by Mary Balogh
Madeline laughed. “You would not think so if you had ever heard him arguing with me,” she said, “and trying to send me away. The very worst thing for him, you see, and the one he will perhaps never adjust his mind to, is his appearance. He will not receive company or go outside his cousin’s door. He will not inflict the sight of himself on other people. The foolish man.”
“He was a good-looking young man just a few months ago,” Ellen said gently. “It must be hard for him.”
“Yes, it is,” Madeline said. “But he need not fear. I am going to spend the rest of my life looking after him and making life easy for him.” She smiled at her companion. “I am very happy, Mrs. Simpson.”
“I am glad.” Ellen smiled back. “Everyone deserves to know some of that kind of happiness in life.”
Madeline opened her mouth and closed it again. Her eyes saddened. “It will happen for you again,” she said very quietly.
Lord Eden helped all three ladies from the carriage when they reached Kensington Gardens, Ellen last. By the time she stepped down onto the pavement, she was dismayed to find that Madeline had already linked her arm through Jennifer’s and was walking off with her. She drew a steadying breath.
“This is what you did not wish for, is it not?” Lord Eden said, offering her his arm. “I must confess that I had hoped to avoid it too. It is difficult to meet again.”
Well, Ellen supposed, if they must speak to each other, it was probably better to speak openly like this rather than in the stilted manner in which they had conversed at Dorothy’s. “Yes,” she said.
“Do you blame me for coming?” he asked. “Do you wish I had not?”
“Why did you?” she asked. “Nothing can be accomplished by our meeting again. Only embarrassment for both of us.”
“I had to come,” he said. “I promised Charlie that I would see you and Miss Simpson safe.”
She felt her stomach lurch and was afraid that she was going to be overcome by dizziness again.
“We must not avoid his name,” he said. “He was my friend. The two of you were my friends, Ellen. I would hate to think that a few days of thoughtless madness have wiped out three years of friendship.”
She said nothing for a while. “But they did,” she said at last.
“Yes, I suppose so.” He looked about him at the grass dotted with fallen leaves. “I had hoped that perhaps we could still be friends. But I suppose we can’t. We can make all sorts of excuses for what happened between us, but the fact is that it happened and will always be there, a shared embarrassment.”
“Yes,” she said.
He drew an audible breath. “So what are your plans now?” he asked. “You are going to call on Charlie’s father, you said?”
“Yes,” she said. “I promised Charlie that I would. But as it happens, Sir Jasper has been the one to make the first move. I am hoping that he will take Jennifer in and take charge of her future.”
“And you?” he asked.
“Charlie left me an independence,” she said. “I will buy a cottage in the country and move there. I don’t know exactly where yet.”
“Alone, Ellen?” he said. “It will be a lonely life.”
“I think not,” she said. “It is what I want.”
“You will not stay with your father-in-law?” he asked. “You are very young still.”
“I would rather be independent,” she said. “And what about you, my lord? You have sold out of the army?”
“As you see,” he said. “I think I will be moving to my property in Wiltshire soon. It is time I stopped wandering and settled down. I would think that Edmund will be removing his family back to Amberley soon, now that we are all safely home from Belgium. I don’t know about Mama and Madeline. I suppose a great deal depends upon Penworth. I will be going soon, I think.”
And there seemed to be no more to say. Ellen held to his arm and was reminded of the walk they had taken in the Forest of Soignes the day after she had become physically aware of him for the first time. Oh, no, they could never become merely friends. Because she could never again be without this almost sick awareness of him when he was close, this urge to flatten her palm and her fingers more firmly on his arm, to close her eyes and lay the side of her head against the broad shoulder so close to it.
Dear God, she thought, it was this man’s child she was carrying in her womb.
They could certainly never be just friends again.
“Why did you faint?” he asked abruptly.
“I have not been in the best of health,” she said.
“You have lost weight,” he said. “You have suffered, Ellen.”
“You must understand,” she said, “that he was my world. I have lost people before, by death and otherwise. But they were always a part of my life, not life itself. Charlie was my life. The world is a very empty and a very frightening place without him.”
“Yes,” he said, and laid a warm hand over hers. She did not try to pull away from it. “I can believe that, though fortunately I have not experienced it. Not directly. I remember my mother after my father died. I’m sorry, Ellen. And more sorry than I can say that I am unable to offer any of the comfort I might have been able to offer had I remained just Charlie’s friend.”
She drew a deep breath. “I have forgiven you for that,” she said. “And myself too. I would rather not dwell on it. And you are not to think that I am a broken woman. I am not. I have lived through two months of intense grief, when the pain of living at times seemed almost too much to bear. But I am through them now and on my way back to life. I will live again if only for Charlie’s sake. He would have been upset to see me as I have been. But for my own sake too. Life is too precious a gift not to be lived. You are not to feel sorry for me, my lord.”
He smiled. “I remember your saying those exact words in Spain,” he said, “when you were soaked to the skin after fording a river at night, only to discover that your servant had lost your tent in the crossing. And Charlie was off somewhere else on duty. Of course, your teeth were chattering so loudly that it was hard to hear the words. Do you remember?”
She looked into his face for the first time that afternoon. She gave him a fleeting smile. “Yes,” she said, “though it was a good thing that you had to ride off immediately. I believe I spent the rest of that night howling with self-pity and huddling over an inadequate fire.”
She looked away again when his green eyes crinkled at the corners and smiled back at her.
“Here comes Susan,” Madeline said suddenly, looking back over her shoulder at Lord Eden.
The lady who was approaching on the arm of a portly gentleman of haughty bearing was also in deep mourning, Ellen saw. She was small and dainty. She carried a lace-trimmed handkerchief in her free hand. It was impossible to see her face until she drew close, as she wore a heavy black veil over it.
She was also a wilting little creature, Ellen discovered, noting the contrast between her affected greeting of Lord Eden and his sister and their effusive greeting of her. And then Ellen recognized her as the pretty auburn-haired lady who had spoken and danced with Lord Eden at the Duke of Wellington’s ball in Brussels.
“Well, Susan, how do you do?” Lord Eden asked when Ellen and Jennifer had been introduced on the one side, and Lord Renfrew on the other.
“Quite as well as can be expected, my lord,” Susan said, dabbing at her eyes beneath the veil. “It is quite devastating to be without my poor dear husband, but my brother-in-law has been kind. I am sure you must quite know how I feel, Mrs. Simpson.”
Ellen inclined her head.
“Your mother is here with you too, Susan?” Madeline said. “I have been meaning to call upon the two of you. I shall do so one day, and bring Mama or Dom with me.”
“Oh, that is very kind of you, I am sure,” Susan said, large hazel eyes gazing soulfully at Lord Eden. “But I would not put you to any inconvenience on my account.”
“It will be no inconvenience at all, Susan,” Lord Eden sai
d with a bow. “Perhaps we may call upon you tomorrow?”
“How very kind!” Susan murmured. “I find it very hard not to be able to venture outdoors until his lordship has the time to take me. Even a simple visit to the library becomes out of the question. Oh, Mrs. Simpson, we take husbands so very much for granted until they are no longer there at our convenience, do we not?” Another dab of the handkerchief.
Ellen inclined her head again.
Lord Eden was smiling. Ellen could hear it in his voice. “If it is the library you wish to visit, Susan,” he said, “your need is easily answered. I shall accompany you there tomorrow morning while Madeline converses with Mrs. Courtney.”
Hand and handkerchief flew to Susan’s mouth. “Oh, my lord,” she said. “I could not so impose upon your time. I would have said nothing if I had thought you would feel obliged to make the offer.”
“It is no imposition at all,” he said. “We will see you in the morning.” He nodded to Susan’s silent companion. “Renfrew?”
“As if she could not go to the library or anywhere else, for that matter, with Mrs. Courtney!” Madeline said indignantly when they had walked on a little way. “Or with a maid. Oh, really, Dom, Susan has not changed one little bit since she was a child.”
Lord Eden chuckled. “But it is a very little thing to accompany her to the library,” he said.
“Hm,” Madeline said in some disgust.
Ellen was relieved to find that her walking companion was now Madeline. And Madeline was soon laughing gaily and drawing smiles from Ellen over a trio of gorgeous dandies who were mincing along the pathway ahead of them.
When the carriage stopped later outside Lady Habersham’s house on Bedford Square, Madeline smiled eagerly at both Ellen and Jennifer. “It has been so pleasant to meet you again,” she said. “Let us not make this the last time. Will you come to tea? I know that Mama will be delighted to see you again, Mrs. Simpson. And of course she has not met Miss Simpson at all. Will you come? Tomorrow?”
“We have another engagement tomorrow,” Ellen said, feeling rather than seeing the stillness of the man opposite her.
“But we can come the next day.” Jennifer was flushed and bright-eyed. “Can we not, Ellen?”
“Yes.” Ellen smiled at Madeline. “That would be very pleasant. Thank you.”
Lord Eden vaulted from the carriage to help them down.
“Was not that just a lovely afternoon?” Jennifer said to Ellen when they were inside the house. She looked quite her old exuberant self, Ellen thought, despite the black clothes. “Suddenly there are things to do, Ellen, and friends to be with. And all without any effort at all on our part.”
“I am very glad for you,” Ellen said. “It is time you had some brightness in your life again. Mr. and Miss Carrington are to call for you tomorrow morning, did you say?”
The girl nodded happily. “Isn’t Lady Madeline just lovely, Ellen? I wish I could have her beauty and her charm and poise.”
“You will.” Ellen smiled as she removed her bonnet. “All she has that you don’t, Jennifer, is extra years and experience.”
“Lord Eden is excessively handsome even now that he is not wearing a uniform, is he not?” Jennifer said. “I just wish I did not feel like such a child when I am with him. I always have done. I don’t feel that way with other gentlemen. I don’t feel blushing and tongue-tied with Mr. Carrington, for example. Of course, he is not near as handsome as Lord Eden.”
Ellen had never been sure how her stepdaughter felt about Lord Eden. She hoped now that the girl would not develop a tendre for him. Oh, she hoped not. She did not think she would be able to bear that. But most of all, she hoped that Jennifer would not have a chance to develop a tendre for him. Would they see much more of him? She hoped not. If it had not been for Lady Madeline issuing that invitation to tea, she did not think that he would have suggested any further meeting. He had realized, as she had, that there could never be anything between the two of them but awkwardness and embarrassment.
She did not think that the visit had been his idea.
“Are you playing devil’s advocate, Mad?” Lord Eden was asking his twin in the carriage.
“Whatever are you talking about?” She looked at him with wide innocent eyes.
“That look won’t work,” he said. “This is me, remember?”
She grinned at him. “I wish you could have seen yourselves,” she said, “seated side by side in Lady Habersham’s salon. It was a sight for sore eyes, Dom. You were behaving like the stiffest of strangers.”
“It is called embarrassment,” he said, his voice testy. “But I notice that you did not do much to rescue me, Mad. You made very sure that we walked together in Kensington Gardens.”
“Look me in the eye,” she said, “and tell me that you did not want to talk privately with her, Dom. And while you are about it, tell me that you have no spark of feeling left for her. Do it. Come on. And I shall call you liar.”
“She was my friend for three years,” he said in exasperation. “She nursed me when I was close to death, and I fancied myself in love with her for a week. Of course I have feelings for her.”
“You were lovers too, weren’t you?” she asked more gently.
“No, of course we weren’t,” he said.
“She was lying on the bed with you, Dom,” she said. “You were kissing her. I am not a green girl.”
“If you know so much, then,” he said irritably, “why did you ask?”
She shrugged. “I like her,” she said. “She is so different from your usual type of flirt, Dom. I think she is perfect for you. And though she undoubtedly was very devoted to Captain Simpson and has suffered a great deal since his death, I think perhaps she could come to love you too. She would not have become your lover lightly. So, yes.” She smiled rather impishly. “I was playing devil’s advocate. Or heaven’s angel, perhaps.”
“I think you had better concentrate all your angel-of-mercy tendencies on Penworth in future,” Lord Eden said. “And leave me to look after my own affairs.”
“And talking of affairs,” she said, “you are not about to pick up with Susan again, are you, Dom?”
“To what?” he said, frowning.
“She had you wrapped about her little finger before you bought your commission,” she said. “She started it again this afternoon, and you came running like a little puppy dog.”
“Because I said I would take her to the library?” he said. “What nonsense are you talking, Mad?”
“You have always had a dreadful weakness for helpless females,” she said. “You used to fall in love with them routinely, Dom. You know you did. I was very much afraid a few years ago that Susan was about to net you. You would have been miserable for the rest of your life. Now she is going to be after you again.”
“What nonsense you talk,” he said. “I am taking the woman to the library, not the altar!”
“I hope so,” Madeline said before transferring her gaze beyond the window.
ELLEN’S FLUTTERING HEART was calmed the following afternoon by the necessity of dealing with Jennifer’s extreme nervousness.
“Will he like me?” she asked her stepmother over and over again, her dark eyes huge with anxiety.
“If he does not,” Ellen said eventually, “then he does not deserve to be liked either, Jennifer. Just be yourself and don’t worry.”
“Papa never told me why he quarreled with Grandpapa,” the girl said. “But I think it was because of Mama. It was, wasn’t it, Ellen?”
The girl was no child to be comforted with some soothing story. “I think she was part of it,” she said. “But listen to me, Jennifer. Your papa married your mother even in defiance of his own father, and he loved you dearly until the day of his death. You know that. You have nothing to feel anxious about. If your grandpapa does not like you, then that is his problem, not yours. But let us not judge him ahead of time.”
Jennifer sighed. “I will be so glad to have this over with,”
she said. “Thank goodness I was busy this morning and unable to brood on this afternoon. Mr. Carrington and Anna are such good company, Ellen. And Mr. Phelps, Anna’s friend, is an amiable gentleman too. I enjoyed myself so much. Was it not a happy coincidence that we also met Lord Eden and Mrs. Jennings? Though we knew yesterday, of course, that he was going to escort her to the library.”
“I am glad you had a happy morning,” Ellen said.
“Do you think Aunt Dorothy was offended that I could not eat much luncheon?” Jennifer asked. “I did not have any appetite, I’m afraid, after the six of us went to a confectioner’s for cakes. Mrs. Jennings was very friendly, Ellen. Her father is a tenant of Lord Amberley’s, you know. She has known Lord Eden and Lady Madeline all her life.”
Ellen was content to let her stepdaughter prattle on happily about the morning’s events until they were in the carriage with a rather tense Dorothy on their way to Sir Jasper Simpson’s residence on Clifford Street. And her own heart began to thump again.
She would have known he was Charlie’s father, she thought later as they were ushered into the drawing room, even if the room had been full of people. The same height and build. The same open, jovial face. His head was somewhat balder.
She curtsied and felt her stepdaughter doing the same beside her.
“My dear!” The elderly gentleman crossed the room and took Ellen’s hands in both of his. He stood shaking them up and down and looking into her face. “So you are Charlie’s wife. So young and so pretty. You are looking at a foolish old man, my dear. A foolish old man.”
Ellen smiled uncertainly at him. He was dressed in deep mourning, she noticed. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” she said. “I promised Charlie that I would, if it was possible.”
“If it was possible!” he said, wringing her hands. “I am a foolish old man, my dear.”
Dorothy had already presented both of them to her father. But Ellen turned her head toward Jennifer and smiled. “Will you not meet your granddaughter?” she asked.
Sir Jasper released her hands and turned to Jennifer. “Let me look at you, my dear,” he said. He nodded. “Very pretty. Very pretty indeed. So you are Charlie’s girl, are you? Well, do you have a kiss for your grandpapa, child?”
