“Simeon! We were just talking about you.” A raven haired girl said and the others tittered. Blast! Ozzie was right. Being laughed at by a bunch of school-room chits shouldn’t make a man’s knees weak but it was deuced uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, you have me at a, wait, Eleanor?”
“Who did you think it was? Oh, what have you done to Ozzie?” Simeon stepped through the door and handed his hat and stick to the butler.
“Yes, Graydon, I’ll be staying for dinner. Eleanor, I did nothing to your brother. He showed up at the club raving about sirens and well, he never has been very good at tolerating alcohol.”
He and the girls watched as Graydon and some footmen attempted to carry Ozzie to his rooms. He fought them every step of the way.
When that show ended, Eleanor turned to him and smiled. He had known the Stonington’s since he and Ozzie had survived school together. And he knew that smile. On any other woman it would have forecasted an evening of entertainment ending in a good and proper bedding. But she wasn’t any other woman. She had learned her lessons from the rabble she was related to and it forecasted nothing but pain and suffering on whomever it was bestowed. His cravat suddenly felt like a noose.
“So you are staying for dinner?”
Innocent enough, so why had he started sweating. “Yes, I thought I’d like to see the rest of the hellions. It has been far too long.”
“Why is that?” Ah, that was what he’d always found so trying and yet tantalizing about the female Stonington. Her way with the direct question and her inability to be cowed by his mere presence.
“I’ve had business.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. She had that effect on him when he’d first met her and she noted it every time he did. Damned if she didn’t seem to be waiting for the chance now.
“Oh, what a shame, I’ve missed your visits.” He blinked at her. Then he heard her gallows chorus titter behind their hands again.
He narrowed his gaze. Perhaps he had mistaken cunning for intelligence among her group. He had known intelligent women, unfortunately with little to occupy themselves beyond what society deemed lady-like, they had usually turned vicious and for the most part against their own kind. Had Eleanor succumbed? Was this little club of hers no more than a prettier version of a lynch mob?
She was after all, a Stonington female, far more dangerous than the males of the species, and they were bad enough. He smiled at the gorgeous blonde, obviously Ozzie’s temptress. Simeon was taken aback when she lost her sparkle and seemed to deflate before his very eyes. She had sounded so brazen in Ozzie’s telling. His smile to the others seemed to have a similar or even greater effect. The lot was hardly the harpies Ozzie had described.
“Simeon! Stop scaring my friends.”
He turned to their leader who had never been afraid of him. There had been a time when he’d wanted her to be. If only, in his immaturity, to prove his power over her. It hadn’t worked when she was a child and he had no doubt it would fail now. But would a little respect be asking too much? “Eleanor, you should address me as ‘your grace’ or at a minimum, Northford.”
“You always were a bit of stuffed shirt, weren’t you? I’d have thought the years wore that down. We’ve known each other forever and I’ve always called you Simeon”
“I... fine, I suppose it is better than the alternative.” Her smile became truly frightening then.
“Oh you mean my old name for you?” Her eyes widened in pretend innocence and her voice took a tone that should only be used in the boudoir. He found himself leaning toward her as if pulled by a string. “Is that what you mean, Simian?”
And there it was and much worse for having now invested it with the image of longing she had put in his head. Her old name for him. That his name had been handed down over generations meant nothing to the girl. On some level he understood she had still been a child when she first met him and had trouble pronouncing his name.
He was willing to let it go but even at that tender age, when she realized it bothered him and he’d explained why, she had grasped the name with both hands and not let go to the point of madness. Of course her brothers, seeing how it riled him, brought it to school with them and well, a man had his limits. He started boxing, and threatened to take on all comers for months.
Hers had been the last push over the cliff. Never comfortable in situations over which he had no control, he had closed himself off after those years. He’d never been gregarious but by the end of it he avoided most company, with the exception of Ozzie Stonington. They made quite a pair, the boy who refused to smile and the boy with the limp.
That his face naturally fell into a dark scowl had been something he had tried to fight against before then. After her jibes, he cultivated it. His father had passed from this earth thinking he’d never continue the line, after all what delicately bred woman would want his dark glower staring at her every day.
He may have been heading in that direction but hers had been the deciding push. Oh, he owed her some kind of retribution, alright. Nothing drastic, but something along the lines of the pranks he and Oz played on each other. Maybe a taste of her own medicine would be good for her.
“Simeon, you are wool gathering.”
“Pardon?”
“I said the only brother currently in residence is Ozzie and I don’t think he’ll be fit by dinner. I’m afraid you are going to be surrounded by us girls.” He watched as the three drew closer behind Eleanor. Oh really this was going to be too easy.
“Then so much the better. What man wouldn’t like being surrounded by some of the prettiest women of the Ton.”
“Technically, only Eleanor is Ton-- oof” The bespectacled girl interjected but Eleanor threw her a sharp elbow. He remembered those elbows keenly, rapier sharp and able to slide between a man’s ribs and make his lungs seize. Oh yes, he remembered and he owed her.
“It matters not, beauty and intelligence in a woman is to be valued no matter her breeding.”
Eleanor’s smile widened and lost its evil edge. She was actually pleased he had complimented her friends? Didn’t most women find a man complimenting another woman in her presence an act of war? Strange girl, still that smile and the light in her eyes was something a man could come to enjoy. Shame he knew her devious mind lay behind it.
He fully expected the worst. He’d been to dinner at the Stonington’s before and hadn’t been disappointed. This time he was, the company was charming, intelligent and erudite but the dinner didn’t produce a single explosion. After the women had gotten over their shyness, thanks to Eleanor’s incessant teasing of him, they proved to be on the whole pleasant company. He quickly realized the key difference between this dinner and all the others he’d spent in the house. He was the only man present. His Grace was absent on business, the boys were variously disposed, the lady of the house was calling on a sick friend, so the girls and he were the only ones to partake of the feast laid out.
“Louisa, I appreciate your opinion on the women’s right to vote. I speak honestly when I say you have given me much to think about. Frankly, if all women were as reasonable in their thinking as you all, it would be easier to vote in favor of the movement.”
“Really? I mean, truly, you’d allow women to vote in national elections?” Eleanor rested her chin in her hand and waited for his answer. He quelled the urge to knock her hand out from under her. He wasn’t a schoolboy anymore and she had shown she wasn’t the same schoolgirl he had known not that many years ago. Her gaze was disconcerting and had rested on him throughout dinner, at times it seemed to pierce his thoughts and make the very act of swallowing difficult.
“I think it could be implemented in stages, allow people to get used to the idea, but I think women could be educated in the election process and understand the laws of the land as well as any man.”
“Good God Simeon! You’re a progressive.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“My father and brothers would have your head.”
“And you?” He’d asked more to needle her than anything else but as soon as the words were out he honestly wanted to know what she thought of him. He looked at his wine glass. How many had he polished off exactly?
“I-” She snapped her mouth shut. “Are you being serious, or will you just make fun of me?”
“Strangely enough, I actually find myself curious. What do you think of me?”
“I think you are greatly misunderstood.” Her answer was completely Eleanor, simple, direct to the point of impolitic, and absolutely correct. Then she shocked him. “What do you think of me, Simeon?”
He could have said something cutting, something to make her feel small and mean in front of her friends, maybe it was the wine, or the good company but he didn’t have it in him at the moment so he went with the truth.
“You remind me of a Scottish loch.”
“Well, I have never been to Scotland so that is meaningless to me.”
“I’ll have to take you sometime. The lochs are deep, dark, with mysterious currents that if you aren’t careful can drown a man. Yet their surface is placid, that is their danger. It is very easy to underestimate them.”
Her cheeks pinked and her eyes glittered. The air hung heavy with anticipation though he had no idea of what. Ozzie suddenly burst through the door.
“Bloody hell! It wasn’t a nightmare.”
Chaos’s Consort Chapter Five
Eleanor was sure a man had invented stays, and dancing slippers, possibly even dresses all together. All Eleanor knew was that they were all torture to her. The worn pair of her brother’s tweed breeches seemed much more sensible attire than this nonsense she was currently wearing. Amelia tugged a curl into submission.
“Ow, what have I ever done to you to warrant being treated like this?”
“Your Mother’s orders, Miss. She wants perfection.”
“Bloody hell.” Eleanor whispered under her breath and Amelia pulled a curl in rebuke.
“No more of that. You mother wants you to act the lady from now on.”
“But-”
“No buts, a lady does not swear, or galavant around in men’s breeches or go fishing,”
“Or have any kind of fun ever again. Why on earth would anyone want to be a lady?”
“You get to have fun, but it is an entirely different sort, that’s all. You’ll understand when some dashing viscount asks you to dance, or some handsome soldier bows over your hand, or a rogue tries to whisk you off to-”
“Amelia, really, you read far too many gothic novels. This is merely dinner with some dancing, in what will most likely be a too small room with too many people. After fifteen minutes the smell alone is enough to drive one out of doors.”
“No going outdoors without a chaperone.”
“Bloody-- Hey, that hurt!” She grabbed the fan Amelia had assaulted her with. “Like this will help.”
“Oh Miss, please try to behave and remember to smile. The season has barely started but this is when the jockeying for the best matches begins. It really is in your best interest to make a good one.”
“And what if I don’t make any match?”
“Then you will have to try again next year, and the next, and the next, ‘til you’re on the shelf. Then I suppose we’ll both be packed off to a cottage on the country estate.” She shivered for emphasis.
“Would that really be so bad?”
“Well no, I suppose not if Jacob could secure a position nearby. But there would be no guarantees he could.”
“Drat, I forgot about your beau. Couldn’t he come, too?” She got a pointed glare in return. “I’ll take that as a no. Fine, I’ll do what I can.”
Amelia was a wonderful ladies maid but she could just stay here, tend to mother, and be with her love instead of going to the cottage when she enacted her scandal. The first volley would take place tonight. She loathed this part but Minerva was correct, without the proper build up there would be nowhere for her to fall. So she would smile, laugh like a hyena at their awful attempts at whit, she would dance every dance she was asked for and pretend to love all of it. Anything to get on as many lists as possible. All the better when her ruination came later. She could just imagine the greek chorus of gossips already.
“Miss, the ladies are downstairs waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Graydon. Oh.” She jumped up and nearly toppled poor Amelia. She tugged the door open to find the man half way down the hall. “Graydon, how many of my brothers are attending the Whiloughby’s dinner tonight?”
“I believe three, Miss. Edward has been called away on ‘business’.” Business her arse. He’d just found an excuse Mama hadn’t heard before. Lucky devil. Graydon cleared his throat. “Miss, the Duke of Northford is waiting for your brothers in the front parlor.”
“Simeon, is here?” Oh this was perfect. “Where are the heiresses, er, my friends?”
“In the back parlor, Miss.”
“Well that doesn’t seem fair. Show them into the front parlor and have some sherry brought in. I will be down presently.” When she turned around her smile gave her away.
“What are you scheming over? That smile is more devious than any of your brothers’.”
“Amelia, I have no idea what you could mean?” She picked up the fan and reticule she’d left on her dressing table.
“Miss, I’ll save my breath, it wouldn’t do any good anyway. You are too headstrong by half. I almost pity the man foolish enough to think he can tame you.”
“None ever have and none ever will.” With that she flounced out the door.
She walked into the parlor as pandemonium reined. All this chaos over a smallish dog?
“Alderson! Come.” Her dog stopped barking and accosting the males in the room, and trotted happily to her. He sat politely, his skunk-striped Centurion tail swirling wildly in the air. He was waiting for his customary scratch behind the ear. As he usually did, he started talking to her, well vocalizing anyway.
“Oh Lord, here we go!” Her brothers hated Alderson and she suspected the feeling was mutual.
“If you found the dog so awful why did you bring him to her?” the youngest of her demon brothers yelled over the noise.
“Ladies, he is perfectly harmless.” She re-stated loudly to her friends.
“Oh, Eleanor we know you love him but he’s the smelliest dog in the entire realm.” Virtue was better at seeing beyond someone’s outward appearance than anyone but even she had trouble with Alderson.
“Quite possibly. But we understand each other. Isn’t that right, boy?”
The dog let loose a series of yips, followed by a bow accompanied with a full throated howl worthy of an opera star, last came an ear shattering bark. At which point he curled himself into a circle and started licking his privates. “Alderson, have a little dignity.” She should be appalled at his bad behavior but she could never muster the proper indignation.
The dog merely stared at her for a moment and went back to doing what dogs do.
“So by understand each other, you mean to say that you are both equally inappropriate in polite company?” The question could only have come from Simeon.
She looked up and sure enough he was grinning at her. The man thought he was too clever by half. “Why of course. It should give you hope sir. If I can care for this ugly, ill-mannered dog then perhaps there might yet be someone who could care for you.” Her brothers elbowed each other and passed knowing looks which just contributed to them looking the horse’s arses they were.
“Besides the poor thing needed a friend. When they found him he was barely weaned and had a gash on his side.” She reached down and ruffled his black fur. “And now look at him. He’s a changed dog, healthy, hale and hearty.”
“And has the most noxious gas in all the world!”
She glared at Ozzie. “Yes, well so do you and we keep you in the house.” Simeon and her other brothers grinned at each other. Eleanor was never quite sure if the men in attendance were truly
cheering her barbs or just relieved to not be on the receiving end of them.
The doors to the parlor opened and Graydon walked in carrying a tray with glasses and a bottle. “Miss, the sherry you requested.”
“Sherry, Eleanor? Did you stop to think that the men might want something a little stronger?” Her brother Whit, who should have been called Nit-Whit instead of Whitten, tried to get some support from the rest of the males but got a lot of blank looks instead.
“First, you dunderhead, we are on our way to dinner not one of your whores’ dens. So it would be wise to keep our whits, oh, sorry, in your case that phrase might not be apt, about us. Secondly, dinner tonight is at the Whiloughby’s. Mrs. Whiloughby has become rather fond of the temperance movement of late. I suspect a small drink may be needed by all of us to get through the evening and I do not think we will find one there.” Her statement had the men diving for the sherry she had just poured.
“After we drink up we should figure out who is riding with whom. Ladies, did any of you hire a carriage for the evening?” The heiresses gave her blank looks all around.
“Well then, we shall have to chaperone each other. Boys,” She held her hand out to her brothers. “Would you be dears and escort Minerva and Louisa. Simeon, do you mind if Virtue and I ride with you?”
“You two can’t ride in a closed carriage with him!” Ozzie bellowed.
Simeon grinned at Ozzie in an altogether inappropriate manner. “And why the deuced not? I’m not likely to ravish both of them in the short trip to the Whiloughby’s.”
“It isn’t proper, that is why. I’ll escort Eleanor, she can escort Virtue.” Was it her imagination or did Ozzie shiver slightly just mentioning Virtue’s name?
Minerva and Louisa boarded the Stonington coach with the younger half of her brothers and left post haste. Ozzie seemed to be stalling, pretending to forget his gloves, then his hat. Eleanor drew the line when he threatened to change his cravat. She did allow him a second glass of sherry; she suspected he needed it.
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