Sister Genevieve's eyes widened at his touch, but he noticed she didn't pull away. His eyes locked with hers, and he felt as if he'd get lost in their chocolate depths.
Finally she spoke, breaking the spell that had weaved itself around them. “I can't go out in this dress. I need you to find me something else to wear.”
Devon looked over her body once more before saying, “It looks beautiful. You look beautiful.”
Sister Genevieve huffed her impatience, before finally dropping her hands from her chest. The neckline of the dress was designed to hang partway off the shoulders, exposing her collar and a fair amount of her décolletage. Devon's mouth went dry, and he was rendered speechless.
“See,” she pleaded, “This gown is hardly decent for me to wear out in public.”
It took Devon a few moments to regain himself enough that he could speak. It was true that the gown was more revealing than her nun's habit was, an easy feat to accomplish, but it was hardly any more revealing than any other dress worn by the lady's of the ton. Besides, the gown hung on her frame as if it had been custom fitted especially for her, although it was slightly long. Sister Genevieve must not be as tall as his sister was. There was no way he was going to allow her to change from the gown.
“I have never seen a lovelier vision in all of my life. I understand that it seems rather revealing, and seeing as how you are accustomed to your robes, I can see how this would feel rather scandalous, but I assure you it is not. Besides, there is no time to change. We must be on our way.”
Sister Genevieve bit her lip nervously, not the least bit confident in wearing the gown. Finally Devon stepped behind her. “Here's something that will help cover you up.” He slid her diamond necklace around her neck, clasping it in place.
She reached up and fingered the jewels. “My necklace,” she whispered.
“Your necklace,” he repeated. “I wanted you to be able to wear it one last time before I sold it for you.”
Just as he had hoped, the necklace momentarily distracted her from her discomfort with the gown. He reached for her arm, hooking it around his elbow so he could lead her from the room.
Just before they began making their descent down the stairs, he paused and spoke lowly so nobody would be able to hear but her, “I forgot one minor detail. What should I call you?”
She was thoughtful for a brief moment before saying, “Elenore, please call me Elenore.”
Chapter 24
Elenore glanced out the window as the carriage came to a halt in front of a red brick townhouse. She was nervously wringing her hands together when Devon reached over and placed one hand on top of hers. “Everything will go well tonight, you'll see.”
The footman opened the door and assisted Elenore from the carriage. Devon soon joined her on the walk, taking her hand and placing it on his arm, before escorting her into the house. The butler greeted them somberly then began showing them to the parlor. They had just started down the hall when Lord Grayson appeared.
“I'm so glad you could make it Lord Bridgerton. Where is your father?”
“Regretfully, he wasn't able to attend. He sends his apologies.”
Lord Grayson nodded before indicating that they follow him. Coming to a stop in the doorway leading into the parlor, Lord Grayson paused and turned to eye Elenore shrewdly, before saying, “Please forgive my rudeness for failing to make introductions earlier, but who might this lovely lady be?”
Elenore waited for Devon to respond. “This is Miss Elenore,” he said, before leaning in close to Lord Grayson and whispering something she could not hear. Whatever he had said seemed to amuse Lord Grayson as a sly smile spread on his face.
He turned towards Elenore, mocking a bow and saying, “Pleased to meet you. I'm Lord Grayson.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Elenore said politely, before Lord Grayson turned and walked into the parlor.
Devon surprised her by grabbing her arm and shoving her into the next room. “What is this all about?” she asked, as soon as the door was closed.
“There's been a change in plans. I had to tell Lord Grayson that you are my mistress.” Elenore gasped but Devon ignored her and continued on. “I glanced in the parlor and noticed my uncle, Lord Wentworth is here. I'm not sure what he is doing here but I couldn't very well introduce you as my cousin, he would know that wasn't true.”
“And you couldn't think of anything more proper than a mistress?”
To his credit, Devon looked embarrassed. “I'm sorry but it's the first thing that I thought of. We are going to have to appear more...” he paused as he tried to think of an appropriate word to use, “familiar with one another, do you understand?”
Elenore sighed. “Devon, I'm not sure I can do this.”
Devon opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, the opened. Elenore gasped as Devon pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest and pressing his mouth to hers in a very familiar way. She didn't have time to respond before she heard somebody clearing their throat and turned to see Lord Grayson staring at them, his eyes alight with amusement.
“Pardon the interruption, but I was wondering where you two had gotten off to.”
Devon flashed him a knowing smile. “Miss Elenore is looking so fetching tonight I found I couldn't resist her.”
Elenore's face flamed scarlet at his words but Lord Grayson didn't seem bothered by his forwardness. “I can't say I blame you, but my friend is most anxious to meet you. Do come along.”
Devon nodded and let go of his hold on Elenore. They followed Lord Grayson into the parlor where introductions were to be made. Elenore willed herself to forget about the scorching kiss Devon had just branded on her lips, as her eyes quickly scanned the occupants of the room, hoping that her eyes would not rest on any familiar faces. She was introduced to Lord Grayson's wife, a stern looking woman who appeared as if she didn't smile very often, before being introduced to his friend Lord Timothy and his escort, Lady Arabelle. Last, she was introduced to Devon's uncle, Lord Wentworth and his wife. She dipped into a curtsey before standing and glancing once more at Lady Wentworth. The lady looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't quite place where she may have seen her.
As Devon escorted her to the settee, she kept stealing surreptitious glances at Lady Wentworth, trying to decide why she looked so familiar. It took her a moment but recognition finally dawned. She was the lady who she had come to speak with Lord Brattondale in private. It all began to make a little more sense to her. The reason the earl had addressed her so familiarly was because she was family. She quickly averted her eyes when Lady Wentworth turned in her direction, shifting nervously in her seat, hoping that the lady would not recognize her from their short encounter at Westbrooke Hall.
Elenore curled into herself as much as possible without looking slouchy, hoping to draw no undue attention to herself. The conversation in the room centered on idle gossip of the ton that in no way interested her, so she sat quietly ever aware that Lady Wentworth's scrutinizing eyes were upon her.
When there was finally a lull in the conversation, Lord Grayson instructed the party that they would be moving to the dining room for super to be served. Elenore tried to ignore the way Devon's hand found the small of her back, gently easing her towards the rest of the group, as they made their way to the dining room. The one time she dared look at him, he had had the audacity to wink at her, causing her skin to tingle and her cheeks to burn. He was playing his part all too well, and he seemed to be enjoying it immensely.
As soon as everyone was making their way to their seats, a footman began bringing in trays containing bowls of steaming soup. As per Devon's earlier instructions, Elenore knew it was time for her to make her leave. She glided over to Lady Katherine, Lord Grayson's wife and leaned in to whisper behind one gloved hand, “Could you kindly direct me to the retiring room?”
Lady Katherine nodded tightly, before calling over one of the maids. “Would you please show Miss Elenore where the retir
ing room is located?” The maid dipped her chin in agreement, and Lady Katherine turned her attention back to Elenore. “I will instruct the servants to hold the meal until you have returned.”
“Oh, that will not be necessary. I hate to make everyone wait on me, go ahead and begin without me, and I'll join you speedily.” Elenore was already plenty nervous about searching Lord Grayson's study, and she knew there was no way she could do a thorough job if everyone was anxiously waiting on her to begin their meal.
As soon as Lady Katherine reluctantly agreed to move forward with the meal, she followed the maid out of the room and down the hall to the retiring room. She thanked the maid and entered, waiting patiently until she was certain the maid had returned to the dining room. Slipping once more into the hall she glanced back and forth cautiously, making sure that no one saw her as she began opening doors in hopes of finding the study. She found the room she was looking for on her third attempt and silently slipped in, shutting the door tightly behind her.
Standing in the study, she glanced around. Lord Grayson's desk was littered with papers and other various knick knacks. He didn't appear to be concerned much with orderliness. She went and sat at the large leather chair behind the desk and began carefully rummaging through the stacks of paper, hoping she could find something that might help Devon locate his father's missing money.
When none of the papers on top of the desk turned up any helpful information, she began opening the drawers in the desk. She imagined pulling the top drawer open and miraculously finding a stack of money in the exact sum that Lord Grayson had won from Lord Brattondale, but when she opened the drawer, there was nothing of the sort. Disappointed, she began searching the remainder of the drawers, all to no avail. Sitting back in the chair she began nibbling on her bottom lip, as she glanced around the room looking for a safe or any other location Lord Grayson may have stashed away a large sum of money.
In the corner of the study was a large, black safe. Elenore rose and walked to it and lifted the handle, foolishly hoping it wouldn't be locked. She laughed to herself when the door didn't budge. Of course it would be locked. That was the purpose of a safe, to keep valuables secure. She took a moment to look in a few other locations, before deciding she wasn't going to have any luck finding the money. She had known that Devon's plan was far-fetched, but she knew he was acting out of desperation at this point, and she had hoped that his efforts would have yielded some fruit for all of his labors and found that she was disappointed when they did not.
Straightening her dress she prepared to return once more to the dining room, hoping that her prolonged absence wouldn't arouse suspicion. As she entered the dining room, all the men stood in greeting. Devon quickly moved to escort Elenore to her chair, as a waiting footman scurried to bring her food. Everyone was quiet as she sat, but as soon as she began eating, the conversation resumed and all eyes turned from her.
Elenore could feel Devon's eyes on her and turned to look into his face. His brown eyes were prying into her own, and she knew he was eager to know if she had found anything. She silently mouthed the word no and watched as his shoulders drooped in disappointment. Her heart dropped, for she knew that he had been so hopeful that tonight would lead him to some answers regarding his father's disappearing money. She longed to comfort him, reaching out beneath the table to place her hand on his thigh in a gesture of comfort. She realized she was being forward, but she didn't know what else to do to offer comfort.
His eyes turned to find hers and his penetrating gaze refused to look away. He slid his hand underneath the table and placed it on top of hers, squeezing her hand gently. She gazed into his eyes, noting how familiar they had become to her. Looking into their brown depths, they no longer reminded her solely of her father's coffee, they reminded her of all the adventures they had shared together, of stolen kisses they had shared, and all of the tender emotions he evoked within her. She tried to remind herself that it wouldn't be long before she sailed to America and would never look into those eyes again. Her heart actually grew painful at the thought, and for the first time since she had decided to go to America, she doubted her plan.
Something in her screamed that she would be foolish to leave him behind, that she would never find somebody who would appreciate her, faults and all, as fully as he did, that nobody would ever excite her the way that he did. Looking into his eyes she longed to tell him the truth, that she really wasn't who he believed her to be. Guilt tugged at her heart, threatening to overtake the pain that she was already feeling at the thought of leaving him. For the first time since meeting him, she contemplated telling him the truth about who she was.
“Lord Bridgerton, have you heard a word I've said?”
Devon's gaze snapped away from hers, as he looked up at Lord Wentworth. “Sorry uncle, it appears I was momentarily distracted.”
“Yes, I can see that. I was asking after your father.”
Devon straightened in his chair, dropping his hand from Elenore's. “He's currently at our country estate in Surrey. He hasn't been feeling well.”
“Yes, I've noticed he hasn't been in town much this season. I had heard some rumors about him recently and was hoping they weren't true.”
Devon stiffened at his comments but didn't respond. Lady Wentworth laughed nervously beside her husband. “Now dear, let's not concern ourselves with idle gossip. I'm sure whatever you have heard about my brother is false.” Her eyes briefly flickered to Elenore before glancing nervously away. Elenore fidgeted in her chair and dropped her gaze to her plate. Had the lady somehow recognized her?
Lord Wentworth addressed his wife without even looking at her, “Now Gertrude, don't be so quick to defend your brother when you know nothing about what is spoken of amongst gentleman.”
Lady Wentworth's face tightened in displeasure. “This is not a proper conversation to be having amongst ladies. I suggest you retire to the library for port and cigars, if you wish to continue.”
“Very well,” he said brusquely as he glanced at Lord Grayson, seeking his approval.
Lord Grayson rose, indicating that the gentleman follow, as he left for the library. Elenore watched the men leaving, dreading spending the remainder of the evening by herself without Devon.
She remained silent, as she followed the three other women to the drawing room and waited for tea to be served. The room was uncomfortably silent as each woman seemed disinclined to speak to one another. Elenore wondered if she had ever kept company with such unfriendly women in her life. They all kept eying her as if she was some sort of pariah, which if they thought she was Devon's mistress that would make complete sense.
Elenore didn't know how long they sat in awkward silence, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, when she was sure she couldn't take it anymore, Devon entered the room. “Miss Elenore, it's time for us to leave.”
Elenore stood swiftly, anxious to be rid of the tension filled room. She watched as Devon bowed in parting to all the ladies, before taking her arm and escorting her from the house. Elenore remained silent until they were tucked away in the privacy of his carriage before speaking. “Were you able to find anything out?”
“No,” he said through gritted teeth. “I apologize for wasting your time by bringing you here. This whole evening was nothing but a complete waste. I was foolish to think it would be that simple to track down some of my father's money. Whatever Lord Grayson did with the funds, I'm sure they are long gone by now, and I doubt I'll ever retrieve them.”
Elenore didn't want to voice what she was thinking, but she agreed. “Did you learn anything about the investments Lord Timothy is involved in? You may never get back the lost money, but maybe, if you invested your father's remaining funds wisely, you could begin to grow the estate once more.”
Devon reached up and raked both hands through his hair as he groaned. “No, the only thing they seemed interested in talking about was you.”
“Me?” Elenore asked, surprised.
“Yes. They must have b
een as taken in by your appearance tonight as I. I kept attempting to remind them of the investment information they promised to share, but none of them were eager to speak of such things. I'm beginning to think it was all a sham.”
“Oh Devon, I'm so sorry.”
He shrugged. “Don't be sorry. Just be glad that something positive came out of tonight.”
“And what is that?”
“I've finally realized that it's pointless for me to continue on in my charade as Black Lightening; therefore, I will resign my failed duties as highwayman and help my father the only sure way I know how.”
“How is that?” Elenore asked curiously.
“By agreeing to marry a lady with a large dowry. It's the only thing I can do, and the sooner the better, though I swore to myself I'd never stoop so low.”
Elenore filled with dread. He couldn't be serious. She knew how much he wanted to marry for love, and the thought of him being bound forever to someone whom he didn't harbor the tender emotion for, broke her heart. “Maybe I can help you,” she pleaded, hoping that he still had feelings for her, that if she told him the truth about her identity now, that he would agree to give her a chance, that he wouldn't be so quick to rush head-long into a marriage he would live to regret.
Devon looked at her skeptically before laughing sardonically. “How could you possibly help? Unless you have a hidden fortune somewhere that you are willing to part with, there's nothing you can do.”
Elenore's heart sunk. He was right. Even if she told him the truth, that she really wasn't a nun and that she had begun to care for him deeply, it wouldn't be enough. There was nothing she could do. She had never before known such despair. She sunk against the carriage seat and looked dejectedly out the window to avoid showing him the sadness that she knew would be etched on her face. “You’re right. There's nothing I can do.”
Chapter 25
Lord Grayson was relieved when his guests finally left and he was able to have a moment to speak to the man he had been working for in private. Shutting the door to his study and locking it with the key, he turned to Lord Wentworth and said, “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”
Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman Page 18
