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Anita Mills

Page 22

by Scandal Bound


  As Ellen watched, Sophia Mantini disengaged herself from her little court and caught at his arm, hanging there to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it was, he appeared less than amused, shook her off with bare civility, and turned back to Lord Halsingham.

  John Farrell, having escaped by mutual consent from Lady Sandbridge, made his way ponderously toward Ellen, and she could not help comparing him to the marquess. While John was exceedingly handsome in a well-chiseled way and his body nearly of a height with Trent, he lacked both the physical and social grace of his lordship. Everything about him was stolid, from his manner to his walk, and he fairly exuded pomposity even before he opened his mouth. And once again, he was making it quite plain to everyone that he expected to wed Miss Ellen Marling as soon as her papa could be brought about.

  “I thought perhaps that I might have the honor of a dance with you, Miss Ellen,” he began.

  Resigned, she opened her card and started to write him in, but he read over her shoulder and shook his head repressively. “I should not allow you to dance with the Marquess of Trent, my dear, for if I may presume—”

  “No, John, you may not presume,” Ellen snapped.

  “Nevertheless, my dear, in your circumstance, it would not do to be seen in his company. After all, it is important if you are to reestablish yourself that you be circumspect in the extreme.”

  “The last person to tell me that was Brockhaven,” she muttered with asperity, “and I do not propose to reestablish what was never established in the first place.”

  “A vicar’s wife has a position in society.”

  “But I do not aspire to the position.”

  “You are overset merely,” he continued placidly, “for this is your first time out since your illness.”

  “Ah, there you are, Ellie. Still got room on your card for me?”

  “Miss Marling regrets—”

  “Miss Marling is delighted, Gerry. There’s naught but you and Trent and John—and I am certain that John does not waltz.”

  “I feel that touching the female form breeds familiarity,” Farrell retorted stiffly, “and I have made myself plain on that head.”

  “So you have, John,” Ellen agreed smoothly, “Therefore, I shall save the waltzes for Captain Deveraux and his brother.” Then, knowing that she had wounded his sensibility, she laid a hand on his arm and gave him a weary smile. “John, would you be so kind as to procure a glass of something for me?”

  “Poor Ellie,” Gerald teased lightly, “is that your worthy suitor?”

  “He thinks so,” she answered pointedly, “and he is nearly as obtuse as Brockhaven much of the time.”

  “Should’ve taken Trent, my dear. Much more fascinating, I should think.”

  “Gerry, please, if you are my friend, you’ll not remind me. I have the headache, my face hurts from smiling when I know people are talking about me and speculating just why Brockhaven discarded me for a middle-aged prattle, and my spirits are about as low as they can get.”

  “Ellie, I am sorry. I just don’t understand it, that’s all. Alex has taken it quite badly, my dear—says his hopes are all cut up. I thought he’d be too foxed to bring tonight.”

  “He seems to have recovered rather well.”

  “Captain Trent, we meet again, do we not?” a soft, throaty voice spoke from behind Ellen’s shoulder. “And I daresay this is Miss Marling, the one that was Lady Brockhaven?”

  Without turning around, Ellen knew it was Sophia Mantini, and was instantly on the defensive. “I am Ellen Marling,” she answered almost warily as she moved closer to Gerald Deveraux.

  “And you are not at all as I would have thought,” the Mantini murmured less than pleasantly, “and certainly not in Alex’s style. Tell me, Miss Marling”—her mouth twisted bitterly—“what is it about you that would make a man leave me in the middle of the night to come to you?”

  Ellen could hear Amy gasp indignantly behind her. “I have not the slightest idea, Madame Mantini,” she replied coolly, “as to what you mean.”

  “Do not come the innocent with me, Miss Marling,” the Mantini retorted, “for I know why Brockhaven was persuaded to give you up.”

  “Sophie!”

  “It is quite all right, Alex. I was but making the acquaintance of Miss Marling,” Sophia purred as Trent caught up to her.

  “Sophie, I ought to wring your wretched neck,” he hissed low for her ears alone.

  “Ah, but you will not, I think, for I am tonight’s entertainment,” the Mantini reminded him with a triumphant smile at the white-faced Ellen. “And do not be thinking you can stop the story, my dear Trent, for it is quite around already. Good evening, Miss Marling.”

  “Devil a bit, Alex,” Gerald muttered. “What now?”

  “We proceed as planned, but we do so earlier. Ellie, I am sorry if you had your heart set on waltzing away your evening, my dear.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “But I have to find Aunt Gussie. I hope this does not overset her. I shall plead the headache and get my cloak and see if John can take us home.”

  “Er, I believe he is occupied getting a fruit punch out of his clothing, my dear, and do not be worrying about Augusta Sandbridge. She’s more than able to deal with Sophia’s mischief. Are you ready, Gerry?”

  “Happy to get the door for you, Alex.” Gerald grinned.

  “Then, dearest Ellie, I see no reason to wait. Gerry, stand ready to hold any who would stop me.” Trent slipped his arm easily around Ellen’s waist and lifted her up before she could fathom his intent.

  “Alex!” she squealed in alarm. “What in the world—?”

  “Hold still, Ellie, and hang on. Here’s where I put it to the touch and hope you do not bring the house down.” He adjusted her in his arms and headed for the double doors at the end of the ballroom. “And do not be kicking, either, for I should hate to look like the veriest fool.”

  “Alex! Put me down! People are looking at us,” she hissed.

  “I certainly hope so, my dear, for you find me quite determined to share your scandal to the fullest of my ability. But it’s all right, love,” he added conversationally as he carried her past a stunned audience, “for ’twill be said the blame is mine—we Deveraux are a hotheaded lot—and I’ve waited quite long enough for you.”

  “Listen, Alex, I can walk,” she choked in embarrassment under the bemused stares of the ambassador and his entire staff. “If you will but put me down—”

  “I know you can, love, but this way I can depend on your coming with me,” he soothed as he shifted her before he reached the doors.

  “Alex!” She clutched at his shoulder for fear of being dropped. “Listen, you cannot just do this. I mean, are you abducting me?” she demanded incredulously.

  “Well, I should prefer that you think of it as a romantical elopement, of course, but I suppose you could call it an abduction.”

  Gerald threw open the doors and swept Ellen an elegant bow. “Good luck, both of you. And Ellie, I am quite determined to be your brother, one way or another, my dear.”

  Several of the guests still in the ballroom broke into applause as they cleared the door. Ellen clutched at him tighter when the cold winter wind hit them. “Alex, this is ridiculous! We shall be a laughingstock! Alex, you have taken leave of your senses! I think you are foxed!”

  “Not at all, my dear. I am in full possession of all my faculties.”

  “Everyone will be talking. Alex, please set me down.”

  “In a minute. We’ve not too much farther to go. You know, Ellie, you are not as light as I thought you were.”

  “Thet Miss Ellie?” Timms asked as he opened the coach door. “Ah, miss, ’tis good ter ’ave yer back.”

  “Timms,” Ellen tried desperately, “tell him he cannot do this!”

  “Eh? Why not?” the driver responded cheerfully as he climbed up on the box and waited for Trent to thrust her inside the carriage. “Seems right ter me, miss!”

  “Alex, we will not h
ave a shred of reputation left,” she tried to reason as Trent heaved his tall frame through the door and settled onto the seat.

  “I hope not,” he agreed while pulling her onto his lap and cradling her against his shoulder. “In fact, I am quite depending on it. You see, Ellie, you think I think I am obliged to marry you because Brockhaven let you go.”

  “You said we were obliged to marry—’twas you who said it.”

  “Well, maybe we weren’t then, but I mean to make damned sure that before this night is over, I am obliged to marry you. Your aunt said I bungled it, that I didn’t make it plain that I wanted you, Ellie.”

  “Alex, this is insane. Think of the scandal.”

  “Aye.” He nodded imperturbably. “I thought of it. Here—you haven’t a cloak and neither have I.” He pulled a heavy lap robe around them and held her closer. “I haven’t forgotten the last time we got chilled together.”

  “There’s no reasoning with you,” she decided with a sigh as she shivered against him.

  “Shhhhh, just let me get you warm, love.”

  For a time, he contented himself with holding her and dropping an occasional kiss on her hair and down to where the blanket lay against her nearly bare shoulder. His breath on her skin sent tantalizing shivers down her spine. His arms were warm and strong around her. And then his fingers began working the hooks at the back of her dress.

  “Alex, no! Please, I can’t!”

  “Shhhhh, it’ll be all right, I promise.”

  “No!” She twisted in his arms and tried to face him. “Not like this!”

  “How?”

  “I … Please, my lord …” Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded harder as his fingers slid beneath the taffeta and began to knead the flesh of her shoulders.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, Ellie,” he whispered in the darkness.

  The carriage rolled to a halt and Timms jumped down from the box to open the door. Alex quickly rehooked the dress beneath the blanket and slid her off his lap. Climbing out, he turned back to lift her out.

  “I am not an invalid!”

  “If you do not cease wiggling, Ellen, I’ll put you over my shoulders like a feed sack,” he threatened as he carried her into the house and started up the tall staircase. “Don’t look down. It’ll scare you.”

  “For the last time, Alex, put me down!”

  “For the last time, I will not.”

  He kicked open the door to his bedchamber and walked to dump her unceremoniously on the bed. She fell back into the feather mattress and lay staring up at him like he’d lost his mind. He turned to latch the door. Slowly, deliberately, he undid his cravat and discarded it on the back of a chair before removing his coat and waistcoat and draping them over the cravat.

  “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded nervously.

  “Undressing.”

  “Alex, this is ridiculous. I mean, you cannot mean to—”

  “I mean to.”

  She rolled off the bed and scrambled for the door. “But—”

  “I am afraid it’s locked, Ellie.”

  “Alex, be reasonable! Now I know you have taken leave of your senses. You cannot wish to marry me!”

  “And that is a lie.”

  She licked her dry lips nervously. “I will not be your mistress.”

  He stopped unbuttoning his shirt to consider quite deliberately for a moment. “Did I ever ask you to be my mistress? No,” he decided finally, “I did not.” He drew his shirttail out of his trousers and removed the shirt. “In fact,” he added, “I am quite positive that I asked you to marry me.”

  “Because you felt obliged to! You thought I could not take the scandal of Brockhaven’s getting the annulment.”

  “You know, Ellie, you have been so deuced possessive about your scandal that I have had to come up with one we can share.”

  “Alex, there is no need! Do you think I do not know that I am not the sort of female you would choose on your own? I am not such a fool that I do not know you could have a Toast, a Diamond of the First Water, a—”

  “I don’t want one of them.” He turned around and gave her a wry smile. “I know it sounds perverse of me, Ellie, but I have the strangest notions about what I want.”

  “But you could have someone quite beautiful, like the Mantini, or—”

  “I think I have one. Look at me, love,” he commanded. She raised her eyes to his bare chest and looked away. “You’ve seen it before,” he reminded her, “for it is the same chest you spread onion poultices on, remember? Now, let me tell you some things, Ellie. I am afraid I will not be your conventional sort of husband, my dear. You see, I shall expect to live with you, not just politely share my house. Get used to the sight of my skin, because I expect you will see a lot of it over the years. I know I shall expect to see a lot of yours. And I am not one for undressing in closets, either—nor do I plan to sleep alone. I do not plan to get up from your bed to seek mine.”

  “Alex—”

  “No, let me finish. I know it is common for our class to live separate lives except for the necessary begetting of heirs. That is why so many of us keep mistresses, if you want my opinion of it. Not me. I don’t ever want to seek any company but yours. I want to wake up with my wife, Ellie. I think it will be a comfort to me to have you with me because I never expect to be bored with you. You see, you little wretch, I know I love you. Now, shall I continue removing my clothes or do you wish to marry me first? By now, Gerald will have arrived with an English divine from the embassy to take care of the matter. But if you require further proof of how I feel about you, I am prepared to continue until we are both as bare as we were born and I’ll show you.”

  “Oh, Alex!” Her voice had taken on that husky quality of one deeply moved as she smiled up at him mistily. “I quite believe you, and if you are that determined to share my scandal, then you are quite welcome to share my life, too. I do love you, you know.”

  “I know.” He reached down to pull her up against him and bent to kiss her mouth, gently at first and then with deepening passion. She twined her arms around his neck and pressed closer until at last he released her and stepped back shakily. “We will have such good times together, Ellie, I swear. I shall take you to Italy—maybe Spain, too—and we’ll not go back to England until the tale dies down. And everyone will blame it on my wild Deveraux blood instead of you by then. I gave it out tonight that I’ve had a long-standing attachment for you—and I have.”

  “Alex, would you mind very much if we did not go to Italy?” she whispered against his shoulder. “I know where I should like to go.”

  “Greece?”

  “No. Little Islip.”

  “Then Little Islip it shall be, my love, but I warn you—no pork jelly.”

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  Table of Contents

  Scandal Bound

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Connect with Diversion

 

 

 
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