Regency High Society Vol 5: The Disgraced Marchioness / The Reluctant Escort / The Outrageous Debutante / A Damnable Rogue. Mary NicholsЧитать онлайн книгу.
tension stark.
‘Good morning, my lady. I trust you slept well.’ Henry rose superbly to the occasion with the first bland comment that came to mind, wincing inwardly at his lack of polish. Then the emotional memories of the previous night were effectively wiped from his mind. With eyes narrowed he surveyed the lady from her head to her feet, momentarily taken aback.
She had taken his advice! And with stunning effect. He had not really expected it, but she had cast off her deep mourning and her black ribbons. The result took his breath, silenced any comment he might have been about to make. His memories of her had been as a débutante, certainly beautiful, but still ingenuously naïve in simple pastel muslins. And then in mourning, the stark black of her high-necked gowns highlighting her glorious hair and porcelain skin, grief adding a fine-drawn maturity to her face. But now he was struck anew by her beauty. Two years had added sophistication, elegance, confidence. An unfathomable grace. He had not realised the true worth of the woman he had lost that night when he had sailed without her. But he realised it now, with a blow to his gut, over the breakfast table with the sunshine pouring through the windows.
She had abandoned her black silk for a walking dress in dove grey spotted muslin, banded with a delicate interweaving of purple and amethyst flowers, the whole completed with a frilled hem. Its sleeves were long and tight with short puffed oversleeves, the neckline high and pleated into a little frilled ruff. It fit to perfection, emphasising her slender figure, the embroidered decoration bringing out the intense colour of her eyes. She glowed in the morning sun, the fragile tints shimmering round her. It might still be mourning, demure and understated, but it complimented her colouring beautifully, her hair falling rich and burnished in a profusion of artless curls from a high knot to her shoulders.
His eyes came slowly back from their appreciation of her transformation, his mouth dry, words beyond him, to study her face. She did not look rested. Her pale skin still lacked colour, her eyes were strained and the shadows still left their delicate imprint. But she looked determined, a challenge in every line of her firm shoulders and the proud carriage of her head. She also looked apprehensive.
How fortunate, she realised, that he could not read her thought as she stood under his unnerving gaze. She had dreaded this meeting, needing all her pride and composure. But she had dressed for impact and raised her chin against any disapproval she might read in his face. She should never have allowed him to touch her. But she had, and had melted beneath the unmistakable tenderness of his touch. A mistake! Which she would not repeat, she promised herself—however great the temptation to do so. She would hide her trepidation behind a mask of fashionable unconcern. Yet she still found it well nigh impossible to lift her eyes to his or accept his critical survey with any degree of ease.
‘My lady!’ Henry rose to his feet at last, and bowed his head in acknowledgement of her gesture. But he did not approach her. Did not dare if he wished to mask the leap of heat in his blood as he studied her. He cursed again as the fire built and stirred in his loins. ‘Allow me to say that you look lovely. And allow me to admit that I did not think that you would do it. What does your mother say?’ His eyes narrowed again at the prospect of biting words from that quarter.
‘Thank you, my lord. She does not know.’ Eleanor still could not meet his eyes, unsure of what she would see in his face. If it was contempt or condemnation for her lack of respect for his brother, she could not bear it. Not after the unbelievable and exquisite cherishing of the previous night. ‘I need to ask. I understand the reason for your advice, but I would not wish to show insufficient respect for Thomas. It is hardly more than four months. Do you perhaps consider it improper?’ Now she lifted her troubled eyes to his. ‘I hope that you would be honest with me. Indeed, I know that you will.’
Henry chose his words carefully to allay her anxieties. He could not take her in his arms as his heart might dictate, so he would use his mind to enfold her with comforting words, to soothe and calm. His face was stern, his voice firm with conviction, willing her to accept and believe. ‘Your respect for Thomas can be questioned by no one, Eleanor. Your friends must know your qualities as wife and mother. As for your clothing, it is becoming and befits the situation. All you need is the confidence to carry it off. Yes, people will talk. Of course they will! Let them, until the next scandal raises its head to replace the sordid details of our family difficulties on their lips. We have nothing to hide and we will not allow society to dictate the behaviour of the Faringdons.’
‘Even if I am not a Faringdon? It is a matter of some dispute, after all.’
There. She had said it aloud and waited, eyes closed, for his reply.
‘There is no doubt in my mind, Eleanor. No matter the weight of evidence, I cannot accept that my brother would make such a terrible mistake with such painful and disastrous consequences for all concerned.’
She sighed and opened her eyes, blinking against the unexpected threat of tears at his firm declaration. ‘That is what I needed to hear. I am in your debt, Hal.’
‘No. You are not. You are in no one’s debt! And besides, the dress is very becoming. You are a beautiful woman, Eleanor. Lift up your head and smile.’
She did just that. The smile might waver a little, but she would hold her own, of that he was certain.
Satisfied with his reply, Eleanor took a seat opposite to his place at the breakfast table and Henry resumed his seat. ‘I hoped that I would find you here. I wished to know—what is your next strategy?’
He breathed out slowly. Now they were on even ground again, without the threat of uncomfortable emotions to stalk and trap them. He could cloak his feelings in practicalities. ‘It is my intention to go down to Whitchurch to speak with the Reverend Broughton. I know that Hoskins will be efficient in his investigation, but I would wish to see the village for myself, perhaps speak to some who know the family.’ He frowned down at the scattering of crumbs on his empty plate. ‘What I will discover I know not. Merely some knowledge of the Baxendale family, I suppose.’
Eleanor leaned forward, fingers linked on the table. ‘Would you agree to wait until tomorrow and allow me to accompany you?’
‘No.’ His reply was unequivocal.
Eleanor was taken aback. ‘Then I must go on my own.’
‘To Whitchurch? Why should you? It is not a good idea.’
‘If you will not drive me, then I will simply hire a carriage and go myself.’
Henry knew when he was being driven into a corner. She was quite capable of doing just that. Her lips were firm, her eyes ablaze with the certainty of her actions and there would be no gainsaying her. Lord Henry’s mouth set with displeasure. He retreated but with little grace; the last thing he wanted was to spend the better part of a day in Eleanor’s company.
‘Very well, if that is what you wish. But, I warn you, I intend to take the curricle and travel fast. I would return within the day. And I will not tolerate your mother with us, so do not even suggest it!’
‘You will not have to. There is insufficient room for her in a curricle!’ Eleanor was maddeningly matter of fact in dealing with his objection and he suspected a spark of triumph in her eyes before she veiled them. ‘Tomorrow it is.’
‘Why not today?’ he enquired brusquely.
Eleanor rose to pour herself a cup of tea, looking at him over her shoulder. ‘This afternoon I intend to pay a visit on Miss Baxendale. I hope to take Judith with me for moral support. She may be able to discuss matters of which I know nothing. Perhaps Octavia will speak more openly if her brother is not present and I would know more of her supposed marriage.’ She returned to her seat, her face pensive. ‘The most difficult thing for me will be to face the servants at Faringdon House…but I must do it.’
Any ill feelings that Lord Henry might have been harbouring over his change of plan were instantly dispelled by the stark courage of Eleanor’s proposed scheme.
‘You have all my admiration, Nell.’
‘Don’t be kind to me or, even worse, show me pity, or I shall