CHAPTER 2
“ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN HANDLE LOGAN without our help?”
The groom pulled at his forelock. “Oh, yes, Lady Eleanor. If ’n I walk him slow, old Logan will be fine.”
Eleanor had shown Lord Worthing most of the property’s points of interest, including the waterfall at the end of the nature walk and the large lake behind the north lawn. Now, she broke her promise to her brother by excusing the groom to return to the stables. “I will check on the horse when His Lordship and I return to Thorn Hall.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”The groom took the horse’s reins. “A stone be all the problem. Logan be new as a bairn in no time.”
Ella nodded her understanding. “Shall we continue, Lord Worthing?”
“Absolutely, Lady Eleanor.”
As they rode leisurely along a tree-shaded path, James continued to observe Eleanor first-hand. From Fowler he knew of her manipulations to keep the estate afloat—a fact which sparked his admiration. But his interest in her lay along more primordial lines: Simply put, the lady stirred his desires. James wanted to be near her—wanted to touch Lady Eleanor—wanted to kiss her senseless—wanted to feel her body’s heat pressed to his. She certainly did not resemble his Elizabeth, a mark by which he had gauged all other relationships. As he told her earlier, he normally preferred his women dark in coloring and petite, so he could not understand why in bloody hell he could not withdraw his eyes from this golden-haired Amazon, a woman who evidently had no desire to participate in Society’s dictates for finding a husband? Did she not realize the gauntlet she tossed down with such words? They made him want to prove her wrong, and James knew other men would see it the same way.What would he do if…? Bloody hell! There he went again, thinking of Lady Eleanor as if she belonged to him. He had known the woman for less than a day, and if what he suspected had happened to her proved to be true, then he questioned whether any relationship might prove possible.
Riding out with the viscount had proven less stressful than Ella had imagined. When the groom had to return to the stables, she considered curtailing the tour, but a quick glance at her brother’s friend changed her mind. He treated her with respect, and he listened to her.When she told him about the estate and what she had accomplished while she searched for Bran to resume the title, the viscount appeared duly impressed. Now, if he would not look at her with such intensity, she might be able to breathe again. “Have I offered an offence, my Lord?” Much to his embarrassment, James discovered Ella watched him closely.
“No,…certainly not, Lady Eleanor. You simply caught me woolgathering, I fear.”
Ella impulsively smiled at him. “Dare I ask the source of your search, my Lord?”
“Would I embarrass you, Lady Eleanor, if I declared you to be the focus of my thoughts?”
Eleanor tried to play off what he said as being absurd, but secretly his words thrilled her. The thought that this man might truly find her attractive ricocheted through her. “Lord Worthing, my brother warned me of your silver tongue. I own a mirror, Sir. I am too tall, too thin, too opinionated, and too lacking in feminine wiles to be a source of anyone’s musings.”
James had a sudden desire to slide his “silver” tongue, first, between her full lips and then down Ella’s body. “Ah, now, Lady Eleanor, you do me an injustice, thinking I purposely mislead any woman.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and watched as she broke into laughter. “And I know what I shall give you on your next birthday.” He paused to reel her in. “A mirror that speaks the truth—one that reflects your splendor.”
A flush of color spread quickly across her bust line and up her neck, a reaction that James appreciated. “Lord Worthing, I must admit I usually disdain such frivolous conversations, but I find your idle chatter to be just what I need today, although I place no merit on your spirited speech.”
“Another wound?” he teased. “How will I survive?”
“I believe you will do well without my attention, Lord Worthing.” Ella actually laughed at his prattle. “Now, I will show you how to please me.” With that, she kicked the side of her gelding and took off across the open meadow at a full gallop—her laughter drifting back to him.
For a few heartbeats, James simply watched her go—her joy making him satisfied in his own mind; and then, he gave pursuit, rushing across the land—the heat of the horse’s flanks radiating through his thighs. He chased the tinkling sound of her merriment. As his stallion closed the distance between them, James suddenly realized that he could not remember the last time he found so much enjoyment doing nothing more than riding hard.
Then the shot rang out, and he watched in horror as Ella’s horse stumbled to its front knees, and she flew over its head, rolling on the ground—horse and rider entangled in pain’s wild dance. Seconds behind her, James was on his feet and running before he reined in his mount.
“Ella…Ella,” he called as he vaulted over the pawing legs of the gelding, pulling her away from the animal before it crushed her. “Ella, please,” he turned her limp body in his arms, checking for a pulse and finding one. “Speak to me, Ella.” He pushed the hair from her face, as he searched for other injuries, running his hands up and down her legs.
Holding her to him, James’s eyes scanned the perimeter. From where did the shot come? No trees—just open fields backed up to a rocky overhang—has to be. His instincts knew where to look—knew the only place a shooter could hide, and a shadowy movement proved his assumptions correct. He could smell the fear of his opponent even though he was still too far away for an accurate shot with the pistol he pulled from the holster strapped inside his jacket. Resting Ella on the ground, he was at a run again, moving toward the rise—eyes locked on the crevice in the rock face—gun loaded and cocked—ready for the next flash before firing his own weapon. Heart pounding—just like in the old days—he moved steadily toward the opening. Locked on, James waited—breathed evenly—watched for the gun’s glint in the sunlight—then he knew, knew when to drop and roll—saw the bullet leave the barrel before the sound found him. In one sleek movement, he lowered his shoulder to the ground and allowed his momentum to take him over—a complete rotation, and he was on his knee sighting down the gun, steadying it with his other hand. The gunpowder clouded about his face, but James never lost sight of the bullet. He saw its flight—straight and accurate—saw it hit its target—saw it go in the man’s shoulder—saw him fall.
Traversing the rocky outcroppings, within seconds James reached the opening and pulled the man to his feet without checking for other wounds. He had him by the lapels, pure force lifting the scant fool inches from the ground. “If you hurt her, I will rip you apart limb from limb.” Unable to control his anger, James’s fist met their assailant’s chin, sending the man flying backwards against the rock wall.
Not waiting to assess his attack’s effect on the man, James pulled off his own cravat and bound the interloper’s hands behind his back, and then half dragged and half shoved his prisoner to where Ella lay. “Open your mouth, bastard, and I will shoot you right where you stand!”Taking a strap from Ella’s saddle, he tethered the man’s ankles after removing his boots.
Leaving the man lying face down like a shorn sheep in the field’s middle, James returned to where Ella finally stirred. Her horse continued to whinny in pain, so before she could witness the act, he reloaded the gun and put the animal out of its misery.
“Sweetheart.” He cradled her head in his lap. “Ella, Darling,” he drawled.
“Quit calling me Darling,” she murmured as she tried to push up from the ground.
“Yes, Love.” He smiled in triumph as he supported her back and head to a seated position.
Ella shook her head slightly, clearing the cobwebs. “I am not your love either, Lord Worthing,” she insisted, still unsure what happened.
Smiling foolishly, James put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her from standing too soon. “Easy.You had a rough fall, Lady Eleanor.”
Finally, the realization of what had occurred set in, and Ella looked quickly to where the grey gelding lay on its side, legs twisted. “Sampson?” she whispered, throat dry with grief.
James shook his head, unable to tell her what he had done. “He will suffer no longer,” he assured her.
“My mother bought him for me right before she died.” The words sounded very far away, and James suspected she remembered the happiness associated with that moment.
“I am sorry, Darling.” James slid his arm around her shoulder, easing Ella into his embrace, allowing her to hide her sobs. After a few minutes, he edged her back. “I need to see you home, Lady Eleanor. Do you think you can stand?”
Ella nodded her understanding and allowed him to support her to her feet. When her eyes fell on the fettered man, they grew in size. “You were busy, Lord Worthing.”
“Anything for you, Ella.” Despite the impropriety, he helped her straighten her clothing and hat. “You need that mirror now,” he teased. “You look quite delicious when you are rumpled.”
“Wretch!” She pretended his familiarity offended her, but she squeezed his hand before letting go.
“Do you suppose you could hold the gun on our friend while I retrieve his mount?” If it were any other woman, James would expect a case of the vapors, but not Ella. Instinctively, he knew her strength. Somehow, this woman had survived William Fowler; she could handle herself.
She reached for the pistol. “I have never used a gun before. What should I do?”
“Just hold it steady.” He adjusted her hand on the weapon. “It is not likely he can move, but this is a precaution. I will be back in a moment.”Without a second look, knowing she would not panic, James scaled the rocky incline again. It took no time whatsoever for him to find the man’s horse tied to a bush along the access road.
Returning with the animal, he loaded their attacker across the saddle, cinching the cravat and leather strap to the seat. Next, taking the gun from her grasp, he brought his own horse alongside; he mounted and then motioned to Ella. “You will ride with me, Lady Eleanor.” He saw her start to object, but then the sensible Eleanor Fowler took control, and she accepted his extended hand. Placing her foot on the top of his in the stirrup, Ella climbed into his arms, settling on James’s lap. Enjoying having another excuse to hold her, James teasingly whispered close to her ear, “Do not get too used to all this attention, Lady Eleanor. I intend to take a full look at this year’s social offerings.”
Not anticipating his denial of their closeness, Ella flustered, “I assure you, Lord Worthing, I have no such expectations!”
“As long as we have an understanding.”
Ella muddled with indignation. “James Kerrington, you are the most frustrating…!”
Before she could finish her tirade, his mouth found hers. For a split second, she resisted, but then Ella relaxed into the moment. Although he fought to keep his senses clear, he was a possessed man. Her body’s warm glow intensified his need—feeding it. When Ella shivered, he allowed his tongue to trace the line of her lips—to touch her mouth’s soft surfaces. She awakened a latent need in him—a need he could no longer deny. Every nerve in his body existed to know this woman. He pressed Ella closer to him, breathing in the scent of her hair—her skin—her innocence. James wanted to smother her with his passion, but, instinctively, he knew it was not the way to go with Ella. If he had guessed correctly, Eleanor Fowler had experienced some sort of maltreatment at her father’s hand. She would need small doses of affection before she could learn to trust again. Last night, James had considered discussing his premise with her brother, but Brantley Fowler was known to use a hammer when a feather would better serve. Fowler’s sister needed a different kind of touch. Hating to end it, James slowly withdrew his mouth from hers. “Nice.” His grin reached his eyes. “I would wrestle another dozen men for such a reward.” The thrill of her intimacy rocked his reason, and he wondered whether she might feel the same.
Ella blushed and hid her face in the opening of his shirt. “I should never have acted so impetuously,” she rasped.
“It will be our secret, Darling.” James tightened his embrace before offering her an excuse, something she would need to justify her own actions. “I do not want to face one of my best friends on the dueling field. It was just the shock of what happened.” Ella’s head moved in affirmation of what he said, but James felt her arms go around his waist, and he relaxed, knowing he had judged correctly how to handle the very complex Eleanor Fowler. After several such private minutes, he asked, “Did you recognize the man?”
Ella leaned back where she might see his face. “No,…but it has been some time since I was off the estate. Unless he was a cottager or a village merchant, I would likely not have seen him.”
“We will let your brother question him.” James turned the horse they shared toward the main stables. He laced the reins of the other animal to a lead strap. “Bran was quite the expert in obtaining information when the rest of us could not.We used to call him the Vicar, what with people making confessions and your brother’s need to rescue every woman and child he saw.”
“Bran?” she gasped.
“Your brother was one of my best men.” James assured her. “Whatever is happening at Thornhill, Fowler will figure it out.”
Ella looked at him with surprise. “Do you think, my Lord, someone wishes to hurt us?”
“Lady Eleanor, you are intelligent enough to realize that two shooting incidents in less than a week is not usual.” James shifted her weight into a more appropriate position as they came into view of the house. “I do not wish to scare you, but please be careful.”
Ella nodded in understanding.
“I want nothing to happen to you, Ella.” James lifted her chin with his finger. “You have no idea how frightened I was today when I found you under Sampson’s flaying hooves.” They stared deeply into each other’s eyes.
At the stables now, he knew he should release her, but James and Eleanor were lost to their closeness—lost in each other’s eyes, the rest of the world did not exist. “My Lord,” a groomsman’s voice invaded the moment; he stood by a mounting block and reached up to help Lady Eleanor to the step. Reluctantly, James released her. Almost immediately, the Thorn Hall staff surrounded them, and Fowler came running, followed closely by Miss Aldridge. For those few exquisite seconds, lost in Ella’s eyes, he saw his future—saw her by his side, and the thought did not shake him as he had once considered it might: It actually seemed to bring closure to his loneliness.
“Worthing, what the hell?” Fowler’s voice held irritation as he encircled Ella in his arms, trying to determine who might be the culprit. Ella’s appearance told everyone something bad happened.
“I brought you a present, Your Grace.” James gestured to the trailing horse. “When I go after a shooter, I get my man.”
It pleased James that Fowler lovingly adjusted Ella in his arms, protecting his sister. The woman needed such tenderness. Fowler bent his head to speak in her ear. “He shot at you?” He gestured toward the trailing horse.
Ella readily nodded. “Sampson went down; His Lordship took care of my horse after capturing that man.” The strength of her voice surprised James. Clearly, she held that inner resolve, the one he had imagined for her, all along.
“Are you hurt?” Fowler demanded.
“Very sore and a bad headache…I was unconscious for a few minutes.” Ella glanced around at the gathering crowd, and then her eyes followed the line of her brother’s shoulder to find Lord Worthing. Someone had just shot at her; however, nothing else mattered but that intense moment she had shared with the viscount. This man just kissed her—she relived it in her mind, and without thought Ella’s fingers brushed her lips in recollection. She could not keep her eyes from him. He still sat on his horse, an example of pure male, and she found that thought very pleasing, although a bit disturbing. The smell of him—musky sandalwood—clung to her. She had never acted so impulsively with anyone, especially not with a man of James Kerrington’s apparent charms. In fact, Ella had only been kissed once in her life, and that was one of the stable boys when she was but ten years of age, and even then it was on the cheek. Now, she knew the power of a kiss, and she thought she might like to try it again.
As the others untied the captive, Fowler released his sister to their cousin’s care. “Let Velvet take you into the house, Ella.” As Eleanor leaned heavily on Miss Aldridge for support, James’s eyes followed, still mesmerized by the moment they had shared. He had known many women in his lifetime, but for some unexplainable reason, Eleanor Fowler caught him by the shoulders and spun him around in circles. He desperately wanted to catch her up before him again and possessively ride off with her in his arms—to kiss the sprinkling of freckles along the slender line of her neck, which he had seen earlier today—to remove the pins and let her golden hair stream down over his waiting hands.
Fowler’s words brought him to the moment at hand. “You men put Lord Worthing’s captive in the root cellar. Place guards outside the door. I will send for the physician and the magistrate.” Thorn Hall’s footmen responded immediately.
Obviously not amused by James’s preoccupation, Fowler demanded, “Would you care to join me in my study, Worthing?”
James chuckled when the duke did not wait for an answer. He slid from the saddle and followed Ella’s brother to the house. “Hey, I thought I was the commanding officer,” he called as he caught up to Fowler.
His friend’s anger boiled over. “Not this time! This is personal.”
For the next half hour, Fowler and James thoroughly dissected what had happened with the shooter. The duke sent for the physician for both Ella and the prisoner, but he withheld sending for the magistrate until he had some answers of his own.
“It just does not seem logical. A man does not just lay in wait, hoping a rider comes by; someone must know of your movements. Yet, even with that, no one could determine exactly where Lady Eleanor and I would ride today.We had no destination in mind.”
“Ella was to show you the estate,” Fowler reasoned. “Obviously, there are certain points of interest.”
“But that does not guarantee we would be crossing that particular meadow.” James thought aloud. “And who is the target? Lady Eleanor and Miss Aldridge were the recipients, but were they the objectives? Somehow, I cannot imagine either of them engendering such rancor. That leaves your father’s enemies, your enemies as a Realm member, or your enemies in Cornwall. Do you have any ideas?”
“I made a mental list the other evening—afterVelvet’s encounter.”
James just nodded; he knew this was how his friend’s mind worked—taking bits and pieces of information and making sense of them. “Then I suspect it is time for the Vicar to make a call on the prisoner.”
Fowler stood slowly; James noted his uncomfortable frown. “Is there anything I should know regarding my sister?”
“Other than the fact that I find Lady Eleanor quite remarkable?”
“Ella seems perfectly in control and efficiently independent, but she is very vulnerable,” Fowler cautioned.
James smiled, recognizing how he would feel in the same situation. “I promise you, Your Grace, I would never purposely hurt Lady Eleanor.”
Begrudgingly, the duke said, “I am glad you stay with us,Worthing. I am in need of your reason, and, I suspect, Ella would prefer it that way.”
Fowler secured very little from their prisoner. Even with the threat of hanging for attacking a peer, the man swore he did not know who had hired him. The prisoner, Harry Sparks, gave Fowler the name of the “friend” who had paid him to send a “message” to the new duke, but, for all intents and purposes, Sparks’s partner likely knew as little as he did. Whoever made Fowler his target hid his trail well.
With James’s encouragement, they decided to send what information Fowler coerced to their friend, the Marquis of Godown, asking him to meet them in London. James also called in some favors for information, in the form of Bow Street Runners, who sought connections to Sparks and his partner Lionel Stimpson, and, reluctantly, Fowler sent word to Shepherd. If this “message” came from one of the Realm’s former interests, Shepherd, the Realm’s government contact, needed to know. Eventually, Fowler and James turned Sparks over to the local magistrate, who insisted on transporting the prisoner immediately to London, declaring that such a nefarious attempt needed the attention of the best prosecutors the law could provide. They would house Sparks at Old Bailey. Within three days’ time, word came that a Bow Street Runner had apprehended Lionel Stimpson in an abandoned building in Spitalfields. Shepherd took possession of both men and said he would inform them of any new leads as soon as they became available.
“Will you not join us, Bran?” Ella called from the library, noting her brother passing the open door.
Fowler stepped reluctantly into the room. Looking distracted, he simply offered them the required greeting. “I have work, Ella; I will beg your pardon. Please enjoy your game.”
She and James Kerrington sat at a chessboard, preparing to start the match. “We might find other amusements.”
James recognized the look on Bran’s face—he had seen it often enough over the years. Any time Fowler held a puzzle where all the pieces did not fit, his countenance took on such gloom and doom. Releasing his friend to tend to the points of the investigation, he said, “Do you fear my besting you, Lady Eleanor?”
Predictably, Ella flushed with color, reacting to his attentions. “You should know, my Lord, I take no prisoners when I play chess.”
“She does not, Worthing,” Fowler warned before bowing from the room.
Alone again, James leaned forward to flirtatiously tease her. “No prisoners when you play chess, Lady Eleanor?”
“Absolutely not,Your Lordship,” she smirked.
“When do you take prisoners, Lady Eleanor? I willingly sacrifice myself to such punishments.”
Eleanor smiled despite her embarrassment. Her acceptance of his flirtation pleased James. She had over the past few days become more comfortable with him. Part of his plan. “You are a wretched man, Lord Worthing; you say the most bizarre things. I should chastise you for your forwardness, but you would just apologize and feign real remorse. Then I would have to forgive you despite the impropriety. We will skip all those steps and simply return to the game.”
James’s smile reached the corners of his eyes. “Yes, my Love.”
“Lord Worthing, I must insist you not call me by such endearments,” she protested.
“I will think of other endearments more appropriate. Do you prefer Darling, or Sweetling?”
Picking up the chess piece and making her first move, Ella rolled her eyes in disbelief. “There is no arguing with you, Lord Worthing. You are beyond reform.”
“And you, Lady Eleanor, prefer me that way.”
Ella said nothing, turning her attention to the board instead, but she thought him correct; she did enjoy Worthing’s gallantry more than she expected. In fact, she thought about him all the time, which often vexed her more practical side, but, generally, Ella found spending time with Lord Worthing the most important event of her day.
Later in the afternoon, James sought Fowler in the duke’s study. He knew Fowler’s nature; the long solitary hours indicated his friend suffered from some sort of self-recrimination. “Your Grace, may I be of service?”
Fowler nursed a drink; half-heartedly, he gestured for James to join him. Kerrington poured himself a drink and took the suggested seat. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Fowler finally said, “It is so ironic. Ella and Velvet survived the self-imposed loneliness associated with living under my father’s roof. They survived rumors of his lustful nature, and they survived running an estate in a world disinclined to value a woman’s worth.”
James did not respond for several elongated moments. “You wonder how it is you who brings danger to the women you love. I understand. If not for my weakness, Elizabeth would be alive. I rue the day I brought my lust to her doorstep.” James would have reminisced, indulging himself in his personal anguish, but tonight his losing Elizabeth became secondary to protecting Ella.
Fowler continued, “I knocked Velvet to the ground when someone attacked us, and you saved Ella and captured her assailant. However, the peril is of my making. I must find a way to protect them in London.You will help me, will you not,Worthing?”
“Of course,Your Grace. The Realm serves together.”
“You idiot! You were to wait until I told you to act!”
The man pulled out of his attacker’s grasp. “I have my own agenda. I need Fowler’s money, and the best way to secure it is to let him know that despite his title and his consequence, he is not in charge.”
“There are bigger issues than your gambling debts! I told your business partner what I expected. I am after something that will make us all richer than Croesus. Now, you have put Fowler and Worthing on guard. I will have no way of making sure they do not have the prize, thanks to your meddling buffoonery. No wonder the British are tucking tail and running from Bonaparte.You are a bunch of pompous asses!” The dark-skinned assailant pushed the weaker nobleman out of his way as he strode from the darkened hallway and into the night.
Over the next week, Eleanor tried to forget those few sensational moments in His Lordship’s embrace, but every time he walked into a room she melted. She clearly remembered the heat of his body—the way her breasts swelled in anticipation—and the shallowness of her own breathing. She thought that after the first one, he might try to steal a kiss in the garden or in an empty room, but he remained the perfect gentleman, at least, in action—sometimes he verbally flirted with her. No one could guess that they had shared such an intimate moment. Part of her prayed he did not pursue her, but the other half secretly wanted to know this man. Ella wanted to be free of her past and to leave William Fowler’s memory behind. She had thought she might find satisfaction in travel and in her studies, but now she envisioned the handsome man who called her “Love” and “Darling.” However, with his continued reluctance to approach her again, she began to wonder if she had imagined it. Maybe he was right; they experienced a traumatic moment, and the kiss grew from the joy of escaping death. Such a thought brought a scowl to her face.
Twice during the week, James found Eleanor in her nightgown, roaming the halls. Both times, he gathered her in his arms and carried her safely to her room. As he was leaving soon, he suggested Eleanor’s maid make her pallet closer to the door, but secretly he took pleasure in holding Ella close to him. He dreamed of making her nightmares disappear, kissing her awake and sating his needs in her body. Never—even with Elizabeth—had he desired a woman so desperately. He did not know how he could watch her be the object of other men’s attentions. If he thought Fowler might approve, and the woman might accept, a proposal hung ready on his lips. He would leave them on the morrow to return to his own town house, a posh dwelling on Pall Mall. His father rarely left the country estate, so James spent most of his time in town.
“Will we have the pleasure of your company in London, Lord Worthing?” Ella asked over supper, her question interrupting James’s musings.
He teased, “As Briar House is less than a mile from Worthing Hall, you may need guards to keep me from making a pest of myself, Lady Eleanor.”
A calmness she had not felt earlier with the knowledge of his leaving slowly crept across her face. She would see Lord Worthing again. Ella possessed no reasonable conjecture as to why that was important, but it was. “No guards,Your Lordship,” she assured him.
James smiled—a contented sigh escaping before he could stop it. “I promised to claim dances from both you and your cousin, Lady Eleanor, and I am a man of my word.”
“Where is Eleanor?” Aunt Agatha demanded.
“Here, Aunt,” Ella swept into the room followed closely by Velvet. They had arrived at Briar House an hour before. Ella felt the situation’s weight, and her dread smothered her. Her brother simply did not understand how hard this was for her. The only benefit, in her estimation, would be seeing James Kerrington again.
Aunt Agatha, the Dowager Duchess of Northfield, was their mother’s older sister. Both Braton daughters married dukes, but Agatha certainly received the better bargain. Her only problem was that she had had but ten years of happiness. The previous Duke of Norfield lost his battle with a weak heart, leaving his wife a widow at the age of nine and twenty. Now, as she approached her fiftieth birthday, she spent most of her time matchmaking among the ton’s members. Notoriously manipulative, Agatha Braton Norris had the connections and the money to be loved by everyone, including her niece and nephew. “Oh, Eleanor,” she beamed,“I cannot look upon you, my Child, without seeing my dear sister. You look more like her every day.”
“Thank you, Aunt.” Ella bestowed a brief kiss on the Dowager’s cheek. With the comfort of family, Ella allowed herself to breathe easier.
Velvet followed suit. “How are you, Child?” Agatha captured Velvet’s hand and gave it a brief squeeze.
“I am well,Your Grace.”Velvet made a quick curtsy. “It is most kind of you to offer your sponsorship for my presentation, Ma’am.”
“Child, you know I live for such revelry.” Agatha laughed lightly. “Do I not, Brantley?”
“That you do, my Dear.” Fowler took a chair close to hers, before expelling a ragged breath as he surveyed the room. Ella recognized his uneasiness. She had noted that at Thorn Hall he had limited his residence to the east wing’s rooms and the common rooms below. He had yet to enter those quarters once occupied by their parents. However, at Briar House, he would need to face his demons firsthand. Privately, she relished the idea that their coming to London also affected her brother’s peace of mind; he certainly had caused her numerous moments of anxiety. “I am obliged to you for taking on Ella’s and Velvet’s presentations,” he told their aunt. “What do you plan for my sister and cousin?”
Out of habit, Eleanor ordered tea, and they joined together before the hearth, but she took no pleasure in hearing of Aunt Agatha’s preparations. “I am pleased, Brantley, that you came to town in time to order Presentation gowns for these two. In another week, the press of people demanding the best modistes will be many. I have fittings set for tomorrow; we will be about most of the day.”
“Are the Presentation gowns as awful as everyone says?”Velvet could not keep the worry out of her voice. Eleanor listened intently; Velvet gave voice to her own fears about meeting the Queen.
“They are a bit cumbersome, but young ladies have survived them for years. Do not worry, my Child; I will teach you everything. In fact, we will begin this afternoon. We will borrow a tablecloth from the new housekeeper your brother hired and use it to practice the dress’s train.”
Ella glanced at Bran. “New housekeeper?” She wondered about her brother’s maneuverings.
“I brought in Mrs. Smithson and Mr. Horace, as well as a few other key staff members from Cornwall. They may not know London, but they do know what I expect in my household.”
Ella quickly realized he meant they would protect him; he knew these people. Obviously, someone at Thorn Hall had helped with the attacks. She understood his fear; Ella saw it in Lord Worthing’s face that day. Bran wanted to take control. “Excellent idea,” she observed.
“Brantley, I hope your pockets are deep,” his aunt uncharacteristically blurted out, and Ella found herself smiling at the serious tone.
“Why might that be, Your Grace?” They adored their aunt; when they were children, she had never spoken down to them. It was she who explained their mother’s death. They always knew she would speak her mind, and right now, the truth—even if it hurt—was important to hear.
“Well, I do not wish to be indelicate, but if the gowns Ella and Velvet currently wear are indicative of their wardrobes, they simply will not do. The style is from at least three years ago. As the Duke of Thornhill, you must see to this deficiency.” Agatha was not condescending, just matter-of-fact in her analysis.
Ella blushed immediately. “I do not remember my last new gown. Neither Velvet nor I have been off the estate for some time.”
“Nearly five years,”Velvet whispered into the suddenly silent room.
“Five years?” Agatha gasped. “Whyever so long?”
“Papa did not wish it.” Despite her best efforts, Ella’s voice came out small and vulnerable.
Several long seconds passed before Agatha finally let out a deep sigh. “Then we are agreed, Brantley; the ladies need new wardrobes.”
Ella and Bran exchanged glances, their discomfort obvious. “Whatever you think best, Aunt Agatha.”
Ella felt the mortification of her aunt’s remark. Who was she fooling? She knew nothing about Society or even how to hold a polite conversation. She had had no friends since the age of thirteen when her father had fondled one of the girls visiting her at Thorn Hall. Her friends had left the house that day, never to return. After that, Eleanor shunned everyone’s company, everyone of her own age. She had had no childhood.
“New gowns sound heavenly, do they not, Ella?”
Eleanor heard the words, but she could muster no enthusiasm for the idea. She swallowed hard, trying to recover her composure. “They do, indeed, Velvet. We must trust Aunt Agatha to make our Come Outs first rate.”
“You will accompany us, Brantley, to the ton’s many outings?” Agatha’s question came out as a command. Ella could do without constant reminders of her upcoming social disaster.
“As many as my business and my establishing my name in Parliament will allow,” he assured their aunt.
Agatha bristled just a bit with his exception. “And what shall your wards do if your obligations take you elsewhere?”
Ella looked on as Bran smiled at Agatha—she was always one to tell her own son his duty—she would not hesitate to take the duke to task. “Lord Worthing offered his arm as needed.”The mention of James Kerrington made Ella’s heart skip a beat.
“Worthing? Martin Kerrington’s son?” Agatha’s reaction was priceless; she eyed Bran with amusement. “I assume His Lordship is a friend of yours, Brantley?”
Her brother smirked, “Worthing recently spent a fortnight at Thorn Hall. I believe my sister and my cousin would find Kerrington a suitable escort. I also asked the Marquis of Godown to be a regular member of our party.”
“Gabriel Crowden?”Their aunt nearly choked on her tea.
Bran’s smile spread like butter. “Yes, Aunt. Is there a problem?”
“A problem? No, Brantley—no problem. My niece and our cousin will regularly be escorted by three of the ton’s newest and most eligible bachelors. Definitely, there is no problem. It will only increase Eleanor’s and Velvet’s value as this year’s debutantes.”
Ella listened to this exchange. How could she attract Lord Worthing, or any other suitor for that matter? She had no social skills, and she wore outdated gowns. Now that her brother’s friend was in fashionable London, he would not look twice at her. She heard herself saying the words, “I am sure His Lordship has other things to do with his time.”
Her brother teased, “Do not go on so, Ella. I will set a bet at White’s that Worthing calls today at Briar House.”
She wanted to believe her brother, but a part of Ella always expected the worst. She only half listened as Aunt Agatha planned to have Lord Worthing and the Marquis of Godown show them about town.The Dowager Duchess thought it a social coup to have them seen on the men’s arms. Eleanor thought little of the possibilities. She simply wanted the Season over. The disbelief in her aunt’s voice brought Ella’s attention to the ongoing conversation: one dealing with Bran’s marriage and with Sonali.
Before their aunt could comment further on her nephew’s choice of a wife, Ella interrupted. “Aunt Agatha, you will love Sonali. She is the most precocious child—so intelligent—and so beautiful.” For some reason, Ella felt a need to protect her brother. He was family, and she always did what was right for family.
“Of course, I will love her. She is my dear Amelia’s first grandchild.”
“As you can tell, Aunt, Sonali has stolen Ella’s heart.”
Undaunted by the new information, Agatha waved a dismissive hand. “Well, it just proves I need to find you an appropriate match as well, Brantley.”
Bran opened his mouth to protest, but Mr. Horace appeared to announce Worthing’s call, and their friend bowed his entrance into the Briar House drawing room.
Eleanor was on her feet immediately; she missed him despite the foolishness of the concept and the foolishness of her previous personal chastisement. Bran and Velvet rose too, along with the Dowager Duchess. Ella heard Bran whisper, “I told you so.”
James bowed to the room, but his eyes remained on Eleanor. His Amazon was in the same room as he, and his body reacted accordingly. “I came to assure myself you experienced no problems with your journey,Your Grace.”
Fowler’s voice betrayed a twinge of amusement. “As you can see,Worthing, we are well. Please come in and meet my aunt. I have just assured her you would serve as an escort for my family in my absence, and here you are.”
“At your service, Your Grace.” He ar istocratically inclined his head.
Fowler motioned James forward. “James Kerrington, Lord Worthing, may I present my mother’s sister, the Dowager Duchess of Norfield.”
“Your Grace.” James bowed graciously over the woman’s hand. “Thank you for receiving me. My father asked that if I was fortunate enough to make your acquaintance, Your Ladyship, that I forward his regards.”
Agatha chuckled. “You are certainly Martin Kerrington’s son. Not only do you resemble the man as he was in his prime, you possess his charm. I will keep my eye on you,Your Lordship.” The regally coiffed woman reminded James of his mother.
He often heard similar acknowledgments of his father’s vitality as a young man. “I understand you have a long-standing acquaintance with my mother.”
“Your mother and I spent our first Season together, with your father pursuing her from the beginning.”
James gave her his best smile. “That does sound like the tales they each share of their courtship, Duchess.”
“Come join us, my Lord.” Ella gestured to the other half of the settee on which she was sitting and then rang for fresh tea.
“Thank you, Lady Eleanor.” James’s heart leapt with being close to her again. The past week was hell. He should have waited for his call, but he could not stay away while Eleanor was in residence at Briar House. When he returned to London, he had paid Mary a visit, thinking he simply wanted to satiate his rising need for a woman, but he ended up spending an evening on Mary’s chaise and going home to an empty bed. The moment he saw Eleanor the blood rushed straight from his brain to his groin. Damn! He had lost his bloody mind! He was more in tune to this woman in this drawing room surrounded by her family than he had been to any woman in his life, even Elizabeth, although he did not like to admit that fact. His infatuation with Ella grew so quickly, he was sore to keep it under control.
James accepted the tea Ella offered and tried to relax into the cushions. It was the first time in a week he felt comfortable. “It will give me great pleasure,Your Grace, to inform my mother of making your acquaintance.” James took up the conversation where they left off.
“May I ask after your father, Lord Worthing?”
“I am afraid, Lady Norfield, my father’s remaining days are short. It has been nearly a year since he left his bed. My mother is a saint; she tends him herself.”
Fowler’s aunt looked uncomfortable with the news. “It is a shame, Lord Worthing…a crying shame we lose good men such as your father and my Harold too soon. I shall write your mother to see if there is anything I might do for her.”
“I believe just knowing her former friends are thinking of her will make a difference,Your Grace.”
Ella listened closely to James’s description of his parents. All along she had assumed that, like Bran, Lord Worthing had left home to avoid interactions with his family; now, her suppositions proved to be in error. Why did he leave? What would drive a man from the family he loved? Would Bran tell her? Men thought differently about sharing confidences. It was not that women were more likely to gossip. On the contrary, men also obsessed over the comings and goings of their friends, as well as their enemies. Women simply needed to verbalize their thoughts to give them credence.
Noting her moodiness, James impulsively turned to Ella. He had not planned what he would ask, but somehow he needed to extend his time with her. “Lady Eleanor,” he began, “I realize you only this day arrived in London, but would you allow me to escort you and your cousin on a brief tour of the city? The ton has not yet descended upon London in full force, and I recall your commenting on how long it has been since you were in the capital. It would give you the opportunity to become familiar with the city before the Season begins.”
“I would enjoy a leisurely tour,” Velvet added before Eleanor could respond.
“What might you have in mind, my Lord?” Ella asked softly, unsure she wanted to go, but positive she wanted him to stay.
“We might see the Royal Academy, or we could take a drive through Hyde Park, or whatever you may wish. I have no agenda—a purely extemporaneous idea.”
“It has been a decade since we were here.” Ella reasoned aloud.
Agatha looked on in surprise. “Surely, you jest, Eleanor.” The news stunned James also. The late duke’s total control of Ella bothered Kerrington.
“No, Aunt.” He watched Ella’s countenance glaze over in remembrance. “I was ten and Velvet nine. Our governess took us for a picnic in Hyde Park.”
“Mrs. Holden dash Smythe.” Velvet giggled. “Remember, Ella? That is how she would say it: Holden dash Smythe.”
Ella nodded her head with the memory. “The lady was an odd bird, but we had fun on that holiday. Mother came to see doctors who might help her, while Mrs. Holden-Smythe escorted Velvet and me to see the Tower of London. If I had known the seriousness of her illness, I would have stayed with Mother instead.” The conversation reminded James of Fowler’s drunken confession that his mother suffered from the great pox—a “gift” from the late duke.
“Amelia would never have allowed it, Child. She wanted to protect you and Brantley as long as she could.” Agatha set forward to emphasize what she imparted. James appreciated the woman’s sensitivity for Ella’s sake.
“Where was I when the two of you were playing about the London streets?” Bran teased.
“I imagine you were at school.Young boys have more freedom than young ladies,”Velvet reminded him.
Ella’s making her decision to join him thrilled James. “Would it be rude of us to accept His Lordship’s offer,Aunt? After all, you had planned to begin our training for our Presentations.”
“No, Child,” her aunt thankfully agreed. “You and Velvet deserve some time to enjoy the city. God only knows we will be busy enough once the invitations pour in. Besides, we have all day to practice. A few hours with Lord Worthing will not jeopardize your Presentation.”
“If you are sure, Aunt?” The corners of Ella’s mouth quivered, but her response spoke of eagerness. A tender need to protect her spread through James. “Miss Aldridge and I would be pleased to join you,Your Lordship.”
“Excellent.” James beamed with how well things turned out. He could actually breathe again. Eleanor Fowler would be beside him, a place he instinctively knew was hers for the taking.
Velvet turned to Bran. “May we convince you to join us,Your Grace?” Ella had become more aware of the standoff between them over the past few weeks.
Ella thought her brother foolish when he refused. “It truly sounds like a delightful afternoon, but, as I wait for Sonali and Mrs. Carruthers, I must decline.” Ella thought Bran and Velvet quite childish to fight their natural attraction to each other.
“Of course.” Ella heard the disappointment in her cousin’s voice and noted her brother’s obvious chagrin.
Recognizing her chance, Ella stood before Velvet could change her mind. “If you will excuse us, Lord Worthing, my cousin and I will freshen our clothing and join you in a few minutes.”
“I will enjoy your aunt’s company until your return, Lady Eleanor.”
Velvet tapped on the door before entering. “May I help you, Ella?”
Eleanor smiled with her cousin’s entrance. “Would you mind lacing me up?”
For the next couple of minutes, her cousin dutifully pulled the laces tighter on Ella’s corset and dress. “Lord Worthing is quite handsome,” Velvet spoke the words as if they were an afterthought, but Ella immediately wondered at her cousin’s interest in the viscount.
“Do you really think so?” Ella faced the mirror and tried to use it to see Velvet’s true expression. Of course, she thought Worthing the most handsome of men, but she worried now whether her cousin might have set her sights on him. If so, Ella knew she would not stand a chance;Velvet outshone her in looks.
“My Heavens, yes, and he does admire you, Ella.” Velvet tied the strings.
Forgetting her desire to appear uninvolved, as well as the worry of only a few seconds ago, Ella spun toward her. “What makes you say so?” She had hoped for such a possibility.
“One just has to look at the man; he can barely keep his eyes from you.”Velvet pulled Ella to the bed to sit together. “I wish your brother looked at me that way.”
Ella fought to control her breathing. “Do you speak the truth, Velvet, or is this one of your fairy tales?”
Her cousin caught Ella’s hand. “Tell me you affect him also.”
Ella looked away shyly. “Is it not absurd? I have always planned a life of independence, but I do admit I think often of Lord Worthing.”
Conspiratorially, Velvet mused, “It is a shame to waste our time and energy with a Season when the only men we might consider sit together downstairs in the drawing room.”
“Bran believes we would lose something by not having a Season,” Ella defended her brother, although she did not agree with his assessment.
Surprisingly, Velvet chuckled. “I know he means well. Men always mean well, but they are so oblivious when it comes to women. You will not believe what I told Bran the other day. I told him I was anxious for the Season to begin so I could meet other men. I said I was determined to find a mate so he might be rid of me.”
Ella gasped, “You did not? What did Bran say?”
“Well, nothing. That is when you and His Lordship rode in on one horse.” After a brief moment of silence,Velvet blurted out, “Worthing kissed you, did he not?”
Ella burst into laughter, trying to hide her initial embarrassment, but finally she told the truth. Velvet remained as close as a sister, and Ella knew she could trust her cousin. “How did you know?”
Velvet shrugged her shoulders. “I am not sure exactly. You looked different after that ride—more satisfied.” She again caught Ella’s hand in hers. “Would you help me win Bran? I will do everything in my power to aid you with Lord Worthing.”
“Dare we?” Ella asked, nearly as excited as her cousin.
“The way I see it, Bran wants us both to find suitable matches this Season. We are simply following his wishes.”
Ella smiled fully, the first time in a long time. “You are evil, Cousin.”
“So, is it a deal?”
“Absolutely.”
