Sin and Sensibility

by Suzanne Enoch

  Chapter 15

  Eleanor awoke late and took her time with dressing. Her body ached in some unexpected places, but that wasn’t the reason for her gliding about as if she were sunk into a waking daydream. Everything felt different; she felt different, and it was a sensation she was rather enjoying. And to think she’d only meant for her great adventure last night to be a swim.

  It was past eleven when she made her way downstairs. She hummed as she slipped into the breakfast room.

  “Good morning,” Zachary said, looking up from the newspaper.

  The paper appeared a little wrinkled, but then he would have been the third one to read it, after Melbourne and Shay. By the time it reached her, none of it would be pristine. She stifled a grin. Rather like her, now, thanks to Valentine Corbett.

  “Good morning,” she returned, shaking the image of those sleepy green eyes from her mind. “Are there any peaches left?”

  He nodded, indicating the sideboard. “Stanton had the bowl refilled when your maid announced that you’d risen.”

  She glanced at the butler. “Thank you, Stanton.”

  “My lady. And—”

  “Oh, and there are three men waiting in the morning room to take you driving or some such thing,” Zachary interrupted.

  “What?” Eleanor glanced toward the hallway and the morning room beyond. “I didn’t agree to join anyone for any outings this morning.”

  “Apparently they just appeared, hoping you would be available. And as ordered we didn’t chase them off, so you’re on your own.”

  “Who are they?” she asked, browsing through the sideboard offerings, and at the moment not disposed to rush her breakfast. None of them had been invited, and none of them would be the Marquis of Deverill. Aside from the fact that he wouldn’t wait in a herd of hopefuls, he wouldn’t call on her anyway. Last night had been their—her—moment of freedom and passion. He’d helped her find it, and she had been the one to say there wouldn’t be anything more.

  And of course that had been precisely the wisest thing to do—even before she’d discovered just how enjoyable last night would be. It made a great deal of sense to put an end to anything before it could begin, especially since it might also save her from wondering where he might be—not that it seemed to be working at the moment. Valentine didn’t precisely have a reputation for faithfulness or lengthy romances. In fact, she would hardly call them romances at all. More like liaisons. And she’d been just another in a long line of those. Eleanor frowned. That was what she’d wanted. Wasn’t it?

  “Ask Stanton who’s here,” Zachary returned. “I’m busy.”

  Sighing, she raised an eyebrow at the butler. “Stanton?”

  “Mr. Roger Noleville, Lord Ian Woods, and Lord Chambrey, my lady.”

  “Oh.”

  Zachary glanced over the edge of the paper at her, then went back to reading when she looked in his direction.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Just noting your good mood and not asking you about it, because I don’t want to ruin it or break the rules or anything.”

  And how was she supposed to reply to that? “Good,” she attempted. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And the hopeful herd in the morning room?”

  “I thought you were too busy to concern yourself with them.”

  “I am. I’m merely reminding you of their presence.”

  “Fine.” None of the callers stirred her in the least, though she supposed Noleville was an upstanding young man, if rather dull. Still, it showed some spirit, if he’d bothered to come calling without an invitation to do so.

  On the other hand, she wasn’t particularly interested in spending the day with any of them. Eleanor picked up a peach, then set it back in the bowl. “I suppose it’s rude to keep them waiting.”

  “So you’re going driving with all three of them?” Zachary asked.

  She stuck her tongue out at him just as Peep pranced into the breakfast room. “My governess said she would wash my tongue with soap if I stuck it out at her again,” she commented, snatching up the peach Eleanor had rejected and biting into it. “But I won’t tell her about you.”

  “Thank you, Peep.”

  “You’re welcome. And who are these new men coming to call on you?” the little girl continued. “I’ve never seen them before, so they can’t be friends of Papa or the uncles.”

  “No, they’re not,” Zachary agreed.

  “They’re here to call on me,” Eleanor explained. “They want to take me driving.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes,” she returned, trying not to sound reluctant. This was supposed to be what she wanted, and Zachary would report any hesitation on her part to Melbourne. Her social calendar used to be much more organized, but she wouldn’t exactly call this new chaos any more fun than the old, staid life she’d had before.

  “Well, I don’t think you can go with all of them.”

  Obviously not. An idea struck her, and she turned to the butler again. “Stanton, which of them arrived first?”

  “That would be Lord Chambrey, my lady.”

  Of course—the one with the neck like a goose. Eleanor pursed her lips. Chambrey would be the fair choice, but even as she opened her mouth to have Stanton dispose of the other two, a thought struck her. She didn’t need to be fair. She could choose to spend the day with the one who appealed to her the most, and she didn’t need to make an excuse for it. Valentine had taught her that—it wasn’t about being cruel, but it was about being fair to herself.

  “Stanton, please inform Mr. Noleville that I’ll be ready shortly. And let the other two know that I appreciate their interest and hope to see them soon.”

  The butler nodded, in one fluid movement turning on his heel, exiting the room, and closing the door behind him. Eleanor took a breath and chose another peach.

  “Hm,” Zachary muttered, turning a page of the newspaper.

  She ignored him, instead seating herself next to Peep. “What are your plans for today, my darling?”

  “Well,” the little girl answered, “I’m supposed to take a lesson on the pianoforte and then do my studies, but I was thinking of going to the museum instead.”

  “Oh, you were?”

  “Yes. Papa won’t like it, but he’s at Parliament.”

  “I’ll make you a bargain, then,” Eleanor suggested. “You do your pianoforte lesson, and when I return from my drive, I’ll take you to the museum.”

  A peach-juice-covered hand gripped her wrist. “You would? That would be grand. Because Uncle Zachary only likes to look at the naked statues, and I like the mummies.”

  Zachary cleared his throat. “That is not true.”

  Eleanor ignored him. “Then we have a—”

  “It’s only that I admire the workmanship,” her brother interrupted.

  “I like some of the statues, as well,” Eleanor said, meeting his surprised gaze. She didn’t know what possessed her this morning, except that her adventure with the Marquis of Deverill had fulfilled her in a way she’d never thought possible, and that she simply didn’t…care as much what other people—including the members of her own family—might think of her.

  “You—you’re not supposed to say that,” Zachary stumbled. “Good God, Nell. That’s infamous.”

  “If you’re free to admire marble breasts, I may admire what I choose, as well.”

  Peep put both hands over her mouth, which didn’t even come close to stifling her giggles. “You said ‘breasts,’” she tittered, her voice muffled.

  “Oh, now see what you’ve done?” Zachary snapped, the color of his tanned cheeks deepening. He pushed to his feet. “I’d wager you won’t talk that way in front of Noleville.”

  “Hm. I hadn’t considered that,” Eleanor mused, allowing her own grin to show. “It would certainly make for an interesting morning.”

  Pressing his fingers to his temple, Zachary shot her a last glare and stomped out of the room. She and Peep gi
ggled for a moment, then went back to their peaches. Eleanor felt hungry this morning, but she did have a caller waiting for her in the morning room, and she wanted to be out-of-doors. The morning—what was left of it—looked glorious, and sunshine seemed a very good idea. Wanting to go driving in Hyde Park had nothing to do with looking for anyone in particular, of course.

  “Aren’t you going to stay and breakfast with me?” Penelope asked, as her aunt stood.

  “I can’t, Peep. I have to go driving.”

  “But you’ll be back to go to the museum with me?”

  “In two hours,” Eleanor returned. “I promise.”

  “Very well. I should go take my lesson. Mrs. Bevins has been waiting for me, I think.”

  Penelope obviously had everyone in the household wrapped around her little finger, and Eleanor could only hope she would enjoy the indulgence while she could. It certainly wouldn’t last.

  Or would it? Since last night, she had to admit that her pessimism over her dull, planned-out future had faded a little. Or rather, it had been replaced by a sense of hopefulness and self-confidence that she hadn’t been aware she lacked. At least she had a basis for comparison in the bedchamber now—though comparing after she was married would be too late.

  “Good morning, Mr. Noleville,” she said, strolling into the morning room.

  The earl’s son jumped to his feet. “Lady Eleanor. I’m so pleased you decided to go driving with me this morning.”

  She took in his crisp cravat, his carefully pressed jacket, and the hope in his pleasant, open countenance. He would make for a cheery companion, though she couldn’t even fool herself that her mind wasn’t elsewhere. She almost felt sorry for poor Roger, except that he’d called on her without first making an appointment and she would have been perfectly within propriety to refuse to join any or all of the three men this morning.

  “Shall we?” she asked, gesturing him toward the door.

  He’d driven a curricle, his older brother’s if she recalled correctly. Evidently the Nolevilles had selected her as the perfect spouse for Roger. Well, she had nothing of the sort in mind.

  Eleanor frowned as he handed her into the seat. That wasn’t right. She’d decided already that once she’d had her adventure, she would find the man she wanted and marry him before Melbourne could step in with some walking mummy for her. Roger Noleville was far less offensive than some of the other suitors who’d been hounding her heels lately, so obviously she should be keeping an open mind about going driving with him.

  “My lady, your maid?” he asked, hesitating as he stood on the ground beside the carriage.

  “We’re driving in an open curricle through Hyde Park,” she said dismissively. “We’d hardly be able to commit an impropriety even if we wished to.”

  He flushed. “I would never,” he stammered.

  “No. No, of course you wouldn’t,” she replied, nearly as nonplussed as he was. Her life had changed last night—or rather, her perception of it had changed—but that didn’t mean she could suddenly disregard everything she’d ever learned about propriety and proper behavior. Apparently Valentine had done more than take her virginity, though he would probably laugh if she told him just how earth-shattering she’d found the experience. He’d gain a swelled head in addition to that other swelled body part.

  Oh, goodness. Blushing and hoping Roger would attribute it to her poor manners, she sent Stanton back inside the house. A moment later the butler emerged with Helen, already dressed for the outing, behind him. At least her maid knew her duties, even if Eleanor couldn’t seem to keep hers in mind today.

  As they entered Hyde Park she blinked. Roger had been chatting about something for ten minutes, and she hadn’t a clue what it might be. From the smile on his face she decided that a small chuckle would be appropriate, and she forced one from her chest.

  “Yes, I thought you’d appreciate that,” he said, his smile deepening. “Though I can’t imagine why Lady Pugh would wear satin to Vauxhall in the first place.”

  She had no idea how to reply to that, and settled for shrugging. Usually she hated gossip about her fellows, and made a point not to encourage it, but he might have been talking about a poor batch of satin fabric and the tragic consequences of it, for all she knew.

  “You know, last year I asked His Grace your brother for permission to call on you,” he went on, glancing at her. His pretty brown eyes didn’t seem to carry an ounce of duplicity or insincerity in them. “He didn’t precisely refuse me, but neither did he introduce us to one another. I don’t suppose he mentioned my interest to you?”

  “No, he didn’t.” And she was hardly surprised by that fact. “Why have you decided to make another attempt now, after a year?”

  “Ah. Well, I have…noticed that your actions have been a bit more independent of late. I thought I might broach the topic with you. If we deal well, I will approach the duke again.”

  So he already had the progression of their relationship planned out. She could hardly blame him, she supposed, but she did intend to have some say in the course her life took. Especially now. “Then we shall have to see how well we deal,” she returned, smiling back at him.

  That statement seemed to please him excessively, and he launched into a discussion of the finest soirees of the Season so far. He certainly knew the nuances of Society, where to be seen and where not to be seen. No doubt Roger Noleville would never make a false step.

  “So what did Melbourne actually say when you spoke with him last year?” she asked.

  Roger gave a short laugh. “I remember it quite well. It took me three weeks to gather the nerve to approach him. I had a friend introduce me, and then asked if I might have his permission to call on you. His Grace looked at me as though I were an insect, and then he said, ‘I shall let you know.’ He never did, of course.”

  “Of course not.” What Roger didn’t realize was that a nondenial from Melbourne was tantamount to a ringing endorsement. Sebastian had probably expected Mr. Noleville to proceed, or at least to ask permission a second time.

  So there was at least one man her brothers considered adequate for her. And she’d voluntarily gone driving with him. Drat. She meant to marry, but not to someone who’d received the Griffin stamp of approval more than a year ago. Neither, though, did she intend to ruin a chance at happiness just to spite her brothers. Damnation, this was complicated.

  She opened her mouth to make a comment about the unique decorations at the Granden soiree, but abruptly swallowed the words. He was here.

  He sat on his bay stallion, Iago, to one side of an intersecting driving path. His blue beaver hat was tilted at its usual jaunty angle on his head, his black, wavy hair touching his collar and swept across one green eye. Her insides clenched in pure lust. Heavens. Had it been only twelve hours since they’d held each other, naked, beside the baptismal pond?

  Valentine turned his head as though he sensed that she was there. He met her gaze and smiled with easy familiarity, touching his hand to the brim of his hat. And then he turned away.

  For the first time she realized that he wasn’t alone. A barouche had stopped beside him, a pair of young ladies on the rear seat. The Mandelay sisters, she noted, hiding a sudden frown. A worse set of flirts she’d never met. He needed to be care—

  Eleanor shook herself. He knew what he was doing. Precisely what he was doing. For goodness’ sake, he probably knew the sisters better than she did. Eleanor swallowed. He and she had had their evening. As she’d already considered, the Marquis of Deverill would hardly look upon it as life-changing. He probably did that sort of thing nightly, anyway.

  “Lady Eleanor?”

  She started. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Noleville. What were you saying?”

  “No begging is necessary. Lord Deverill is a good friend of your family, I believe.”

  “Yes, he is.” And she desperately wanted to talk with him, to find out if he’d given last night—or her—another thought once he’d returned her to Griffi
n House. But the question would probably prove both painful and pointless, considering where he was and with whom he was chatting.

  “Did you need to speak with him?” Roger continued. “I can drive us over there.”

  “Oh. No, no. I just didn’t expect to see him this morning.” Eleanor cleared her throat. “He seems somewhat occupied, anyway.”

  “Yes, he does. Hardly a surprise, given his rather…robust reputation.”

  “They’re only talking,” she returned, though she wasn’t quite certain why she felt the need to defend him. “Just like we are.”

  “Not just like we are,” he said, his brow furrowing. “I called on you at your home, announcing my presence and my interest, and giving any of your brothers ample opportunity to turn me away. And I certainly didn’t accost you in the park while you were out taking the air.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t accost anyone,” she retorted, at the same time telling herself to keep her blasted mouth shut. She didn’t feel any particular need to be pleasant to Mr. Noleville, but she was not going to speak up for Deverill. Not after seeing him happily flirting with Lilith and Judith Mandelay.

  “Perhaps not. I would wager the young ladies’ parents, though, would be happier seeing them elsewhere.”

  Well, she couldn’t argue with that. “No doubt,” she muttered, determinedly turning her attention elsewhere.

  The sun shone through a pretty patchwork of clouds, and the light southeast breeze sent the smoke from a thousand chimneys away from Mayfair and in the direction of the Channel. Eleanor took a deep breath. Today was different. Her entire life was different, changed because a man she trusted had helped her find…herself. So what if he’d turned his attention elsewhere? So had she.

  “Mr. Noleville, you have several older brothers, do you not?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

  He looked sideways at her. “I do. Why do you ask?”

  “I have several older brothers myself.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “My point being, do your brothers ever attempt to…govern your life?”

  Roger laughed. “No, that would be my father’s sworn duty. The rest of the brood barely gets a word in edgewise.” Abruptly his amused chuckling broke off. “Well, that was unspeakably rude of me. I beg your forgiveness, Lady Eleanor. I’d forgotten that you lost your par—”