To Love a Scoundrel (Zebra Historical Romance) (7 page)

She only hoped the decision would not prove disastrous.

"I can't believe I allowed you to talk me into this. I
must have been mad to ever have agreed to it," Eleanor
huffed, settling herself into the traveling coach beside
Selina. "Pure and utter madness," she added under her
breath, watching as the less elaborate coach carrying
their luggage and an assortment of personal servants
clattered off.

"Come now, Eleanor. It's not as bad as all that. Truly,
we shall have a fine time" Selina fiddled with the closure on her plum-colored satin spencer, looking somehow hopeful and apprehensive at the same time. "I do
believe you shall like George, and I have no doubt that
he shall like you very much"

Eleanor smoothed down her bottle-green skirts with
visibly trembling hands. "Which is precisely why this is
madness. It seems so cold, so calculating."

"Why should you think so? As I said, Mister Whitby
is a sensible man; that's precisely why Henley finds him
so dull. He's not at all prone to flights of fancy or romantic notions. It's not in his character, you see. He'll appraise your wifely potential based upon practical
matters-your dowry, accomplishments, family connec tions. Is that any less cold or calculating than your reasons for wishing to meet him?"

"I suppose not," Eleanor murmured, hoping that her
friend was correct. Still, the words did nothing to assuage the prick of guilt that niggled her mind.

"Here now, if it will make you feel better, I'll tell him
straightaway why I wanted you two to become acquainted. I'll say quite candidly that you were hoping to
avoid an unacceptable match arranged by your father,
and that I thought the two of you might suit instead"

"No, that might make him uneasy, as if he's been put
on the spot" How desperate it sounded, when Selina explained it so. Oh, what a horrid position to find oneself
in, as if she were naught but a piece of horseflesh, offered up on the block in order to avoid slaughter.

If only she could turn back time-accept the suit that
had been offered by Lord Eldridge last Season. She'd
had no real reason to refuse him-nothing besides a
nagging suspicion that they would not find happiness
together. In retrospect, what did it matter that he was
near enough bald, with beady eyes and sweaty palms?
With a sigh of defeat, Eleanor shook her head.

No, it would never do to be quite so forthcoming
about her situation with Mister Whitby. It would make
becoming acquainted far too forced, too full of expectations. "Perhaps we should let events take their natural course," she murmured, "and see what develops in
due time"

Selina tilted her head to one side, appearing to weigh
Eleanor's words. "Very well," she said at last, "but only
if you'll promise not to fret so"

Eleanor reached over to pat Selina's gloved hand.
"Agreed, then. You must forgive me. This is just all so
terribly irregular, so unsettling. If only Henry were here
to advise me"

Selina shook her head. "Do you not think that matters
of the heart are best left to females?"

"I suppose they are," Eleanor agreed. In truth, she and
her brother had rarely discussed the notion of romantic
love-at least, not without scorn. They'd both seen how
their father had suffered for it, and neither held the emotion in high regard. If only her own heart hadn't betrayed
her and led her astray so many years ago, when she'd
first come to know Frederick Stoneham.

Selina turned toward the window, and Eleanor followed her gaze. Henley stood in the drive with his steward, Frederick a few paces behind wearing a long, black
traveling cloak and a tall beaver hat. And looking quite
dashing, of course. Eleanor groaned inwardly, dreading
the long journey to Devonshire. It had rained heavily
during the night, and the roads would-be slow.

Eleanor wondered briefly what she'd done to deserve
such ill fortune. Once they arrived at Mister Whitby's
estate, she expected Frederick would be occupied with
whatever business brought him there, but until then
she'd have to endure long hours in the coach with him,
in far closer company than she desired.

Just what business did Frederick have in Devonshire,
anyway, and how did it involve Henley? No one had
ever said as much, and Eleanor briefly wondered if
Selina knew the answer. Had she even questioned her
husband on the matter? She closed her eyes and inhaled
sharply, suddenly wishing she was back home at Covington Hall, strolling through the garden or curled up on
her favorite window seat with a book of poetry.

"Here they come now," Selina said, and Eleanor
started in surprise as the coach door swung open, the
scent of wet earth rushing inside and mixing with the
smell of the coach's leather interior.

Moments later, Henley stepped inside and took a seat on the bench opposite Selina. Eleanor's breath hitched
in her chest as Frederick's form appeared in the doorway, the air before him rippling with his very presence.
With a nod in her direction, he shouldered his way
inside and took the unoccupied seat on the bench directly opposite her.

Eleanor kept her gaze trained on the place where his
biscuit-colored breeches met the tops of his knee boots,
silently cursing the heat that flooded her cheeks, undoubtedly staining them red.

"Well, then, our party is all assembled. Shall we set
off?" Henley asked conversationally. When no one dissented, he rapped the roof of the coach with his walking stick. "Drive on."

At his words, the coach lurched forward, slowly gaining speed. Eleanor trained her gaze on the window,
watching as the gently rolling countryside became nothing more than a soggy blur. Nearly a quarter hour
passed in blessed silence.

No longer able to bear the weight of Frederick's stare
upon her, Eleanor looked his way, her gaze colliding
with his. For several seconds, they regarded one another
in silence. He was, no doubt, likening her appearance to
a horse again.

"You look lovely today, Lady Eleanor," he said at last.

"Neigh," Eleanor replied, feeling churlish.

Selina suppressed a giggle with one hand.

"Pardon me?" Frederick asked, his brows drawn.

Did he consider it his duty as a rake to pay ladies
compliments he did not mean? She allowed herself to
be fooled into believing his pretty words once; never
again would she be so careless.

"Dreadful weather for traveling," Eleanor offered, ignoring his compliment altogether.

"Isn't it, Lady Eleanor?" Henley said, nodding his agreement. "Positively frightful. I fear the roads shall be
difficult today. Ali, well, at least I'm in agreeable company," he added with a wink in Selina's direction. "I
shall endure."

Eleanor smiled weakly. "As shall we all, though not
as cheerfully as you, I should say."

"I do apologize for putting such a blight on your
mood, Lady Eleanor," Frederick said with a wry smile.
"Perhaps you'll find Mister Whitby's company more endurable than mine upon our arrival in Devon."

"If we ever arrive," she muttered under her breath as
the carriage hit a rut in the muddy road and lurched to
the left.

"Ali, yes. George" Henley stroked his whiskers. "I
hope he has planned some sort of amusement for you
ladies while Stoneham and I attend to our business in
Plymouth."

At Henley's words, Frederick's gaze darkened perceptibly, shifting toward the window, his hands suddenly
fisted in his lap.

Eleanor's curiosity was piqued further. "Might I be so
bold as to inquire about the nature of your business
there, Lord Henley?" she asked, unable to curb the
words. "I do hope it's nothing too unpleasant."

"Oh, I shall take great pleasure in killing the bastard
when I find him," Frederick growled. The simmering
rage that he had tried to suppress for days threatened to
bubble up, out of his tightly guarded control. Henley
shot him a warning glance across the width of the
coach, but he did not heed it.

"We're going in search of my bloody lout of a
brother-in-law," he added, "who was last seen in Plymouth, by some accounts. And when I find him-"

"Yes, well, we've already established that," Henley interrupted. "Perhaps the man can be reasoned with, instead."

Frederick's chest tightened uncomfortably. "Not after
what he's done to my sister."

Eleanor sat forward in her seat, the dark arch of her
brow startling against her fair skin. "Just what has he
done to your sister?"

"Come now, Stoneham. This is not fit for ladies' ears,
is it?"

"He's left her destitute, that's what" Frederick ignored Henley's protests. "Abandoned her, carrying his
child, to run off with his mistress. He's taken everything
of value, including her jewels, and left her saddled with
enormous debts and no way to satisfy them"

"How dreadful!" Selina cried. "Oh, the poor thing"

"You must forgive my prying, Mister Stoneham,"
Elea-nor said, her voice soft. "I had no idea-"

"No, it's best that you know." He collapsed back against
the squabs, hoping to relieve the tight bunching of muscles at the base of his neck. "If you hear anything about
him while in Devonshire, you should let me know at once.
His name is Eckford, Mister Robert Eckford. Though it's
likely he's traveling under an assumed name, with his mistress posing as his wife."

A shadow flickered across Eleanor's features. "I believe I have met this Mister Eckford. Your sister Maria
is his wife?"

"Yes," he bit out. "What do you know of him?"

"Only that we met once, at a house party in Kent. I
found him ... most unpleasant. Though Missus Eckford
seemed lovely. I was surprised to observe that she
seemed ... well .. " she trailed off, shaking her head.

"Pray, go on. I would appreciate your candor on this
subject."

Indecision flicked across her features, but only for a
moment. "Well, it was only that she seemed so smitten
with her husband, oblivious to the fact that he appeared to seek the ... er, attentions of other women in the party.
Quite openly, too"

"Yes, it would seem Maria had no trouble turning a
blind eye to Eckford's faults, though I've no idea what
he did to earn such devotion from her."

"Have they children?" Selina asked. "Beyond the one
she carries now?"

"Indeed. Two young daughters, now being cared for
by my eldest sister and her husband. Maria hasn't the
means to support them, nor is she in any state to do so.
She can barely see to her own needs at the present. She's
back under my father's protection, for what that's worth."
Very little, as far as he was concerned.

Their father was, after all, the man who allowed
Maria to marry Eckford in the first place. Had Frederick been in his father's place, he would never have allowed it. Hell, if he'd been a few years older at the time,
he would have made damn sure that the marriage had
not proceeded as planned. As happenstance would have
it, he'd only been a boy, unable to do anything but form
an immediate and intense dislike of his sister's husband.
He hadn't trusted him. And he'd been right not to. By
God, Eckford will pay.

"I do hope you are able to locate him," Eleanor said
quietly. "He should make proper restitution. No woman
should suffer so. But surely you do not plan to murder
the man?"

"Give me one good reason why I should not," Frederick countered.

"Well, for one thing, it's against the laws of England
to do so," Eleanor offered.

"It's not as if I plan to shoot him on sight, Lady
Eleanor. Have no fear; I shall throw down my glove in
the proper fashion"

"A duel?" Selina asked, her voice rising shrilly. "You
plan to challenge him to a duel?"

"Now, now, Selina darling," Henley said, laying a
hand on his wife's slender wrist. "I say, Stoneham,
enough of this talk. You've gone and upset the ladies,
and I simply won't allow it to continue. Perhaps we
should discuss something more appropriate. Hmmm,
let's see ... well, then" He nodded to himself "How is
your brother faring at Oxford, Lady Eleanor?"

Eleanor hesitated before responding, her gaze meeting Frederick's. He sensed something there in her eyes,
an understanding of sorts. Something indescribable yet
comforting nonetheless. A familiarity flickered in the
depths of her deep blue eyes, and the recognition startled him.

Yet the flicker disappeared as quickly as it had emerged,
and she returned her attention to Henley.

"He's having a marvelous time at Oxford, Lord
Henley, and I could not be more pleased for him. If only
I didn't miss his company so dreadfully."

Frederick was glad for the change of topic. He no
longer wanted to think about Eckford-it only made
his blood boil. The past few days had been tortuously
exhausting, in no way resembling the brief jaunt to
Essex he'd expected when he'd departed London not
a sennight ago. In fact, he'd expected to be on his way
back to Town by now-back to Molly's warm bed and
soft body, her uninhibited sensuality and keen desire
to please.

He shifted in the seat, feeling cramped. The conversation continued on around him, nothing but a hum now as
he allowed himself to study the two ladies sitting across
from him. What a study in contrasts they were, with
Selina so tiny and bland, and Eleanor so tall and vivid.

Both were impeccably attired in voluminous traveling costumes that concealed nearly every inch of their flesh,
their hair intricately arranged, without a single lock out
of place. So refined, so restrained. Likely repressed, as
well, he added a bit uncharitably.

He did not belong in their company, and it was foolish of Henley to insist the ladies accompany them to Devonshire. At best they would be an annoyance; at worst, a
distraction. He only hoped he would be able to locate
Eckford easily and expeditiously so that he could be on
his way back to London before the month was out.

Frederick shifted again, moving closer to the side of
the coach so that he could stretch his legs a bit without
inconveniencing Eleanor. He rubbed one aching temple,
then wearily closed his eyes and allowed the coach's
rhythmic movements to lure him into a deep, dreamless
sleep.