Маделин Мартин – How To Tempt A Duke (страница 7)

The muscles along her slender throat tensed. “I came here because I have no choice.”

Lottie entered the room with a man trailing behind her. “Your carriage is here. Ferdinand will see you out.”

Lady Eleanor turned her attention from Charles and allowed the footman to help her don an absurd blonde wig, as well as a mask and black domino.

Lottie did not move from her path. “I do hope you’ll reconsider.”

Lady Eleanor gave Lottie a slow nod. Without another word, the Earl of Westix’s daughter followed Ferdinand from the room.

Lottie’s composure drained away and she sank onto the settee. “Well, that was an utter failure.”

Charles watched the empty hallway where Lady Eleanor had disappeared. “I confess I fail to feel sympathy toward her—especially when she doesn’t appear to find any fault with her current demeanor.”

Lottie peeked at him through a curtain of dark hair. “You weren’t exactly welcoming. What happened to the charming Charles I once knew?”

Her words made Charles wince. He hadn’t meant his prejudice against Lady Eleanor to be so obvious. “Apparently we’ve all changed.”

Lottie pressed her lips together rather than give him the cutting reply he deserved. “Will you try to speak with her?” She gazed up at him, her expression imploring. “I cannot, but surely you can. I know she walks in Hyde Park with her mother often.”

It was on the tip of Charles’s tongue to decline—to end this foolish charade. But once more the thought of the journals swam into his mind. Damn it. Not just the journals, but finding a way to assist Lottie.

He hated seeing her like this, catering to the rich with every part of herself. She didn’t deserve this life.

“I’ll consider it,” he offered grudgingly.

Though in truth he’d already made up his mind. While he might hold contempt for Westix, and his whole blasted family, Lady Eleanor was the key to righting his great failure.

Nothing could ruin a lovely day in Hyde Park for Eleanor like unpleasant conversation. And truly there was no worse conversation than the general nagging of one’s mother.

The Countess’s face was hidden by an extraordinarily large white bonnet. Not that Eleanor needed to see her mother’s face to know she was disappointed. The clipped tone of her voice provided all the evidence necessary.

“Will you not go again tonight?”

Eleanor wanted to cover her ears rather than endure her mother’s tedious inquiry once more. She slid a glance behind them to her maid, Amelia, who knew well of the arrangement. After all, it was she who had aided Eleanor in her disguise the two days prior.

“The one lesson was enough, I assure you.”

Eleanor kept to the left of the path to ensure her mother stayed in the shade. While the stroll did wonders for her mother’s digestion, the late-afternoon sun wreaked havoc on her headaches.

The Countess made a sound of disagreement. Then she turned the expanse of her bonnet toward Eleanor and regarded her daughter with careful scrutiny. “Tell me again why it was so awful?”

Eleanor waited for a woman in a butter-yellow dress to pass before answering. “It was...uncomfortable...and odd. She wanted me to pretend to be introduced to a man there several times.”

Her mother’s face did not offer any conveyance of sympathy, or even shock that a man had been involved. Eleanor suppressed a sigh. She would have no support from her mother.

“Then you are happy to resign yourself to the fate of being a spinster?” Her mother’s face had flushed a brilliant red. She snapped open her fan and waved it in front of her face to diffuse the onset of heat she’d been suffering from of late. “And you’re happy with being relegated to the position of poor relation once Leopold has what little remains of our fortune?”

Eleanor had practiced the art of emotionless disinterest for so long it came naturally. Even still, at the mention of Leopold’s name she found herself having to concentrate to keep from letting her expression crumple in censure.

“And what of love?” her mother asked.

“Love.” Eleanor said the word as flatly as she felt the emotion was. She had never, after all, truly believed in it. “You’ve always said love is for fools and fiction.”

Her mother stopped fanning herself. “You should toss aside all I’ve ever taught you. It will bring you naught but misery.” Her gaze slid to the path behind Eleanor. “Speaking of misery...”

Eleanor turned to find a couple walking toward them. The two were leaning close to one another, deep in conversation. She’d recognize the man’s wavy brown hair and bold nose anywhere. Hugh and his blonde-haired, perfectly beautiful betrothed, Lady Alice.

Eleanor’s heart gave a turbulent knock against her ribs. If love really was for fools and fiction, then surely Hugh and Lady Alice were the biggest fools of all. And as Eleanor felt a pang of envy at such closeness, what did that make her?

The sun shone at their backs and lit them in a halo of gold. It obviously wasn’t bad enough that their faces were glowing—their bodies had to as well.

They neared, and the knock at her ribs turned into a steady banging. She prayed heartily that they might continue to walk by without notice. She did not want added humiliation on a day already gone awry.

The couple slowed as they neared Eleanor and her mother.

Please pass by.

But, unfortunately, they did not pass by.

No, they stopped, and Lady Alice turned the lovely force of her open smile on Eleanor and her mother. If nothing else, Eleanor hoped that perhaps there might be some snideness to Lady Alice’s tone—some nasty upturn to her mouth or a disagreeable conversation which would sanction a justifiable dislike of her.

“Oh, Your Ladyship, Lady Eleanor—it’s so good to see you,” Lady Alice said with delicate and authentic pleasure. “Lady Eleanor, your bonnet suits you so very well. Isn’t it the loveliest day you’ve ever seen?”

The expression on Lady Alice’s face was sweet enough to bring to mind visions of angels. She even paused to offer a smile for Amelia.

Eleanor inwardly sighed. Of course she would not be lucky enough to find fault with Lady Alice, who was, as she’d always been, agreeable, kind and absolutely perfect.

And she was right. It was a fine day. Even with Eleanor’s stolen future standing so happily in front of her she could not deny the beauty of the day.

“It truly is lovely,” she conceded.

“Good day, Lord Ledsey.” The Countess of Westix’s tone was cool in her address to Hugh.

Don’t look at him.

If he replied to her mother Eleanor did not hear him. She intentionally gazed in the direction of the Serpentine River, where Lady Alice was looking with a wistful expression. The water glittered under the sun and reflected the wide stretch of the cloudless sky. A weak breeze swept from the river and brushed away some of the heat from Eleanor’s blazing cheeks.

She would stare at the Serpentine for ages. Anything to avoid looking at Hugh. But, dash it, her traitorous eyes immediately disobeyed the direct order and slid over to the face which she’d one day anticipated being that of her husband. An ache began in the center of her chest, where her heart was still raw and wounded. She kept her smile small, for it felt brittle enough to crack if given too much effort.

Her mother had been so proud of Eleanor when Hugh had directed his affections toward her, and the pressure of the ton had eased from her shoulders. Lady Eleanor, with her garish red hair, had finally found a man who might be willing to wed her.

Except he had not been willing. And his newfound affection for Lady Alice had left her scalded with mortification.

Eleanor should have expected such fickleness after his intentions toward her had come upon her so abruptly. At the time she had been too grateful to think on it.

She was not grateful any longer.

Hugh looked at Eleanor—a momentary flick of a glance, as if she were not worth his time. And when he had a woman such as Lady Alice on his arm surely she was not.

It was at times like this that Eleanor was thankful for her father’s insistence that she never show emotion. Because at times like this Eleanor agreed that one must appear strong. She wore her indifference like a shield, staunchly guarding her wounds from prying eyes.

Hugh’s hand came up suddenly and waved at a man several paces away. “Ah, here he is now.”

Lady Alice gave an excited clap. “Oh, wonderful—he’s made it after all.”

The man stopped between Eleanor and Lady Alice. He was tall enough to block the sun from where it shone into Eleanor’s eyes, but not so tall that she had to peer up at him foolishly. His hazel-green eyes crinkled nicely at the corners.

Hugh clapped the man on the back. “This chap went to school with me several years back. May I introduce the Marquess of Bastionbury?”

A part of Eleanor—a sad, pathetic part—perked up at the mention of his name. According to the Lady Observer, the Marquess was the most eligible man on the marriage mart. A man Eleanor had not yet had the opportunity to be introduced to.

The ladies all nodded their amenability. “By all means,” said the Countess.

Hugh indicated Eleanor’s mother first. “My Lord, may I present the Countess of Westix?”