The Scandal of Lady Eleanor (23 page)

“Then you will not reconsider—will not simply accept my buying your cooperation?” She seemed resigned to what he purported.

“By the week's end, I will present myself to Thornhill. The announcements will appear in the
Times
, and the banns will be called. I expect you to convince your brother of your heart's change.” He reined in the team before Briar House. “Now, offer me a smile as I hand you down. Your cousin watches from the window, and I would have her see your growing affection for me.” Levering hopped down and extended his hand for her support. As he instructed, Ella smiled at him before dropping her eyes. Levering kissed her knuckles and then escorted her to her door. Raising the knocker, he murmured close to her ear, “We will attend the theatre tomorrow evening—alone.” The door opened, and Ella slipped in, thankful for not having to respond verbally to his demands.

James Kerrington sat at his desk at Linton Park. His father still teetered on the brink; his health could go one way or the other.Yet, as much as he worried about his parents, his thoughts dwelled on one person: Eleanor Fowler. What was she doing? Did she miss him as much as he missed her? Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face—her neck's sleek line, the glow in her eyes when she looked at him, the smell of lavender she left on his clothes, and the feel of her lips under his mouth's press. It had been three days since he had seen her, and James ached with a need he could not explain. “I love you, Eleanor.” He heard the words ringing in his head.

He had written her again today. It was an act of impropriety; they were not engaged, but he could not resist. Eleanor instantly had become his life's light, the all-sustaining air he breathed. He hoped she would break the rules and answer his messages. He needed for Ella to understand his absolute devotion to her and his
dreams of their future. Sealing the letter with blue wax, he sent it on its way. Soon, he would return to London and claim her as his own—
his Amazon
.

Every day, his letters came as regularly as clockwork. Her Aunt Agatha buried her objections, obviously hoping Lord Worthing's words might save her niece, but Ella maintained her feigned “devotion” to the pretentious Louis Levering. She did not like deceiving her family. She too had counted the days to His Lordship's declaration, but not for the same reasons. The Dowager Duchess saw the advantages of temperament and status. Worthing would soon be an earl, an appropriate connection for a duke's daughter. However, Ella desired James Kerrington because he taught her love—accepted her past mistakes as childhood gullibility. And what could Levering offer her? An unacceptable diminished status. A questionable title drenched in debt. Rumors of impropriety nearly as corrupt as that of the late William Fowler.

“Another letter from Lord Worthing?” Her aunt watched as Ella slipped the missive into her pocket. They sat in the morning room, enjoying a late breakfast. “Does His Lordship speak of his father's health?”

“I would not know. I have read none of them.” Ella busied herself by spreading jam on her toast—anything to keep the focus off her words.

Aunt Agatha put down the newssheet she surveyed for the latest gossip. “I am not an advocate of His Lordship's bending the rules of etiquette by writing to you directly, but it seems that if you choose not to read them, you should return the letters to Kerrington. Accepting them indicates that you also accept his attentions, my Dear.”

“I suppose you are correct, Aunt.” It was all Ella would say on the matter. She should send the letters back if she was to accept Sir Louis's proposal, but Ella kept them for selfish reasons. She would spend a lifetime with Levering, and James's letters would be her
salvation. She would cherish them and keep them safe and remember when someone actually loved her. Otherwise, she would spend her whole life unloved. Therefore, each day she locked them in a box of mementos—things cherished from her childhood and from happier times.

 

“You wished to speak to me, Bran?” Eleanor knew why he had summoned her to his study; she had seen Levering make his call earlier. She stared at her hands and frowned.

Bran rose to meet her. “Come in, Ella.” He led her to the chairs before the hearth—more personal than the desk chairs. “I wish to consult with you on a matter of importance.”

Stalling, she straightened her dress's seams. “I suppose I know of what you speak.” She did not look at him directly; Ella always had trouble lying to her brother and purposely avoided the eye contact.

“Sir Louis called earlier. He tells me he has made you an offer of marriage, and you have accepted. Is that correct, Ella? You accepted Louis Levering?”

“I have, Bran. It is acceptable to me in every way.” Since the baronet made his demands, she had spent the past week generating
excuses
for her acquiescence. “Louis is agreeable, and he expresses a growing affection. I believe he and I will get along well together. However, the main reason I seriously considered the baronet's plight is that Huntingborne Abbey is our nearest neighbor to Thorn Hall. I might see you regularly—daily if I like. Our children will grow up together. We were separated for so long, Bran; I cannot bear it again, and if you and Velvet resolve your differences, we might all go on as before.”

Bran's suspicious look did not go unnoticed. “What of Lord Worthing?”

“His Lordship is nearly ten years my senior. We have so little in common; I was unaware of the discrepancy until I became more acquainted with Sir Louis.The baronet and I have had many similar experiences.” Ella thought it best to speak the truth—although not the whole truth.

“You have explained this to Lord Worthing? He has expectations.”

“I never promised anything to the Viscount. Even now, I refuse to answer his letters. I do not wish to give him false hope.” Ella fought her emotional allegiance to Lord Worthing. For weeks, she had thought only of him. Now, she thought only of herself—of her survival.

Other than the span between their social ranks, Ella knew that Bran had no legitimate reason to deny the baronet's request, but she realized he would not honestly give her his blessing. However, to convince him she would remind her brother of his promise to allow her to marry whom she chose. Ella saw him bite back his objection. “It was my wish, Ella, for you to enjoy a Season. Your devotion to Thorn Hall denied you that experience. It was not my desire for you to give yourself to another. Like you, I do not want us to part so soon after our reunion. May I suggest a compromise? Your relationship with the baronet seems a bit impetuous. I would prefer you wait until the end of the Season to announce your engagement. It will give us all time to become familiar with Levering and to welcome him into our family.”

Fear coursed through her. How would she silence the rumors for so long? “I am sure Sir Louis will insist on a speedier course of events. He would like the announcement next week and the banns called immediately afterwards.” Ella wondered how Levering would react to Bran's stipulations. She knew he would not be happy; Sir Louis would see it as another snub.

Bran smiled his assurance. “Eleanor, you are the daughter of a duke and the sister of a duke; your wedding will not take place in some out-of-the-way chapel.You will be married, at a minimum, at St. George; your family will want to plan a magnificent wedding. One cannot do that in a matter of weeks. You know what Aunt Agatha will do if we try to spurn our responsibilities. Having you gloried in the best light is the Dowager Duchess's motivation for coming to town this Season.”

Ella looked away nervously.“I have never desired such opulence.”

Her brother ignored her objection. “It is your birthright, Ella. I will not have you denied your place in Society.”

“Sir Louis will insist on, at least, an
understanding
, a pre-nuptial agreement, being apparent between us.”

Bran stood to end the conversation. “I will speak to Levering personally and explain what it means to marry into the dukedom. The connections will benefit him; therefore, the baronet will accept what I say as the final conditions to your union. He is a sensible man and will agree once I explain things to him.”

Ella prayed that Bran was correct; she could not imagine Levering to be so benevolent. With his plans ruined, she would likely pay the price.

If Ella had considered her brother's nature, she would have realized that Bran plotted against her hasty decision; but Ella was too consumed with the misery of her own life to understand that the man who would rescue complete strangers in trouble would call upon all his resources to save his only sister from making the worst mistake of her young life.

“You have convinced the baronet to wait?” Crowden asked as he sipped a brandy, casually extending his leg across a hammock.

Fowler snarled his dislike of the subject. “Levering is most anxious to finalize his marriage. Considering he asked three times the conditions of Eleanor's dowry, I suspect he is spending her settlement before the nuptials are read.”

“Has Lady Eleanor told Kerrington of her change of heart?” Crowden looked worried. Everyone associated with the Fowlers had recognized Worthing's obvious love for Eleanor. They all hated to see his heart crushed again.

“She has not.” Bran absentmindedly ran his finger around the glass's rim. “I take it upon myself to inform him. I will not have Worthing return to London expecting Eleanor to receive him nor will I have him hear it secondhand.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Find out everything you can about Levering. Leave no stone unturned. I want to know when he gets up in the morning and when he goes to bed at night and everything in between. What attracts my sister to the man? Everything I know of Ella says she should feel revulsion, not affection. Something in my gut says Levering is not what he appears. I demanded a delay to make this right for Ella.”

The Marquis finished off his drink. “I will see to it immediately. Possibly, we need to bring in someone the baronet does not know.”

“John Swenton or Aidan Kimbolt?”

“I was thinking both. Kimbolt can weasel his way into anyone's company, and Swenton knows every gaming hell in London. If Levering has debts, John will discover who holds the baronet's blunt.”

Bran made himself some notes. “You will take care to bring them up to date?”

“Absolutely, Your Grace.” Crowden eased from the chair. “Will you escort Mrs. Warren this evening?”

“I must marry eventually and set up my nursery. I am just looking at the possibilities.”

His friend nodded his understanding, but Crowden made his own suggestion. “Look at
all
the possibilities, Your Grace. It is an important decision for any man.”