of the Knight Grand Cross from the Royal Guelphic Order, founded by the Prince of Wales himself. He was awarded this honor for acts of bravery during the Battle of Châteauguay, fought near Montreal in the year 1813.

  “Risking his own life, Sir Hugh carried out a rescue mission, saving five members of the Fencibles who had been too gravely wounded to save themselves. Sir George Prevost, Governor General of Canada, put his name in for the knighthood. Very well deserved, Sir Hugh.”

  Now the room burst into enthusiastic applause.

  Eleanor sneaked a glance at Hugh. This must be torture for him. His modesty and reserve did not allow for bragging about his exploits in the service of his country. In fact, that day in Hyde Park, when she’d asked what he’d done in North America, he had never mentioned how he had earned the knighthood, and after she’d nearly been run down, she had forgotten to ask.

  Her attention was diverted by a man who suddenly appeared at Ned’s side. Someone distinctly not dressed for a ball, but attired in a laborer’s clothing. Since Ned didn’t seem at all shocked, she assumed he knew the man. The stranger, from what Eleanor could observe, was agitated about something. In a moment, Ned and the other man headed their way.

  Hugh spoke briefly with Ned and then turned to her. “A fire has broken out at Longmere,” he said, and began making his way to the front of the room before she had time to react. Mr. Beckwith was in mid-sentence when Hugh interrupted him. By now, the crowd had grown restive, speculating about what could be wrong. And then Hugh broke the suspense.

  “Peter Allen, one of my tenants, has just brought the news that the Longmere stables are on fire.” The murmurs turned into a din in no time. Hugh was forced to shout. “Obviously, there is no time to lose. My thanks to all of you for this wonderful occasion. It meant a gre
at deal to me.” He glanced about the room. “We could use all available hands for the bucket brigade.” And then Hugh strode out of the room, followed by Ned and Mr. Allen.

  Adam, after speaking briefly to Cass, hurried after his brother. Most of the other men also rushed out. Poor Mr. Beckwith looked stricken. He was attempting to get everybody’s attention, but to no avail. Throwing his arms up in frustration, he finally conceded defeat.

  The evening was ruined. But that was not what disturbed Eleanor. For one thing, she was horribly afraid for Hugh. Fire spread rapidly in a stable, and it could be out of control by now. What if he lost everything? The fire might easily spread to other outbuildings, the woods and orchards. And the house. Hugh’s cherished new home. But even that was not the most alarming part of this. No. The most horrifying aspect was the corrosive, clawing fear that Jacob Abbot was responsible for setting the fire, in a twisted attempt to bend her to his will.

  “Eleanor?”

  She glanced up into the worried eyes of her father. “Come along quickly. I’m taking you and your mother home, and then I’ll be off to Longmere.”

  She did not trust herself to speak, but followed him mutely, wondering what she had wrought with her secrets and lies.

  …

  Very early the next morning

  Hugh, Adam, and Ned Martin sprawled in Hugh’s bedchamber in the new house. By the grace of God, it had been spared. It smelled of smoke, but that was the least of his concerns. Everything smelled like smoke. He glanced at the other two men. Their clothes were covered in grime—that is, the parts that weren’t torn to shreds. Their faces were almost comically streaked with soot. Hugh had lowered himself to the edge of the bed and now rested his head in his hands. The other two men sat on the floor.

  “You warned me, Ned,” Hugh said, dejection in his voice. “You advised me to hire a watchman, and I never got around to it.”