Hm. And if Melbourne learned what had transpired and Valentine’s part in extracting Eleanor from harm, both the obligation and the debt would be wiped clean. “We’ll worry about all of that later,” he hedged, helping her back inside and climbing in after her.
“No, we can’t. Please promise me, Deverill—Valentine—that you won’t tell anyone about where I was or what Stephen…what he did.”
“I’m not sure my silence would do you any good, Eleanor. Cobb-Harding has a great deal to gain, and almost nothing to lose, by spreading the rumor that he ruined you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If he thinks this will force me to marry him, he’s sadly mistaken.”
Valentine shrugged. “Stranger things have happened, and for less reason.”
Gray eyes absorbed that. He could see exactly when she realized just how much trouble she was in, and that tonight being a Griffin meant nothing—unless she admitted everything to her brothers. “Oh, no,” she whispered, bowing her head. “Oh, no.”
“And I hate to add to your troubles, but shortly before I left the Hampton Ball, Melbourne sent Shay back to Griffin House to look in on you. That would have been some time ago.”
Her shoulders heaved, curling dark hair in its dishevelment of crimson ribbons curtaining her face. Christ, he’d experienced it all before—the weeping, the begging, the feigned helplessness to change his mind or gain his mercy. He studied her bowed head. Cynical as he was, he knew honest despair when he saw it. And for the first time it touched him.
“Vauxhall,” he said into the silence.
“What?” She sniffed in a poor attempt to stifle tears.
“There were to be acrobats there tonight. Tumblers, tightrope walkers, men on wooden stilts.”
“What do I care about that?” she whispered unsteadily.
“You care about it a great deal, because you knew Melbourne would want to attend the ball, and you wanted to see the acrobats. So you waited until they left the house, and then you slipped out yourself, hired a hack, and went to Vauxhall.”
She lifted her head, hope sparking in her gray eyes. “Melbourne would be furious.”
“Yes, but there would be no scandal.”
Her face folded again. “Not until Stephen talked, you mean.”
Valentine gave a slow, humorless smile. “Leave Mr. Cobb-Harding to me. By the time I’m finished, he won’t ever mention your name again, except in the most polite of terms.” Agreement or not, dislike for entanglements or not, this infuriated him on the most basic of levels. Cobb-Harding was a damned, bloody, lazy bastard who couldn’t be bothered to make the effort of a proper seduction.
Eleanor reached across the coach and grabbed his hand. “I will owe you so much, Deverill, and I will never forget this. You are a good friend—and a good man.”
He pressed her fingers and then released her, abruptly uncomfortable. “I’m taking an opportunity to engage in some mayhem,” he muttered. “I should thank you.” Not wanting to wait for her to argue in favor of his lack of self-interest, he leaned his head out the coach window again. “Dawson, hail a hack and have it follow us, then head for the corner of Avery Row and Brook’s Mew.”
“Yes, my lord.”
That would put them two blocks from Griffin House, far enough away that her vigilant brothers wouldn’t see anything, and close enough that he could place her into the hired carriage without worrying that something else might happen to her before she reached home. If Eleanor deserved one thing, it was to arrive home safely and without another fright for the evening.
“Deverill, I don’t know what to say.”
“Firstly, say you’ll never be caught in that situation again.”
“Oh, I promise that,” Eleanor said vehemently.
“And secondly, you can never wear that gown again. It’s a damned shame, because you looked like the goddess of fire in it, but someone who attended Belmont’s might recognize it—and therefore, you. Especially since you arrived with Cobb-Harding and left with me.”
She nodded, looking down at the exquisite creation. “I don’t think I ever want to wear it again, anyway.” Her fine cheeks darkened again. “And you saw—”
Yes, he had, and he wasn’t likely to forget it. Melbourne’s sister wasn’t a puppy dog any longer. She was a magnificent specimen of feminine beauty. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, Nell,” he drawled. “Many times.”
“And you won’t tell anyone? I know how close you and Sebastian are, but please, Deverill, please don’t say anything.”
“Say anything about what?” he returned, standing as the coach stopped again. “And for God’s sake, call me Valentine.” He forced a grin, hoping it looked easy and natural. “I did rescue you, after all.”
She only nodded, her fingers gripping his tightly as he handed her to the ground and led her to the second coach.
“Remember, Eleanor, all you did was slip away to see some acrobats.”
“Acrobats. And men on stilts.”
He could see her pulling her thoughts back together, mentally regaining her footing. It surprised him. Most women he knew—even the occasional honest one—would be hysterical, or begging him to exact revenge on their attacker. It was becoming obvious that this bargain she’d made with Melbourne meant a great deal to her. Much more than he’d realized.
As she sat in the hack, he handed the driver a shilling. “You’ve just come straight from Vauxhall,” he stated, “and saw no one with the lady either there or here.” He flipped a gold sovereign into the man’s surprised reach as he gave the Griffin House address. “Yes?”
The driver doffed his hat. “Aye, my lord. I ain’t seen no one between here and Vauxhall.”
“Good.” He reached over to close the coach door.
Eleanor put a hand out to stop him. “Thank you, Valentine,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”
Valentine sketched a jaunty bow. “My pleasure, my lady.”
He stepped back as the hack rattled down the street and turned the next corner. She would be safe from there. Melbourne would no doubt have some harsh words for her, but compared to what she’d been through, an argument wouldn’t be difficult.
Of course he hadn’t exactly made things easier for himself; if he’d turned her in to her brother, his obligation would be over. It was amusing, in a way. Him, the least honorable man he knew, touched by a chit’s honest need. And because of that one moment of weakness on his part, he now had to carry her secret and continue to keep an eye on her—unless the escapade at Belmont’s had cured her of her desire for freedom.
And there was one other thing he’d obligated himself to, as well. At the moment, though, he doubted Stephen Cobb-Harding would care to remember tonight, either. He climbed back into his own coach.
“Home, my lord?” Dawson asked from the driver’s perch.
“God, yes. I need to get some sleep.”
Chapter 6
When Eleanor awoke, the aching head she’d pretended the night before had become all too real. She groaned as Helen pushed open the curtains of her bedchamber. “What time is it?”
“Seven o’clock, my lady.”
“Close the curtains at once. I am not ready to rise yet.”
“His Grace has requested that all family members join him at the breakfast table, my lady.”
Her heart, along with her sour stomach, lurched. Had he found out something? She thought she’d been convincing when he’d flung open the front door at her arrival last night, and he’d certainly been angry enough, but if Deverill—Valentine—had miscalculated, all of London could be talking by now about how she’d voluntarily accompanied Stephen Cobb-Harding to Belmont’s, about how she’d had too much to drink, allowed him to paw at her naked chest—and then left with another man of far worse reputation than her original escort.
“I don’t feel well enough to eat breakfast,” she mumbled, and curled away from the window.
“My lady, His Grace said you must attend, or I am to be sacked for failin
g to pass on his instructions.”
“What?” Eleanor struggled upright amid the mound of blankets. “He can’t do that!”
Helen gave a nervous curtsy. “If you could possibly manage it, my lady, I would prefer not to test his resolve.”
Neither would Eleanor, actually. “I will go down to breakfast,” she stated, “just to tell him to stop threatening the household staff.”
The maid’s shoulders sagged in obvious relief. “Thank you, my lady.”
Her head continued to ache dully as she dressed and headed downstairs. She wasn’t certain whether it was because of the laudanum or because of the amount of spirits she’d consumed, but either way the pain served to remind her never to be caught unawares again.
Melbourne and Penelope were the only Griffins at the breakfast table when she entered the room. “Good morning,” she said, in consideration of Peep stifling the protest she’d been about to deliver. Sebastian was diabolical, sometimes.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, holding a slice of toast in one hand and an official-looking paper in the other. He had Parliament today, she remembered.
“You’re walking funny,” Peep noted, as Eleanor bypassed the platters of ham and the soft-boiled eggs in favor of dry toast.
“My head aches,” she replied. Melbourne had already commented, several times, about how strongly she’d smelled of liquor last night, so lying would have been useless. In all likelihood she had more significant things she would have to tell untruths about, anyway.
And it was thanks to the Marquis of Deverill that she even had the option of lying. If Melbourne knew what had actually happened, he would have sent her back to Devon after last night.
She sighed heavily as she took the chair beside Peep. She owed Deverill both for saving her virtue and for giving her another chance at husband hunting or romance or adventure or…whatever it was she meant to do. Being more cautious was certainly at the top of the list. After Stephen Cobb-Harding’s trap, her enthusiasm for finding a husband without first enlisting someone else’s opinion of his character had waned—or rather had turned. And in the adventure yesterday, poorly as it had turned out, she’d noticed something else.
By daylight she could admit that the soiree had held a definite decadent attraction. But whoever she ended up marrying, whether she chose him or not, it would signal the end of that initial feeling of barely muted excitement and anticipation. Exploring more of that sensation—of freedom and everything that went with it—had literally overnight become her focus. And she knew precisely whom to thank for that.
She owed Valentine for saving her, and she owed him for turning what would have been nightmares last night as she slept into something more nebulous and heated.
“What’s amiss, Melbourne?” Zachary said from the doorway. Stifling a yawn he headed for the sideboard and began loading up a plate.
“Not a thing,” the duke replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Because it’s bloo…blasted seven o’clock in the morning,” he grumbled, flicking Peep on the ear as he passed and making her giggle.
“I hope this isn’t some sort of lesson for Nell,” the drier voice of Shay took up as he entered the room, “because I would have preferred a later setting. I only went to bed three hours ago.”
Their greetings were so typical of the two of them; Zachary, despite being half asleep, was still as much amused as he was annoyed—he’d never been truly upset or angry more than once or twice in her memory. Charlemagne was more reserved and less chatty, and with a much shorter fuse to his temper. He’d nearly been sent down from university once when a classmate had wrongly accused him of cheating and he’d broken the boy’s nose rather than argue the point verbally.
Her own temper was beginning to fray at the moment. “Maybe it’s a lesson for you,” Eleanor countered with a frown, “because I was forced to attend school last night.”
Melbourne set aside the document he’d been reading. “This is a new family tradition,” he said. “Since everyone seems determined to go their own way without informing other members of the family, we will make an occasion where we will all sit down together. Three times a week. And for as long as we live under the same roof.”
“At seven o’clock in the morning?” Zachary asked, gesturing for a second cup of coffee.
“On the mornings I have to go to Parliament, yes.”
“He has to go this morning,” Penelope added. “He always informs me of his whereabouts. I will be going to feed ducks in the park with Mrs. Bevins.”
“Will you?” Shay asked as he filled his own plate. “That sounds far more amusing than what I had planned. And the company more fair, as well.”
“You were going to Gentleman Jackson’s with me,” Zachary protested.
“Exactly.”
Peep laughed again. “You may come, then, but you have to bring your own bread crumbs.”
As Charlemagne crossed to his seat, he leaned over to kiss Penelope on the cheek. “I’ll bring extra bread crumbs.”
Eleanor looked at her niece. Peep had no idea that in a few years all of this indulgence would vanish, and every move she made would be scrutinized and criticized and every liberty curtailed, both because she was a female and because she was a Griffin.
“So we’ve met for breakfast,” she said, keeping her gaze on the slice of toast in front of her. “You’ve ordered everyone to rise, and we’ve obeyed you. I don’t quite see what it’s gotten you, but I suppose all that matters is that you’ve had your way.”
“After last night I think a little enforced time with your family might do you some good,” Melbourne returned, his tone still soft and mild, “since we are the ones who will be hurt if anything should happen to you.”
Eleanor lifted her head, meeting his direct gray gaze. “I apologized last night, Sebastian. But I’ve kept to my part of the agreement. I haven’t been involved in any scandal.” That fact was thanks to Deverill, but they certainly didn’t need to know that.
“It’s only been three days, Nell!” Zachary protested. “You can’t just vanish. Vauxhall is dangerous. If you want to go somewhere like that, one of us will take you.”
“I don’t want you to take me places, and I don’t want to have to get your permission to go,” she returned, reminding herself that facing their anger was a small price to pay. It could have been so much worse.
“Your declaration says nothing about endangering your safety.” Sebastian finished his cup of tea. “You will inform one of us, at the least, of your schedule. And that is not negotiable.”
As she considered it, Eleanor’s hesitation was more for effect than because she meant to argue his decision. “Very well.” She really didn’t intend any more surprises like that anyway. And having them know where she was would at least help to keep incidents like the one last night from happening ever again.
For a moment the duke stayed silent, but she wouldn’t venture to say aloud that her answer had surprised him. That never happened. “Good,” he said finally. “Now if you’ll excuse me?” Melbourne pushed back from the table and stood.
So that was that—another proclamation from the head of the family, and one that applied only to her. “Does this rule apply to everyone?” she blurted. If not for her throbbing head she probably would have kept her mouth shut, but in all fairness she frequently had no idea of Shay or Zachary’s location, and while Sebastian might tell Peep where he intended to be, having to quiz a six-year-old for the information didn’t seem to fit the spirit of the new Griffin law.
“It applies to whomever said they were going to be home in bed last evening and then slipped off to Vauxhall to see jugglers.”
“Acrobats,” she corrected stiffly. Perhaps she’d best concede the point. Deverill hadn’t given her any further details about Vauxhall, and if Melbourne knew the truth, they wouldn’t be talking about rules. They would be packing her things for an immediate return to Melbourne Park.
“I like acrobats,” Penelope stated.
“Why didn’t you take me with you?”
Any answer she made to that would only prove Melbourne’s point about the danger of her supposed actions. “My apologies, Peep,” she settled for. “Next time, perhaps.”
“We’ll see about that.” Melbourne kissed his daughter on the cheek. “Be good, Peep,” he said, smiling fondly at her, then left the room.
Determined as she was to be angry with Melbourne, Eleanor hated when he was like that, when he showed obvious affection for his daughter and genuine worry over her. It was easier not to think of him as human, but he insisted on confusing the issue. He always had, she supposed, but absolute tyranny during her rebellion would have been easier to deal with.
In accordance with the new rule she informed both Shay and Zachary that she would be spending most of the day shopping with Lady Barbara Howsen. She left them debating whether to go back to bed, and went herself to ask the cook for cucumber slices to put over her eyes until a decent hour to meet up with her friend.
As she was putting on a new blue hat topped with an ostrich feather, the butler scratched at her door. She’d been hesitant to speak with Stanton, since he’d seen quite clearly in whose carriage she’d departed last night. But putting off conversing with him any longer would give her an apoplexy.
She gestured Helen back to the dressing table and pulled open the door herself. “Yes, Stanton?”
“You have a caller downstairs, my lady.” He held out the salver, an embossed calling card resting in its center.
Eleanor picked it up, hoping with all her might that it wouldn’t be one of the guests from Belmont’s last night, someone who had recognized her despite the red gown and the black swan mask. As she read the elegant gold script, her heart skipped a beat and then began hammering again. It was someone from the soiree.
“Please inform Lord Deverill that I’ll be down in just a moment,” she said, her voice not quite steady.
“As you wish, my lady.”
Now, Eleanor, she yelled at herself. “Stanton?”
The butler paused, facing her again. “Yes, my lady?”
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