Lady Be Bad

by Megan Frampton

  A silence as awkward as anything she’d ever experienced settled over them.

  “More time,” he said.

  “Yes. More time,” she repeated. She felt as though she could breathe just a little bit better now, now that she’d actually said what she wanted.

  “Well. Thank you, Lady Eleanor,” he replied with a bow. She nodded.

  At least he wasn’t going to argue with her, it seemed. Or should she take that as an affront? No, he was likely as realistic about this situation as she was. Or thought she was, until she opened her mouth to say no.

  And now she had more time. To do what with, she didn’t know. Just that perhaps she could find something to do, not just something to be.

  “She said what?” Alex asked, blinking at his brother. They had left the Duke of Marymount’s home fifteen minutes ago, Bennett telling the coachman to go home without them because he wanted to walk.

  For once, Alex was speechless. It had been . . . awkward, to say the least, when Bennett and Lady Eleanor had returned from their private conversation.

  The duchess had had no such problem, keeping up a string of sentences that probably made sense at one point, but damned if Alex could figure them out. The duke just glowered and made a few noises, while Lady Eleanor was once again that terrible bright red color. Nor would she meet Alex’s gaze. Or anyone’s, for that matter. She stared at the carpet as though it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

  Bennett shook his head in confusion. “She said she needed time. She said she wasn’t refusing my offer, but that she just—needed time.

  “You should speak to her,” Bennett continued in an urgent tone of voice, making Alex’s mouth drop open. “I can’t, not now, not when things are so delicate.” He nodded, a resolute expression on his face. “It shouldn’t be too hard. She is a lady, and you can convince ladies of anything.”

  “That’s—” Not appropriate, he wanted to say, given how he and the young lady had met one another. And what he usually persuaded ladies to do. He didn’t think Bennett wished his brother to lure Lady Eleanor to bed. Not that Alex ever dallied with virgins. “Unusual,” he said at last.

  “It is. I wouldn’t ask unless I needed it. Unless the family needed it.” Bennett shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t necessary.” He glanced up at Alex. “You know that.”

  He did. Just as he was certain that Bennett was keeping the family held together through sheer strength of will, and Lady Eleanor’s dowry would go a long way to restoring his family’s fortune.

  Just as he knew their father would refuse to even discuss any of this with his second son, and if Alex could achieve this, it would go a long way toward making him feel as though he could right the wrong he’d done so long ago. To Bennett, at least. His father would never forgive him.

  He took a deep breath, then offered a tight-lipped smile to his brother. “It will be a difficult task, persuading the young lady to marry my older brother”—at which point Bennett punched him in the arm—“but I vow to have her promised to you within a month. Less if you lend me your new curricle.”

  Bennett snorted. “You just want an excuse to drive it. I don’t know why you purchased a carriage when a curricle suits you much better.” Then Bennett clamped his hand on Alex’s arm. “Thank you. Thank you for doing this.” He sounded truly grateful, and once again, Alex wished he were a better man so there was more he could do. More than persuade a young lady to marry his responsible, far-too-busy eldest brother.

  Lady Eleanor’s Good List for Being Bad:

  Take tea in a different way than usual.

  (Yes, that is a sad comment on my very dull life.)

  Chapter 5

  “You will not stay home tonight.” Eleanor’s mother stood in the doorway to Eleanor’s bedroom, her arms folded over her impressive chest. “I will not have anyone say you have not managed to gain Lord Carson’s attention and are hiding at home.”

  Even though I just wish to be at home? Eleanor thought. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide; she just wanted to be more by herself. To read, or sit, or just think. Not stand, shortsightedly, in the corner of a ballroom as people carried on conversations and laughed and did whatever it was that normal people did.

  She didn’t feel normal. She didn’t know how she felt, not after this afternoon. But it wasn’t normal.

  But she couldn’t tell her mother any of that.

  “Get her ready in half an hour,” her mother said to Cotswold. Her gaze returned to Eleanor. “And you will accompany us and you will present yourself as you always have so no one knows the ridiculous decision you made. A decision that will be rectified soon, I assure you.” She punctuated her words with firm nods of her head and left without waiting for a reply.

  As though it were her mother’s place to accept Lord Carson. If that were true, Eleanor would already be married, and likely breeding as well.

  She could delay the inevitable, but it felt . . . inevitable. That she would be averagely married to Lord Carson, and she would never be able to just be, to choose who she wished to be. Even if she chose to be average. It would never be her choice.

  “The Duke and Duchess of Marymount. Lady Eleanor Howlett,” the majordomo intoned as the three of them stood at the entrance to the ballroom.

  Eleanor wasn’t even certain whose house they stood in; it looked just like all the other ballrooms she’d been in since making her debut. Chandeliers hung overhead, dozens of wax candles alight, casting a warm, yellow glow in the room. Flowers that belied the season sat in enormous cut-glass vases on tables set at discreet intervals. The floor was polished to a brilliant sheen, while ladies in embellished and embroidered slippers slid across it holding on to their darkly hued dance partners.

  Everything in the room swirled together in Eleanor’s vision, a miasma of color and movement. Perhaps she should be grateful for her eyesight, since it meant she couldn’t distinguish anything about her surroundings beyond a general impression.

  “This way, Eleanor,” her mother said in a sharp tone, walking to the edge of the room where her acquaintances presumably sat. Eleanor followed dutifully, keeping her eyes on the outline of the feathers waving from her mother’s headpiece.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” one of the ladies said. “And Lady Eleanor, how delightful.” The woman’s tone held a sharp, curious note. Unless that was just Eleanor’s imagination? “Lord Carson has not appeared yet this evening,” she continued. So not Eleanor’s imagination after all. “Perhaps he is not quite as intrigued by the evening’s entertainment as one might have hoped.”

  Oh, dear. The increased sharpness of the woman’s tone made Eleanor wince, knowing her mother couldn’t resist responding.

  “Lord Carson is quite intrigued, I assure you,” her mother replied, the feathers in her hair shaking vehemently. “He is likely at home this evening making arrangements for things.”

  “Ah,” the woman replied. “And he is not put off by any . . . unfortunate circumstances? It can be so difficult to keep one’s children in line, particularly when there are so many of them.”

  There it was. The nearly overt reference to Della’s running off, a circumstance Eleanor’s parents had tried to keep quiet, but of course people would notice that there were only four Howlett daughters promenading in the park.

  “The Marquis of Wheatley is a brave man, to allow his eldest son to be . . . intrigued by a female coming from such an errant family.”

  Her mother’s sharply indrawn breath alerted Eleanor to the firestorm that was about to come.

  “My family, Lady Vale, is not errant, despite what you might have heard. My daughter Lady Della is visiting family in the north, and since she has not yet made her debut, we did not think it would be remarked upon. Apparently we were wrong, since some people”—and she paused, emphasizing the some with a suitably dismissive tone—“seem to find it worth their time to speculate as to any number of things.”

  Which didn’t really answer the lady’s
implied accusations and misrepresented Della’s whereabouts, but judging from her mother’s hmph of satisfaction, it appeared she felt she had presented herself well.

  “Of course, Your Grace. I did not realize Lady Della was in the north,” Lady Vale replied, her voice indicating her doubt of what “in the north” really meant, “and of course Lord Carson can make up his own mind as to what is intriguing to him.”

  “Of course,” Eleanor’s mother echoed.

  Eleanor wished she could just slink away and hide behind one of the potted plants she thought she saw in the corner. Unless it was just a very large woman wearing green, but she thought it was most likely a plant.

  “When Lady Eleanor is settled we will have the pleasure of seeing Lady Della here next year, then?” Lady Vale continued.

  Perhaps Eleanor should just pick Lady Vale up and shove her behind a potted plant. It would certainly make things a lot less awkward. But that presumed that only this woman was discussing Della’s absence, which Eleanor knew full well was not the case. If Lady Vale felt comfortable enough to mention it in Eleanor’s mother’s hearing, then she knew that talk had spread all over the finest chandelier-and-flower-decorated ballrooms. She was surprised, honestly, she hadn’t heard more of the talk, but perhaps the gossips didn’t bother addressing the family themselves, just discussed it between dances and over card tables.

  And tonight would just mean that her mother would be even more adamant that Eleanor accept Lord Carson’s proposal, if only to salvage the family’s reputation. As though one respectable marriage would cancel out wherever Della had gone. Was she even married? The only word they’d had from Eleanor’s sister was that she was safe, and that they shouldn’t come looking for her. That had been six months ago. Eleanor had kept sending letters, taking comfort in the fact that at least they weren’t returned as undeliverable.

  Their father had refused to go hunt for her: “If she wants to run off and ruin herself, that is now entirely her problem. I certainly won’t help her, not since she has jeopardized the family name.” But it was up to Eleanor to save the family name with the judicious joining of her average self to Lord Carson’s average self, a truth that was hitting harder at this particular moment.

  No doubt Eleanor would get an earful on the carriage ride home. She wished she could hear as poorly as she could see.

  But she still had the entire evening to get through before the carriage ride.

  “Excuse me, Mother, Lady Vale. I will return in just a moment.”

  The ladies’ dressing area was nearly as good a place to hide as behind a plant. She made her way through the crowd, hoping she was headed in the right direction.

  “Pardon me?” she said to a passing footman.

  He nodded and pointed in the general direction she was headed, thank goodness.

  “Thank you.” Hopefully she could find the room without needing to draw more attention to herself. Oh look, there goes Lady Eleanor, running away just as her sister Lady Della did. The family says Lady Della is visiting relatives up north, but their dancing instructor left at the same time, and one wonders. Is Lady Eleanor running away to find the Howlett ladies’ language instructor perhaps? She has an inordinate fondness for the Italian language, we’ve heard. One does wonder.

  She reached the room and slipped inside. There were only a few other ladies there, all of whom were engrossed in making repairs to their gowns or their faces. Eleanor sat down on one of the stools in the corner of the room, leaning forward to look at herself in the mirror. Close enough, even for her, to see her face.

  Not that she wanted to spend time looking at her face in the glass, but it was preferable to staring hazily at the crowd of people who might all be speculating on her family. If they cared enough, that is. She knew most people just cared about themselves, spending time on others if it seemed that there was something worth noting. She hoped that Lady Vale and the others who might have been talking about Della would find things in their own lives to talk about.

  “Good evening, my lady.” Eleanor winced as she heard Lady Vale’s voice. Why had she turned up here also? Thank goodness it seemed as though the woman hadn’t noticed her; she was addressing the lady at the other end of the room. Eleanor lowered her head and pretended to fix something on her gown so hopefully the woman wouldn’t notice her at all.

  “Good evening,” the other woman responded. “You are looking in health this evening.”

  Even Eleanor could see how Lady Vale preened at the compliment. “Thank you. My husband is in the country dealing with some business on his estate.” As though that were the reason for her being in health.

  And this was the state her parents wished to push her into? Marriage with a person where your respite was when they left town?

  “You are finding entertainment, then?” the other woman said in a knowing voice.

  Lady Vale laughed throatily. “Indeed. Although the entertainment is not as vigorous as some other.”

  Now Eleanor was intrigued. What was she talking about? Did Lady Vale have her own list?

  And how much longer could Eleanor listen without anyone noticing her?

  Well, that latter question she could likely answer. Forever, if she were to gauge by her previous ballroom experiences. It seemed she had the ability to fade into the background, unnoticed by anyone until it came to asking her to dance. Or to marry them.

  If only a pronounced skill at being invisible was something she could do something with.

  “What other entertainment do you mean?” the lady asked.

  Lady Vale glanced around the room, but didn’t seem to see Eleanor. Of course. “Lord Alexander Carson. Very entertaining indeed.”

  The tree? And what kind of entertainment did she mean? Although Eleanor could likely guess, given the lady’s tone of voice. And his choice of reading material.

  “I have heard that,” the other woman replied. “Lord Alexander appears to have gotten himself quite a reputation. For entertainment,” she said, stressing the final word.

  Eleanor bent her head down lower, trying to make herself even more invisible. She shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be listening to this ribald conversation about a gentleman she already knew was scandalous, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  “Yes, he has a certain type of imagination that is quite entertaining,” Lady Vale said. “My current entertainment is not quite that innovative. But satisfying nonetheless.”

  “I am so pleased you have been able to fight the boredom that occurs when one’s husband is away.”

  “Indeed,” Lady Vale replied in a satisfied tone. “And I have heard that Lord Alexander has been seen at various social events lately. I am hoping to run into him at some point, accompanying his older brother in his courting of the Duke of Marymount’s oldest daughter. As dull as her mother—if it weren’t for the scandal of that one daughter running away, I would imagine we would never hear about any of those girls.”

  Now Eleanor absolutely could not reveal herself. Would it be possible for her to curl over and hide under the table?

  “The Duke’s Dull Daughters?” the other woman said with a derisive chuckle. “Thank goodness those girls have dowries or no one would pay attention to them.”

  “They’re barely paying attention as it is. I just spoke to the oldest one, and I swear I nearly fell asleep.”

  Eleanor wished she could show this Lady Vale just how boring she was, perhaps yawning as she punched her, but that would cause the kind of talk Della had already stirred up with her elopement.

  Was there something to be said for being dull? At least nobody would accuse her of causing a scandal. Of course, they also would not accuse her of being anything more than the sum of her birth—the duke’s eldest daughter, the first in a long line of females whose pedigree was the most important thing about her.

  Just once she wished she could do something that would make her, at least, stand up and take notice. Feel something more than what she was supposed to do, or more im
portantly, what she was not supposed to do.

  Find someone as entertaining as Lord Alexander the Tree.

  “Mother says you are just playing coy,” Olivia said, walking to the right of Eleanor.

  They were in the newly opened Victoria Park, a place their parents had deemed acceptable for their daughters to walk in, provided they had proper accompaniment.

  In addition to Eleanor and her three sisters, therefore, they were joined by Cotswold and two footmen who appeared to have been chosen for their breadth.

  Eleanor swallowed. This was the hardest part. Justifying her answer to her sisters, who were dependent on her actions for their own. And she didn’t have a good reason beyond that moment when he’d asked and she’d felt a frozen sort of fear gripping her. That wasn’t a good enough reason, not according to her parents, who’d both been furious with her in their own respective ways.

  “Eleanor does not play coy,” Ida said in a dismissive tone. “If she said no, it is because she had a good answer.”

  Eleanor wished Ida weren’t quite so helpful. Or so condescending.

  “What is the answer, then?” Pearl asked in a quiet voice.

  Eleanor took a deep breath. “I don’t know how,” she said. “I wish I did. It is just—” She paused, wishing she could explain how the thought of marrying Lord Carson set her heart to pounding and her pulse racing and her breath coming fast, and none of that in a good way. More as though she had been locked into a too-small box and was pounding to get out, only nobody would let her.

  “It’s just that I want more time to get to know him.” Her answer sounded weak, even to her ears.

  “What else do you need to know?” Olivia demanded. “He is handsome, pleasant, wealthy, and the heir to his father’s estates.”

  “That isn’t all there is to marriage, you know,” Ida said disdainfully. And then Eleanor was suddenly pleased their sister had decided to join them after all. “Marriage between two people is forever. What if it turns out Lord Carson doesn’t read?”