He put the miniature on the desk. He must remember there was no hurry to wed. He was only twenty-eight—or would be the day after tomorrow. Now that he’d decided to remarry, he’d start looking around him. Perhaps Ellie would have some ideas.
Stupid! Ellie didn’t know any suitable females. She’d never been anywhere but Greycliffe.
Ellie ...
He took another sip of brandy, holding it on his tongue, letting its fumes fill his mouth and tickle the back of his nose.
Ellie of the ugly dresses and the scandalous red drawers.
Ellie might have been disappointed tonight, too. Cox had been one of her suitors. And it looked very much as if she’d lost Humphrey, as well. Odds were that the rattle-brain was going to propose to Miss Mosely before the house party was over. Well, Ellie should be thankful for that. The man’s never-ending bombast would drive her mad in short order.
“Ellie didn’t act disappointed, Reggie. She sat through the whole argument between Cox and Lady Juliet without saying a word.”
Ellie had always been levelheaded. She’d been a great comfort after Cicely died. He would talk to her tomorrow.
Would she be wearing the red drawers under her primly hideous frock?
He eyed Reggie. “You didn’t steal back Ellie’s drawers, did you?”
Reggie licked his paws as if to say his hands were clean—or to try to wash off his guilt.
“I’ll check, you know.” He tipped the bottle to pour more brandy, but nothing came out. Damn. He put it back down on the desk. “All right, Reggie, let’s see what you’ve stolen tonight.”
Ned stood—a bad decision. The room started to spin, and his stomach ...
He dived for the space under the bed. He couldn’t give a damn what Reggie had put there. There was only one thing he wanted. Desperately.
He grabbed the chamber pot just in time.
Chapter 15
Love should always be your goal.
—Venus’s Love Notes
The red silk drawers felt very, very odd slipping over her skin as Ellie descended the stairs the next morning. The very private part of her that they covered tingled in a most distracting fashion.
She flushed. Perhaps taking Ned’s suggestion to wear them so as to keep them safe from Reggie had been a mistake.
“Good morning, Ellie.”
Ellie almost missed the last step. She flung out her arm and grabbed the banister.
“Good morning, your grace,” she said once her heart had stopped pounding and her breathing was back under control. “Were you looking for me?” Lying in wait, more like—she’d swear the duchess had jumped out from behind the staircase.
Her grace grinned. “No, why would you think that?” She linked her arm with Ellie’s and started toward the breakfast room. “Though I am delighted to see you, of course. Were you going to have something to eat?”
“Y-yes.” Though now Ellie wasn’t certain her stomach would accept anything more challenging than a bit of dry toast.
“Splendid. I’ve been hoping to have a comfortable coze with you ever since the party started. Let us hope everyone else has chosen to take breakfast in their rooms.”
“Ah.” Damn, not another “comfortable” coze. Now she definitely wouldn’t be able to swallow a thing. She could only hope the rest of the party had decided to come downstairs. Surely Mr. Humphrey would be looking for something more sustaining than the tea and toast he could get in his chamber.
“Did you know Percy and Ophelia left this morning?” The duchess paused to inspect the painting of the lecherous fourth duke in the entry hall.
“No.” Ellie frowned. “I’d have thought Percy would be better today. Perhaps the doctor should have been called.”
“Oh, no, I don’t believe that was necessary.” The duchess shrugged. “Likely Percy felt he’d be more comfortable recovering in the familiar surroundings of his own home.”
That was a plumper of enormous proportions. Percy’s estate was far too dilapidated and understaffed to provide comfort to a flea let alone an injured man. “Which staircase did he fall down?”
“I really can’t say.” The duchess tore her eyes away from the lascivious duke and continued toward the breakfast room. “You don’t happen to know what he and Ned were arguing about on the way to the pond, do you?”
“No.” She had a strong guess, but she wasn’t about to mention the red drawers to Ned’s mother.
“Hmm.” The duchess treated Ellie to a probing look.
Ellie turned quickly to examine the painting of the fourth duke’s duchess. The poor woman looked tired and sad, which was understandable if even half of the stories about her disreputable husband were true. “Why would you think I’d know, your grace? You should ask Ned.”
“Yes, but I doubt he would tell me. It looked to be one of those male disagreements.” The duchess raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps over a love interest.”
Ellie’s jaw dropped and her eyes actually felt as if they were starting from their sockets. “Are you suggesting Ned has a romantic interest in Ophelia?”
The duchess’s jaw dropped too; then she laughed. “Oh, dear me, no! Not in a thousand years.”
“Then you think Percy is interested in Lady Juliet?” Ellie couldn’t make any sense of this conversation.
Her grace shook her head. “Not at all.” Her lips slid into a somewhat sly smile. “What did you make of that scene between Lady Juliet and Mr. Cox last night?”
Ellie was delighted to have the opportunity to say what she should have said last night. “It was appalling. I can’t quite fault Mr. Cox, since he appears to be suffering from strong emotions—and, frankly, I suspect he was in his altitudes last night—but Lady Juliet—” Ellie pressed her lips together. If Ned’s mother didn’t know the depths of Lady Juliet’s perfidy, she shouldn’t enlighten her. “I could not at all like the way she disregarded Ned’s feelings.”
“Oh, fiddle-de-dee.” The duchess flicked her fingers at Ellie and continued on to the breakfast room. “Ned deserves to have his feelings disregarded if he insists on being such a cabbage-head.”
This was certainly the morning for surprises. “But I thought you invited Lady Juliet with the express intention of matching her with Ned.”
The duchess shook her head. “I don’t match people with each other, dear. I simply gather a promising group together and let them match themselves, if they are so inclined.” She laughed. “Well, some people need a bit more help than others, but I never do more than nudge, I assure you.” Her gaze sharpened. “Not that there aren’t times I’d like to take certain people by the shoulders and shake some sense into them.”
The duchess hadn’t directed that last statement at her, had she? Why? She couldn’t complain Ellie hadn’t tried to find a match this year. “So you aren’t disappointed?”
“Oh, no. I’m delighted, actually—well, cautiously delighted. I’m still not completely convinced Lady Juliet will have the sense to throw her lot in with Mr. Cox, but I do believe last night was a good start. And if, as I suspect, she sought Mr. Cox out after she left the drawing room, it may have been a very good start indeed.” The duchess winked. “Mr. Cox struck me as a man who, when his back was finally to the wall, would suspend his notions of propriety long enough to persuade a woman that marrying him would be an excellent decision. But we shall see.”
They finally reached the breakfast room. Ellie was greatly relieved to find it was already occupied by Miss Wharton, Miss Mosely, Lady Heldon, and Mr. Humphrey.
“Good morning,” the duchess said as she entered. “How lovely to see so many of you here. I thought you ladies might prefer to have chocolate in your rooms.”
“Oh, I was too excited to stay abed, your grace,” Miss Wharton said. “Even though I didn’t win the heart hunting contest, I’m still looking forward to riding in a sleigh.”
“It is a delightful activity, isn’t it?” The duchess took her place at the table as Thomas brought her her usual selection of
food—eggs, ham, toast with marmalade, and tea.
Miss Wharton nodded vigorously. “It is one of my favorite things to do in winter.”
“And it’s a lovely day, too,” Miss Mosely said, tearing her eyes away from Mr. Humphrey for a moment. “The sky is so blue.”
“Indeed.” Of course Mr. Humphrey couldn’t remain silent. “A truly splendid day to be outdoors, your grace, as I was just saying to Miss Mosely. Not that yesterday wasn’t delightful as well, but when I looked out my window this morning—I have a view of the front lawns, a very lovely prospect, as I’ve been meaning to tell you, your grace, so I do apologize for being remiss in not doing so sooner—but as I was looking out my window at the snow and the deer and the birds, I thought to myself what a glorious day it is to go for a sleigh ride.”
“Yes,” her grace said, “though it is quite brisk out, so you will want to dress warmly.”
Ellie took the seat next to Lady Heldon; thankfully, her poor posterior had recovered from her tumble last night and she was able to do so without wincing. She would have preferred to sit somewhere else, but she didn’t want it to look as if she was avoiding the woman.
“Good God,” Lady Heldon muttered, “all this enthusiasm over a little sleigh ride.”
Privately Ellie would agree, but she didn’t care for Lady Heldon’s tone. “You must have patience with our simple country amusements.”
Lady Heldon gave Ellie a sour look. “I prefer other simple country amusements—of which I am getting none, I might add.”
Ellie hoped she didn’t understand Lady Heldon’s meaning, but she was very much afraid she did.
“What interesting things has Sir Reginald found this morning, your grace?” Miss Wharton asked. “It is always so funny to see what he collects.” She giggled. “He pilfered one of my stockings the other day.”
“I don’t know, Miss Wharton.” The duchess took a sip of tea. “You know Reggie brings all his treasures to Lord Edward, and I haven’t seen my son yet this morning. I’m sure he’ll be down shortly.”
Ellie’s stomach twisted. Ned—
No. Mentally she stiffened her spine. She’d vowed to fight for what she wanted—to fight for Ned—so she would have to actually do so. When she saw him. Today. Likely in just a few minutes.
“Where do you suppose Lord Ashton is?” Lady Heldon asked Ellie, sotto voce.
She replied in equally hushed tones, though she couldn’t understand why Lady Heldon was whispering the question to her instead of asking the duchess. “He probably ate hours ago and is in his study attending to business.”
Lady Heldon chewed her ham thoughtfully. “I take it you and he are”—she paused significantly, raising her eyebrows—“good friends?”
Damn, was the woman insinuating what Ellie thought she was? “Well, we’ve known each other from childhood, so of course we are friends.” She forced herself to smile and tried to change the conversation’s direction. “However, Lord Ashton is four years older than I; I believe he used to view me very much as a nuisance.”
Lady Heldon snorted. “Well he clearly doesn’t consider you a nuisance any longer.” She gave Ellie a very sly look. “More a convenience, hmm?”
“Excuse me?”
“Come, Miss Bowman, I’ve heard the gossip.”
“Gossip?” Oh, God, that came out in a guilty squeak, especially annoying as she wasn’t at all guilty with regard to Ash. She cleared her throat and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Surely you must know Lord Ashton’s odd marital situation is the talk of London. Rumors of all kinds abound, one of which is that you are his”—another blasted pause—“special friend.”
Anger bubbled up in Ellie’s breast. “I am nothing of the kind. Why would people repeat such malicious twaddle?”
“Perhaps because you’ve spent the majority of these parties in his pocket, though I will say you are being more discreet this year. Did the duchess finally rein you in?”
Ellie wished now that her plate was piled high with eggs and herring and marmalade so she could upend it in Lady Heldon’s lap with good effect. “Lady Heldon, you must not listen to such ridiculous tittle-tattle.”
Lady Heldon sniffed. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“Not in this case.” Ellie tried to keep her voice pleasant. She would take a page from Ned’s book. “I assure you Lord Ashton views me as a little sister.”
“Does he?” Lady Heldon nodded. “All right. I will say once I saw you I doubted the gossip. I mean, let us be reasonable here. What would a man like Lord Ashton see in a woman like you?”
Fortunately Ellie’s jaw was clenched too tightly in anger to drop at Lady Heldon’s unmitigated rudeness. “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, of course you must be aware that Lord Ashton is an exceedingly handsome man as well as the heir to the duchy, and you are ...” Lady Heldon shrugged eloquently.
“The daughter of a country vicar?” Ellie was happy her voice trembled only slightly. She could not shout at the duchess’s breakfast table. As it was, she felt her grace’s eyes on her.
“That, too.” Lady Heldon masticated another bit of ham, completely ignoring Ellie’s angry flush, and washed it down with a sip of tea.
Ellie knew she wasn’t the most beautiful or the most stylish female, but she wasn’t a complete quiz ... was she?
“No,” Lady Heldon said, apparently to herself, “my initial theory must be correct.” She looked back at Ellie, leaned over, and murmured by her ear, “So I suppose Lord Ashton has many, er, close male friends?”
Ellie leaned back and frowned at her. “I’m sure everyone finds Lord Ashton’s conversation intelligent.”
“I’m not talking about conversation.” Lady Heldon waggled her brows. “Unless you mean a very twisted sort of criminal conversation.”
Ellie hoped—probably in vain—that the duchess didn’t notice how red she must be. She was mortified and furious simultaneously. However, if she hadn’t overheard Lady Heldon, Ophelia, and Percy when they were coming up the stairs to the long gallery, she wouldn’t have the vaguest clue as to what Lady Heldon was suggesting. “I assure you, Lady Heldon, that Lord Ashton is faithful to his wife.”
Lady Heldon snorted. “And how do you know that?”
“I just do.” And yes, she realized how inane and, well, childish that sounded.
Lady Heldon rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Miss Bowman. No one your age can be quite that naïve.”
“What are you two whispering about?” the duchess finally asked.
Ellie took a deep breath. She didn’t wish to answer; her grace likely wouldn’t care for the fact they were discussing Ash, even though Ellie hadn’t said anything of a private nature. Not that she knew anything of a private nature to say.
“Lord Ashton,” Lady Heldon said calmly, obviously not shy about admitting her interest. Her color was still as normal as—Ellie looked more closely—her rice powder made it. “I was just asking Miss Bowman about his friends. You must know everyone in London is so curious about him and his absent bride.”
There was a moment of stunned silence that even Mr. Humphrey didn’t dare break. The duchess stared at Lady Heldon as if she were an especially exotic—and unpleasant—type of bug.
Now Lady Heldon did flush. “You know I’m not saying anything that everyone else here isn’t thinking, your grace.”
Ned’s mother raised her eyebrows. She suddenly looked exceedingly haughty, every inch the Duchess of Greycliffe. “Perhaps, Lady Heldon, but everyone else has the good manners to keep their vulgar curiosity to themselves.”
Lady Heldon drew in a sharp breath, and then her chin went up. She was obviously made of stern stuff—or else welcomed social suicide. “Until the Marquis of Ashton resolves his unnatural marital situation, curiosity—and much less polite emotions—will run rampant whether or not you, your grace, or any of us likes it.”
The duchess’s nostrils flared. Ellie had never seen her grace look so angry. She an
d everyone else at the table, with the possible exception of Lady Heldon, held their breath.
Ned’s mother opened her mouth—
“The sleighs are ready,” Jack said from the doorway. “Father suggests everyone adjourn to the drawing room.” He paused. “I say, did I interrupt something?”
The duchess forced a smile. “Not at all.” She looked around the table. “If you would like to follow Jack—”
Everyone shot to their feet.
“—except you, Lady Heldon.” Her grace’s voice was carved in ice. “If you would remain behind for a moment, I should like to have a brief word with you.”
“Don’t you love sleigh rides, Lord Edward?” Miss Wharton let Ned help her into the sled.
“Yes, they are very pleasant.” Ned went round to the other side, climbed in, and spread the lap rug over them. He would much prefer to be back inside. His stomach was unsettled, his head felt as if all the demons of hell were wielding pickaxes behind his forehead, and the bright sun on the vast expanse of white snow flung shards of pain through his eyeballs. At least the world had stopped spinning.
He would never drink brandy again for as long as he lived which at the moment felt like it would be only the next five minutes.
He picked up the reins, and the horses shambled into motion. He dearly hoped Miss Wharton would be content with a plodding pace, though given her somewhat frenetic approach to life, he doubted he’d be so lucky.
He wasn’t.
“Er, do you suppose we could go a little faster, Lord Edward? Lord Jack and Miss Bowman are far outstripping us.” She smiled at him. “And I do so love to feel the wind in my face.”
He glanced ahead at the red and gold sleigh in front of them. Jack and Ellie had almost reached the woods already. They were laughing about some damn thing. Ellie looked younger and prettier when she laughed.
And then they vanished into the trees.
His stomach twisted; damn this nausea, though this time it didn’t feel as if the brandy was totally to blame.
Bedding Lord Ned (Duchess of Love 1) Page 21
