Abducted by a Prince (6 page)

With her precious drawings scattered around her on the coverlet.

She raised her voice. “I’m sorry, Walt. I was sleeping. Go away and we’ll talk in the morning.”

“Nonsense, you’re awake. I can see your candle shining under the door.” Another imperious rapping rattled the hinges. “Come out at once. Or I’ll enter without your permission.”

Blast!
Ellie knew he meant it. Three years her senior, the favored son and heir, Walt had always done exactly as he’d pleased.

“Oh, give me a moment, then,” she said.

Ellie jumped out of bed and cringed as her bare feet met the icy planks of the floor. Swiftly she gathered up the papers and the sketchpad, ran to the chest, and stuffed her art paraphernalia beneath a black serge gown. On top lay the precious garnet slippers, the crystal beads sparkling in the candlelight. She closed the lid again and then grabbed a shabby green dressing gown from a hook on the wall, thrusting her arms into the sleeves and tying it securely at her waist.

Glancing around, she saw nothing that might be used as a weapon save for the pewter candlestick. She picked it up and opened the door a crack to peer out.

Her cousin lounged against the wall of the corridor, an oil lamp in his hand. The freckles across his cheeks and nose gave him the look of an overgrown choirboy, but Ellie knew that to be deceptive. The rest of him fit the description of a dissipated gentleman in his cups. The top button of his waistcoat was undone over a belly already going to stoutness. His ginger hair was tousled, his cravat slightly askew, his hazel eyes more glazed than they’d been at dinner.

“What did you want?” she asked frigidly.

It was an unfortunate choice of words, for his gaze dipped straight to her bosom. Frowning, Ellie reached up to clutch her lapels together.

“I need t’ talk t’ you,” he said, his words slightly slurred. “In your chamber.”

He took a step forward and Ellie thrust up the lighted candle to hold him at bay. “No, Walt. Whatever you have to say can be spoken right here. It’s ill-mannered of you to disturb me so late, anyway.”

“You’re such a scold, Ellie.” He lifted a hand as if to caress her, but the chilly look on her face must have registered in his pickled brain, for he stopped short and ran his fingers through his own hair instead. “I’ve something t’ tell you, that’s all.”

“Then speak and be done. I must be awake at dawn.”

Walt’s brow puckered as if he struggled to remember his purpose. A slurry of words rushed out of him. “I need you t’ promise you’ll watch Bea at all times. D’you hear me? Keep her at home, out of sight … at least for now till I tell you it’s safe.”

Ellie was taken aback. What would prompt Walt to issue such a peculiar warning? She could smell the liquor on his breath, and she was tempted to think he was confused in his intoxicated state. Yet he looked unusually serious. “I don’t understand. Is this because we visited Lady Milford today? Did the earl instruct you to speak to me?”

“No …
yes
. Yes, my father said Bea’s t’ be punished for … for behaving badly. Going t’ see someone she don’t know. It’s bad form.”

Walt was lying. Ellie could see it in his manner. He’d first shaken his head in denial before nodding, a clue that he had amended his story in mid-thought and seized upon a handy explanation. So why would he want to confine Beatrice to home?

Perhaps excessive drink had turned him maudlin. Perhaps it had awakened a dormant chivalrous instinct in him to keep his sister from making any more foolish mistakes.

Or perhaps he had made it all up on the spot to give him an excuse to come up here and pester Ellie with his amorous advances.

As if to validate that last possibility, Walt crowded closer, a leer on his face. “Why’re you scowling?” he said cajolingly. “I could make you happy, y’ know. Just lemme show you…”

All of a sudden, his hand jerked up to paw her bosom. His fingers painfully pinched her nipple. At the same time, he attempted to kiss her and she averted her face, his foul breath hot against her cheek.

Disgusted, Ellie acted without thinking. She thrust up the candle between them and burned his wrist.

With a yowl, he jumped backward. He shook his arm wildly. “Ah! Vixen! Why’d you do that?”

“Get out of here, Walt. And don’t
ever
come back.”

Slamming the bedchamber door, Ellie turned the skeleton key in the lock. The memory of his loathsome touch made her feel ill. Her heart thudding, she listened with an ear to the wood panel until the sound of his departing footsteps could be heard.

Yet she didn’t feel quite safe again until she’d taken the extra precaution of dragging the heavy chest in front of the door.

Chapter 5

The following morning, an unexpected visitor to Pennington House pushed Walt’s reprehensible behavior to the back of Ellie’s mind.

Having slept late, Beatrice was lolling against the pillows in her four-poster bed, sipping hot chocolate and paging through a fashion journal. Ellie was sitting by the window, taking advantage of the morning light as she mended a rip in the hem of a white chemise.

Beatrice set down her cup in its saucer. “I don’t see why we can’t go to Aylwin House today,” she grumbled. “My ball is the perfect ruse for me to meet the duke and ask his advice on creating an Egyptian theme.”

Ellie knew she had to put a firm halt to that scheme. “It’s already settled. Your father prefers that you use a book for inspiration. We’ll stop at the lending library on our way to the modiste this afternoon.”

She felt a momentary unease at the notion of venturing out of the house with Beatrice. Had Walt been telling the truth about his sister being punished? Ellie wasn’t sure, yet she hesitated to risk flouting Uncle Basil’s wishes. The only way to resolve the matter was to speak directly to the earl. However, he had gone out just after breakfast and she could only hope that he would return home by luncheon—

The door flew open, startling Ellie into pricking herself with the needle. She sucked on her injured forefinger as the Countess of Pennington burst into the bedchamber. Her grandmother’s stout bosom heaved beneath a mustard-yellow gown.

She clapped her hands. “Beatrice! You must make haste! Lady Milford is waiting to see you in the blue drawing room!”

“Lady Milford,
here
? To see
me
?” Beatrice threw aside her fashion periodical and hopped out of bed. “Are you quite sure, Grandmamma? Why, it’s not even noon!”

“Of course I’m sure. Oh, my darling, you must have made a brilliant impression for her to return your call—and so swiftly!” Those massively wrinkled features took on a haughty frown as she turned her gaze to Ellie. “Eloise, fetch the pale green silk gown, and be quick about it! I shall expect Beatrice—and you—downstairs in a flash!”

As the older woman sailed out of the bedchamber, Ellie made haste into the dressing room to gather the suitable undergarments for her cousin. All the while, she reflected on the incredible news. Why on earth had Lady Milford come here? And why had their grandmother specifically ordered Ellie to accompany her cousin downstairs?

Beatrice had
not
made a brilliant impression on Lady Milford, Ellie knew. Her cousin’s behavior had been shockingly forward. Had the woman come to offer advice to Beatrice in their grandmother’s presence? Or worse, to reprimand Ellie for failing to teach the girl better manners?

She had no time to fret in the mad scramble to bedeck her cousin in stockings and corset, petticoats and gown. Ellie buttoned and combed and pinned as swiftly as possible. It didn’t help matters that Beatrice fidgeted impatiently and snapped at her to hurry.

When at last Ellie followed her coiffed and perfumed cousin down the stairway, the countess was entertaining their guest by the drawing room fire. Lady Anne sat nearby, her lace-capped head bowed and her thin hands folded in her lap as if she hoped not to be noticed. Ellie could sympathize. In a lilac silk gown and with beautifully styled black hair, Lady Milford looked sophisticated enough to make lesser mortals quail.

Beatrice dipped a pretty curtsy while Ellie quietly slipped into a chair at the perimeter of the group. Like Lady Anne, she, too, had little desire to draw attention to herself. Yet she found herself on the edge of her seat, wondering what could possibly have prompted this visit.

After an exchange of pleasantries, Lady Milford lost no time in satisfying everyone’s curiosity. She turned to Beatrice and said, “In light of our lovely chat yesterday, I have resolved to pay a call at Aylwin House this afternoon. If it’s permissible to your grandmother, I thought perhaps
you
might wish to accompany me.”

Beatrice clasped her hands to her bosom. “To be presented to His Grace, the duke? Oh! Oh, my! Please, Grandmamma, may I?”

The Countess of Pennington appeared beatific and quickly voiced her approval. Ellie sat in utter astonishment. Yesterday, Lady Milford had claimed only a slight acquaintance with the reclusive duke. She had rejected Beatrice’s scheme to finagle an introduction to him. What had happened to change the woman’s mind?

All of a sudden, Ellie realized that Lady Milford was addressing her. “Miss Stratham, you undoubtedly keep abreast of your cousin’s schedule. Are you certain that she has no prior engagements today?”

“She does have a fitting at the dressmaker’s,” Ellie said. “Though I’m sure the appointment can be postponed…”

“Appointments can be difficult to rearrange so near to the opening of the season,” Lady Milford said smoothly. As she studied Ellie, her violet eyes held a hint of mystery. “Since you appear to wear the same size as Lady Beatrice, may I suggest that
you
go in her place?”

*   *   *

“My lady, what a delight it is to welcome you to my establishment.”

As the voice came from behind her, Ellie was garbed in an elegant ball gown and facing a long mirror. An assistant had helped her into the costly frock upon her arrival. It was sewn of pale pink tulle over white satin with sleeves edged by Belgian lace. The skirt whispered with her every move, and she had been imagining herself as Princess Arianna at the end of her adventures, restored to the loving company of her long-lost parents. On a whim, Ellie had fashioned a bit of white gauze festooned with pink roses as a makeshift crown over her upswept hair.

She turned to see the stout proprietress bustling into the dressing room. The woman had a toadying smile on her face, though this was the first time Ellie had been the recipient of it. She felt a tickle of amusement at being mistaken for her cousin. Always before, she had been the dowdy chaperone sitting forgotten on a chair in the corner.

She flicked the swath of gauze off her head. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Peebles. I’m Miss Stratham, Lady Beatrice’s cousin.”

The obsequious manner vanished as the woman gave Ellie a critical stare. Her upper lip curled. “Oh! Of course, I should have known. Your hair is a slightly darker shade than your cousin’s. But why is Lady Beatrice not here?”

“She had an unexpected conflict, so she sent me in her stead.”

It had been the oddest thing, the way Lady Milford had appeared out of the blue to invite the girl to visit the Duke of Aylwin. Odder still, her ladyship had proposed that Ellie stand in for her cousin at this appointment. Lady Milford had even insisted that Ellie borrow a gown and the peacock-blue cloak from Beatrice, and had cleverly maneuvered their grandmother into agreeing that the Earl of Pennington’s niece must be more fashionably garbed when she went out into public.

Ellie decided that Lady Milford had been well cast as the Furry Godmother in her storybook. Nevertheless, Ellie had her doubts about receiving anything other than hand-me-downs. Not even a magic wand could pry open her uncle’s purse strings.

Mrs. Peebles straightened the lace on Ellie’s sleeve. “Well! I shall make the final adjustment on a number of hems today. Will Lady Beatrice’s shoes have a similar heel to yours?”

On Lady Milford’s sage advice, Ellie was wearing the garnet dancing slippers. No shoe had ever felt so soft and comfortable, and she smiled to see the tiny crystal beads sparkle in the light of the lamps mounted on either side of the mirror. “Yes, I’m quite sure of it.”

Mrs. Peebles knelt down on the floor and tugged at the hem. She held a number of straight pins in one corner of her mouth, but that didn’t stop her from talking around them. “I cannot say that I knew you to be so close in proportion to Lady Beatrice. You appear to be exactly the same size, except for the bosom, of course.”

Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Ellie eyed the too tight bodice that squeezed her breasts to the point of nearly spilling over the low neckline. Embarrassed, she could think of no reply to the frank comment. She had always been uncomfortably aware of being more endowed in that one area in comparison to her cousin.

“’Tis a crime to wear shapeless gowns when you’ve such a pleasing figure,” Mrs. Peebles went on. “A woman should draw attention to her best assets. Turn, please.”

Ellie obliged, inching around so that the seamstress could reach another section of the hem. “I’m merely the chaperone. It’s my cousin who is making her debut, after all.”

“Bah. All women must keep up appearances. Begging your pardon, but how else will you attract a husband?”

Ellie cast a glance downward at the brown sausage curls on the proprietress’s head. Evidently, Mrs. Peebles had overcome her initial snit and now desired a friendly chat. Ellie didn’t mind a conversation, but she balked at confessing her private plans to a stranger. Most people couldn’t fathom how a woman could be perfectly happy without a husband to clutter up her life with his demands.

Of course, most people also didn’t have a head full of stories.

“I’m sure you’re quite right,” Ellie said tactfully. “Tell me, if I
were
to improve my appearance, what colors would you recommend?”

Mrs. Peebles squinted up at her. “Your features call for jewel tones. A deep bronze would bring out the red in your hair. As would an emerald green or a marine blue.”

Just as Ellie hoped, the woman proceeded to regale her with advice on fabrics and trimmings, successfully averting a lecture on Ellie’s marital prospects—or lack thereof. By the time she’d tried on a series of Beatrice’s gowns and waited through all the hemming, Ellie and Mrs. Peebles were friends, and the woman offered to sell Ellie a swath of jade-green silk at a fraction of its cost.