‘Perhaps we will be lucky enough to have my grandmother attribute your obvious displeasure with me as the result of my earlier high-handedness in forbidding you from attending Lady Littleton’s soirée this evening?’ Justin suggested heavily.
‘No doubt,’ she agreed stiltedly.
Whatever his grandmother might choose to think or say was really unimportant, it was the antagonism Eleanor now showed towards him that concerned him the most...
* * *
Ellie heaved a sigh of relief as she saw they were approaching Royston House at last, barely waiting for the carriage to come to a halt and the groom—Bilsbury, no doubt!—to open the door, before stepping quickly outside, in desperate need to put some distance between herself and Justin.
She would need to bathe and change her clothing, too, before Edith St Just arrived home; as Justin had already remarked, his grandmother was indeed a very astute lady, and the dowager would only need to take one look at Ellie’s dishevelled appearance to realise exactly what must have taken place between them in Justin’s carriage on their drive back to Royston House!
It was to be hoped that the dowager had not arrived home ahead of them...
Ellie had no idea how much time had passed while she and Justin made love in his carriage, but it would not have taken the dowager so very long to take tea with Lady Cicely. It would be too humiliating if she had arrived home ahead of them—
‘We will go inside together, Eleanor.’ The duke put his hand lightly beneath her elbow to fall into step beside her as she hurried up the wide steps fronting the house.
Ellie shot Justin a fuming glance, especially as she saw that he looked just as fashionably elegant as he always did, with not a hair showing out of place beneath the tall hat he took off and handed to Stanhope once they had entered the grand entrance hall. ‘I shall take my bonnet and gloves upstairs with me, thank you, Stanhope,’ she refused with a strained smile as he offered to take them from her. ‘If you could arrange for hot water for a bath to be brought up to me as soon as is possible?’
‘I would like the same brought to my own rooms, if you please, Stanhope,’ Justin requested.
‘Certainly, your Grace, Miss Rosewood, I will see to it immediately.’ The butler hesitated, his expression one of slight perturbation. ‘I should inform you... A visitor arrived whilst you were out, your Grace.’
The duke raised his brows. ‘And who might that be?’
Ellie was curious to know the answer to that question too; she had been acquainted with Stanhope for the past year, knew him to be unflappable, whatever the situation. And at the moment he was most certainly disconcerted, to say the least.
‘Good afternoon, Justin.’
Ellie was aware of Justin drawing in a hissing breath beside her, even as she turned in search of the owner of that husky feminine voice. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she found herself looking at an elegant and beautiful, blonde-haired woman, as she stood framed in the doorway of the Blue Salon.
A beautiful woman whom Justin undoubtedly recognised—but so obviously wished he did not!
Chapter Fourteen
It was a belief that was instantly born out by Justin’s next accusing comment. ‘What are you doing here?’
Ellie flinched at the angry displeasure she could hear in his voice, knowing she would shrivel and die a little inside if he should ever speak to her in so disparaging a tone.
But the elegantly lovely woman standing across the hallway did not so much as blink in response to that harshness as she turned to smile at the discreetly departing Stanhope before answering Justin chidingly, ‘Really, darling, is that any way to address me when we have not seen each other for so many months?’
‘And whose fault is that?’
She smiled sadly. ‘On this particular occasion I believe it to be your own.’
Ellie felt as if this entire day had turned into a nightmare she could not wake up from. Firstly, the fierceness of their lovemaking in Justin’s carriage, which had once again ended so disastrously. And now, it appeared, she was to meet a woman whom Justin had obviously once been—or perhaps was still?—involved with. A woman, moreover, who was so much more beautiful and sophisticated than Ellie could ever be.
* * *
Justin had not believed this day could get any worse, but the proof that it actually could was standing directly across the cavernous hallway. The last thing, the very last thing he had expected today was to find this particular woman waiting for him when he returned to Royston House.
‘Are you not going to introduce us, Justin?’ she now prompted as she looked pointedly at Eleanor. ‘Or perhaps I can guess who you might be, without Justin’s help,’ she added ruefully when no introduction was forthcoming from him. ‘You are no doubt Miss Eleanor Rosewood, the lovely young lady who was the stepdaughter of Frederick St Just, and whom Edith has kindly taken under her wing?’
‘I am Eleanor Rosewood, yes.’ She sketched a curtsy, still looking confused.
A puzzlement Justin had absolutely no wish to satisfy, yet he knew he had no choice but to do so. ‘Eleanor, may I present to you her Grace, Rachel St Just, the Duchess of Royston. My mother,’ he added curtly as Eleanor continued to look at him blankly.
‘Your mother...?’ Eleanor gave a gasp, her expression one of wide-eyed disbelief as she stared at the woman who did not look old enough to be the mother of a boy of eight, let alone a grown man of eight and twenty.
She never had, Justin acknowledged begrudgingly, having always considered his mother to be one of the loveliest women he had ever set eyes upon. As a child he had thought her as beautiful as any angel. And she continued to be, despite now being in her late forties.
Her fashionably styled hair was as golden and abundant as it had ever been, her blue eyes as bright, her face and throat as creamily smooth, her figure still as resplendently curvaceous in the blue gown she wore—
The blue gown she wore...?
To Justin’s knowledge his mother had not worn anything but black since the death of his father three years ago. And yet today, here and now, she was wearing a fashionable silk gown the same colour blue as her eyes, satin slippers of the same shade peeping out from beneath the hem of that gown.
Did this mean that his mother had finally—finally!—decided to end her years of solitary mourning for his father?
* * *
Ellie could only stare at the woman Justin had just introduced as his mother.
Was it any wonder she had assumed her to be something else entirely? This tall, beautiful woman definitely did not look old enough to be Justin’s mother. Did not look old enough to be Ellie’s own mother!
‘I am sorry we did not meet when your mother and Frederick were alive, but so pleased that we are doing so now.’ Rachel St Just smiled warmly as she seemed to glide across the hallway to where Ellie stood, the older woman hugging her briefly before then holding her at arm’s length, her perfume light and floral—and hopefully masking the musky smell of Eleanor’s own clothing! ‘You are every bit as lovely as Edith wrote and told me that you were.’
‘Grandmama wrote and told you about Eleanor?’ Justin repeated slowly.
Ellie glanced at him, frowning slightly as she saw the incredulity in his expression, quickly followed by the narrowing of his eyes as he continued to look at his mother guardedly. Ellie noted that there was no attempt on the duchess’s part to greet her son with the same physical warmth of the hug she had just received.
Perhaps the relationship between mother and son was so obviously strained that she knew Justin would reject such a gesture from her out of hand?
Ellie saw the sadness that appeared briefly on Rachel’s lovely face in acceptance of that truth, before she smiled and asked, ‘Is there some reason why Edith and I should not regularly correspond with each other?’
‘Oh, it was not just one letter, Justin,’ his mother revealed. ‘Edith has talked of nothing else but Eleanor for months now, until I decided I must come and meet this beautiful paragon for myself.’
Ellie now looked for any sign of the cynicism and mockery that were such a part of her son’s nature, knowing herself to be neither ‘beautiful’ nor a ‘paragon’—especially now, when her appearance was so bedraggled! But she could discern only kindness in the duchess’s face as she continued to smile at her warmly.
Another glance at Justin showed that cynicism and mockery to be all too visible on his too handsome face! ‘The dowager duchess is too kind,’ Ellie answered his mother quietly.
‘My mother-in-law is indeed kind,’ Rachel agreed. ‘But, I assure you, in this instance she was being truthful as well as kind.’
‘Are you seriously telling me that you have decided to give up your years of solitary mourning in the country—’ Justin eyed his mother derisively ‘—to come up to town out of a mere curiosity to meet Eleanor?’
The duchess raised golden brows. ‘Why, what other reason can there have been?’
His jaw tightened. ‘Grandmama did not write and tell you she has recently been...indisposed?’
Ellie saw now where Justin was going with this conversation. He was concerned that Edith might have confided more fully as to the seriousness, or otherwise, of her illness with her daughter-in-law than she had him, and it was that very confidence which was now the reason for his mother’s unexpected, and for Justin obviously surprising, return to town.
‘I believe I will leave the two of you now and go to my room to bathe,’ Ellie spoke softly into the tenseness of the silence that had now befallen them all.
* * *
Justin shot her a bleak glance, knowing their own conversation was far from over, but also accepting that the conversation he needed to have with his mother now took priority over any awkwardness that had once again arisen between Eleanor and himself. If, indeed, it had ever ceased!
Quite what he was going to do about Eleanor, and the habit he was rapidly falling into of making love with her at every available opportunity, was beyond his reasoning at this moment. The force of their lovemaking such a short time ago, and the unexpected appearance of his mother, had succeeded in completely destroying his ability for logic.
He also accepted that Eleanor, despite his mother’s compliments, was looking less than her best—her hair so obviously in disarray beneath her bonnet, her gown appearing crushed, that she was no doubt feeling less than comfortable in the duchess’s presence.
Justin gave an abrupt nod. ‘We will talk again before dinner.’
Dark-green eyes looked away from his. ‘I have a slight headache, your Grace, and believe I will take your advice after all and spend the evening at home in my bedchamber.’
His mouth twisted grimly at Eleanor’s use of the word ‘advice’—they both knew only too well that he had issued an order earlier rather than well-intentioned advice! ‘Then I will call upon you in your room after dinner.’
That brought her gaze swiftly back to him, those green eyes flashing her displeasure. ‘That will not be necessary, your Grace, when I have every intention of going to bed and then to sleep shortly afterwards.’
And she was no doubt hoping—perhaps even praying?—that when she awoke, this afternoon would turn out to be nothing but a nightmare!
Justin’s own life was also becoming increasingly unbearable. Not only did he still have his grandmother’s illness to worry about, and now his mother’s unexpected arrival at Royston House to ponder over, but Dryden Litchfield, and his possible connection to Eleanor, still lurked threateningly in the background of these other, more immediate, concerns.
Boredom? Hah! Once again Justin acknowledged that he no longer had the time in which to suffer that emotion!
‘Very well.’ He thrust a hand through his hair. ‘But if your headache worsens I wish for you to ring for Stanhope immediately, so that Dr Franklyn can be sent for.’
‘I am not a child, Justin, to be told by you what I should or should not do!’ Eleanor’s cheeks instantly coloured a vivid red as she remembered they had an interested audience listening to their conversation. Her tone had been scathing to say the least, her use of his first name implying a familiarity between them which had certainly not been apparent until now. ‘I apologise, your Grace,’ she made that apology pointedly to his mother rather than Justin—obviously implying she did not feel she owed him an apology! ‘I am afraid I am feeling less than well today myself.’
‘You poor dear.’ His mother’s expression was wholly sympathetic. ‘Would it be acceptable to you if I were to come up to your bedchamber and check on you later this evening?’
Justin turned back to Eleanor, derisive brows raised over challenging blue eyes.
Ellie had avoided looking at Justin following her irritated outburst, although she sensed his mocking gaze was now fixed upon her. Deservedly so; in her annoyance with him, she had forgotten all sense of propriety. In front of his mother, of all people.
‘Perfectly acceptable,’ she warmly accepted the duchess’s suggestion.
‘I will take care not to disturb you if you are sleeping.’ Rachel continued to smile reassuringly, as if she had not noticed Ellie’s familiarity towards her arrogant son.
‘Your Grace.’ Ellie bobbed a curtsy to the older woman. ‘Your Grace.’ Her voice had cooled noticeably as she gave Justin only the barest hint of a departing nod, not even waiting for his acknowledgement of that less-than-polite gesture before turning to hurry across the hallway, lifting the skirts of her gown to quickly ascend the wide staircase.
Even so, she could not help but overhear the duchess’s next comment.
‘Is there something relating to your young ward, which you feel the need to discuss with either Edith or myself, Justin?’
Justin continued to watch Eleanor for several more seconds as she hurriedly ascended the curved staircase, only turning his attention back to his mother once she had reached the top of those stairs and disappeared rapidly down the hallway he knew led to her bedchamber. ‘Such as?’ He eyed his mother coolly.
She sighed. ‘I see that you are still angry with me.’
‘Not at all.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Anger would imply a depth of emotion which simply does not exist between us.’
His mother gave a pained frown. ‘That is simply not true! I have always loved you dearly, Justin—’
‘Oh, please!’
‘But—’
‘I have no intention of continuing this conversation out here in the hallway, where anyone might overhear us.’ He turned to stride in the direction of the Blue Salon, waiting until his mother, having hesitated briefly, now entered the room ahead of him, before following her and closing the door firmly behind her. ‘Why are you really here, Mother?’
‘I told you—’
‘Some nonsense about meeting Eleanor.’ Justin waved away his impatience with that explanation as he stood with his back towards one of the bay windows that looked out over the front of the house. ‘To my knowledge, Eleanor has resided at Royston House with Grandmama for this past year, so why the sudden and urgent interest in her now?’
His mother sank down gracefully on to one of the sofas before answering him. ‘Edith mentioned that, with your help, she intended bringing Eleanor out into society.’
Justin’s hands were clasped tightly together behind his back. ‘And have you come to offer your own assistance in that endeavour?’
She gave a sad shake of her head. ‘I wish that you would not take that scathing tone when you address me.’
He
drew in a deeply controlling breath, aware that he was being less than polite to the woman who had, after all, given birth to him.
‘I apologise if I sounded rude.’
‘That is at least something, I suppose—Justin, are you aware that your neckcloth is looking...less than its usual pristine self?’ She eyed him with questioning calm.
Considering the depth, the wildness, of the desire which had seized him in his carriage just minutes ago, when Eleanor had unfastened his waistcoat and then pushed his shirt up his chest so that she might touch and caress him there, Justin was surprised only his neckcloth was askew as evidence of their passionate encounter!
‘I believe we were discussing the suddenness of your decision to come up to town, not my neckcloth?’ He refused to so much as raise a hand and attempt to straighten the disarray of that scrap of material, and to hell with what deductions his mother might care to make in that regard.
Eyes so like his own dropped from meeting his as his mother instead ran a fingernail along the piping at the edge of the cushion upon which she sat. ‘It is not so sudden, Justin. I have known for some time that one of us must attempt to heal the breach which exists between us. And when you failed to visit me on my birthday this week, I realised it must be me.’
Justin had completely forgotten that it was his mother’s birthday just four days ago. Indeed, he had been so preoccupied, with both his grandmother’s illness, and this unaccountable passion he had developed for Eleanor Rosewood, that he was no longer sure what day of the week it was, let alone that he had missed altogether his mother’s forty-ninth birthday!
He winced. ‘Once again I apologise.’
She gave a teasing tilt of her head. ‘Enough to give me the kiss you failed to give me earlier?’
‘Of course.’ Justin crossed the room to briefly press his lips against the smoothness of her cheek; it was a small price to pay, after all, for such negligence.
His mother nodded. ‘And will you now sit here beside me and tell me all about Miss Rosewood?’ She patted the sofa cushion beside her own.
NOT JUST A WALLFLOWER Page 17
