Embracing Ashberry (4 page)

Edward sat on Ellie's left while the
marquess took the seat at the head of the table. Charlotte was
seated across from Ellie, making their end of the table a cozy
quartet. Between the four and Ellie's parents were the other two
Whitney brothers as well as Ashberry's two youngest brothers. The
countess presided at the opposite end of the table in the
commanding position, as Charlotte chattered easily about how they
had decided on an informal seating arrangement that had little to
do with rank.

Edward listened assiduously to her innocent
comments even as he leaned to his sister and murmured softly, "Are
you up to this?"

Ellie's fond glance was unmistakable. Edward
had been the first one to her side, the one who had carried her
into the house, the one she now trusted with every fiber of her
body and soul. "Everything will be fine," she reassured him with a
confidence she did not honestly feel. "But it's nice to have you
here in case." Edward nodded and turned his attention to Charlotte,
across the table.

Ellie briefly turned her attention to her
mother at the other end of the long dining room. To Ellie she
appeared slightly worried, but her brow cleared at Ellie's
encouragement.

Ashberry was fascinated by the smile, though
it had lasted barely a second and had been directed away from him.
Ella Whitney smiled with her whole face, her eyes brightened, her
cheeks lifted and even her teeth sparkled. He hardly noticed the
food before him and had to force himself not to stare at her.
Seeking a diversion from the girl, he started a conversation with
Edward about the Manchester coalmines that the Whitneys owned.

While Lord Whitney was in constant
consultation in the House of Lords concerning the horrors
developing in France, his son was concentrating on the more mundane
side of a successful family in the peerage: its finances. Ashberry
had already learned a great deal from young Whitney about the
intricacies of the mining industry. Like Ashberry, Edward Whitney
didn't shy away from industry simply because of his promised title;
if anything, the young man had seen firsthand in Europe the
necessity of protecting it by underwriting the largest possible
fortune.

Tonight, however, even coal couldn't keep
this girl from his thoughts, for she sat between him and the
recalcitrant Edward, who did not consider the coal mining industry
nearly as interesting as Ashberry's sister. The conversation died
away as Edward and Charlotte went on happily about the new house
Edward had purchased on Valentine Street, situated neatly between
the Whitneys house in Mayfair and Ashberry House.

Because his gaze was directed at Edward, the
marquess saw Ellie bow her head for just a moment after the soup
was served, breathing deeply. As she raised her head, Ashberry
smiled at her. Determined to elicit a vocal response, he ignored
her inability to meet his eyes. Instead, he chose a safe topic and
asked a question that required more than a one-word answer. "Miss
Whitney, I must admit I am looking forward to this particular
wedding, even though I am quite fond of Charlotte's company. How
will your family adjust to not having Edward at home?"

Ellie blushed again. Her cheeks turned a
delightful shade of pink. Unaccustomed to the sensation of his
stomach dropping into his breeches, Ashberry gripped his silver
tightly. He narrowly avoided reaching out to stroke the color
before him. She swallowed heavily, and attempted an answer. "W-we
will miss him, of course," she began, trying not to sound
rehearsed. "However, Edward is a w-wonderful brother and I will be
extremely satisfied to see him happily settled. Miss Trinity is
perfectly lovely and they make an excellent match, as-as you know.
I know they will be happy together."

Charlotte inclined her head, accepting the
compliment prettily and Edward smiled smugly, much like a proud
papa whose heir has just spoken his first words. Ashberry was
incapable of a reply. Her voice was a lovable timbre when she spoke
above that quiet murmur he had been treated to until now. She had
almost looked at him, too, though she had chosen to meet
Charlotte's eyes across the table instead. It had been a close
enough thing that he had seen finally the courageous glint in her
eye.

As he had expected, the conversation turned
then to the wedding. Charlotte was thrilled about the progress on
her dress, and only Edward's presence kept her from describing it
again in great detail. Ellie smiled, apparently happy that
Charlotte could find such joy in the fine French lace Ellie's
mother had brought from Paris.

Ashberry, having found his voice, eventually
contributed, "I was finally able to visit the church we spoke of,
Charlotte, and I think you'll like it very much. I had Griffin
schedule the ceremony with the rector just this afternoon, on the
condition that Edward goes to him and arranges for the banns to be
read."

Edward's head perked up at this news. "And
where did you decide?"

Ellie thought she knew. She took a secret
look at the marquess only to find his eyes squarely on her. "St.
Stephen's Chapel," he said absently, "You are familiar with it, I
imagine. Your mother recommended it and when I first went to visit,
Miss Whitney was in the sanctuary."

Edward's eyes sharpened. "My sister was
there?" The words were a cool inquiry, but certainly not
heartening.

Ellie hastened to calm her suddenly tense
sibling. "The marquess came in just as I finished my discussion
with Mr. Hughes. It was early evening and since I needed to prepare
for dinner, we didn't speak."

"Just so," the marquess agreed quietly. "The
rector, as well as your father's footmen and Miss Whitney's maid
were all in the sanctuary with your sister. As soon as he and Miss
Whitney completed their business, Mr. Hughes came to see me. We
hardly had the chance to even acknowledge each other." Ashberry
omitted that he had been obliged to return to St. Stephen's the
next day for the business he purported to have there—he did not
wish Edward, nor even Ellie, to inquire as to the nature of that
initial conversation with the rector.

Edward calmed, but he was clearly still
suspicious. "I didn't know that Mother had suggested St.
Stephen's."

"It's the perfect size," Ellie mused,
smiling at Charlotte, the words suddenly coming quite naturally.
"And the windows rival anything we saw in Europe. The sanctuary has
arched ceilings and beautiful stonework." She paused before adding
thoughtfully, "Father bought a pew there after we came back from
France."

It was the longest and most natural speech
Ashberry had ever heard Ellie make. He breathed deeply, urgently
trying to convince himself not to shift uncomfortably in his chair.
Distantly, he heard Charlotte exclaim, "That's wonderful! I was so
hoping for a pretty church, you know, but I was determined not to
have hopes that were too high. After all, we didn't want to wait
forever at St. Paul's or St. George's. It's already October, you
know, and I want the wedding to be soon—I'd rather not have to
return to Cumberland for the worst of winter and delay the wedding
until spring."

Edward came up with the most important
question. "So when exactly is the wedding to be?"

Everyone looked at Ashberry. Even the boys
in the middle of the table picked up the conversation and looked to
the marquess. Even Ellie looked at the marquess. She remembered
clearly how he had looked in the church, his frame bent into the
pew. Ellie thought he was a handsome man, though not in the
classical sense, and he was some years older than she was. He was
quite lean but had a strong jaw that Ellie wanted to believe meant
reliability and strength. His hands had been clasped together as he
lounged in the pew, but here at the table they were more
visible—large and muscular, though clean and well kept. Most
importantly, Ellie noticed, they weren't the effeminate hands of a
snobbish boor, but showed the marks of a man comfortable with using
them.

The marquess was young enough to eschew
powdering his hair when not at the Court or Parliament and she
could see that it was the same unusual color as his younger
brothers, a deep red that almost hinted at black. Ellie could find
no evidence of the hue in the countess' carefully coiffed and
powdered silver curls or in Charlotte's blond ringlets, surmising
that the shade was passed through Ashberry's father to his sons.
The cut of his dark green coat and paler green waistcoat was
stylish and clearly expensive, but without the ostentatious
ornamentation or jewelry that the lords who drove in Hyde Park
often wore. In the dim light, his eyes were so dark they seemed to
be black but Ellie was not fooled by the candlelight. She knew them
to be a deep brown.

Ashberry's laugh rumbled through the room
and abruptly Ellie caught herself, looking down at her plate.
Staring at him, she told herself sternly, would only make her seem
like a lovesick young girl, which she couldn't be.

He stood, attracting the attention of the
countess at the head of the table. His aunt stared at him, a little
shocked. "I've been asked," he explained, nodding reassuringly to
his aunt, "To provide the exact date of the wedding. You see, just
this afternoon I made an arrangement probably better left to the
women at the table. I sent my man to reserve St. Stephen's for the
ceremony."

He looked around the table. His two youngest
brothers, Spencer and Sidney, were looking at him with something
close to hero worship. Edward's brothers, Richard and John,
appeared much more self-contained, though respectful. Edward was
expectant. Whitney and his wife were clearly interested in the
announcement. Charlotte appeared anxious. Ella ... With Ella he
just couldn't tell. Her eyes were on him, for sure. He could only
hope she liked what she saw.

After a few moments of suspenseful silence,
he relented. "One month," he finally provided. "One month from this
morning." His eyes rested squarely on Lady Whitney. "On the first
day we discussed, the twenty-fourth of November."

Approving murmurs came from around the
table. Charlotte sighed happily. Edward grinned easily, clearly
relieved. Ellie looked away to her mother at the other end of the
table, meeting her mother's eyes and nodding slightly. Ashberry
felt significant disappointment as he reluctantly acknowledged a
previously unknown emotion: jealousy.

He wanted the twenty-fourth of November to
be his wedding date, not his sister's.

The frustration he was beginning to feel
heightened again when the women left the dining room. Ashberry
forced himself to relax through the obligatory round of port. It
wouldn't do for him to be too eager for the drawing room when the
only female of interest there to him would quite obviously be Ella
Whitney. However, he certainly didn't discourage Edward, who was
anxious to rejoin Charlotte.

The men lasted for a half of an hour before
they succumbed to what Ashberry's father had often called the
'irresistible potency of an enticing drawing room.' Even then, the
young men all chose to retreat further to the billiards room
instead of joining the ladies. Edward insinuated himself between
Charlotte and his mother, who were busily discussing menus for the
wedding breakfast. Not be distracted even by her beloved, Edward
was reduced to choosing between turbot and turtle. Whitney wisely
chose a chair close to the fireplace and beside the countess, who
was pouring Ellie a cup of tea. Ashberry refused when she offered
him a cup, and seeing that there was no way to draw a chair near to
Ellie circumspectly, chose to lean against the mantel behind her as
he sipped the brew.

It was an advantageous position for him.
Ellie did not speak much, but he could watch the smooth silk of her
hair as her head followed the conversations. He could see the
tranquil curve of her arms and the nape of her neck, and her skin
as it glowed in the candlelight. Ashberry struggled simply to keep
his hands away from the brilliance of her hair, for he ached to
feel its softness in his fingers. Away from the light of the room,
he was thankful that neither his aunt nor the girl's father could
discern the expressions on his face, for his mind's desires would
have been clear to both. His inexplicable reactions to Ella Whitney
still amazed and troubled him and he used the long minutes in the
drawing room not to quell them, but to channel them down more
productive avenues.

By the time the family moved to leave, he
had determined that he needed to touch her again or get drunk.
Maybe both. He trailed Lady Whitney and Ellie indiscreetly into the
front hall and edged up behind the girl as the boys all said
farewell to Charlotte and the countess.

Ellie knew Ashberry was behind her. It was
an odd sensation, something that she hadn't expected but was
certain she identified correctly. Though he had been positioned at
her back, she knew his eyes had rested often on her. She stiffened,
more from surprise at her own knowledge than from fear. It was
something of a shock when his hand slid across her shoulders as he
circled her, ending up before her.

"Miss Whitney," he said politely, his eyes
finally catching her shocked orbs. He hoped they had all the
meaning in them that he intended but he allowed himself a second
hint. He captured her hand in his, his thumb pressing into the palm
as he lifted it to his lips. The fine gloves on both of them did
not prevent the heat of his hands from seeping through to hers.

Ellie trembled, her eyes widening with
instinctive understanding.

With a slight smile, he brought her glove to
his lips, smiling as he did so. "I did so enjoy having you as a
dinner companion, Miss Whitney," he murmured, his voice low, the
words for her ears alone. "And I look forward to seeing your lovely
countenance again, soon."

Ellie could not have replied even if she
could have thought up words, but Ashberry did not seem to expect a
response. Just as he released her hand from a reassuringly gentle
squeeze, Edward appeared from nowhere, Ellie's pelisse in hand.
With his eyes on his sister, her cheeks reddened tellingly, Edward
protectively drew the wool around her shoulders, his warning to
Ashberry clear by both manner and eyes. With a raise of his brows,
Ashberry acquiesced after a moment, stepping back and offering his
farewells to the younger Whitney boys.