There was a touch of hauteur in his voice, but Ellen’s guest was in no wise daunted and continued, ‘I ask because you have not always been there to support your wife.’
The meaning of those words was only too clear. Ellen saw Max stiffen and she rose quickly from her seat.
‘Let us go in to dinner. Your Grace, if you will escort the Dowager, I shall follow on with my old friend.’
And with that she ushered Max and Dorcas out of the room.
* * *
Ellen was grateful that nothing else occurred to mar the evening. Mrs Ackroyd set herself the task of drawing out the Dowager and succeeded very well. Despite her chosen profession, Mrs Ackroyd was very well connected and they soon discovered several mutual acquaintances whose reputation they could spend the evening cheerfully ripping to shreds. When the ladies retired to the drawing room Ellen left them to their verbal assassination and wandered out on to the terrace. The evening sky was darkening rapidly and the first faint stars were appearing.
‘It promises to be another fine day tomorrow.’
She jumped at the sound of Max’s deep voice at her shoulder.
‘I hope it will be,’ she said, smiling. ‘I want to take our guest for a drive and it will be so much better if we can do so with the hood down.’
‘I am surprised she is getting on so well with the Dowager.’
‘Mrs Ackroyd has the ability to get on with everyone,’ said Ellen. ‘She will tailor her conversation to suit her company.’
‘And the Dowager loves nothing more than gossip and scandal.’
Ellen did not reply. He was standing beside her and if she breathed in deeply she could detect a faint trace of him in the air, the hint of warm spices that set her heart beating faster and brought back memories of the days—and nights—they had spent together under the eastern sky.
She had a sudden memory of the first time she had smelled this particular fragrance. Max had taken her, in disguise, to a local market where the dusty air was thick with the pungent smell of camel and goats and he had given her his handkerchief to hold over her nose. When she had remarked on its scent he had told her a Cairo perfumer blended it for him. The heady mix of sandalwood, musk and agarwood had caressed her senses, just as it was doing now. She wanted to lean closer, to breathe deeper.
‘Talking of scandal,’ murmured Max, ‘what does the lady know of our...er...reunion?’
The warm sensation of well-being that had been wrapping itself around Ellen leaked away. She said cautiously, ‘She knows only that you found me in Harrogate.’
‘You told her I came looking for you?’
‘I implied as much. I thought it better she believes that, rather than the truth.’ She gazed out into the darkness, trying not to sigh. ‘That you would have divorced me, if it were not for Jamie.’
He caught her arm and turned her to him, saying angrily, ‘Is it not also true that you are only here because of the boy?’
His fingers dug into her flesh. She wanted to deny it, to reach up, to kiss away the anger and the hurt, but what if he rejected her? Her confidence, the certainty that she could achieve anything, deserted her when she was with Max. No one else had ever made her feel so vulnerable, so powerless, but she was not about to admit it. Not with two women sitting only yards away, one willing to defend her to the death, the other only too ready to see her humiliated. She stepped away from him, gently pulling her arm free.
‘We should go in.’
‘Ellen.’
The single word stopped her as she turned towards the drawing room and she waited for him to continue.
‘About the ball. I will be there, at your side. I know my duty to my Duchess.’
I do not want you to do it out of duty!
The words screamed in her head, but she would not utter them, since she knew duty was all that was keeping them together.
Silently she inclined her head and stepped back inside.
Chapter Thirteen
The final days before the ball flew by. Rooms had to be prepared for the ball itself as well as chambers for the guests who were staying overnight. Rossenhall had relatively few guest rooms and these were to be occupied by the Dowager’s brother, Giles, and her acquaintances. Max had invited only a few friends and they were putting up at the Red Lion. Ellen’s invitation to her own step-mama had been regretfully declined, as they were making a tour of the north and would not be back in time. Ellen smiled at the irony of it; if she had still been in Harrogate she might have welcomed them, now she could only write back with an invitation for them to visit Rossenhall during the winter.
The Dowager eyed all the activity with disfavour and kept to her room during the day, complaining of headaches and feverishness.
‘The Duchess is turning the house upside down,’ she complained to Max, as they waited for Ellen and Mrs Ackroyd to join them for dinner three days before the ball. ‘The household is running around doing her bidding and it will all come to nought. She has left herself far too much to do at the last minute. It will be a disaster and we shall look ridiculous.’
‘She will not fail.’ Max allowed himself a little smile. ‘I think I know enough of my wife to know the ball will be a success, as is everything she does.’
‘Yes, she has you all under her spell,’ said the Dowager spitefully.
He silenced her with a look and she relapsed into self-pity.
‘I would help her if I could,’ she said, a quaver in her voice, ‘but I feel so ill, I fear it is the ague.’
‘Then I suggest you stay out of the way, as I do, and let Ellen get on with it,’ he replied, showing no sympathy. ‘She has Mrs Ackroyd to help her and they seem to have everything in hand.’
Max felt a little guilty that he had absented himself so much over the past week, but Ellen assured him she could manage everything with the help of Tony and the housekeeper, and he was glad to keep his distance. That way it was easier to fight the desire that would not be conquered and could only be assuaged by hard, physical work. Consequently, he spent his days on the estate, helping to fell trees, dig ditches and repair walls. But even then he could not forget her. His people had nothing but praise for the Duchess and naturally they wanted to tell him. He should be pleased they thought so well of her, but it only increased his guilt, because he would not allow himself the pleasure of loving her. Not that she ever asked it of him. She had accepted the situation and went about her daily tasks with an equanimity which, he convinced himself, showed how little she cared. It was only Jamie she loved. Had she not told him as much, that day she feared the boy had drowned?
* * *
The Duchess and her guest came in at that moment, and Dorcas immediately went on to the attack about the progress of the ball. But to everything Ellen had an answer, and in the end she silenced her sister-in-law by going across and hugging her.
‘I know how anxious you are that we put on a grand show, Dorcas, but trust me, it will all work out well.’
Max felt the iron band tighten around his chest. She always responded with such patience and good humour to the Dowager’s grumblings, and she never complained of his lack of attention. He had never known a woman so self-sufficient.
* * *
That was why it came as such a surprise when he found her crying, the morning before the ball.
Guests were arriving at Rossenhall that afternoon and he knew Ellen would be busy with her last-minute preparations, so he went up to the nursery to take Jamie out for a while. He was secretly relieved the boy wanted to sail his yacht rather than take out the drum and play soldiers, for with all the windows thrown wide to air the house, they would have to go some distance to avoid upsetting Dorcas’s delicate nerves. It was around noon when he delivered Jamie back to the nursery and Max knew he was late for his meeting with Tony in the estate room. The quickes
t route was down the backstairs and past the storage rooms that were part of the housekeeper’s domain. As he approached the linen closet he noticed the door was ajar and he heard a definite sob.
Max hesitated. If one of the maids was distressed, then she would be embarrassed to be discovered by the master of the house. He decided he would not disturb her, but would mention the matter to Mrs Greenwood. He proceeded quietly, but as he passed the door he caught a glimpse of yellow-silk skirts. Definitely not a servant’s dress. He stopped and pushed open the door.
‘Ellen?’
She was standing with her back to him, her face in her hands.
‘Oh!’ She whipped a napkin from one of the shelves to wipe her eyes, keeping her back to him. ‘I, um, Mrs Greenwood is so busy I said I would come and check we had sufficient clean table linen.’
‘And what is there in that to make you weep?’ He reached out and turned her to face him, cupping her chin in her hand and forcing her to look up at him. She gave a shaky laugh and eased herself out of his grasp.
‘I beg your pardon. I am being very foolish. I am a little tired, that is all.’
‘I can well believe you are tired, but that is not enough to overset you.’
He saw the shadow flit across her face, a hunted look. He thought that if he had not been blocking the exit she would have run away from him.
‘No,’ she said at last. She looked down at her hands, pleating the napkin between her fingers. ‘I am crying for us, Max. We are neither of us truly happy, are we, trapped in this marriage?’
It took every ounce of willpower not to reach out and pull her into his arms. He might claim it was to comfort her, but it was as much for his own comfort, that he might lose himself in her. Quickly he reminded himself that Ellen did not really want him. She was only with him because of Jamie.
He is all I have, Max.
By heaven, he was jealous of his own son!
He made a decision.
‘I am going away,’ he said. ‘I have been discussing it with Tony for a while now. I need to visit the other properties, talk to the stewards there, see the land for myself. Then I shall be in a better position to decide what must be done. I shall be gone some months. It will give us time to...adjust to the situation.’
‘I see.’ She did not look up. ‘Will you not take me with—?’
‘No!’ He dragged in a breath and tried to soften the refusal. ‘You will want to remain here, with Jamie, will you not? And you need to organise your court dress for the spring. The dressmaker is coming today, is she not? You must tell her to get working on it. Spend whatever you need, you will hear no objections from me.’
‘Yes, of course. Thank you.’ Still she would not look at him. ‘When will you go?’
‘As soon as I can. The morning after the ball.’
‘Jamie will miss you.’
And you, Ellen, will you miss me?
‘I shall write him notes and enclose them in my letters to you.’
‘Thank you.’ She folded the napkin and went to place it back on the shelf, then changed her mind and put it on the windowsill instead. Even Max could see the sad, crumpled square would need laundering again before it could be used at table.
She drew herself up. ‘If you will excuse me, I must get on.’
He flattened himself against a cupboard as she squeezed by him and disappeared. Max leaned back and closed his eyes. It would tear his heart out to leave, but would it really be any worse than seeing her every day? Perhaps a few months apart would clear the confusion in his mind. He remembered his meeting with Tony. He would have to tell him of his decision to begin his tour of the estates as soon as the ball was over. He would have to think of a reason why he was in such a hurry to be gone. Max breathed deeply, preparing himself, and became aware that the air in the room was redolent of herbs, placed between the sheets to keep them fresh. His mouth twisted. He would never be able to smell lavender again without remembering the pain and sadness of this moment.
* * *
Ellen flew up the stairs to her room, praying the expected guests would not arrive early. She needed time to compose herself. She had thought she could cope with Max’s coldness, with the distance he put between them, but this morning it had all become too much and she had given in to a moment’s weakness, only to have him discover her weeping. And now it was all so much worse. He was going away and she would not see him for months.
* * *
Somehow she got through the rest of the day. She left Dorcas to greet the houseguests while she met with the fashionable French modiste employed to make her ball gown. When she put it on, the voluble seamstress declared she looked ravissante, but the compliments only brought a lump to Ellen’s throat as she recalled the moonless night on the Nile that had inspired it.
Max had said to her then, ‘When we get back to England I shall buy you a gown just like the sky, blue-black satin, seeded with diamonds. We will dance until midnight, then I shall take you to bed and undress you.’
She had hoped to charm Max and remind him of that magical night. That was why she had ordered the midnight-blue silk spangled with crystals, but that was before Max had told her about the lives he had risked and lost because he had been desperate with grief for her. She had killed his affection for her and she must come to terms with the fact that it would only ever be lust that fuelled his desire for her, not love.
And that was not good enough.
* * *
‘So that is everything, Tony.’ Max put down his pen and sat back. ‘You have all you need to run Rossenhall in my absence. I will leave you my itinerary, so you will know where I am if you need me.’
‘And you are determined to leave, the morning after the ball?’
‘I am.’ Max frowned. ‘What is it? Why do you look at me like that? Do you think I am wrong to go so soon?’
‘It is not my place to censure Your Grace.’
‘My Grace be damned,’ said Max brutally. ‘Out with it, Tony. We have been friends too long for such fustian.’
For a tense moment Tony held his eyes, then he looked down at the desk, idly pushing the papers into a pile.
‘As a friend, then,’ he said slowly. ‘It occurs to me that you are running away.’
Max pressed his lips together to prevent an angry denial.
‘I had hoped,’ Tony continued, still not looking up, ‘that you would settle at Rossenhall. With your Duchess.’
The air was so charged a spark might have ignited it, but Max knew it was time to be honest with his friend.
‘It is because of the Duchess that I must go.’ Max pushed back his chair and walked to the window. ‘That letter I wrote you from Harrogate, about Ellen and I agreeing that she should live incognito until I was ready to bring her to Rossenhall, it was all lies. She left me, because she thought our marriage was a sham, that the soldier she met in Egypt was an imposter.’
‘Well...’ Max heard the hesitation in Tony’s voice, knew he was picking his words carefully ‘...since you were never officially in Egypt surely that is understandable.’
‘I know it and I could forgive her that, if it wasn’t for what followed.’ Max felt the guilt welling up in him again, black and painful as ever. It was like uncovering an old wound and finding it had not healed at all. ‘When I thought I had lost her for ever I became reckless, taking on every thankless, dangerous task the army threw at me. It cost lives, Tony, but unfortunately not mine. Don’t you see? It was all very well for me to risk my own life, but I had no right to condemn my men.’
‘You did not condemn them. Every one of those missions was composed of volunteers.’
‘Hah!’
‘You were a good leader,’ said Tony simply. ‘They would have followed you anywhere.’
Max dismissed his words with a wave of a hand and
he shook himself, as if trying to shoulder away the guilt that haunted him.
‘I led them to their deaths. You cannot deny it, Tony. You were there. You and Fred Arncliffe were but two casualties of my actions. Actions that I would not have carried out, if Ellen had not left me.’
‘And you blame her for that?’
‘I blame myself for allowing her to drive me to such depths of despair!’
‘So you are punishing her for your own guilt.’
‘I suppose I am. I know that is not right, but I cannot look at her without thinking of all the good men who lost their lives.’
Behind him, Max heard Tony exhale and say slowly, ‘It is my belief that you would have volunteered for those missions, even if your wife had been safe in England.’
‘Never!’
‘Very well, let me put another argument. Have you ever thought, Major, that if you had not been there to lead them, your men might have ended up with one of those incompetents that the army likes to put in charge? Someone like that fool, Bennington Ffog.’
‘That is enough!’ snarled Max, finding relief from his guilt and grief in anger. He swung round. ‘We have already said too much on the subject.’
‘Not quite.’ Tony pushed himself to his feet and met Max’s eyes steadily. ‘You may give me notice to quit, if you wish, but I will say my piece, Major. If it was because of your Duchess that you took on those well-nigh impossible missions then I can only thank her, from the bottom of my heart. Those attacks would have gone ahead, even if you had not been there, and without your excellent leadership even more good men would have died. I am also pretty sure that I would have lost a lot more than an arm and Freddie Arncliffe would never have got home to see his wife and daughter. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do. The Duchess has invited me to join the dinner party tomorrow, but if you wish me to leave, I will do so as soon as I have prepared those reports for you.’
‘Dammit, Tony, of course I do not want you to go and I will not accept your resignation!’ Max rubbed his hands across his eyes. ‘I suppose you think I am a damned fool.’
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