“No.”
There was regret behind the word, as there always had been. Ella had idolised Pearl for a long time and tried to be her friend. Pearl hadn’t wanted a little sister though and made her feelings on the matter clear. Even a determined soul like Ella could only take so much pinching, hair-pulling and spiteful comments before she gave up, though Pearl was clever enough to do nothing unless they were alone. In company she was sweetness and light, and Ella learned quickly that her sister had two sides. On the few occasions she’d chanced to trust Pearl, she had ended hurt and humiliated. So, she kept away.
It had always surprised Ella that she’d not suffered for being Oscar’s friend. She’d assumed it was because Pearl did not see her as a threat. There was no reason why she should. Oscar had only ever treated her as Bertie did: an annoying but loved little sister. Yet Pearl spent more time talking about Oscar than she did in his company. Though he spent a lot of time at their home with Bertie, she never took the opportunity to spend time with him, which Ella had never understood. It was as though Oscar was a concept or a fictitious character, not a flesh and blood man.
Not that she could say any different of Oscar, either; he’d not exactly sought Pearl out.
Ella sighed and pressed her fingertips to her temples. She was getting a headache.
“Stop that at once,” Mintie scolded, wagging a finger at her. “You look beautiful, and we will have a wonderful evening.”
“Yes, Mintie,” Ella said, a smile at her lips that didn’t quite reach her heart.
Mintie stepped closer to her and took her hands. “You can’t change the past, Ella. Whatever brought you to this point, you didn’t set out to steal Oscar from Pearl, did you?”
“No!”
Ella felt horrified at the idea. She had intended to persuade her father to let her leave after Pearl and Oscar’s wedding, to protect her own her heart it was true, but she had never had the slightest expectation of Oscar turning his attention her way. Even if she’d had the chance to make it happen, she would not have taken it. She might not have much love for her sister, but she would never have been so deceitful, so outrageously wicked. The guilt of having done it by default was hard enough to bear.
“Then stop punishing yourself. There is no need to flaunt your position in your sister’s face, though I admit you’re a better woman than I am if you don’t.” Mintie gave her a devilish smile and squeezed her fingers. “But this is your life now, Ella, and you must live it to the full. Perhaps Oscar will fall in love with you, perhaps he won’t, but you can’t spend your life apologising for what cannot be changed. Go out into the world and make a place for yourself, have fun, make friends, be bold, darling. Life is too short not to live it to the full.”
Ella took a deep breath, knowing there was truth in the words. A little voice in her head whispered that being bold had gotten her in this fix in the first place, but Mintie was right. This was her life, and she must make the best of it. Being miserable wouldn’t undo the wrong she’d done Pearl, it would make it worse.
“Yes, Mintie, you’re right. I will do just as you say.”
Mintie beamed at her. “That’s the spirit! Now, come along. I cannot wait to show you off.”
Ella followed Mintie downstairs to find Bertie waiting for her. Mintie hurried off to the parlour to see if the viscount was awaiting her as Bertie stepped forward to greet his sister.
“My word, Ella,” he said, and she could not help but be gratified by the astonished look in his eyes. “Every inch the duchess, I do swear.” He made a low whistle through his teeth as he circled her. “I never would have believed it possible.”
“Yes, all right, Bertie, don’t spoil it,” Ella replied, her tone dry. “You needn’t sound quite so surprised.”
Bertie shrugged, shaking his head. “Sorry, Bug, but I’m too used to seeing you up to your neck in mud. You can’t blame a fellow for being startled.”
Ella rolled her eyes at him and then frowned as she realised he wasn’t dressed to go out.
“Bertie, we’re leaving, and you’ve not even changed?”
His expression grew sombre. “No. I’m not coming. Decided to track down that husband of yours.”
“What?” Ella took a step closer and grasped his arm. “Oh, no, Bertie, you mustn’t. Oscar is free to live his own life. We agreed it must be so.”
Bertie shook his head, a frown marring his handsome face. “It’s not on, Ella. Maybe if he’d waited a month or two but leaving right after the wedding…. He’s practically announced to the ton that….” He trailed off, flushing a little.
“That our marriage is a sham,” Ella finished for him. “Yes, Bertie, I know, but it’s true, and neither of us can change that.”
She watched, touched and surprised by the glower on her brother’s face. There was a depth of anger there she had not expected.
“No, Ella, it’s gone on long enough. I won’t have him shame you like this.”
Ella sighed, wishing this ridiculous affair wasn’t hurting so many people. If Oscar and Bertie’s friendship was damaged, she’d never forgive herself.
“Oh, Bertie, I wish you wouldn’t. It’s hard enough to face the gossip as it is, but having to face him every day, when I know how he must resent me.”
A mutinous look crossed her brother’s face that she well recognised. He folded his arms.
“Ella, at the very least Oscar is your friend, and friends don’t treat each other like this. He promised you’d everything would be fine, and… and you’re damn well not fine. You can’t change my mind.”
His jaw was rigid, and she knew there would be no budging him from the course he’d set himself. Bertie was an easy-going fellow as a rule, but stubborn as a mule when his mind was made up.
“Very well, Bertie, but promise me one thing.”
Ella tightened her grip on his sleeve as Bertie looked down on her.
“Your friendship means the world to Oscar. Don’t, I beg you, fall out over me. It would break my heart.”
Bertie’s expression softened and he smiled at her, pulling her into a hug.
“All right, Bug,” he said, the words soft. “I promise.”
Chapter 10
“Wherein friends, alliances and enemies are in attendance.”
The ball was being held by Lord and Lady Marchmain, and all the ton who gathered for the Easter meetings held in Newmarket were in attendance.
Ella kept her head high and a smile on her face as she entered with Mintie and Fluff. She knew the whispers and gossip about her were far from running their course, but she would not give anyone the satisfaction of believing it bothered her. It did, of course. That people believed they had caught her in a compromising position with the man her sister was betrothed to made her appear the worst kind of wicked female, but all she could do was endure.
The evening progressed in the usual manner. There were the sycophants, eager to know her because she was a duchess; there were the tattle mongers, hoping to gain a juicy morsel to share with the rest of the company; there was jealousy and there were barbed little comments that were delivered with deceptively sweet smiles. Ella endured it all and discovered, to her relief, that there were still some genuine and kind people in the world who would give her a chance.
Patience Bright, Lady Marchmain, was one such.
“What a beautiful gown, your grace,” the lady said, her admiration genuine and her expression full of warmth. At first glance she was not a beautiful woman, but her obvious kindness and sweet nature shone from her. It drew people’s attention, and kept it, and unlike a pretty face it would never fade. Her quiet warmth, and her readiness to laugh, made them want to know her.
“Oh, please call me Ella,” Ella replied, a rather pleading note to the request. “Whenever someone says, ‘your grace,’ I think they’re talking to my mother-in-law.”
Lady Marchmain laughed, looking pleased by the invitation.
“I’d be delighted to, Ella, thank you. The dowager duchess
is in fine spirits this evening. What a lovely creature she is.”
Ella watched Mintie and her devoted viscount as they danced the waltz. Such elegance and style, and such adoration shining between them. She sighed.
“She is, and such a generous soul. I always envied Oscar his mother, and now she’s mine too and I know how lucky I am.” She blushed then, wondering if Patience thought she’d engineered being caught with Oscar to force his hand, as many people were whispering. To her surprise, Patience reached out and laid her hand on Ella’s arm.
“I hope you will come and visit me, if… if you would like to. We live quietly here at Finchfields and I would be so pleased if you could spare the time.”
Ella returned a smile, her first truly genuine smile of the evening.
“It would be my pleasure, thank you, and I hope you will call on me at Chancery. I’d love to have a visitor who hasn’t come to try to wrangle some juicy gossip from me.”
Patience gave her a sympathetic smile and took her arm, and Ella felt a flush of warmth for her new friend.
The two women looked up, still feeling pleased with their burgeoning friendship as Patience’s husband sought her out, in the company of the Duke of Ranleigh.
The two men made a striking combination. August Bright lived up to his name. Everything about him was as golden as a summer’s day. His hair was the colour of ripe corn and glinted in the candlelight, his eyes were a startling emerald green, and he was stunningly handsome. It had been the talk of the ton when plain Patience Pearson, with neither fortune nor beauty. had snared the town’s most sought-after rake. That it had been a love match made it even more gossip-worthy.
Ranleigh stood beside him, August’s opposite in every way. Where August was fair, Ranleigh was dark. His hair was a rich mahogany, with just a touch of grey at the temples. His eyes were likewise dark, and alight with cynical amusement. He was a man who had seen it all, and no longer expected to be surprised. August’s face was open and obviously pleased by the world.
Ranleigh’s gave nothing away.
“My Lady Rothborn,” Ranleigh said, bowing over Ella’s hand. “A delight as always. May I say how lovely you look this evening? That gown is the envy of every woman here tonight, I assure you.”
Ella smiled at his compliment but said nothing. She believed Ranleigh was a friend to her, but Mintie’s comments had given her pause.
“I hear your husband is to be congratulated once again,” August said, grinning at her.
Ella faltered, embarrassed not to have the slightest idea of what he was talking about. Oscar hadn’t written to her since he’d left, so she didn’t know what he was up to.
August caught the intense look his wife was sending him and hurried on.
“Oh, well, I bumped into someone who was there, so I don’t suppose word has spread yet, but he challenged Sheringham to a curricle race over fifteen miles. Swore his greys were faster that Sherry’s pair. I must say, I thought he’d bitten off more than he could chew, as those bays of Sherry’s are as pretty a pair of horseflesh as I’ve ever seen. He did it though, and in grand style, as Rothborn always does.”
Ella listened, imagining Oscar’s delight in the race, and his subsequent win. She smiled, though there was a hollow feeling in her heart.
“I wish I had seen that,” she said, unable to hide the wistful note to her voice.
“But I seem to remember you have a fair hand with a whip too, Duchess,” Ranleigh said, as Ella started with surprise. Few people knew that. Oscar and Bertie had taught her, at her insistence. Her father had been furious as she’d only been about twelve at the time, but it was something she had a pleasing amount of skill with.
“Really?” Patience was staring at her with obvious admiration. “How wonderful. I should like to see that.”
“You would?” Ella replied, surprised and rather delighted. “Well. then, I shall come and take you out. How does Wednesday afternoon suit you?”
“Oh, famous!”
Ella laughed at her new friend’s enthusiasm, happy to have pleased her. She looked up at Ranleigh, who had taken a sudden step closer to her.
“May I have the honour of this dance, Duchess?”
There was an intense look in his eyes and she opened her mouth to make an excuse, but he lowered his voice.
“Your sister is heading this way,” he said, a rather grim set to his mouth.
Ella blanched and took his arm. “Y-Yes, I would love to dance,” she said in a rush, wondering if she was being the most dreadful coward but not entirely sure she cared.
Ranleigh led her onto the floor and Ella didn’t dare look back to see what Pearl’s reaction had been.
“Thank you,” she said, the words heartfelt as they took their positions.
“The pleasure is entirely mine, Duchess,” Ranleigh said, with a smile. “It grieves me to inform you, but your sister is doing her utmost to begin some unsavoury rumours. I assure you myself, Falmouth and Lord Marchmain have scotched them with a word or two in the right ears, so there is no need for alarm. In fact, Pearl is doing herself more harm than she is you by persisting, but I thought perhaps you should know as… she has also said things about your husband which might reach you.”
A sick, unsettling feeling rose in Ella’s stomach and she looked up at him.
“Are they true?” she asked, wishing the question hadn’t sounded so pitiful and anxious.
She knew well enough that Oscar had at least one mistress in town, and that he saw their marriage as a sham was no secret to her, or to anyone else. That he was off carousing and living life as he always had would not come as a surprise to her.
Anger surfaced in a wave, chasing away her sorrow. Couldn’t he have at least given her a chance? Couldn’t he have tried? Yet then she remembered whose fault this wretched alliance was, and her anger subsided into guilt.
Ranleigh glanced down at her. “I would not give any credence to words that come from your sister for the foreseeable future. Whilst her anger might be understandable, her behaviour does her no credit. I assure you that whilst the scandal still captivates its audience, there is a noticeable shift in the perception of who is to blame in the affair.”
Ella noticed that he hadn’t answered the question, but she was too intrigued to hear opinions were changing to pursue it.
“What do they say now?” she asked, curious despite herself.
Ranleigh smiled at her, the admiration in his eyes obvious even to her.
“That you have behaved with dignity and poise in trying circumstances. I believe you have nothing to fear. Just be yourself, my dear. All will be well.”
“Being myself is what landed me in this position,” Ella muttered with a snort.
Ranleigh laughed, a warm sound that made her smile in response. He was a charming companion.
“Quite so,” he replied, giving her a discreet wink. “Fear not, beautiful duchess. Fortis fortūna adiuvat.”
“Fortune favours the bold,” she translated, looking up to see amusement glinting in his dark eyes.
“Don’t ever forget it. If you want something, you must put fear aside and take a risk, and I know just how brave you are.”
Ella’s heart picked up as Ranleigh spun her faster, guiding her effortlessly through the moves of the dance. It was the closest sensation she could imagine to flying and her only regret was that it wasn’t her husband holding her in his arms.
“What if I take a risk and still lose?” she asked, the words breathless as they flew around the ballroom. “What if he can never love me?”
Ranleigh was quiet until the music ended, and the dancers grew still. He bowed to her and when he raised his head his eyes were serious.
“Then you’ve played your best hand and done all you can. Then you must become accustomed to the fact and move on, but regretting something you can’t alter is one thing, regretting something you never tried to change… that is another.”
He led her away from the dance floor and back to Lord
and Lady Marchmain. To Ella’s relief, Pearl was nowhere in sight.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked, trying to figure out his motivation before they reached them. Was it just for the memory of Oscar’s father?
“I told you my reasons already,” he said, glancing down at her. “But you may add that I admire bravery, and you have the heart of a lion. You are a fearless creature, Duchess.”
“I’m not!” she objected, laughing. “I spend most of my life terrified to open my mouth for fear of saying something outrageous. Riding Virago was terrifying. I still quake just thinking about it!”
“And yet, you did it,” he said, his voice low. “That is what makes you brave. Not the absence of fear, but your mastery of it.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean reckless?” she asked with a wry smile.
Ranleigh laughed, and the rich, deep sound could have made a more susceptible woman go weak at the knees. “Well, perhaps a little of that, too, but that is no bad thing in my book.”
Ella avoided Pearl for the rest of the evening, though she found herself a little startled by her sister’s behaviour. Her usual elegant reserve seemed to have fled and she seemed to burn with vivacity and laughter. She held the attention of nearly every man in the room, though she failed to secure a dance from the Duke of Ranleigh, after whom she was clearly angling. Ranleigh appeared to rebuff her with a polite excuse and a smile, but Ella feared her sister would not take such a slight well when he had already danced with her.
Pearl continued to shine throughout the evening however, with no signs of diminishing as the hour grew late, but Ella thought her sister’s laughter sounded a touch brittle, the vivacity too brilliant, too bright to be genuine. More worrying to her was Pearl’s flirtatious manner. She seemed intent on drawing every man that crossed her path under the spell of her beauty.
At one point she caught Ella’s eye, and the look she returned was cold and hard and made Ella shiver with misgiving. As much as she regretted what had happened, and understood Pearl’s fury with her, it became harder to feel sympathy for her sister’s position when she was so intent on revenge and used such underhand tactics.
The Corinthian Duke Page 11