She was, however, feeling very heated and was not at all sure why. At first she tried to fan herself but her hot cheeks seemed to radiate ever more heat. Then the room started to spin around very slowly. Eleanor sat up straighter, puzzled and alarmed. These were surely not the effects of thwarted love, nor did she feel particularly unwell, but she did feel rather giddy…
Her head brushed Kit’s shoulder and she left it there. That was nice. That felt very comfortable after all the upsets of the evening. She closed her eyes briefly.
‘Eleanor!’
Kit’s whisper stirred the tendrils of hair by her ear. Eleanor opened her eyes reluctantly.
‘What is it?’
‘Are you ill?’ Kit’s face was very close, his expression concerned. Eleanor made an effort and turned her head. The room seemed very dark, the candlelight fluttering. The diva was still wailing, but her voice appeared to come from a long way away. Eleanor smiled.
‘No indeed, I am quite comfortable, thank you.’
She saw Kit frown. ‘Then why are you sleeping in the middle of a recital? People will see…’
‘Let them.’ Eleanor remembered Marcus’s words when she had taken him to task at the ball. She smiled slightly to herself. Marcus knew a thing or two! Why worry what other people thought…She yawned and allowed her head to sink back on to Kit’s shoulder. She felt as though she was sliding very gently down. Soon she would be resting in his lap but really it did not matter. She felt just as she had done five years ago, when she had tasted her mother’s laudanum to see what it was like and had not realised that a small dose was all that was needed. Then she had slept for a whole day, but the initial feeling had been most pleasant.
‘Excuse me, my wife is feeling unwell…’
‘No I am not—’
Eleanor realised indignantly that she had been woken again. She struggled upright. She did not feel unwell—in fact she felt very happy. Kit had an arm around her and was steering her down the aisle between the chairs. Her feet seemed to be working independently of her mind. Fortunately. Behind them the opera singer’s voice rose and fell like a peal of bells. Eleanor winced.
‘She is giving me the headache…’
‘Hush!’ Kit spoke quickly, but there was an undertone of amusement in his voice that Eleanor could hear and it made her smile again. She could see quite well although the room was still revolving slowly and she could even keep her eyes open with an effort but it was pleasant to feel Kit’s arm around her nevertheless. She leant against him a little more heavily and he obliged by tightening his grip.
They were in the entrance hall and Kit was requesting the carriage, quickly. He bundled her up the steps and sat down. Eleanor came to rest on his knee. She put her arms about his neck—to steady herself—and turned her face against his throat.
‘Eleanor, you are foxed.’ Kit’s voice came sharply out of the darkness. ‘What have you been drinking and how can you be in such state as this?’
Eleanor sat bolt upright. ‘I am not drunk! I did not even have the lemonade if you recall…’
‘No…’ Kit still sounded sharp ‘…you evidently had something else! What were you doing whilst I was gone?’
Eleanor brightened. ‘Well, there was the ratafia that Lord Kemble gave me, but I only had one glass. I have drunk it before, you know, and never felt like this! But do not worry, Kit! I am quite happy…’
The light from the carriage lanterns skipped across Kit’s face. She could see that he was frowning heavily and she did so want to try to help him puzzle out the mystery.
‘Laudanum!’ she said helpfully, and winced as Kit took her by the shoulders in a grip that bruised. She slid off his knee and came to rest half-sitting, half-lying on the seat of the coach.
‘Ouch! You are hurting me, Kit!’
Kit shook her slightly. Eleanor’s head bounced. She almost giggled.
‘Eleanor, have you been taking laudanum?’
‘No!’ Eleanor blinked owlishly at him. Really he could be quite slow sometimes. ‘I meant that the only time I felt like this before was when I had sampled Mama’s laudanum…’
‘And have you been sampling it again this evening?’ Kit demanded.
‘No!’ Eleanor felt most indignant. ‘Mama was asking for some, but…’
She heard Kit sigh and snuggled closer to him. ‘Unless it was in her glass of ratafia, of course! I do believe I may have given her the wrong glass after she had emptied her reticule…’
Kit took her chin in his hand and turned her face up to the faint light. Eleanor blinked, trying to focus on his face. It was difficult in the dark.
‘Well, you have certainly had something!’ Kit sounded decidedly snappish and Eleanor closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder.
‘I do not know why you are so very cross, Kit. I am not cross, I am happy.’ She wriggled a little. ‘Everything happened whilst I was waiting for you to disentangle yourself from La Perla. And although I am happy to hear that she is not your mistress…’ Eleanor gave a little hiccup ‘…her singing gave me an earache…’
‘A most remarkable alter ego seems to emerge at times like this,’ Kit observed. He pulled her closer, so that she was resting again on his lap. ‘It is as though you have partaken of several strong drinks! Have you much experience with alcohol, Eleanor?’
Eleanor smiled against his neck. ‘Certainly not, for Mama never let me drink anything other than tea and lemonade during my Season.’ She hesitated. ‘I confess that at the start of this year I did try a few glasses of punch, for I thought it would be fun to become a fast matron…’
‘Did you? Why was that?’
‘Oh, because they were calling me the abandoned bride and I thought it would be so much more fun to be know as the fast Lady Mostyn!’ She felt Kit’s arms stiffen about her and said kindly: ‘Do not worry, Kit, for I am quite over that now. It did not suit my nature to be promiscuous, you see, for I worry far too much about the opinion of the world!’ She was struck by another thought. ‘Also I suppose it would not have been the right thing to do, as I was married to you. And I know you believed me unchaste but that is quite untrue, which is why I was so very glad to find that La Perla was not your mistress…’
Eleanor struggled a little, feeling glad to have got that off her chest but aware that there was a little more for complete honesty. ‘Of course, there were a few men who tried to snatch a kiss…’
Kit’s arms tightened again and it felt wonderfully protective. ‘Let them try now!’
Eleanor smiled. This was all very satisfactory. She liked being Kit’s friend.
‘I am sorry, Eleanor.’ Kit’s mouth was pressed against her hair. She was dimly aware that there was an odd wrench in his voice. ‘I never intended for matters to go so awry…’
‘That is perfectly all right, Kit,’ Eleanor said magnanimously. She was feeling remarkably happy and full of generosity towards the entire world. She wriggled, and felt Kit shift beneath her. ‘Oh, I am sorry if it is uncomfortable for you!’
‘It is, but not in the way that you mean,’ Kit said dryly. ‘However, as we have such a excellent opportunity, perhaps we might continue to find out a little more about each other.’
‘Mmm!’ Eleanor nodded. It had been a little like a parlour game as she and Kit had discussed their likes and dislikes, their interests and their hopes a little more each day. She had enjoyed it and it had been quite innocent. Eleanor vaguely remembered that she was supposed to be keeping Kit at arm’s length for some reason that escaped her just at the moment. She looked down. He was not precisely at arm’s length now, but as he was so warm and safe and friendly she did not really mind.
‘You start!’ she said.
‘Very well, then. I have a question for you.’ Kit’s voice was warm. ‘Do you believe in love, Eleanor?’
Love! Eleanor wrinkled her brow. She knew she had all sorts of ideas about love normally but just at the moment she felt so extraordinarily sleepy that she could not remember them.
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‘That is a difficult question,’ she said cautiously. ‘What do you think, Kit?’
Kit laughed. ‘A skilful answer…What do I think? Well yes, I believe in love!’
‘Truly?’ Eleanor was entranced. She rubbed her cheek against the smooth coolness of his shirtfront. ‘That is nice!’
‘Yes…’ She thought that Kit was trying not to laugh. ‘It would be even nicer if you were to agree with me!’
‘Yes,’ Eleanor said dreamily, ‘and I do believe that there must be something in what you say, Kit! For there is Marcus and Beth and Charlotte and Justin to prove your case! And though it may not be fashionable to love one’s spouse it is rather pleasant to see…’
‘Pleasant!’ Kit’s lips brushed her cheek lightly and Eleanor found herself shivering. ‘That is one word for it, I suppose. A rather dull word—like friendship…’
‘I do not think friendship dull!’ Eleanor said, stung. ‘It is the sweetest thing, for without Beth and Charlotte I should be quite lost…’
‘And without me?’
‘Oh well…’ Eleanor smiled. ‘You are quite different.’
‘Better? Or worse?’
‘Different!’ Eleanor played with the intricate folds of his neck-cloth. ‘I believe that you are fishing for compliments!’
‘You may be right.’ Kit sounded rueful. ‘I doubt I shall receive any from you tonight though.’
Eleanor paused. She had succeeded in undoing the neck-cloth’s starchy folds and felt quite inordinately pleased with herself. She also felt very light-headed, dizzy almost. This was an interesting experience but one she was not sure she wished to repeat.
‘I do not know…’ She put her head on one side. ‘You are prodigious handsome, Kit, and it is pleasant to know that other ladies envy me your company. And you are really very kind to me and…’
‘And?’
‘And I think you quite an attractive man!’ Eleanor finished triumphantly. ‘There! So you see I can flatter you after all!’
‘So you can.’ Kit touched her cheek, very lightly, and Eleanor was perplexed to feel her dizziness increase. Something odd was happening, separating her mind from her increasingly wayward body. Whilst her thoughts were busily spinning off into space, her body appeared to be pressing itself closer to Kit, sweetly, confidingly wrapping itself around him…
‘We are home,’ Kit said dryly, and Eleanor realised that they were indeed turning into Montague Street and drawing up outside the house. She allowed Kit to help her down and the cool evening air outside the carriage doused her like a cold bath. She staggered a little and clutched Kit’s arm.
‘Oh! I beg your pardon. I shall not be taking any laudanum again, accidentally or not…’
‘A wise decision,’ Kit murmured. He swept her easily into his arms. ‘Come along. I will take you upstairs.’
Carrick’s jaw dropped when he saw Eleanor in Kit’s arms, but he recovered himself quickly. Lucy, who had been stoking the fire in Eleanor’s bedroom, and turning the bed down, was not so reticent.
‘Oh sir, oh madam! How romantic!’
‘No it is not!’ Eleanor carolled, over Kit’s shoulder. ‘I am three parts disguised, I fear, Lucy, though from medicine and not strong drink!’
‘Good night!’ Kit said, shutting the door in the maid’s startled face. ‘I will call you if I need you!’
He placed Eleanor gently on the bed. She stretched luxuriously, arms above her head. It had been a most pleasant experience but she was aware that she was more than a little adrift and it would probably be better to go to sleep. She blinked sleepily at Kit. He was standing by the side of the bed looking down on her and in the pale light of the fire she could see that the lines of his face were tense. She wriggled a little and his gaze came up to her face and Eleanor saw the vivid flash of desire in his eyes before their expression was veiled again. She giggled.
‘Oh dear, I am sorry! Am I behaving very badly? Do you wish to make love to me, Kit?’
She saw the flicker of a smile touch his mouth. ‘Yes, but I believe I may be able to resist you! Although…’ his gaze flickered over her face and rested on her lips for a second before he wrenched it away ‘…you are very lovely, Eleanor.’
Eleanor smiled sleepily. She felt warm and very happy. ‘Thank you. If you would like to make love to me I do not mind…’
Kit smiled again. ‘I would hope for slightly more enthusiasm on your part when the time does serve, my love. It would be better if you went to sleep now.’
There was no reply. Eleanor’s eyelashes flickered, and then she gave a little sigh and turned her head against the pillow. She was still smiling.
Kit let out the breath that he had been holding and sat down gingerly on the side of the bed. There was a strange feeling in his stomach, similar to the guilt and pain he had felt when Beth had torn a strip off him—similar, but far more poignant. Eleanor looked so very young and vulnerable lying there, her dress just sliding from one shoulder to expose the slope of her breast, her hair tumbled across the pillow in strands of darkest mahogany and glossy black. Damn it, he had never meant to hurt her so. When she had confided about being the abandoned bride he had thought his heart would break.
Kit leant back against the bedpost and looked at her. Her face was untroubled in sleep, creamy pale, black lashes against the curve of her cheek.
‘Do you wish to make love to me, Kit?’
Kit smiled despite himself. Of all the artless questions…They had made love only twice before he had gone away and it had been everything that he had always wanted and had told himself did not exist; sweetness, tenderness, intense pleasure. He had not experienced such a thing in any of his dealings with the bored wives of the Ton or the Cyprians whose legendary skill was supposed to grant such enjoyment. Eleanor’s innocence had erased and supplanted all of that as though it had never existed. And she had cried a little in his arms and told him that she loved him…
But she did not remember that now. Tonight she was adrift with laudanum, and although it had shown a completely different side to her nature he was hardly ungentlemanly enough to take advantage. She would hate him for it in the morning and besides, there were too many matters unsettled between them…
Kit shifted, uncomfortable with both his thoughts and his state of arousal. He had ached to make love to Eleanor for the past week but this was scarcely the right time.
He put out a hand and brushed the hair away from Eleanor’s face. It slid through his fingers, soft and silky. Her skin was warm to the touch. Kit stood up abruptly. Any more of this self-indulgence and he would be starting to undress her—whilst reassuring himself that it was only to make her more comfortable, to help her to sleep more easily. The idea was so appealing that he backed away hastily. Once he had started he would have to finish and disrobe her completely. It would not do to call the maid in when Eleanor was in her chemise—he did not wish to appear the sort of man who ogled his wife whist she was unconscious.
Bad-tempered and frustrated, Kit marched across to the door and flung it open. The corridor was suspiciously empty, although he suspected that Lucy would listen at doors if only to find out whether the longed-for reconciliation had been achieved. Not tonight, Kit thought grimly. Tonight the only union that would take place would be between himself and the brandy bottle at Whites. It was decidedly second best but it would just have to do.
Matters were not progressing happily between the Mostyn and Trevithick families elsewhere either. On returning from the musicale, Charlotte Trevithick had cornered her husband in the library. Her natural delicacy had prevented her from raising a personal issue in public but she wished to take Justin to task for his treatment of her twin. Charlotte’s blue gaze, identical to her brother’s, was stormy as she confronted him and she was twisting her hands together.
‘Oh Justin, must you be so nonsensical? You cut Kit dead a dozen times tonight and you have no right to do so! You have been ignoring him ever since he returned! If Eleanor can be civil to
her husband, who are you to criticise?’
Justin was looking mutinous. Fair-haired and green-eyed, he was different in appearance from the rest of his family but, as Charlotte had discovered, he had his own share of stubbornness. When she had first met him his easy-going nature had seemed in contrast to his cousin, the Earl—now she realised that they had certain infuriating characteristics the same.
‘I am sorry, Charlotte…’ Justin took her hands in his, which only served to make matters more difficult for his wife ‘…I understand that you feel a loyalty to Mostyn as your brother—indeed, it would be odd if you did not, but equally you must see that I have a loyalty to my family—’
‘A loyalty to do what?’ Charlotte snatched her hands away before Justin’s touch could undermine her feelings of indignation. ‘The decision is with Eleanor, and if she can stomach my brother as a husband then it is not for you or for Marcus to gainsay! This is pure folly and it only makes matters more difficult for Eleanor! People will talk—they are doing so already—and I have to say that you and your cousin are doing no more than making a cake of yourselves, yes, and making your family a laughingstock!’
Justin ran a hand through his hair. His mouth was set in an obstinate line. ‘I cannot approve of what Mostyn has done. Eleanor may choose to forgive him. I do not.’
The Notorious Marriage Page 12
