With every day Thomas spent in England, he found himself more disillusioned with the members of the aristocratic class who were supposedly his equals. The young men of his own age he had spent the evening with, while pleasant enough, thought of little beyond their own pleasures and pastimes, and the women seemed to speak of nothing but fashion and gossip. He had already decided not to take up the membership at Boodle’s he had been offered, but to seek admittance to Brooks or White’s instead, where the more serious business seemed to take place.
The truth was, he considered as he watched Ellen talk, her blue-grey eyes flashing in the candlelight as she spoke, her hands moving gracefully with her animation and excitement, Ellen was the only person he had met since his arrival in England with whom he really felt he had significant interests in common.
Seeming to finally notice his intent scrutiny, Ellen stopped mid-sentence before dropping her gaze and blushing. “I am so sorry, here I am rattling on and you must be exhausted!”
“Not at all,” Thomas said firmly. “I am just thinking, though, that I may not remember tomorrow—later today, that is—everything you are saying. Can I ask you to attend the meeting I have scheduled with my steward at two this afternoon? He can take notes and we can discuss how best to address the issues you have observed.”
Ellen looked delighted to be asked, but she wrinkled her nose and tapped her finger on her lower lip. “We are supposed to be at home to callers this afternoon—though I daresay Aunt Clarice and Louisa will hardly notice if I am not present. I am sure I can slip away.”
“Absolutely,” Thomas agreed. “I shall see you at two, then. Now off to bed with you, and get some rest.” He tempered the order with a warm smile, and she flashed one of her own in return.
“Good night, Thomas,” her voice floated across the darkened kitchen as she left him alone, and for a long time Thomas sat in silence, lost in thought.
Chapter Eleven
*
As Ellen had expected, even before the clock struck two, Mr. Henry was admitting the first of a stream of gentlemen callers eager to pay court to Louisa. None of them gave her a second glance, and when she quietly whispered a request to be excused to her aunt a few minutes later, Clarice didn’t even look at her before waving her hand in dismissal.
The study door stood open, and Thomas looked up with a smile of welcome when she hesitated outside, wondering if she should knock. “Ellen! Come on in. Please, allow me to introduce my steward, Mr. Gallagher.”
Ellen froze for a moment, unsure whether she should curtsy. The steward offered a deep bow, she decided not, and settled for a little dip of her head. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”
“The honour is mine, Miss Bentley. Please, Lord Havers has been telling me that you have assessed the servants’ quarters here and have some recommendations?”
Pleased by the businesslike way he addressed her, Ellen accepted the chair Thomas held for her to sit, and soon the three of them had their heads together over a thick sheaf of papers, Mr. Gallagher taking copious notes.
“Excuse me, my lord,” Mr. Henry interrupted them about a quarter hour later. “Lady Havers is requesting Miss Bentley’s presence in the Chinese Drawing Room.”
Thomas looked up with a frown. “Why?” he asked bluntly.
Mr. Henry coughed delicately. “Two of the callers who are lately arrived, are here specifically to see Miss Bentley, my lord.” He paused. “They have brought flowers.”
Thomas was on his feet before he knew what he was about. “Gentlemen callers for Ellen—I mean Miss Bentley? Who are they?” he rapped out.
It was only after he had spoken that it occurred to him, he did not care a whit who had come to call for Louisa.
“Lord Bellmere and Major Trevithick, my lord,” Mr. Henry answered him with a hint of something in his expression that might have been approval. The staff appreciated his concern for Ellen’s welfare, he supposed; after all, she showed concern for theirs. They would want to see her happy and well settled.
“I shall escort you, Ellen,” Thomas decided. “I think we’ve left Gallagher enough to be going on with for now, hm?”
“Indeed, my lord, I shall get to work straight away,” the steward agreed.
“Shall we?” Thomas invited, offering his arm for Ellen. She looked at him queerly.
“I thought you did not care for Aunt Clarice’s At Homes?” she queried softly as they left the study.
“I wished for a break,” he fibbed smoothly, “and some of Cook’s delicious lemon tarts, which I happen to know she made this morning. And, of course, to meet your suitors, Ellen.”
“They are not my suitors,” Ellen said at once, too quickly for Thomas’ liking.
The lady doth protest too much, he thought as he watched the blush colour her cheeks. Did she already have a preference for one of the gentlemen, after a single evening in his company? Silently, he cursed himself for leaving the ball last night. Clearly, one or other of the two men had taken the opportunity to get to know Ellen, and had made a favourable impression.
The Chinese Drawing Room was packed to capacity, it seemed, as Mr. Henry opened the door for them with a bow. Faces turned in their direction, mostly gentlemen though a few had brought their mothers and sisters along. Several female faces brightened notably at the sight of Thomas, but he ignored them all, watching with narrowed eyes as two gentlemen approached with broad smiles.
“Cousin, pray allow me to introduce Lord Bellmere and Major Trevithick,” Ellen made the introductions. “My cousin, Lord Havers.”
Both men bowed with the perfect amount of deference to a peer of his rank, but it was more than clear that their interest was fixed upon Ellen. Neither of them seemed a brainless fribble blithering out fulsome compliments, either, rather to Thomas’ irritation. Indeed, both seemed intelligent, thoughtful gentlemen of exactly the sort he would rather like to know better… if they weren’t making calf eyes at Ellen.
“I met with my cousin on the board of the Museum this morning,” Bellmere was telling Ellen genially. “The Museum is closed to the general public until noon on Mondays and Tuesdays, so if an early morning outing would be acceptable, I should be delighted to escort you to see the Elgin Marbles.”
Ellen looked quite delighted too, though she very properly said “I should have to seek Lady Havers’ permission, of course, and arrange for a chaperone…”
“No need to bother Aunt Clarice,” Thomas said jovially. “I should like to see the Marbles too. I can chaperone you.”
“Perhaps we might make a party of it,” Major Trevithick said, and Thomas thought he would have to watch out for the military man. Likely a master of strategy, Trevithick could well sneak into Ellen’s favour right under both his and Bellmere’s noses.
“Did you say a party? Are we giving a party, cousin?” Louisa called from across the room, obviously put out that they were having a conversation of which she was not the central focus.
Left with no choice but to include Louisa, Thomas took a few reluctant steps closer to inform her of Lord Bellmere’s proposed outing to the Museum. He was astonished when Louisa claimed a great interest in being one of the party, but did not take long to discern her reasoning. Lord Bellmere was reputed to be one of the wealthiest men in England, after all, and Louisa was piqued that the baronet had not chosen to join the ranks of her suitors, but instead expressed an interest in Ellen.
With Louisa’s avowal of interest, suddenly all her suitors expressed a great desire to view Lord Elgin’s famous acquisitions too, and Bellmere acquired a distinctly aggrieved look, though he was gentleman enough to promise they might all attend.
Thomas caught a slight smirk playing around Major Trevithick’s lips as Bellmere was drawn inexorably into the circle around Louisa. Turning away as though disinterested, the major picked up a book lying on a side table and asked Ellen a question about it which Thomas did not hear, as he was addressed at that moment by an older lady seeking to bring her daughter to hi
s notice.
Louisa’s tinkling laugh rang out, and Thomas glanced across to see her lay a hand on Bellmere’s sleeve, smiling coyly up at him.
It hit him then, all of a sudden.
He did not care in the slightest who Louisa smiled at or flirted with, despite having been briefly bowled over by her beauty. He cared very much, though, that Ellen had her head bowed over a book with Major Trevithick, a small smile playing about her soft lips.
Jealousy was an entirely new emotion for Thomas, and he found he did not care for the feeling at all. He wanted to be the only one favoured with Ellen’s smiles.
In the centre of a crowded drawing-room was probably the worst possible place for his true feelings to suddenly become clear, Thomas realised, but there was nothing he could do about the fact that his entire world had just turned topsy-turvy.
Clarice was looking at him strangely, coming across to intercept the persistent woman with the daughter and remove Thomas to Louisa’s side, which she obviously felt was his proper place. Clarice was going to be disappointed, Thomas thought dimly, but he knew now he could never marry Louisa, even if her feelings for him were what Clarice claimed. His minor infatuation with her beauty was as nothing compared to what he felt for Ellen.
Love. He whispered the word silently, inside the vaults of his own mind, and knew it for an immutable, timeless truth. He loved Ellen; loved everything about her, from her intelligent, curious mind to her kindness and empathy for others. Best of all, she would be the kind of Countess he had imagined ever since his grandfather’s stories of Havers when he was a child; a gracious lady of the manor, always aware of the needs of her people.
Ellen glanced up from the book just then, looking around the room until her gaze settled on Thomas. At once she smiled, more widely than the slight smile she had given the major. Thomas smiled back, wishing everyone else in the room to perdition so he could tell Ellen how he felt—but no, he must not rush this. She had not the slightest idea, he thought, and he had thus far encouraged her to treat him as a trusted older brother. What a fool he was! He should have recognised her sterling qualities earlier, realised that his delight in her company was far more than mere friendship. Now he would have to fight off other suitors for her hand, all while convincing Ellen his intentions were genuine… and somehow not allowing Clarice or Louisa to figure out what he was about, lest they sabotage his suit.
At that moment, Thomas rather wished he could plead a headache and quit the room. But no; he would not leave the field to Trevithick and Bellmere, who had slipped from Louisa’s court back to Ellen’s side, insinuating himself into her conversation with the major.
*
The At Home seemed to last forever. Thomas was sure a half-hour was considered the polite maximum of time to spend at such things before taking one’s leave, and indeed most of Louisa’s court seemed to drift in and out, though there was always a constant circle around her. Neither Lord Bellmere nor Major Trevithick showed any inclination to depart, however, eyeing one another like a pair of wary cats. Ellen did not seem to favour either of them above the other, which was some comfort at least to Thomas. She merely seemed delighted to have someone willing to make intelligent conversation with her.
Clarice watched from across the room with sharp eyes as Thomas remained at Ellen’s side, and no sooner had the last of their guests finally departed than she was ordering the two girls upstairs to dress for dinner and catching Thomas’ arm.
“You must not hover so over Ellen, nephew. Louisa felt quite neglected! It was very ill-done of Ellen to monopolise Lord Bellmere and Major Trevithick, too!”
“Ellen is in her first season, ma’am,” Thomas said reasonably. “While Louisa is in her third, quite comfortable handling a horde of enthusiastic swains. I did not observe her to be forlorn. Quite the opposite, actually.” Louisa had laughed often and loudly, though Thomas caught her sneaking regular looks at their little grouping. “If anything distressed her, it was undoubtedly that she was not the centre of everyone’s attention, for once.”
“Thomas!” Clarice affected shock. “That is unkind!”
“It is the truth,” Thomas said curtly. “Two dukes, a marquis and any number of earls, barons and heirs danced attendance on your daughter this afternoon, Aunt Clarice. Louisa should not grudge Ellen a pair of suitors who are discerning enough to see her good qualities.”
Clarice’s mouth flattened to a thin line. “Good qualities?” she said scornfully. “She is a parson’s daughter with little in the way of manners and no looks to recommend her! You waste your time and diminish the family name with your recognition of her!”
Shocked, Thomas stared at her. “Ellen Bentley is my relative by blood,” he said, his tone quiet but with a dangerous edge to it. “She has more right to my time, and to the family name, than you do. Indeed, I have no doubt that she will—would make a far better Countess than you have ever been!”
His slip of the tongue did not go unnoticed. Eyes narrowed, Clarice spat out “Oh, I see how it is. The hussy has seduced you, right underneath Louisa’s nose!”
“That will be quite enough,” Thomas said, surprising himself with the snap in his voice. “You will keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak of Ellen, or you will find yourself no longer welcome beneath my roof.”
If looks could kill, he would no doubt have been struck dead on the spot. “Upstart American,” Clarice hissed. “You understand nothing of class and society!”
“I understand I want nothing to do with any society which cannot recognise the superior qualities of an intelligent young woman with a kind heart, merely because she is three generations removed from an earldom rather than one!”
They were both breathing fast, voices raised. Clarice looked away first, though, when she saw Thomas clearly had no intention of backing down.
“I am only thinking of Louisa’s future,” she muttered.
“As you should,” Thomas said, gentling his tone. “There are, however, many eligible suitors for Louisa’s hand. This is her third season, Aunt, and I do not doubt that she has been just as overwhelmed with suitors throughout the previous two. What is she waiting for?”
Clarice hesitated before sighing heavily. “I do not know,” she admitted. “She seems to delight in having every man at her feet; if she chooses one, I think she fears the others will all abandon her.”
“That is rather the point of a marriage,” Thomas said, not unkindly. “I should not want a wife who wanted to be surrounded and adored by other suitors.”
“Of course not.”
Clarice’s head was down, and Thomas realised his aunt was deeply distressed about something. Gently, he took her arm and guided her to a chaise, pressing her to take a seat.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Aunt?” he asked gently.
There were tears on her cheeks when she looked up at him. “Perhaps we spoiled her,” Clarice said, her voice cracking. “Yet I too was a little spoiled by my parents, and I am sure I was not so awful as Louisa can be when she does not get her way. I saw her face when Lord Bellmere left her to return to Ellen, and you followed; someone will pay for that, Thomas.”
“What do you mean?” He really didn’t understand.
Clarice hesitated before the words spilled from her in a rush. “She is my daughter, the only child I have left, but God help me, she terrifies me! She stabbed a maid once with a pair of scissors; the poor girl almost bled to death, Havers had to pay her off…”
Thomas’ jaw dropped. He could scarcely believe what his aunt was saying. “Louisa stabbed a maid?” he said faintly as Clarice sobbed.
“There was so much blood,” Clarice sniffled. “And Louisa seemed so calm, just stabbing her again and again, saying that Nellie had made eyes at Mr Danvers while she was carrying in the tea tray.”
“Christ!” Thomas was appalled. There was something seriously wrong with Louisa, that was obvious. He’d thought Clarice’s efforts to satisfy Louisa’s every whim were just those
of a mother over-indulging a spoiled daughter, but now he realised Clarice was terrified of the consequences should Louisa feel she was not receiving her due.
“Oh, dear God. Ellen.”
He was on his feet without conscious thought, running for the door, sprinting across the hall to take the stairs three at a time, shouting Ellen’s name.
Behind him, he heard Clarice call his name, but he ignored her entirely, too focused on getting to Ellen as quickly as possible. Just in case. Surely Louisa wouldn’t hurt her, but…
He ran faster.
Chapter Twelve
*
“What a delightful afternoon!” Louisa exclaimed as they walked up the stairs together. “Did you enjoy yourself, Ellen?”
“I did, yes,” Ellen agreed.
“Were you surprised to receive callers yourself? You looked surprised, when you entered the parlour to see Major Trevithick and Lord Bellmere.”
“I was,” Ellen admitted. “Though both of them asked at the ball last night if they might call on me, I confess I did not truly expect them to do so, and certainly not so soon.”
Louisa hummed to herself and nodded. “Come into my room so we can talk further,” she invited as they reached her door. “I’ve had two seasons already, and my fair share of importunate suitors. There are things you should know.”
Her last words were delivered with a tone and expression of dire warning. Concerned, Ellen immediately followed Louisa into her room, where Louisa’s maid looked up in consternation from her task of laying out clean clothes on the bed.
“M’lady?”
‘Leave us,” Louisa said, waving a hand towards the door. “I’ll ring when I need you.”
“Very good, m’lady!” The girl scurried quickly from the room, closing the door behind her.
An Earl For Ellen (Blushing Brides Book 1) Page 8
