by Laura Landon
“She won’t. And it’s not how you make it sound. It’s not as if we paid Charfield money to escort Elly.”
There was a noise at the door and everyone turned.
Brent’s heart plummeted to the floor, where it shattered to pieces.
Elly stood there, a cane in each hand to support herself.
It was obvious she’d struggled to manage the stairs as well as the long hallway. Her face was void of color, her features pulled tight. But it wasn’t exhaustion he recognized on her face, or pain from walking on her leg the doctor ordered her to stay off of, but the devastation in her eyes that concerned him most.
He struggled to put a term to the expression on her face so when he needed to remind himself of what he’d done, there would be a specific word that would come to mind. But he couldn’t find just one. There were so many: hurt, anger, disappointment, devastation.
Except he hadn’t touched on the term that most accurately described what she felt. Nor was there any way he could come close to describing the raw, ugly pain he saw on her face.
She was hurting – and he was the cause of her pain.
“What did you offer him if it wasn’t money?”
“Elly, it wasn’t like that at all.” Brent rose to his feet then stepped toward her.
“What did they offer you? I can’t imagine anything Harrison has that you need. What could you possibly want that was so important you would agree to be seen with a cripple for two weeks?”
“Elly, no. That’s not how it was.”
“What? How much was I worth?”
Brent didn’t want to answer. He knew once he did, there was nothing he could say to undo the harm he’d done.
“What?” she repeated.
One lone tear streamed down her cheek and his heart shattered.
“A colt from El Solidar.”
She sucked in a breath that seemed to affect her balance. “Of course,” she whispered.
She hesitated as if she had a hard time accepting the fact that the bargain had been over a horse.
“Elly, please, let me explain. That may have been how it started out, but that’s not how—”
He took one step toward him but she stopped him with a sharp lift of her hand. “Don’t come near me. Don’t you ever come near me again.”
“Elly, come sit down,” Harrison pleaded. “Let us explain. We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know, Harrison. No one ever does.”
She turned and took a few steps. When she reached the door she stopped.
“Father,” she said without turning around, “Lord Charfield will be leaving shortly. Will you send someone to assist him?”
Her statement required no answer.
Chapter 25
Brent sat in a leather wing chair in his London townhouse study and stared at the dying embers in the massive fireplace. Their glow faded with each passing hour, turning first to white-hot ashes that eventually shifted to darkened soot with only a few red-hot spots peeking through.
Fall had arrived and the nights were chilly, although Brent hardly noticed. He noticed very little these days.
It had been six months, three weeks, five days, and – the mantle clock chimed twelve times – eight hours since his world ended. Not even six full months of an anguish more agonizing than he thought he’d survive, and he had a whole lifetime of agony ahead of him.
He reached for the glass he never allowed to become empty and took a long sip. The day would come when he wouldn’t be entitled to dull his pain with the effects of alcohol, but that day hadn’t arrived yet. The hurt was too new, the loss too great to survive without anything to numb it.
He lifted the decanter from the floor beside his chair when a knock came from the front door.
Even though the chance was nonexistent that Brent’s late-night visitor was the one person he was most anxious to see, he couldn’t stop his body from reacting. He held his breath and listened, hoping to hear her voice.
A low, male voice echoed from the foyer beyond his door and he lowered his head to the back of the chair and closed his eyes. Each disappointment was more difficult to take.
He waited for the visitor to leave, but instead, there was a knock, and his butler, Markham, opened his door.
“You have a visitor, my lord. The Marquess of Fellingsdown.”
Brent’s heart raced in his chest. “Show him in.”
Something must be wrong with Elly. That’s the only reason Fellingsdown would come to see him at this hour.
“Is Elly unwell?” he asked the second Fellingsdown walked through the door.
“And a good evening to you, too.” Fellingsdown walked into the room and scanned the area. “Do you always sit in such gloomy surroundings, Charfield?”
The muscles in his body relaxed the same time his temper rose. Obviously Elly was well or her brother would have told him when he arrived.
“I prefer it this way. The darkness seems to match my mood.”
“My, how we’ve changed. I remember when—”
“I’m not interested in what you remember.” Brent sat back in his chair and took a drink from his glass.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“Suit yourself.” Brent lifted the crystal decanter from the floor and held it out. There was a glass on a tray the servants had placed on the corner of the table and Brent handed it to his guest.
“I know we didn’t part on the best of terms,” Fellingsdown said as he filled his glass, “but I’d like to remedy that if possible.” He placed the decanter on the table, then sat in the chair opposite Brent and took a drink of his liquor.
“I’ve had all the help I care to ever have from you.”
“I know why you think that way,” Fellingsdown said, his voice quiet and the tone filled with regret, “but I didn’t think there was a chance the two of you would fall in love.”
Brent’s temper flared. “Why? Do you honestly think your sister’s that impossible to love?”
Fellingsdown looked shocked. “No! We’ve all known Elly would make the most wonderful wife and mother in the world. It’s you.”
“Me!” Brent sat forward and clenched his empty hand around the arm of the chair. “You pompous ass. If you were worth the powder it would take to shoot you, I’d call you out.”
“Hold your temper, Charfield. I only meant I didn’t think you were the sort of man Elly would look at once, let alone twice. I definitely didn’t think you were someone with whom she’d fall in love.”
“Obviously, I wasn’t. She didn’t hesitate longer than the blink of an eye before she ordered me to leave The Down.”
“She was hurt.”
“Nor did she give a second thought as to whether or not she wanted to see me the twenty or so times I begged to be admitted.”
“Maybe you weren’t persistent enough.”
“Bloody hell, man! I nearly broke down the door. When I finally made it as far as the foyer, your father told me very plainly that my presence was not welcome.”
“Yes, Father said he’s never seen anyone so tenacious.”
“A bloody lot of good it did me.” Brent threw the remainder of liquor in his glass to the back of his throat. “Your father was no more agreeable than that butler of yours.”
“Perhaps you simply didn’t use the right approach.” Fellingsdown stretched his legs out in front of him as if he were settling in for the night.
That was all Brent could take. He wanted Fellingsdown gone. “You’re the last person I need advice from, Fellingsdown. I wouldn’t be in this predicament if it weren’t for you. You and your lame idea.”
“If I remember correctly, you were more than eager to jump at the possibility of getting a colt from El Solidar.”
“That was before I met your sister. That was before I knew I’d fall in love with her!”
“Yes, that does change the way we look at things.” Fellingsdown lifted his glass and took another swallow. “Love can do that to a man.”
/> “A lot you know about it. You won back the woman you loved.”
“But the time I lost cost me more than I can live with at times.”
Brent knew what Fellingsdown meant. He was talking about the son he could never acknowledge as his own. The son who had Prescott blood running through his veins, yet carried the Waverley name. The son who should in truth be the future Duke of Sheridan, yet would always bear the Marquess of Lathamton title. Yes, he knew what time had cost Fellingsdown.
“Why are you here?” Brent felt his loss more tonight than he had since the day his dreams were shattered.
“I’m here because I don’t want you to go through what Cassie and I did.”
“Do you think I do?”
“No, which is why I need to ask you a question.”
“I don’t want to answer any of your questions.”
“You will if you want my help.”
Brent hesitated. This was the first glimmer of hope he’d had since he’d lost Elly. “What’s your question?”
“Do you love her?”
“I’ve already told you I do.”
“How much?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is if you want me to help you get her back. How much do you love her?”
Brent raked his fingers through his hair then leaned forward in his chair with his elbows propped on his knees. He looked down at the dark pattern on the carpet at his feet and took a deep breath. “Enough that I don’t think I’ll survive another day if I don’t get her back. Enough that I think my heart’s dead and I can’t figure out how it can still go on beating.”
Brent closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Enough that I don’t want to be alive if Elly’s not here with me.”
For a long time the only sound was the occasional crackle of dying embers in the grate. Finally, Fellingsdown spoke in a soft voice that commanded Brent to listen.
“I’ve come to see you because I’m concerned about Elly. We all are.”
“I thought you said Elly was well.”
“Elly’s not ill, which I believe is what you think I’m implying.”
“You know bloody well what I’m implying. What’s wrong with her?”
“The same thing that’s wrong with you, from the look of it.”
Brent sat straighter and waited for Fellingsdown to continue.
“I promised Mother and Father I wouldn’t interfere, and I intend to keep my word, but I can’t sit by and watch the two of you go through what Cassie and I did. Especially if there’s something I can do to prevent it.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Nothing.”
“But I thought you said—”
“I said I wasn’t going to interfere. And I’m not. If anyone does anything, it will be you, Charfield.”
Brent stared in confusion as Fellingsdown rose from his chair and walked to the door. He stopped before he stepped out into the hall.
“Did you hear,” he said looking over his shoulder, “that the Earl and Countess of Dunlevy are hosting a ball tomorrow night to announce the betrothal of their daughter, Lady Brianna, to my brother, George?”
Brent was too irritated to answer. He didn’t care about the Earl of Dunlevy, or his daughter, or even Elly’s brother, George, for that matter.
“It should be quite an affair,” Fellingsdown continued. “My entire family will be there, of course.”
It took a moment for Fellingsdown’s intent to sink through Brent’s brandy-muddled brain. When it did, his heart shifted in his chest.
“Elly’s in London?” Brent bolted from his chair. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that when you came?”
Fellingsdown turned serious. “I don’t remember mentioning that Elly would be there.”
“But you said—“
Fellingsdown raised his hand. “I promised my parents I wouldn’t interfere, Charfield. And I’m a man of my word. If you recall, I only mentioned that the Earl of Dunlevy was hosting a ball tomorrow night to announce his daughter’s betrothal to my brother. And that my family would be in attendance.”
With that, the Marquess of Fellingsdown turned and left.
And for the first time since Brent’s dream of a life with Elly had been shattered, he realized a glimmer of hope.
___
London was the same now as it had been ten years earlier when she was a young naïve girl glimpsing its glamour for the first time. And she was just as disappointed as she’d been then.
Although she was older, and not nearly as sensitive as she’d been then, it still hurt to see people stare at her when she walked down the street. The whispered comments people made behind her back no longer offended her, yet it was uncomfortable to know they talked about her.
“Oh, look at this,” Lilly said, pointing to an elegant peach silk fabric she’d found in the dressmaker’s shop. “Don’t you think it would make the most divine evening gown?”
“Yes, it would,” Patience agreed. “But by the time I’m able to fit back into anything made this season, I’m afraid it will be out of style.”
It took a moment for Patience’s announcement to take hold, but when it did, the Duchess of Sheridan and her two other daughters came to the same conclusion at exactly the same time. They all squealed with delight and one by one gave Patience a hug of congratulations.
Luckily, there were only two other ladies in the shop at the time because their undignified behavior drew immediate attention.
“How long have you known,” Lilly asked her twin as soon as the duchess was able to usher them out of the store.
“Not long. I just told Ellery last week.”
“Oh, wait until your father hears he’s going to be a grandfather,” the duchess said.
“What about you, Mother?” Elly put one hand through her mother’s arm and kept her cane in the other. “Will you mind being a grandmother?”
“Heavens, no! I’ve anxiously awaited the day since the twins married more than a year ago. Your father and I didn’t have seven children because we didn’t like babies, you know.”
The duchess’s last statement elicited a hidden laugh from each of her daughters. They knew how much their parents loved each other and had often remarked in private that perhaps the duke and duchess didn’t like children half as much as they enjoyed the act that created them.
Elly had always thought the same thing. But until she made love with Brent, she didn’t realized how special it was to give your body to a man you loved.
The nagging ache that gnawed inside her chest clawed at her again. How long would it be before she didn’t hurt each time she thought of him?
How long would it be before she didn’t think of him every minute of every day?
Her mother and sisters were still laughing gaily but Elly looked to the other side of the street so they wouldn’t see the sadness that refused to leave her. Her heart stopped in her breast.
Brent walked toward her as if thinking about him could make him appear.
Lilly and Patience noticed him soon after Elly did and their laughter faded. Elly’s mother noticed him last and a deafening silence blanketed the quartet of Prescott women.
“Good day, Your Grace,” Brent said when he came close enough to speak. “Lady Parkridge. Lady Berkingham. Lady Elyssa.”
Elly’s heart thundered in her breast. Why could he still do this to her? Hadn’t she been hurt enough by him? Was she so weak that all he had to do was speak and she was drawn to him all over again?
Elly hated to admit it, but she was. She loved him that much.
“Good day, Lord Charfield,” the duchess answered in her most regal voice as she pried Elly’s fingers from digging into her arm.
Neither Elly’s mother, nor Lilly or Patience, was overly friendly in their greeting, which didn’t surprise her. If Brent noticed the chill in their voices, he didn’t show it.
“And Lady Elyssa. How have you been?”
“Well, thank you,” she said,
thankful her voice sounded more in control than she felt. “We were shopping and are on our way home.” She turned a desperate glance to her mother. “Mother, are you ready? I’d like to go.”
“Of course,” her mother answered. “If you’ll excuse us. Lord Charfield.”
“May I escort you back to your—”
“No,” Elly answered with such force it took her mother and sisters by surprise. The only one who didn’t seem embarrassed was Charfield. He seemed to expect her reaction. And accept it.
“Very well,” he said with a most flattering bow. “I will bid you good day, then.”
“Good day,” her sisters and mother answered.
He walked down the street in one direction and they walked in another.
“Are you all right, Elly?” the duchess asked when they were out of hearing.
“Of course,” she lied.
She was anything but all right.
Chapter 26
The inside and outside of the Earl of Dunlevy’s London townhouse was so brightly lit the guests could see their destination for blocks before they arrived. Elly looked around from her seat against the far wall of the ballroom and took in the festive décor. This was truly a night to celebrate. And an occasion worthy of the elaborate lengths to which Dunlevy had gone to show the ton his daughter was equal to the task of being the Duke of Sheridan’s second son’s wife.
Unfortunately for Elly, this was only the first of four such evenings.
Each of her four brothers were about to become engaged to the female they’d invited to the summer party at The Down: George, to Lady Brianna Donnelly, daughter of the Earl of Dunlevy; Jules, to Miss Amelia Hastings, daughter of Viscount Kimball; Spence, to Lady Hannah Brammwell, daughter of the Marquess of Crestonridge; and finally, the ball her parents would host two weeks from tonight to announce the engagement of their eldest son, Harrison, to Lady Lathamton.
Elly couldn’t be happier for each of them, but she wasn’t looking forward to the next two weeks. Attending such public functions would put her more in the spotlight than she wanted to be.
“They look happy, don’t they?” Patience said, taking the chair beside Elly. “I remember how happy I was the night of our engagement ball.”
