Chapter Sixteen

“Grace has been waiting for you,” Ian said as he sat by his wife’s bedside.

“I came as soon as I could, and I brought Grace a book,” Ellie said, a leather-bound book in her arms.

Grace smiled in greeting and motioned Ellie to her side. “Wonderful. Ian just finished reading Romeo and Juliet.”

Ellie leveled a somber look at her brother. “I thought that a bad choice, Ian.”

Ian shrugged. “Grace enjoyed the play and cried at the end.”

“That’s because it’s horribly depressing. Have you no sense, brother?”

Ian ignored the barb and stood and kissed Ellie’s cheek. “What have you brought?” He snatched the book from her hands before she had a chance to blink. “Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels?”

“It’s one of my favorites,” Ellie said.

Ian cocked a dark eyebrow. “Where six-inch-tall Lilliputians tie up a full-size man?”

“It sounds charming,” Grace said.

“Hmm,” Ian said. “First you want to run the Raven Club, now you choose to read this to my wife. Should I be concerned, Ellie?”

Ellie smiled sweetly. “No more than usual.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Brooks has updated us. You are working on a women’s gambling room, and the marquess is expanding the boxing salon and plans to increase the number of matches.”

Ellie shrugged and hoped she gave off an appearance of indifference. “My efforts will be more lucrative.” She could only hope so. Too much was at risk, including Lady Willoughby’s future.

“We shall see. Time is passing. You both have only one more week,” Ian pointed out.

“I’m not concerned,” Ellie said.

Grace shifted against the cushions. “Leave us to our ladies’ talk, Ian.”

“With pleasure.” Ian fluffed Grace’s pillows and raised her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “If you require anything, don’t forget to ring the bell, my love.”

Ellie watched the display of affection. Her heart felt like it was bleeding after her afternoon with Hugh. Could that heated encounter have actually occurred? She still couldn’t believe they’d been together. The sweetness of his touch and lovemaking had been tainted by his confession.

As soon as Ian left, Ellie pulled up a chair and offered a weak smile. “Shall I read to you?”

“No. Ian has been reading. I’d prefer conversation,” Grace said.

Ellie lowered the book on her lap. Reading would have been easier. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack in anguish. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “What does Mrs. Henderson say about the babe?”

“The babe has yet to turn.”

In a flash, Ellie’s melancholy vanished and was replaced with concern for her sister-in-law. “Oh, Grace.”

“But she has hopes the babe will cooperate. Mrs. Henderson assures me there is still time. And if the babe fails to turn, then she has delivered difficult births. Meanwhile, I am to stay in bed. Right now, I’m more interested in the goings-on at the club.”

“Please do not worry about the ledgers. I am maintaining them each day. Just as you showed me.”

“I don’t give a fig about the ledgers. How are you and the marquess managing?”

“What do you mean?” Ellie asked.

“Come now. It must be difficult to spend time in the club and not run into each other,” Grace said.

“Oh, that. We mostly avoid each other.” Ellie felt herself flush and prayed her cheeks were not turning a telltale pink.

“Hmm. I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“I already told you. Because of the way he looked at you,” Grace said.

“You’re wrong.” Ellie swallowed in an attempt to calm her racing heart. She couldn’t talk about her shared afternoon with Hugh. Couldn’t even think of it.

Trust me, he’d said.

She’d asked him to prevent risk of a babe. He’d kept his promise and had withdrawn before finishing inside her, but he was still untrustworthy. He’d been deceiving her for years.

She felt shattered inside, permanently broken. Just when she had begun to believe in him again, he’d told her about the past.

The true past.

Never had she suspected his parents had feared scandal by wedding their son to her. The awful rumors that Ian had killed Matthew to gain the earldom had haunted her brother. Ian might never have spoken of it, but both Ellie and Olivia knew the damage it had done to their brother.

Grace had learned of it as well. Ian must have told her.

Ellie had often believed that it didn’t matter what others whispered behind their backs, only that they knew the truth and loved each other. Family was what mattered. Ian had protected and sheltered his siblings, his wife, for as long as Ellie could remember.

As for rumors of the Raven Club, it was all true. Ellie hadn’t given those rumors much thought.

She’d been wrong not to.

The old marquess and his wife had. And it had influenced their son. Hugh had known Ellie was to come to the gardens that fateful night. They had arranged it. Then he’d intentionally let her see his shared kiss with Isabelle. He’d purposely broken her heart.

Why?

Because his cold-blooded aristocratic parents had been against their match, had threatened to toss him out without a shilling? Ellie would not have cared. Ian would have given his consent for the marriage and would have aided them until they could have managed on their own.

But her feelings hadn’t mattered to Hugh. He hadn’t wanted to go to her brother. Hugh had been too proud to ask for money, and his pride had ruined their future. The only thing that had mattered to Hugh was his twisted belief that he was doing what he thought was best for her. He’d never given her a chance and had never asked her opinion.

Even more devastating was the fact that he still believed he’d done the right thing.

Once again, she’d let her guard down, been her most vulnerable, and allowed him to mislead her.

Grace watched her, her eyes sparkling with intelligence. “At one time, I was as stubborn as you are now.”

Hugh had called her stubborn as well. Anger rose to her defense. “I am not stubborn!”

“Hmm.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I apologize. But please know that I am here should you wish to talk. I am a good listener. Plus, I have nowhere else to be, remember?”

Ellie let out a puff of air. It wasn’t fair to blame Grace. She didn’t know the entire truth. Ellie had just learned of it herself.

“Thank you, but all is well.” Ellie refused to speak of the marquess, not when everything was fresh and she was hurting.

Grace reached for a piece of foolscap on an end table by her bedside. “We received an invitation to Lord and Lady Scotchfield’s ball, and it is two evenings from now. I cannot attend, but Olivia wishes to. Will you attend with your sister if Ian escorts both of you?”

“Ian agreed to go without you?”

“I gave him little choice. I insist he do right by his sisters,” Grace said.

Ellie’s heart was not in a ball, but she could not let Grace down. Or Olivia. “Yes, of course, I’ll go with Olivia.”

Grace patted her hand like a mother soothing a child “Whatever is bothering you, I trust you to sort out. Only a week remains until we decide who gets the Raven.”

…

The carriage rolled to a stop before Lady Scotchfield’s London mansion. Torches lit the entrance of the magnificent white stone structure. Liveried servants aided well-dressed gentlemen and ladies from their carriages.

“You both look lovely this evening,” Ian said.

“I’m anxious to see who is in attendance,” Olivia said. She looked exquisite in a pale yellow dress that highlighted her fair hair. An emerald pendant and ear bobs matched her green eyes. Her sister was a romantic at heart and sought a handsome, wealthy, and titled lord who would sweep her off her feet.

The Marquess of Deveril had all three qualities.

He was also the devil.

Perhaps she needed to speak with Olivia about protecting her heart.

A servant opened the carriage door and lowered the step. Ian helped his sisters alight, and they walked up the steps and followed a stream of guests to the ballroom. Ellie smoothed imaginary wrinkles from the skirts of her green silk gown as they waited to be announced.

When it was their turn, Ellie stood at the top of the ballroom stairs and studied the crowd below. The scene was one of melted elegance, as the glittering ballroom and the warm evening resulted in a crush of lavishly dressed people overheated and vigorously fanning themselves in the humid air. A group of people stood by the open French doors hoping to catch a breeze.

A liveried majordomo stepped forward to announce them.

“The Earl of Castleton and his sisters, Lady Ellie and Lady Olivia.”

A slight hush fell through the room.

In the past, Ellie might not have noticed, but after Hugh’s confession about his parents’ dislike of her family, specifically her brother, she was highly conscious of the stares.

Did many believe the ugly rumors that Ian had purposely led Matthew to Devil’s Leap and caused his brother’s death to gain the earldom?

Ellie glanced at Olivia. If she was uncomfortable with the attention, she did not show it. Her expression was serene and her head held high. Whether it was because she recognized the stares or was ignorant of them, Ellie wasn’t certain. Either way, she was proud of her sister.

Ellie raised her chin. They had nothing to be ashamed of on Ian’s arm.

Ian escorted them to greet their hosts, Lord and Lady Scotchfield. The elderly couple were acquaintances of the former earl and were friendly and welcoming. Lady Scotchfield had an abundance of curls fading to gray, and her husband had thinning hair and a large paunch.

Ellie accepted a glass of champagne from a passing servant’s tray. She needed a drink to take the edge off her nerves tonight. Her mind kept reliving her afternoon with Hugh. Had it really been two days? At times, she felt like it had just occurred and she still could feel the strength of his arms around her; then at other moments, she felt like it had been long, long ago.

Ellie paid little attention to the majordomo as he announced the names of guests as they streamed into the already warm ballroom. “The Marquess of Deveril.”

Her head snapped to the top of the stairs.

Oh no.

He looked strikingly handsome in black formal attire. His dark hair gleamed beneath the candlelight of the chandeliers, his profile spoke of raw power and masculine grace, and his green eyes held a sheen of purpose.

“Deveril is here,” Olivia whispered from behind her fan, as if Ellie could possibly have missed the announcement.

“So? It is not a surprise.” Ellie hadn’t told a soul what had transpired in the hidden bedchamber with Hugh, not even her sister. She couldn’t bring herself to confess the truth, to admit how foolish she had allowed herself to act with him once again.

Only this time was different from the past. Even worse. She’d given him her innocence.

“Ladies are watching him,” Olivia continued.

Ellie shouldn’t care, but it was impossible not to notice a group of women speaking behind fluttering fans as they observed the marquess with hawk-like interest. Ellie’s stomach turned as she noticed one of the women was Lady Fabry herself.

Not again.

Isabelle licked her lips as she watched Hugh greet a group of gentlemen. Of course, she would be in attendance. Lady Scotchfield was a popular hostess. Jealousy felt like the stab of a knife in her chest. The warm ballroom grew even hotter.

Olivia’s eyes lit, and she tapped Ellie on the wrist with her fan to gain her attention. “Gentlemen approach.”

Ellie tore her gaze away from Hugh’s broad shoulders to see two men. One was Lord Dumfries, the eldest son of an earl, and the other Lord Osbourne, a viscount known for his debauchery.

The men bowed before them, and Ellie and Olivia curtsied. Lord Dumfries turned his attention to Olivia. “You look lovely this evening, Lady Olivia. May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

Olivia beamed, took his arm, and followed him onto the dance floor. Ellie frowned at her sister’s retreating figure, then turned to Osbourne. He was tall and thin with sandy hair and brown eyes. Many would consider him handsome. He studied her like she were a filly for purchase at Tattersall’s.

Ellie was unmoved.

“You have the look of a scorned lover,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“I saw you across the room. I have enough experience to recognize a scorned woman when I see her. I’ve also sought an introduction, and I knew young Dumfries would be agreeable to dancing with your lovely sister.”

Ellie snapped open her fan. “Should I be flattered?”

“You should. If the man with whom you are angry is present, what better way to either incite his jealousy or to forget him than to dance with another?”

She should be insulted, but his honesty was refreshing. Here was a man who would say and do what he meant, even if it was entirely selfish.

Her fan stilled and she gifted him with a smile. “I’d be delighted to dance.”

“For which purpose? Jealousy, or to simply forget for the evening?”

Her answer was unhesitant. “To forget.”