The Scandal of Lady Eleanor (14 page)

“Sir Louis,” Ella nervously greeted the man with a curtsy as she entered the blue sitting room. “It is so kind of you to call.” Eleanor spoke the required words, but she wished to be anywhere else but in the room with this man.

“Lady Fowler, I came to appease my conscience and assure myself of your continued well-being.” He offered her a correct bow and a warm smile.

Eleanor gestured for him to retake his seat. “As you may behold, Sir, I am quite well, and I have no reason to suspect your conscience needs appeasing.”

To her dismay, Levering feigned a polite laugh. “So little you know of my conscience, Lady Fowler.”

“I would prefer to keep it that way, Sir Louis.” As she so vividly recalled, the man's polite boldness made her uncomfortable.

“We all have our secrets, do we not, Lady Fowler?” he observed, stressing the word
our.

Ella clenched her hands together in her lap. “Some people are more open, obviously, Sir Louis, but I believe we all have a right to
our
privacy.” Ella prayed she did not sound as ill at ease as she felt.

“Of course, Lady Fowler. I meant no disrespect. God only
knows, my own family has its deepest secrets.” Again, he gave her a smile of familiarity, which sent fear shivering through her.

Ella shifted uncomfortably in her place. Needing to be away from him, she lied, “Sir Louis, I do so appreciate your solicitude, but I fear I have other obligations today that I may not postpone. I pray you will forgive me if I shorten our meeting.”

“Of course, Lady Fowler. It was crude of me to call without notice.” Thankfully, he stood to take his leave.

“It is perfectly acceptable, Sir,” Eleanor added, trying not to be inhospitable. “My cousin and I prepare for our Presentations, and we have duties to that effect.”

“I look forward to your first forays into Society, Lady Fowler. I shall be honored if you accept my company upon occasion.” He lifted Eleanor's hand to his lips.

Ella fought the urge to slap his hands away. “My cousin and I would welcome your presence.”

For the next week, preparations for their court Presentations would consume all of Ella's free time; so tonight, James joined the party at the Haverton musicale. The Season was not yet upon them, although less than a fortnight away, but the Dowager Duchess deemed it acceptable as long as the cousins remained in Fowler's company. As their guardian and their chaperone, respectively, Bran and Aunt Agatha gave them the respectability they needed.

“Lady Eleanor,” James whispered into her hair, “you are exquisite this evening.”

“Only in your eyes, Lord Worthing. No one else says such outrageous things to me.” Ella used her fan to hide her blush. He had become very fond of these intimate moments.

He smiled knowingly at her. “I doubt that, Lady Eleanor, but if it were so, I would not complain. Exclusivity would be divine.”

“You will come to tea tomorrow, Lord Worthing?” she blurted, apparently shaken by his declaration. James had purposely accelerated
his wooing of Eleanor Fowler. Since the second attack, he had felt an urgency to have her under his protection.

He teased, “Still no guards at Briar House, Lady Eleanor?”

“Never to you, James,” she whispered.

The sound of his name on her lips drove him nearly over the edge. “Oh, Ella,” he murmured,“my dear sweet Ella.” He placed her hand on his arm and led Eleanor to a seat behind her aunt. Leaning in close as he seated her on his right, he sighed, “Exquisite.”

 

Eleanor glowed under James Kerrington's attentions.With him, she no longer felt dirty or unworthy. Every time she was near him, her heart exploded with desire, and her dreams of traveling the world expanded to include having him by her side. Yet, she still worried whether she might earn his love. Knowledge of his former wife haunted her insecurities. Ella thought she might be falling in love with the viscount, but she needed him to return that love. She realized he desired her, at least, on some level. She also realized that they might be happy together without the love, but that would mean settling for something less than what she desperately required, and Ella did not think she could do that.

The Presentation day found Eleanor and Velvet bedecked in the black gowns. The Dowager Duchess had commandeered Lord Worthing's carriage also, as the dresses were so elaborate that fitting both in one carriage was impossible. Queen Charlotte expected the gowns to have old-fashioned hoop skirts and to be worn with a stomacher, lying over the triangular front panel of the stays and held in place by the gown's lacing. Most of the young unmarried women waiting in the halls for their moment with the Queen wore white, which made Ella even more uneasy, although Velvet took it all in stride. Low-cut and with short sleeves, the black silk complemented Velvet's natural coloring and her coal-black hair, but Ella saw herself as a scorched tea kettle with golden curls. The
single towering ostrich feather, pulled downward by the black veil attached with black pearl hairpins, threatened to topple from her thin blond hair.

 

They waited in their carriages for two hours outside St. James's Palace before being admitted into the too-warm hallway of St. James's Gallery, where they waited another hour. As the daughter and sister of a duke, Eleanor would be among the first to be presented.Velvet would wait with the others in order of precedence, as her parents, the Viscount and Lady Averette, were of middle importance in the line of nobility.

The time arrived and Aunt Agatha escorted Ella to the Queen's receiving room. As the door opened, Eleanor heard her aunt caution, “Breathe, Child,” forcing her to suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then Ella stepped forward and handed her card to the Lord Chamberlain while a gentleman-in-waiting spread out the ten-foot train, which was attached to her dress, behind her.

“Lady Eleanor Fowler, daughter of William and Amelia Fowler, the Duke and Duchess of Thornhill,” the man's voice boomed throughout the hall.

Eleanor began her progress across the great room, praying with every step she would not trip on her train or finally lose the ornate headdress before she could complete the required curtsy. Before the throne, at last, Ella made the deep obeisance necessary for the Queen, murmuring “Your Highness,” as she did so. Then she gave a briefer bow to the rest of the court before dipping low once more to her monarch. This one she held, waiting for the Queen's release.

“Your niece,Your Grace?” the Queen asked, although she knew Agatha's relationship to Eleanor.

“Yes, Your Highness. Lady Fowler's mother passed some seven years ago.”

Queen Charlotte motioned to both ladies to stand. “And your father, Lady Fowler?” Hearing herself addressed by her proper title eased Eleanor's nervousness. It was as if she were another person,
playacting a role. From the beginning, she had never wanted to be called
Lady Fowler
, as that was her mother's title. But even before her mother's death, Ella shunned the proper reference to her position as the duke's only daughter. She never wanted her name associated with his, so she always insisted on being
Lady Eleanor
, never
Lady Fowler
.

“Passed three months ago,Your Highness.” Ella prayed that Aunt Agatha had made the correct move by having her wear black.

“Ah, we had forgotten. We are pleased that you chose to show the proper respect for your family, Lady Fowler. Not many of the young cling to the old ways.”

“Thank you,Your Highness.” A sigh of relief nearly slipped out, but Ella swallowed it.

Queen Charlotte motioned to one of her courtiers, who made notations in a gigantic book he held, before returning her attention to Eleanor. “Your brother has assumed the title?”

“Yes, Your Highness. His Grace returned from the Continent and entered upon his duties as Thornhill.” Ella began to become nervous all over again. Any conversation with the Queen was unusual. This one of some substance was infinitely unlikely.

“Your brother claimed his place with the King?” Queen Charlotte demanded.

“His Grace has seen to his duties,Your Highness.”

“Excellent…excellent, indeed.” Queen Charlotte paused before adding, “And you cared for the late Duke during his illness?”

“My father was abed for nearly two years,Your Highness. I did what I could to ease his suffering.”

“You perform your duties well for one so young, Lady Fowler. You may tell His Grace we do not believe mourning clothes appropriate for a daughter of England during the Season.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Again, Ella curtsied, aware her time was complete. Later, Velvet would be asked to kiss Queen Charlotte's hand, but as the daughter of a duke, Eleanor received a different acknowledgment: Queen Charlotte kissed Ella's forehead.
Then, very carefully, Ella rose; another gentleman-in-waiting helped her drape the train over her arm, and she backed from the room, constantly aware of the liveried footmen who tactfully guided her steps.

“You were a success with the Queen,” Worthing declared as he entered the blue sitting room at Briar House. He came forward and kissed Eleanor's hand, bowing over it a few extra seconds—a warm, unexpected desire shooting straight to her secret spot. “I heard of nothing else all morning,” he assured her. “The
haut ton
will fall at your feet, Lady Eleanor.”

Ella was so glad to see him after her stressful day that she nearly threw herself into his arms; she had thought of him more than a dozen times during the day—a dozen daydreams of the viscount's voice—his eyes—his countenance—his muscular body. “I was petrified I would do something to disgrace the family,” she confessed.

“You could never be a disgrace,” he asserted; however, Ella involuntarily winced with his words. “Have I spoken out of turn, Lady Eleanor?”

She plastered on her best smile. “No, Lord Worthing.You never offer me an offense.”

He led her to a nearby settee and joined her on it. They were alone in the room with the exception of Ella's personal maid sequestered in a far corner. “Was Miss Aldridge as successful?”

“Queen Charlotte showed my cousin a like kindness.”

“I am happy to hear it. It will go a long way to support your cousin's reputation in Society.”

Ella raised her eyes to his. “And what of my reputation, Lord Worthing?”

“You, my Dear, will rule Society this Season.” Ella rolled her eyes in disapproval of his words. “Do not go on so, Lady Eleanor. Your father has passed, and the
ton
has a short memory. Despite what you believe, you will not be judged by his actions, but rather by your
own.” Ella prayed that he spoke the truth. Before she could respond, Mr. Horace tapped on the door and announced Levering's presence.