* * * *
Ellie's hands shook. "Lord Ashberry? Here?" she confirmed, searching Fields' face.
The butler's brows drew together. "He asked for Lord Edward or your mother, miss. I can easily say that no one is here to receive him."
But someone was home to receive him and Ellie knew it. The memory of his warm hand pressed into her glove had not faded with a night's sleep and Ellie gave a brief murmur of thanks that she had the presence to dress in a charming morning gown of heavy burgundy muslin that was both warm and presentable.
Drawing a deep breath, she took the plunge. "Nonsense, Fields. He might have come on an important errand and here I am."
Standing up, she shook out her skirts a little before glancing at the butler again. He looked doubtful. "If you're certain, miss?"
With a start of realization, Ellie realized what Fields might be thinking. Carefully, so as to not hint at her own feelings, she murmured, "I'm certain. However, it would perhaps be best if you left the drawing room door open and informed Mama, Papa or Edward that he has called just as soon as one of them comes home." She knew without asking that Fields himself would be posted directly outside the door, listening to every word.
After a moment, Fields nodded. "Certainly." He stepped away, allowing Ellie to precede him, carefully concealing his true feelings on the matter. The next time, Fields planned to simply take the man's card and send him on his way.
Ashberry was carefully nonchalant as he waited in the Whitney drawing room. Because he had often encountered Edward in the afternoon at the clubs, he knew of Edward's penchant to take lunch and spend the early afternoon at White's. It was even more certain that the elder Lord Whitney would be ensconced in discussions at St. James until a late hour—the ministers there tolerated the baron's involvement in foreign affairs at the behest of Parliament. In addition, he had listened to his sister's chatter that morning at breakfast and had learned that Charlotte and Lady Whitney planned to visit a number of shops in Bruton Street that day, in search of the perfect furniture for the new Whitney townhouse on Valentine Street.
The marquess had taken a guess that Ella Whitney wouldn't accompany them and instead presented himself to the Whitneys' butler promptly at half past one in the afternoon, presuming an interest in speaking to Lady Whitney or her eldest son. If no one had been at home to receive him, he knew he could have simply left his card for the younger Whitney. In fact, he had a number of ready-made reasons for wishing to speak to his future brother-in-law or Edward's mother.
As it was, the drawing room was still empty. Ashberry strolled across the room, fabricating an interest in a landscape painting that hung between the two windows facing the front of the house. Behind him, the doors clicked and the marquess allowed a smile.
Turning, he drew a deep breath as Ella Whitney stepped into the room. Behind her, the butler did not bother to close the portals again, instead stepping to the side and out of sight. With a smile for the girl approaching him, Ashberry concluded that the servant had no intention of leaving him completely alone with the girl and for a moment, the marquess admired the loyalty the servants showed her.
He quickly forgot about the matter of the butler, however. Ellie was composed, even serene in the early afternoon light, and for a moment he wondered if her nervousness had mysteriously dissipated after the previous evening.
When he grasped her hand in his gloved one, he dismissed the notion. Her fingers were chilly and stiff and he had to resist the urge to clasp them deep inside the warmth of his own hand. "Good afternoon, Miss Whitney," he murmured instead, lifting her fingers to his lips.
The contact, while not nearly as deliberate as that of the previous night, was quite enough to disturb him. Ashberry noticed immediately that beside him, his quarry's breathing had shortened. Still, he had no reason to keep her hand in his. He released it, allowing her to curtsy prettily in greeting.
"Lord Ashberry," she murmured in return, gesturing to a chair near the fireplace. "I apologize but my brother is not at home presently, though we expect him within the hour. Would you want to wait or shall I tell him you've called?"
Having nearly forgot the proffered reason for his visit, Ashberry stilled for a moment, then expressed a desire to wait. He waited until Ellie settled onto the chair across from him before sitting where she had indicated.
"I would be happy to spend a few minutes in your company, Miss Whitney, until your brother returns," he murmured politely, noting that she was still failing to meet his gaze. "I meant what I said last night, you know," he said, more intently, pleased when Ellie's head swung in his direction, her eyes suddenly wide.
She covered her abrupt movement with a small cough and openly refused to acknowledge his reference. "I have ordered tea, my lord, while we wait, unless you prefer something stronger?"
Ashberry smiled. He could see that she did not intend to be reduced to the flustered innocent she had been the night before, as though ignoring his comment would somehow deflect him from continuing the thought.
"Tea would be refreshing," he allowed, smiling as Ellie's fingers relaxed in relief. She was somehow calmer than she had been during those large dinner parties, though there was no sense in denying that his presence made her nervous.
Whether her anxiety was good or bad he didn't yet know, though Ashberry was determined to find out the answer. "I'm pleased to find myself in your company once again, Miss Whitney. A prettier companion for dinner, or even tea, a man could not ask for."
The pink stain on Ellie's cheeks was unmistakable and she looked quickly toward the door, as though hoping the tea service would appear and relieve her of a response. When it was not forthcoming, she swallowed heavily and looked at her hands. "Thank you, my lord," she finally uttered, finally seizing upon a topic of conversation that would not include her appearance. "It is my understanding that Charlotte and Mama have gone furniture shopping today. Have you seen the house Edward purchased yet?"
A safe enough topic, Ashberry mused, allowing himself to be distracted. He spoke quietly of the house, until the butler pushed in the cart and Ellie poured them both a cup of the brew. His mind, however, was still on the flush that had graced Ella Whitney's expression minutes earlier. Her gown was quite attractive, though the neckline rose to just around her throat, giving him no chance to learn how far her blushes descended.
Abruptly, he stopped the direction of his thoughts and cleared his throat. "Overall, I'd say it was a wise purchase and the right size for a couple meaning to retain it for some years," he concluded, sipping from the cup.
Ellie nodded, setting her cup down on its saucer and wondering wildly how to keep him talking. It was obvious he had exhausted his opinion on the subject. "I find it has a family atmosphere," she finally murmured inanely, the emptiness of her words making her flush again even as they registered in her own mind.
Ashberry had the gall to smile and set his cup aside, the tea finished. Without speaking, he retrieved the cup and saucer from Ellie's hands, thankfully not commenting on how wide she knew her eyes had opened at his presumption. "You have no need to be nervous of me, Miss Whitney," he finally said softly, leaning forward across the distance between them and drawing her fingers in his. He had no intention of allowing the butler, again stationed discreetly outside the door, to hear his words.
With gloves discarded since the arrival of the tea, Ellie's hands were clasped against warm skin. Sitting properly was difficult enough, and more was impossible. She couldn't hide the trembling in her hands. Her anxiety was perfectly obvious, to both of them. Biting her lip after a moment, she didn't try. "Denial would be a w-wasted effort, I suppose?" she asked haltingly.
He nodded seriously, finally catching her eyes with his. Once again, he squeezed her hands, comforting her, though Ellie found it suddenly impossible to look away. His eyes held warmth she could not possibly mistake, as well as an intensity that Ellie didn't pretend to understand.
"I am not accustomed to ... receiving without my mothe
r present," she finally excused herself, hoping he would release her hands, or at the very least her eyes, from his command.
The words didn't have any discernable effect. Patiently, he murmured, "Try again."
"I ..." Ellie caught the moment of panic welling inside her and pushed it back down, touching her upper lip slightly with her tongue to relieve the sudden dryness around her mouth. The marquess had been nothing but kind, if slightly indiscreet.
Her gesture must have warned him, because he did draw back, releasing her hands and settling once again in his chair. He did not, however, release her eyes from his gaze and seemed to know that she could not now look away. In fact, she thought riotously, he seemed to enjoy having her eyes under his spell.
"I?" he prompted softly.
"I was wondering if you thought the room chilly," Ellie seized upon the thought. "I could have Fields come and build up the fire."
"No, I don't think so," Ashberry declined gently.
Both stiffened at the boots in the hall, and Edward's quiet voice.
Acting reflexively, Ashberry grasped his teacup again, pouring himself another cup even as Edward appeared in the doorway, his expression fierce. It relaxed only slightly at finding his sister and guest in such an innocuous activity as sharing a cup of tea, but his chilly demeanor was marked as he kissed Ellie's cheek and drew a chair near the other two, effectively ending any private conversation.
"I understand you wished to see me," Edward addressed the marquess, a bit more aggressively than he usually would do.
Ellie, surprised by the brusque tone, nearly opened her mouth in shock. Without giving the marquess a chance to answer, she hurriedly interrupted, her tone gentle, "The marquess called just a few moments ago," she confirmed, drawing Edward's attention to her. Reaching out, she patted his arm. "He was kind enough to share tea with me while he waited for you."
Edward's brows rose. "And where is Mama?" he asked quietly, the words a clear indication of his opinion in the matter.
Ashberry heard the warning tones even more clearly than Edward's sister did. He sat aside his saucer with a distinct clatter and murmured, Edward's attention successfully drawn away from the girl, "Miss Whitney has informed me that your mother and my sister have seen fit to go shopping for furniture, for your new drawing room and dining room, I believe."
Having years to learn the art of graceful retreat, Ellie rose, clearing her throat. "If you'll excuse me, Edward, my lord," she nodded to them both, "I will leave you to your business." Glancing at Edward, she asked softly, "Should I send in more tea?"
"That won't be necessary," Edward replied curtly, his eyes assessing Ashberry with a sharpness in them that Ellie wasn't sure she appreciated. "I believe Ashberry and I will shortly retire to the library."
"Very well," Ellie bit back a warning word to her brother and instead turned to the marquess, making her position clear to Edward by speaking directly to the lord. "Thank you for your kind words, my lord, and for ... visiting with me."
Ashberry smiled, rising and catching Ellie's hand in his again. Edward's presence did not dissuade him from the ultimate goal though he realized that Edward had seen more in his face, and certainly Ellie's, than he had planned to declare at this stage. He offered the back of her hand a short, polite grazing kiss, pleased to feel the tingle of awareness that gripped her even in the presence of her sibling. "Miss Whitney," he acknowledged, "Please believe me, the pleasure of your company was mine."
He did not discourage her blush, was even gratified to see it, but allowed her to step back and remove herself from the room with all the efficiency and grace of one her size and age. Indeed, he waited even until the butler shut the doors behind him before turning to Edward, knowing even as he did so that perhaps a battle greater than the one he had just won was before him.
Edward did not disappoint him. The young man, having also risen, was not as tall as Ashberry, but he met the marquess eye to eye and with little fear. "Do not think, Ashberry, that because I am devoted to your sister that I shall not protect my own."
Ashberry's jaw tightened. "I would think less of you if you did," he returned steadily.
Abruptly, Edward took a seat again. "Good." The man waved Ashberry back to his seat, and to the marquess' surprise, he obeyed the gesture. Sharply, Edward met his intent gaze. "Discussion of this present matter, to be appropriate, should wait until my father comes home," he finally desisted, his meaning clear. "I am not blind, you know."
"I didn't expect you were," Ashberry murmured calmly. He had wondered if Edward was as committed to Ella Whitney's spinsterhood as Whitney was. From Edward's comment, Ashberry guessed that in this matter, the son would follow in the steps of his father.
"Good," Edward said shortly, still wary. "And the business for which you called?"
Smoothly, Ashberry told him, drawing him deep into the discussion while the two moved from the drawing room to the library, the subject of Ella Whitney dropped, but hardly forgotten.
THREE
It wasn't until the next afternoon that Ashberry faced Lord Whitney and Edward in the Whitney study. All the expressions in the room were sober, for none of the three had any pretense about why the baron had sent around a note insisting that the marquess call as soon as possible.
Still, no one spoke until Lord Whitney handed Ashberry his drink. "Lady Whitney greatly enjoyed herself two nights ago," the baron finally said. "Lady Charlotte will be an excellent hostess."
The marquess nodded shortly. He knew the remark was simply to steer the conversation to their families. "I will relay your sentiments to my sister," he murmured, taking a sip of the brandy.
"I do have one concern," Whitney continued, sitting in his chair and calmly observing Ashberry's posture, his eyes penetrating in intensity.
Ashberry raised his eyebrows, inviting the other man to continue.
"To be frank, Ashberry," Whitney began cautiously, "I was quite surprised, as was Edward, to witness you making advances toward my daughter." He cleared his throat. "As you are aware, she is not in society yet and is unaccustomed to such ... flirtation." After a short pause, he finished cautiously, "We would not want her to ... misunderstand your politeness, particularly given the timing of your call to this house yesterday."
The marquess knew to proceed cautiously. The baron was attempting to warn him off by appealing to Ella's innocence and a natural misconception regarding her age. Still, a single mistake at this juncture could damage his entire relationship with the Whitney family, though he was sure it would not prevent a match with Ella Whitney completely. "It is my understanding, Whitney, that your daughter is twenty-one years of age," he finally replied. "Expecting me to treat her as if she is in the schoolroom is insulting to both of us."
The baron frowned. Considering his opponent, he asked softly, "And yesterday, when you were alone with her in my own drawing room? Is that, too, considered appropriate for a young, unmarried woman and a man of your position?"
Ashberry cleared his throat. The greatest risk to him today, of course, was revealing his intentions earlier than he had planned, and even that could possibly work to his advantage. The baron undoubtedly thought to press first the advantage of the compromising nature of his encounter with Ellie the day before, and then to release the marquess from its implications on Ashberry's word that no such meeting would occur again.
Such a script would leave Ellie's innocent participation intact while avoiding any question as to why the baron might want to release Ashberry from any obligation to his daughter. It was, Ashberry concluded, an excellent plan assuming he, as society had reluctantly concluded after the family had arrived in London, was intent on avoiding marriage for the moment. Of course, Ashberry mused inwardly, the baron had no way of knowing that finding a particularly special bride had just vaulted to the top of his personal objectives.
The danger was that the baron would have no compunction about sending his daughter to the country, falsely pretending a relapse of her supposed condition
or some other family emergency. With such a scenario in mind, he replied carefully, "I was not flirting with your daughter, Whitney. I found her company at dinner two nights ago to be quite charming. I expressed such sentiments to her yesterday, where I was waiting for your son, when she came to the drawing room and offered me a cup of tea."
Edward frowned and interrupted. "My sister's charm is not of concern, Ashberry, as you well know. The issue is this: you were quite alone with her yesterday when I arrived, and had been for a significant amount of time. You knew she does not actively participate in the ton and would therefore not understand that here in London it is considered ... unacceptable for a young woman of her age and breeding to receive a gentleman of any standing, particularly an unmarried nobleman. We both know that the appropriate thing to do in such a situation would have been to excuse yourself from the house. And yet you did nothing but sit and enjoy a cup of tea, leaving her with the impression that she had behaved correctly."
Ashberry refrained, just barely, from informing the man that Miss Whitney's knowledge of etiquette was not his responsibility. If he had his way, it was likely that it would be, and sooner rather than later.
Still, he could not help but frown slightly as he replied. "Are you claiming to have not been gifted with the same respect in my house?" cunningly turning the conversation to trap the boy. Edward did not have the practice that the elder Whitney would have at such a conversation and Ashberry was amazed that Whitney had permitted Edward to speak at all. "In my opinion, it is not a question of tonnish expectations, in which case you should never have been allowed through my front door, but of respect. I did nothing yesterday that might be misconstrued as less than the highest respect for your sister, you or any member of your family."
Embracing Ashberry Page 4