by Liana Lefey
But her friend’s red curls shook from side to side with a violence that made them look like dancing flames. “Any fool could see from the look on Wincanton’s face that something untoward was said—and I am no fool!” Her eyes narrowed. “I shall have to mend the damage as quickly as possible. I cannot afford to lose even a moment! Now stand aside.”
“You’re making a terrible mistake!” Eleanor warned, flinging out her arms to prevent the angry girl from dodging past. “Caroline, you cannot pursue Lord Wincanton!”
Caroline stilled, and Eleanor cringed at the cold fury that stole into her eyes. “Oh? Pray tell me why not?”
“Because he is not within your reach,” she said bluntly, wincing as Caroline’s mouth opened on an offended gasp. “Please, just listen! Although you are of good family, you cannot expect him to make an offer to someone so beneath him in rank and thus so unqualified t—”
“How dare you!” raged Caroline, her cheeks becoming mottled.
“—unqualified to assume the duties of a countess,” Eleanor pressed on. “There are certain expectations to be met when it comes to his marriage. Even if his mother does not demand that he meet them, his sense of duty will. His rank is an obstacle you simply cannot overcome.”
“Why not? Others have done so. If he felt passionately enough about me he would not let something as meaningless as rank get in the way.”
It was time for the hard truth. “Do you know anything at all about running an estate that size?” Eleanor asked, deliberately harsh. “I speak of much more than just Holly Hall, Caroline. His estate encompasses several properties, some of them quite large. As his wife, you would be expected to help him manage their upkeep, including oversight of their servants. And then there are the associated villages, farms, and tenants that come with each. You would be duty bound to visit their sick, provide charity to their poor, and succor their elderly in his name. Have you never wondered what Rowena does when she goes out or why she’s so tired when she returns? It’s not all parties, expensive clothes, and having people fawn over you. You have no concept of the responsibilities that come with such rank!”
“I can learn,” the redhead bit out.
Damn, but she was muleheaded! “Right. Then we’ll leave that aside for the moment, along with the great multitude of societal rules to which women of such rank must adhere, and focus on the more vital issue. Has he given you any encouragement to engender such determined pursuit?”
Caroline’s color deepened. “It is still very early. And I will not have that perjurer putting him off me before I have my chance!” she said, stamping her foot. “I’m going this instant to confront him and put things right.”
Eleanor didn’t budge from her position in front of the door, but squared her shoulders and stood firm. “If you go in there now with cannons ablaze, what do you think will happen?” Her calmly posed question had the desired effect, for Caroline stopped cold. “If you lose your temper now, it can only end in embarrassment and disaster. My cousin will send you home rather than allow you to accompany us to London, and then you’ll have no chance at all of making a match—with anyone.”
“What would you have me do?” replied Caroline angrily. “Let the blackguard spread rumors without contradicting them? Without fighting back?” A tear slid down her face. “Am I to do nothing to cleanse myself of the blight on my character?”
Eleanor’s own eyes smarted. How could she make her understand that the way the aristocracy handled such matters was very different from that of the bourgeoisie without deeply insulting her? She thought for a moment and then seized upon the one thing she knew would work. “You shared your desire to bag a titled husband. Well, there are strict social rules by which all ladies of quality must abide. To confront a gentleman publicly or to speak ill of him to others in secrecy would only serve to lower you—not him—in the sight of those whose ranks you aspire to join. There is only one way a lady can truly defy a smear against her character, and that is by exhibiting irreproachable behavior, behavior that puts the wagging tongue to shame.”
“You want me to be good and hope no one believes him?” her friend said with damp sarcasm.
“Rowena once told me that a lady never lends dignity to the libelous by acting in a manner that reinforces their position. You cannot accuse a baron of slanderous acts with no proof and expect to escape without serious repercussions. As unfair as it is, people side with those whom they know, and you are largely unknown save by the unfortunate choices you made during the last two years. Lord Marston is both respected and well-liked by many. There is nothing you can say against him without damaging yourself. Your only hope is to hold your tongue and let your good conduct and unrelenting temperance prove any negative rumors false.”
Caroline’s pale lips shook. “No one will believe I’m innocent if I don’t protest.”
“They will believe the one whose behavior shows the higher quality,” Eleanor told her, softening. “A true gentleman never speaks ill of a lady. If he has broken this rule, he will incur Society’s censure for it, and your exemplary conduct can only lift you in the eyes of those who doubt you. By using this approach, you risk nothing and stand to gain much.”
“And what of Lord Wincanton?” Another tear slid down her friend’s face. “Am I to allow poisonous gossip to reach him unimpeded?”
Conflicting emotions made Eleanor’s already tense stomach squirm. Truly it was in Caroline’s best interest to direct her hunt elsewhere for a husband. And, if she was willing to admit it, Eleanor would be enormously relieved, herself. But it would have to be a clean break. Caroline must understand that there was no chance of success or she would never give over. “You must cease your pursuit of him at once,” she said in the same firm tone she’d heard Rowena use so many times when giving orders. “And not because of Lord Marston.”
Caroline’s brow puckered in confusion. “What do you mean? He cannot have any other cause to dislike me?”
“Dislike may be too harsh a word, but certainly you’ve given him ample cause for discomfort. Because you are my friend, he has been tolerant of your attempts to ensnare him—thus far. But his patience is not infinite.” She braced herself as Caroline’s eyes narrowed.
“You seem awfully certain of the gentleman’s sentiment toward me, or rather the lack thereof. Tell me, is this advice based on factual knowledge or is it merely a supposition engendered by jealousy over his attentions?”
The accusation made Eleanor suddenly ill at ease. Jealous? Her first impulse was to deny it. She cared for and admired Sorin greatly, but to be jealous of his attentions implied another level of sentiment. Am I jealous? Part of her wanted to laugh at the suggestion; another part of her saw no humor in it whatsoever. But her feelings for Sorin—whatever they were—were irrelevant at the moment. What mattered right now was that Caroline comprehended the gravity of her situation. “Factual knowledge,” she answered briskly.
Drawing herself up, Caroline raised her chin and looked down her nose at her. “I believe I have a right to know exactly how you acquired such knowledge.”
Though Eleanor maintained her impassive stance, the coldness in her friend’s voice made her shrink inside. She’d known better than to hope Caroline wouldn’t ask for specifics. So be it. “Lord Wincanton recently invited Lady Ashford and me to accompany him to an event and, although I specifically mentioned that you are to stay with us in London, he very pointedly did not extend his invitation to include you.”
An obstinate toss of red curls was her first answer. “Perhaps he wished to invite me himself and has simply not yet had an opportunity to do so.”
Eleanor shook her head in denial of this postulation. “I’ve tried every means to gently dissuade you from your course, but it seems I’ve no choice but to tell you the truth. Lord Wincanton confided that he’s concerned you may have mistaken his politeness for greater interest. His efforts to distance himself have been out of consideration for you because he does not wish to wound you with a more overt
rejection. He expressed hope that your attentions will be diverted once we reach London, allowing him to avoid any further awkwardness.”
Silence reigned for a very long, very uncomfortable moment.
“I see,” replied Caroline faintly. A breathless little laugh escaped her as another tear slid down her face, which had grown dangerously pale. “Good Lord, what must he think of me? I’ve been the worst sort of flirt, and if Lord Marston has spoken to him of our past connection…” A careless shrug lifted her slumped shoulders for moment. “That’s it, then. My chances are ruined. London no longer holds any promise for me.”
“Of course it does!” Eleanor said. “There are other gentlemen, you know.”
“Yes, but if they snub me—” Caroline jerked a thumb back toward the music room “—others will take their cue and do the same, especially once the old gossip starts again. I should return home this instant and save myself the humiliation.”
“Sor—Lord Wincanton would never be so discourteous!” Eleanor flushed with embarrassment over the slip, but went on. “Besides, you are part of my circle, and I have many friends—friends who value my opinion far more than any gossip. One of them is sure to fall in love with you.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“With all my heart,” Eleanor replied, and she meant it. “I will do everything in my power to help you end the Season with a ring on your finger. But you must be careful. I beg you to heed my advice and conduct yourself at all times with the utmost decorum and dignity.”
All remaining stubbornness faded from Caroline’s eyes. “You’re right, of course. This is my third year out, and I doubt my parents will deign to spend another shilling to promote me. I cannot afford to make any more mistakes.” She sighed wistfully. “Countess would have been lovely, but I prefer to become a mere ‘Mrs.’ over spinsterhood.”
Eleanor repressed a sigh of relief. Thank the Lord, Caroline was finally seeing sense! And it was good to see some of her tart humor coming back as well. “If it makes any difference at all, I believe your chances of making a happy match are much better without a title getting in the way. A woman who marries too far above her rank must deal with unhappy in-laws and their disdainful friends,” she advised. “But a man need not have a title in order to possess wealth and status.”
“Yes, well you needn’t worry the more,” said Caroline, her manner once more all business. “An undertaker could bend his knee to me this minute and I would accept him with gratitude—provided he has adequate means, of course,” she added, ever pragmatic.
“And send your poor mama into a faint,” Eleanor teased, glad to see her respond with a smile. “While I applaud your newfound enthusiasm, let us not be too hasty. I would not wish you to bind yourself to anyone unworthy.”
Caroline’s chin lifted a fraction and the fire returned to her eyes. “I may have adjusted my standards down somewhat, but they have not sunk to accepting anything less than an honorable man with a sufficient living.”
“Good. But I still think you’ll have better luck than to accept an undertaker’s offer—especially when one considers that I know none.”
Her words elicited another smile, this one mischievous. “A butcher’s son, perhaps?”
“Heaven forefend. But truly, I think any gentleman would be lucky to have you for a wife.” Except Sorin. Eleanor repressed a pang of guilty satisfaction over her successful intervention. This had nothing to do with jealousy. He would certainly be glad of the change, and she wouldn’t have to watch Caroline destroy herself socially.
Caroline bowed her head and Eleanor heard a suspicious sniffle. “You are a good friend to say it. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, Ellie. Can you forgive me?”
Eleanor embraced her. “There is nothing to forgive.” A clock chimed softly in the room. Bloody hell, it was nearly ten.
“We’ve been gone far too long,” said Caroline, giving voice to her worry. “Lady Ashford will be furious. How will we ever explain ourselves?”
“We shall have to manufacture a plausible excuse for our absence.” Eleanor looked down with regret at her beautiful aqua gown. Reaching back, she grabbed a handful of silk, closed her eyes, and yanked.
Sorin watched with disquiet as Eleanor all but dragged her friend from the room.
“That’s certainly put it in the fire,” sighed Marston. “No doubt we’ve just missed a nasty scene. I remember Miss Caroline as having a particularly volatile disposition. I hope your Lady Eleanor is able to calm her down and bring her to her senses.”
My Lady Eleanor. He hoped so, too. The look on the redhead’s face had been nothing short of murderous. “I’m confident she will manage.”
“As she’s managed you?”
Heat crept up Sorin’s neck. “I merely meant that she’s a very competent and capable person.”
“Naturally. One would only expect the daughter of a duke to be so.”
A snort broke free before Sorin could stop it. “If you knew how ridiculous such an assumption is—I’ve had the opportunity to meet many dukes’ daughters and found the majority of them vacuous, shallow, and uninspiring. I would trust very few with anything more important than arranging the dinner menu. Eleanor is…different. She would make a formidable duchess.”
“Or countess, perhaps?” bantered Marston, clearly enjoying himself.
Sorin would have answered him smartly, but Rowena was coming over to join them with Charles in tow.
“I must apologize,” she said with an awkward smile. “I can only assume Eleanor and her friend have encountered some sort of difficulty requiring their hasty departure. I’m sure neither of them meant to be rude.”
“Of course not,” he said, rising. “Unfortunately, we must also depart. Tonight’s dinner and entertainments really have been a delight, but we must be going. Marston has agreed to accompany me to Holly Hall tonight and go on a hunting excursion with me tomorrow morning. One last parting shot, as you might say, before we take ourselves off to London.”
Marston gave him a sharp look, but held his tongue.
“But you cannot go now,” said Rowena, her tone one of worry. “Night has long since fallen, and it is far too dark to ride.”
Smiling, Sorin cast a glance toward the long windows of the music room. “There is a good moon out tonight, nearly full, and I’ve ridden across these lands my entire life in both daylight and darkest night. There is not an inch between here and Holly Hall that I do not know intimately.”
Charles frowned, though it looked more like a pout. “But we expected you to breakfast with us.”
“I would, but we’d miss the early—” He stopped as Eleanor reappeared in the doorway, a much subdued looking Caroline just behind her.
“My apologies for our unceremonious departure,” she said, her smile careful as she glided into the room. “One of the seams on the back of my gown tore when I sat and I was unaware of it until I rose from the pianoforte. It would have been unseemly for me to remain.”
He was saved from having to say anything by Rowena. “I presume the matter has been corrected?” she asked coolly.
“Yes. Caroline summoned Fran and the damage has been repaired.”
Rowena’s gaze rested on her for a long moment before turning to Caroline, whose head was still bowed. “Thank you, Caroline. It was good of you to render assistance.”
“It was my pleasure, Your Grace,” said the girl.
It was an effort for Sorin to keep his mouth from dropping open. The change in the redhead’s demeanor was astounding. But whatever had happened between the pair to elicit such a dramatic transformation, he knew he wouldn’t learn of it tonight. “I’m afraid you’ve returned just as we were leaving.”
Eleanor’s gaze snapped up to meet his, and his heart warmed at the disappointment in her eyes. “I thought you were to overnight with us?”
Oh, no. He knew better than to give in to the desire to remain near her.
Rowena again stepped in and saved him from having to
answer. “The gentlemen are obliged to be elsewhere at dawn,” she explained. “We must not keep them further, as it is already late. I shall send for your horses to be brought around.” She crooked a finger at the footman attending them. When he had gone, she turned back to the men. “We look forward to seeing you again Thursday. You and Lady Wincanton will join us here and we shall start out together, I presume?”
“Yes, along with Sir Yarborough and his mother,” Sorin reminded them. He watched, irritation filling him as a flush crept into Eleanor’s cheeks.
“Yes, yes. That is correct,” said Charles with a peevish look at his wife. “Pity the lad could not join us tonight, but the arrangements had already been made and there was simply no time to add him to the party. Had I known you would be leaving so soon…”
It was a deliberate dig. Sorin knew he would have to explain later and hope his friend forgave him. “A pity, indeed. Perhaps next time.” He turned and bowed to the ladies. “Lady Ashford, Lady Eleanor, Miss Caroline.”
“We bid you safe journey and good hunting tomorrow,” said Rowena with a dignified nod as the others curtseyed.
“Thank you.” He watched Eleanor from the corner of his eye while Marston said his farewells.
Eleanor’s careful smiles and Caroline’s unusually submissive manner practically shouted that some significant exchange had transpired between them. Whether it had ended in a clean victory or an uncomfortable stalemate was anybody’s guess.
He and Marston found their horses waiting for them. Mounting, they rode in silence until they’d passed beyond the torch line. “I apologize if I’ve inconvenienced you,” he said to Marston. “Given the circumstances, I could not imagine it would be good for either of us to remain.”
“No, indeed not,” said the other man, his tone grim. “And it is no inconvenience, provided you lend me something suitable to wear tomorrow morning. Truth be told, I’m grateful you pulled me from the trenches. Unfortunately, Ashford seemed quite put out over our defection.”
“I’m sure he’ll forgive us both once I explain the situation between you and Miss Caroline.”