Eleanor And The Duke (Berkshire Brides Book 1) (7 page)

“Fiction?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Gedding said. “Ellie was ten years old. Her mother was ill, and her father in far off places. She had no one but us, her childhood friends.”

Andrew was dumbfounded. “What do you mean – no one but you?”

“The child was lonely, Your Grace,” a neighbor remarked. “Lady Derington was bedridden most of the time, and could barely see herself through a day.”

Lucy wrinkled her nose. “And that horrid Miss Chilcott—”

“Who?” Andrew asked, as the conversation seemed to take on a life of its own. He realized how little he actually knew of Eleanor’s early life.

“Ellie’s governess,” Mrs. Gedding explained.

The kindly neighbor clucked her tongue. “A bitter, angry woman who took out her life’s disappointments on Eleanor.”

“But Lady Derington put up with her?”

“The viscountess was ill-equipped to deal with anything but her own shattered nerves,” the woman said quietly.

Andrew knew little of Lady Derington, only that she was said to have died because of her husband’s dissipations. Fortunately, Primrose Manor had passed through her mother to Eleanor. Her father had not been able to mortgage it.

“Joshua’s parents allowed the farce of their faux betrothal to continue until they sent him off to school,” Lady Stillwater said.

“Lady Derington passed away the next year,” Lucy Stillwater remarked, “and Eleanor went to London.”

“We saw her only occasionally thereafter,” Lady Stillwater added, “when she and her aunt came out to Berkshire to escape London’s summer heat.”

“Your Grace . . .” Lucy said, “I don’t believe I ever saw Ellie happier than she was during your engagement.”

Lord Stillwater cleared his throat and shot his daughter a warning glance.

“But it’s true, Papa,” Lucy said. “And suddenly it was over, and she went away . . . Away from everyone she knew. From all of us who love her.”

Andrew’s jaw clenched tightly. Eleanor had spoken sparingly to him of her mother and her life in Berkshire. He’d never known how bleak it had been.

He did not hear her approach, did not know she’d heard the exchange until she spoke. “There is no need to feel any pity for me, Duke,” she said. The expression in her eyes was a stormy one. “I had all I needed.”

As Eleanor and Joshua returned to the group, she felt infuriated – and mortified – by the unwelcome expression of sympathy that crossed Beckworth’s face. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

She looked at her friends. “Do you remember our forays into the village?”

Lucy laughed. “Of course! We had such fun with the children there!”

Joshua sat down on a rug, and Eleanor suspected he was relieved at being able to abandon her to the group. She wondered if she would need a different ploy to make Beckworth leave Berkshire, whether he would ever believe Joshua was actually courting her.

“I sometimes used to walk to the village with the girls,” Lord Stillwater explained, “and our Miss Easton would collect as many of the local children as she could, and take them to the broken-down undercroft of old St. Stephen’s church.”

“Where we taught them to read,” Lucy said.

“And do simple sums,” Meg Stillwater added.

Beck caught Eleanor’s eye. “You did that?”

“Well, why should they not expect to do better in life than their parents?” she retorted.

He raised his brows. “I have never believed that they shouldn’t.”

Eleanor had known that about him, but she was not mollified. She sat down next to Lady Stillwater and picked up a ripe pear from a bowl of fruit near her.

“Some of those children in our small village went on to find employment in Reading,” Lady Stillwater said. “One is clerk to a solicitor there. Two others are teachers themselves now.”

“I am gratified to know it,” Eleanor said soberly.

Lucy laughed. “You had fun doing it, Ellie. Remember how you used to steal the chalk from the rectory to use on the slate tablets Joshua found for us?”

“Please, Lucy!” Eleanor said with mock contrition. “Do not speak of my sins before your brother-in-law!”

Everyone chuckled, and she felt Beckworth move closer, the warmth of his body creeping into hers. Her breath caught, but she managed to resist leaning toward him.

“Do you remember when Lord Weatherby came upon us?” Meg asked.

Eleanor had not remembered it until Meg mentioned it. “He made us stop. Admonished us all to disperse.”

“Yes, and later he spoke to your mother specifically about it,” Lord Stillwater said. “He was incensed by your actions.”

“Of course he was,” Lucy interjected. “He is opposed to anyone learning more than they ‘should’.”

Eleanor barely heard Lucy’s words. She did not care about Lord Weatherby or his attitude toward her childhood playmates. How could she be expected to listen when Beckworth stood so close that she could have reached out and placed a hand upon his leg? She might give a gentle tug and pull him down beside her and kiss him.

Lord, what could she possibly be thinking? That was the last thing she wanted. She took a bite of the pear in her hand and forced her attention back to the conversation. Entertaining such fantasies about Beckworth was absolutely absurd.

And nearly impossible to suppress after that kiss last night. Dear heavens, just the scent of his skin made her insides quiver.

“But we did teach them,” Eleanor said, forcing her attention back to the conversation. “And you say a few are now employed?”

Meg agreed. “Yes, they are, thanks to you.”

“An admirable undertaking, Miss Easton,” Lord Stillwater said. He asked her several polite questions about her travels before turning to Beckworth again. “’Tis been a long session in parliament this year, has it not, Duke?”

Beckworth nodded. “Long and tedious.”

“I admire your efforts on behalf of the children working in the mills,” he said.

“Thank you. I do believe you might be the only one.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“The mill owners are not at all pleased with me.”

“No, I suppose they are not,” the baron said.

“What they do is immoral and unethical,” Beck said quietly. Eleanor remembered that tone, that intensity, but in far different circumstances. “The long hours the mill children must work is inhumane.”

“That is true, Your Grace,” one of the neighbors said. “But what else are they to do?”

“Certainly not work inside one of those mills from dawn until dusk,” Lady Stillwater said with some disdain.

“Where does the labor bill stand, Your Grace?” Lord Stillwater asked.

“I am still working to convince a few members to vote our way,” he replied. “We’re quite close to a majority, but at this point, it could go either way.”

Eleanor recalled some of the discussions she’d had with Beckworth. In spite of Aunt Minerva’s admonitions, Eleanor had read the newspapers and was well versed in the issues of the day. Her knowledge seemed to be one of things Beckworth liked best about her.

She studied him surreptitiously. There was a scattering of silver hairs at his temples, and he had developed a few thin wrinkles about his eyes. The past year had been hard on him, and she felt a twinge of guilt for the way she’d abandoned him on the eve of his mother’s sudden illness. He’d had a high regard for the duchess, and her death must have grieved him terribly. No doubt he’d had to deal with his brother’s frequent misadventures, too.

Oh dear. She did not want to feel any sympathy for him. She altered the direction of her thoughts and turned to Joshua.

“Tell me, Joshua,” she said, “about your sisters. Where do they reside now that they are married?”

“Marguerite is in Reading. Her husband is a barrister there.”

“Marguerite should have been the barrister,” Eleanor said with a wry grin. “Do you remember how she used to argue?”

Joshua laughed. “Who could forget? But a female barrister?”

“Sounds quite perfect,” Beckworth said. “The arguing.”

Eleanor ignored him. “I shall be able to visit her, then, since she is so close.”

“I expect so,” Joshua replied. “She does stay close to home as she and her husband expect their first child soon.”

“And Joan?”

“Joan will not be far. Her husband’s estate is in Hampshire, so I shall be able to visit frequently. She is only recently married and is on an extended wedding trip to Greece.”

“How lovely,” Eleanor said, though not without some regret. She and Beckworth were to have traveled to Greece for their own wedding trip.

Fortunately, Lady Stillwater addressed her, preventing her from dwelling upon the past. “Lord Stillwater and I are anxious to hear more about Florence, my dear,” she said. “Perhaps once you’ve settled in.”

Beck made a low sound that slid through Eleanor’s body and finally rested in the hollow space beneath her heart. She ignored it. “Of course. You must come to tea soon, all of you. Isn’t that right, Aunt?”

“Oh yes. Yes, we would love that,” Aunt Minerva said with some enthusiasm. It was going to be as much an adjustment for Eleanor’s aunt to live in the country as it was for Eleanor. Minerva had lived in her brother’s townhouse in London for the past few years and had developed her own circle of friends, her own habits. Life in Berkshire was bound to be quite different.

They partook of the simple picnic fare and chatted about inconsequential things. But Eleanor’s attention drifted, and she found herself remembering those last moments with her father, sitting at his bedside and holding his cold, thin hand. Listening to his strained breathing.

After so many years of enmity between them, Eleanor did not know why she’d felt compelled to stay with him. But she’d come home from Italy and stayed in the townhouse where she’d lived with him after her mother’s death. It was the house where she’d had to grow up very quickly because of her father’s demands for quiet while he slept late, and his lack of any sort of fatherly attention.

Eleanor had wanted her father. She’d wanted him the way he’d been years ago, when her mother—

“—travel much outside of Florence?”

“I beg your pardon?” She gave a quick shake of her head. “I’m sorry . . .”

“I wondered if you’d had a chance to travel while you were in Italy,” Jessamine asked.

“Oh. No, not much.” She hadn’t had much money, certainly not enough to go traveling about. “I stayed with friends of my grandmother – the Miss Randalls – and they knew every inch of Florence. We explored every church and museum in the city. Oh, and the shops.”

“How lovely, dear,” Lady Stillwater said.

“Did you have your drawing materials with you?”

“Yes,” Ellie replied. “I brought home stacks of sketches.”

“Perhaps you can paint some of your scenes after you settle in,” Meg said. “You are such a talented artist.

“I hope so,” Eleanor said. Just as soon as she got rid of Beckworth and began a new life for herself.

Lucy stood and reached for Eleanor’s hand. “Shall we stroll down to the cliff?”

“Yes, let’s do.”

“I’ll join you,” Beckworth said.

“’Tis not necessary, Duke. We won’t go far,” Eleanor protested.

“No matter.” Beckworth tipped his head companionably as if to indicate they should walk ahead.

Eleanor cast a glance toward Joshua, but he only shrugged. He was not helping in the least. She reined in her pique and went along with Lucy.

“It’s been far too long, Ellie,” she said. “I cannot tell you how pleased I was to learn you’d arrived at the manor.”

“I might have been pleased as well,” she said quietly, “but for my unexpected guest.”

Lucy laughed, but did not look at Beckworth, who had come up behind them. “When did you become so direct in your speech?”

“When I . . .” Eleanor shrugged. “I don’t know.”

But she did. It had been the moment she’d made her decision to leave London rather than face the certainty of a disastrous marriage. Instead of going through with it and living with intolerable consequences, she’d acted upon her instincts and fled.

“Your aunt is not quite so disapproving of me,” Beckworth said, and Eleanor felt her face heat.

Eleanor snorted in a wholly unladylike manner. “Of course not, Duke. She believes a pedigree trumps all else.”

“And what do you believe, Miss Easton?” he asked, coming up to walk beside her.

“I believe that truth . . . truth and honor carry more weight than titles or social standing.”

“Well said,” he remarked quietly. “A man’s honor is really all he has.”

Eleanor did not know what to make of his words. Was he saying he regretted being dishonest with her?

“One would think so,” she said.

Lucy jumped into the conversation before it could take an unwieldy turn. “Mama will want you to join us for supper after the Reading Stakes,” she said. “It will be just the family, much like today, so you will feel comfortable and your aunt will not object.”

Eleanor shot her a puzzled look. “Doesn’t your mother have a much larger house party every year after the race?”

“Not this year,” Lucy said, and Eleanor guessed the modest celebration had been altered for her benefit. Her throat squeezed tightly, and she fought the sudden burn of tears.