The Scandal of Lady Eleanor

by Regina Jeffers

  They waited in their carriages for two hours outside St. James’s Palace before being admitted into the too-warm hallway of St. James’s Gallery, where they waited another hour. As the daughter and sister of a duke, Eleanor would be among the first to be presented.Velvet would wait with the others in order of precedence, as her parents, the Viscount and Lady Averette, were of middle importance in the line of nobility.

  The time arrived and Aunt Agatha escorted Ella to the Queen’s receiving room. As the door opened, Eleanor heard her aunt caution, “Breathe, Child,” forcing her to suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then Ella stepped forward and handed her card to the Lord Chamberlain while a gentleman-in-waiting spread out the ten-foot train, which was attached to her dress, behind her.

  “Lady Eleanor Fowler, daughter of William and Amelia Fowler, the Duke and Duchess of Thornhill,” the man’s voice boomed throughout the hall.

  Eleanor began her progress across the great room, praying with every step she would not trip on her train or finally lose the ornate headdress before she could complete the required curtsy. Before the throne, at last, Ella made the deep obeisance necessary for the Queen, murmuring “Your Highness,” as she did so. Then she gave a briefer bow to the rest of the court before dipping low once more to her monarch. This one she held, waiting for the Queen’s release.

  “Your niece,Your Grace?” the Queen asked, although she knew Agatha’s relationship to Eleanor.

  “Yes, Your Highness. Lady Fowler’s mother passed some seven years ago.”

  Queen Charlotte motioned to both ladies to stand. “And your father, Lady Fowler?” Hearing herself addressed by her proper title eased Eleanor’s nervousness. It was as if she were another person, playacting a role. From the beginning, she had never wanted to be called Lady Fowler, as that was her mother’s title. But even before her mother’s death, Ella shunned the proper reference to her position as the duke’s only daughter. She never wanted her name associated with his, so she always insisted on being Lady Eleanor, never Lady Fowler.

  “Passed three months ago,Your Highness.” Ella prayed that Aunt Agatha had made the correct move by having her wear black.

  “Ah, we had forgotten. We are pleased that you chose to show the proper respect for your family, Lady Fowler. Not many of the young cling to the old ways.”

  “Thank you,Your Highness.” A sigh of relief nearly slipped out, but Ella swallowed it.

  Queen Charlotte motioned to one of her courtiers, who made notations in a gigantic book he held, before returning her attention to Eleanor. “Your brother has assumed the title?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. His Grace returned from the Continent and entered upon his duties as Thornhill.” Ella began to become nervous all over again. Any conversation with the Queen was unusual. This one of some substance was infinitely unlikely.

  “Your brother claimed his place with the King?” Queen Charlotte demanded.

  “His Grace has seen to his duties,Your Highness.”

  “Excellent…excellent, indeed.” Queen Charlotte paused before adding, “And you cared for the late Duke during his illness?”

  “My father was abed for nearly two years,Your Highness. I did what I could to ease his suffering.”

  “You perform your duties well for one so young, Lady Fowler. You may tell His Grace we do not believe mourning clothes appropriate for a daughter of England during the Season.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” Again, Ella curtsied, aware her time was complete. Later, Velvet would be asked to kiss Queen Charlotte’s hand, but as the daughter of a duke, Eleanor received a different acknowledgment: Queen Charlotte kissed Ella’s forehead. Then, very carefully, Ella rose; another gentleman-in-waiting helped her drape the train over her arm, and she backed from the room, constantly aware of the liveried footmen who tactfully guided her steps.

  “You were a success with the Queen,” Worthing declared as he entered the blue sitting room at Briar House. He came forward and kissed Eleanor’s hand, bowing over it a few extra seconds—a warm, unexpected desire shooting straight to her secret spot. “I heard of nothing else all morning,” he assured her. “The haut ton will fall at your feet, Lady Eleanor.”

  Ella was so glad to see him after her stressful day that she nearly threw herself into his arms; she had thought of him more than a dozen times during the day—a dozen daydreams of the viscount’s voice—his eyes—his countenance—his muscular body. “I was petrified I would do something to disgrace the family,” she confessed.

  “You could never be a disgrace,” he asserted; however, Ella involuntarily winced with his words. “Have I spoken out of turn, Lady Eleanor?”

  She plastered on her best smile. “No, Lord Worthing.You never offer me an offense.”

  He led her to a nearby settee and joined her on it. They were alone in the room with the exception of Ella’s personal maid sequestered in a far corner. “Was Miss Aldridge as successful?”

  “Queen Charlotte showed my cousin a like kindness.”

  “I am happy to hear it. It will go a long way to support your cousin’s reputation in Society.”

  Ella raised her eyes to his. “And what of my reputation, Lord Worthing?”

  “You, my Dear, will rule Society this Season.” Ella rolled her eyes in disapproval of his words. “Do not go on so, Lady Eleanor. Your father has passed, and the ton has a short memory. Despite what you believe, you will not be judged by his actions, but rather by your own.” Ella prayed that he spoke the truth. Before she could respond, Mr. Horace tapped on the door and announced Levering’s presence.

  “Show Sir Louis in, Mr. Horace.” Despite her efforts to control her reservations, the unexpected visit turned the animated, happy Ella into Eleanor of the subservient bearing with just those six words. “Sir Louis, so kind of you to call.” She dropped the obligatory curtsy.

  “Lady Eleanor.” She noted how he had purposely switched to her more familiar name, making a silent claim on her acquaintance and causing every nerve in her body to balk in revolt. “I came to offer my congratulations on your success at court today.” He came forward to kiss her hand, a habit Ella wished he would break. “Yet, I see Lord Worthing has beaten me to it.” Levering gave James a look of pure contempt.

  Ella gestured to a nearby chair before indicating to Hannah that she should have tea brought in. Resettling herself on the settee beside the viscount, she explained, “As Lord Worthing is my brother’s closest associate, and as he loaned us the use of his carriage so both my cousin and I could attend Queen Charlotte today, it is natural that His Lordship is often in our company.”

  “Of course,” James put in to let Levering know where things stood, “I consider Lady Eleanor as close an associate as I do His Grace.” Ella thought she could kiss him for putting a claim on her before the baronet.

  “Naturally,” Sir Louis sneered. “Actually, I am surprised His Grace continues his association with you and Godown, Worthing; I mean, now that he is Thornhill.”

  Ella started to react, but Worthing interrupted before she could say something offensive. Instinctively, she knew he protected her reputation. She had just completed a social coup, something that would go a long way in paving her path into Society. He would not allow her to experience censure at the hands of a pompous ass such as Louis Levering. “And what, pray tell, do you see as my and the Marquis’s ‘association’?”

  She recognized an implied warning in His Lordship’s words, but Levering ignored it. “Everyone knows you chose private wars to the honor of fighting for your country—money over integrity,” he charged. “His Grace followed suit, but he should separate himself from that memory now that he is Thornhill.”

  “What do you insinuate, Levering? That my men and I did something illegal?” The viscount’s hands balled into fists, ready to pummel the man senseless, and Ella tensed in anticipation.

  However, Sir Louis pretended shock at Worthing’s challenge, keeping his tone noncommittal. “Of course not, Worthing. It was
an observation; I spoke out of turn. I am sure in whatever you and His Grace participated, you had your reasons.”

  “Please, Gentlemen,” Ella cut them short before a duel became necessary.

  Levering’s toothy smile spread across his face. “I apologize, Lady Eleanor. I meant my remarks only as a caution to your family. As your closest neighbor in Kent, I felt it my duty to protect your family name from further disparagement.”

  “My brother will choose his own friends, Sir Louis, as will I.”

  “Well, obviously, I have overstayed my welcome.” Belatedly, Levering stood and pulled on his gloves. “I hope this will not affect our relationship, Lady Eleanor.”

  Eleanor rose to see him out.“Our relationship remains the same as it has always been, Sir Louis.” She thought: nonexistent, but Ella fought the urge to speak the word aloud. “Thank you for your kindness today.”

  “Lady Eleanor.” Levering bowed to her before saying, “Worthing.” He offered James no such symbol of courtesy before making his leave.

  “Pompous prat!”The viscount hissed under his breath.

  Ella did not respond; she feared she had not seen the last of the combative Sir Louis, and if that were so, she was in more trouble than anyone could imagine.

  CHAPTER 5

  ADDITIONAL DAY OUTINGS occupied the ladies’ time, but no more attacks occurred. James’s and Fowler’s frustrations rose as they hit a dead end in the investigation. James worried extensively over the two attacks coming at Eleanor’s expense. He wanted her in his life; yet, as the danger mounted, he worried that even he might not be able to protect her. At night, he dreamed of stripping Ella naked and bringing a lovely blush to her pearly white skin, burying himself deep inside her and never coming out. He had enjoyed Mary’s ministrations for several years, but he had never lusted after her—had never seen her face when he closed his eyes. Not since Elizabeth had he wanted a woman as he did Eleanor; however, he desired her safety foremost.

  The Capertons’ ball would be James’s and Eleanor’s first opportunity to be seen as a “couple” in Society. The Capertons officially opened the Season with one of the most attended events of the yearly social calendar. James looked forward to claiming his dances with Ella. He had reserved two dance sets with her several days earlier, and, miracle of miracles, Eleanor had penciled him in for both waltzes. He would hold her close—close enough to smell the lavender on her skin and the apple blossom of her hair. The thought made his groin react. He had been hard since he met her. In addition to the pleasure of her in his arms, he would not have to suffer the pain of seeing her being led into such an intimate dance with any other man. James did not believe he could tolerate her being in another man’s arms. Straightening uncomfortably, he stood to stare out his study window. “Soon,” he murmured. “Soon, I will claim Eleanor as my own.”

  Aunt Agatha paved the way for clearing the last hurdle to their acceptance. The week the beau monde returned to the city, the Dowager Duchess hosted her first bi-weekly at home. With Briar House long in nonuse, those in town easily accepted, wishing to see for themselves that Thornhill had survived the scandalous ways of the previous duke. Among Agatha’s most honored guests were Lady Jersey and Princess Esterhazy, two of Almack’s infamous patronesses, making the Dowager Duchess’s first social event of the Season remarkably successful.

  As a result of Aunt Agatha’s manipulations, both Eleanor and Velvet received the required acknowledgment—a voucher for Almack’s first gathering. Having passed “inspection,” so to speak, both ladies could now accept invitations to waltz in public. Without the patronesses’ acceptance, neither could have partaken in what would have been considered a scandalous display by many of the older set.

  Velvet saved one of her waltzes for Godown, but the aftersupper one she purposely reserved for Bran. Not wishing to be with anyone else, Ella marked both of hers for Worthing. Aunt Agatha chastised her judgment in showing the viscount so much favoritism, but Ella easily accepted her aunt’s reprimand. It was a fair exchange for being held close by James Kerrington.

  The Capertons’ ball was a major squeeze for so early in the Season. Fowler escorted his three ladies, following other members of the nobility up the steep staircase and through the receiving line. He walked with Aunt Agatha, but was very aware of the gentlemen watching Eleanor and Velvet as they trailed closely behind him. Taking Queen Charlotte at her word, both wore the traditional white gowns associated with those making their Come Out.Velvet’s coloring contrasted well with the purest white, but Eleanor chose a beige-white so as not to let the lack of color wash out her fair complexion.

  Entering the ballroom at last, Ella’s eyes scanned the room for the one man she wanted most to see. Each day she grew more attached to the future earl. Then he appeared, and she heard her own quick intake of air, a mixture of fear and anticipation. Tall and broadchested, with a tapered waist and no extra fat found anywhere, he was all male, and she could not control her body’s reaction to him.

  Lord Worthing watched the door for her entrance and smiled seductively when her eyes met his. The green pools danced with excitement, and James felt the heat hit his groin. Ella’s cream-colored gown clung to her deceptively feminine curves, accentuating her elegance. About her neck she wore a single drop ruby on a gold chain, with ruby-tipped pins holding her golden curls close to her head. Delicate miniature embroidered roses decorated her neckline, and a deep red velvet ribbon emphasized her bustline. His Amazon! Damn, she was perfection!

  “Your Grace.” James exchanged bows with Fowler before turning his attention to the duke’s party. “Lady Norfield, will you partake of the dance tonight? If so, I must claim your dance card immediately.” Worthing bowed over the Duchess’s hand.

  “You wretched man!” Agatha struck James’s arm lightly with her fan. “I must continue to warn my niece of your falsehoods, my Lord. I should accept your challenge and steal you away for myself.”

  “Then I would be the most blessed of men,” he taunted.

  “I will take your arm, Lord Worthing. I see Lady Kramer over there, and I shall keep her company.” She laced her arm through his.

  “Certainly, Your Grace.” He helped her to a chair and brought her a lemonade from a nearby refreshment table. “Now, if you will excuse me, Lady Norfield, I must claim my cousin Alma’s hand for the opening set, or my uncle will be most vexed with me.”

  “Your cousin?” She raised her quizzing glass, an accessory she always wore, but rarely used.

  “Yes,Your Grace.”

  Agatha actually smiled this time. “I should be pleased to make your cousin’s acquaintance, Lord Worthing.”

  “And so you shall, Lady Norfield.” James bowed out of her company.

  Fowler placed Eleanor on his arm for the first set, a country dance, to lead her to the floor. “You look lovely, my Dear,” he whispered close to her ear. “I hope you no longer regret making this trip to London.”

  “It has been more pleasant than I anticipated. Of course, having your friends as part of our group gives Velvet and me a familiarity others may not have. I know if you are not available, one of them will step up and offer us his protection. It is quite extraordinary.”

  “Aunt Agatha was not amused to see you saved two dance sets for Lord Worthing, and both were waltzes,” he cautioned. “Is that wise, Ella? I do not wish familiarity to soil your good name, nor do I wish it to be too comfortable, where you will let no others into your life.”

  Ella edged closer as they took the few steps to the floor’s center. “I cannot imagine the dance’s intimacy although I know the steps. How could I trust such closeness to a complete stranger? And dancing as such with my brother would seem sordid.”

  “Do not forget that Worthing is still a man, Ella. He is not immune to your charms.”

  Ella stopped suddenly and looked beseechingly in her brother’s eyes. “Do you think it possible, Bran?”

  “I think it more than possible, Eleanor.” He set her in the line acr
oss from him.

  Sir Louis claimed the second set, a prospect to which Eleanor did not look forward, but as he called regularly at Briar House, she felt she had no choice. Now, as she took his hand to pass him in the form, Ella thanked the Heavens for her gloves. She imagined his skin as scaly as a snake and probably as slimy.

  “You look lovely, Lady Eleanor,” he murmured as he passed her.

  Ella stifled the urge to pull away from him. “Thank you, Sir Louis.”

  When they came together again, he met her eyes. “Might I call on you tomorrow, Lady Eleanor, and take you driving during the fashionable hour?”

  Just the sound of his voice made her want to run away and hide, but Eleanor steadied her pitch in response. “I have promised that honor to another, I fear, Sir Louis.”

  “Worthing, I suppose,” he hissed.

  Ella bristled with his accusatory informality. “That is my business.”

  They parted, and for several seconds, Ella breathed again. Unfortunately, too quickly, they came face-to-face again. “I beg your pardon, Lady Eleanor, for the offense. You know I think only of your family when I voice my objections.”

  She made several turns before she faced Levering again. “Your concern speaks well of you, Sir Louis, but as we have had this conversation previously, I will not repeat my disdain for what begins to feel like interference in my life. I do not let others choose my friends, nor do I choose theirs.”