‘You’d have found your feet eventually, without lessons,’ Ellie replied. ‘However, having some knowledge of what to expect and how to respond will help you achieve your goal of bewitching a suitable bride more quickly.’
His goal. Yes, he needed to keep reminding himself that what he really wanted was to find the ideal wife. He just needed to keep repeating that until inclination believed what reason kept telling it.
Tarleton opened the door for her. Christopher was about to reluctantly bid her goodbye when the butler leaned forward, holding out a note. ‘A footman brought this urgent message for you, miss. He’s waiting in the hall for a reply.’
Christopher halted on the steps. ‘Something…alarming, Tarleton?’
‘I don’t know, sir. The lad just said “urgent”, and that his mistress had commanded him not to return without an answer.’
Frowning, Ellie motioned him into the house as she took the note from Tarleton, quickly scanned it, then looked up at Christopher with a grimace. ‘It’s from Aunt Marion, informing me the call on Lady Sayleford is set for tomorrow afternoon. I’m to present myself at my aunt’s town house at three.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Into the lion’s den. I only hope I emerge with a whole skin.’
She looked so troubled and apprehensive, the words slipped out before he knew what he meant to say. ‘Would you like me be present at Lady Sayleford’s? So you won’t have to beard the lions alone.’
She paused, looking uncertain. ‘I should refuse. My moth—Lady Wanstead already insinuated she thought I’d taken you as my new protector.’
‘But we both know I’m not. I’ll ask Maggie to come, too—as your sponsor at the school, and an added buttress to respectability. With your permission, I’ll acquaint her beforehand with the facts of your background, so she understands the purpose of your call on Lady Sayleford. I know she’ll be as shocked and outraged as I was, and eager to assist in whatever way she can.’
‘You may certainly inform her of my background, if you think she would be interested. I hate to bother her, but…it would be helpful to have a few friendly faces on hand when I arrive with Aunt Marion. But wouldn’t Lady Sayleford be annoyed at having extra guests arrive uninvited?’
Christopher shrugged. ‘It’s an afternoon call, not a dinner at which the numbers need to be even. Being her niece, Maggie is always welcome. And Lady Sayleford likes me. She’s always had a soft spot for a rogue, Maggie says.’
As he’d hoped, Ellie chuckled at that, looking relieved and more confident. ‘Very well, I gratefully accept reinforcements, and will see you there.’ Her eyes brightened and she laughed. ‘We shall turn it into a lesson! My mother is already suspicious of you. With your reputation to overcome, you’re bound to encounter other matrons, zealously protecting their innocent darlings, who will be equally suspicious. Meeting her and Aunt Marion will be good experience in figuring out how to disarm dubious chaperones.’
Christopher grimaced. ‘I shall gird myself for the challenge. And be even more grateful to have Maggie at my side. So, assuming she’s free, I’ll collect Maggie tomorrow and see you at Lady Sayleford’s, about half-three?’
Ellie nodded. ‘Lady Sayleford’s at half-three. And thank you, Christopher. I did enjoy our outing today—except for that last part. And I do think I managed to impart some useful information.’
‘Now I just need to memorise it,’ he replied, nodding a farewell. And suck every morsel of delight from being with you before I have to implement it, he thought as he walked out.
After Christopher’s departure, Ellie dismissed Tarleton and wandered into her sitting room. Feeling in need of reinforcement, she poured herself some wine before moving on to the sofa.
She glanced again at the terse missive from her aunt. Grateful as she was for Christopher’s promise of reinforcement, she couldn’t forestall a wave of apprehension at the mere thought of meeting her mother, Aunt Marion and perhaps Sophie at Lady Sayleford’s.
It was quite possible those Society leaders would subject her to a quick session of stilted introductions, then order her to make herself scarce. There was a good chance Sophie would not even be present.
In which case, the shorter the meeting, the better. Being around her mother raked up the distressing mix of fear, shame, pain, hurt, abandonment, sorrow, anguish and fury she’d spent a decade burying. Complicating that turmoil was a tiny niggle of compassion that said she ought to forgive her mother. And she wasn’t sure she could.
As for Aunt Marion—she had no idea what the woman thought of her now.
As a child, she’d loved going to Enfield Place. With her widowed great-aunt’s own children already grown by the time Ellie and Sophie had come to visit, Aunt Marion had welcomed them with hugs and treats, laughing when Mama chided them for coming in after roaming the grounds with leaves in their hair and grass stains on their gowns. She’d ordered Cook to make their favourite treats, read them stories, and allowed them to peer down from the gallery at the adults dining in their finery.
Would she be greeted with a kiss for the child she’d been? Or a brief, cold nod for the disgrace she’d become?
Somehow, it hurt more to envisage her aunt’s coldness than it did to recall her mother’s. She was suddenly, overwhelmingly glad that Christopher and Lady Maggie would be present at Lady Sayleford’s to support her through whatever would come.
She counted too much on Christopher’s support, though, she thought with a sigh—which was exactly what she needed to stop doing. Fortunately, his next lesson would be conducted in the stifling company of Aunt Marion, her mother and Lady Sayleford—a mix of personalities would surely churn up enough tumult to distract her from his presence.
Or would it? She was always so acutely conscious of him. The way he moved, his expressions, the whole…aura that he radiated, drew her attention and drew her, the proverbial moth to the flame. As if some invisible force tethered her to him whenever he appeared, like iron fragments pulled to a magnet.
Was it wise to continue his lessons and subject herself to the temptation of being near him? Much as she tried to convince herself she’d been satisfied by that one kiss, in truth, it had only made her hunger for more.
Kissing him had been…wonderful. The subtle friction of his mouth against hers, skittering flames of sensation to every extremity of her body. But even more, how wonderful to kiss him and know with absolute certainty that he would press his caresses only as far as she wanted them to go.
After being pawed by lechers and possessed by a man whose only concern was satisfying his own needs, such assurance was heady. With Christopher, she just knew intimacy would be entirely different. She had this growing yearning to taste more, confident she could experience pleasure at her own pace, stop whenever she willed.
But she mustn’t. She hadn’t offered this arrangement so she might discover what other courtesans sighed over. She must provide Christopher only the lessons she had promised, immerse herself in the work of her school, and watch him march off into the future for which he was destined—with someone else.
Since that was both necessary and inevitable, she should dedicate more time to eradicating her romantic imaginings about him.
Carrying her wine glass to the secretary, she trimmed a pen and took out a sheet of paper. Christopher’s Deficiencies, she wrote at the top, and under it, a number one.
She took another sip and stared at the blank page. Surely he’d done something today to disturb or annoy her. When, after a few minutes, nothing came to mind, she wrote, He tempts me.
She let herself envisage him—his handsome face, that tawny-wheat hair she itched to run her fingers through, his tall, solid body, and the warmth and strength and tangy spicy scent that enveloped her when he held her. Desire spiralled within, fierce and strong. Yes, he tempted her—an undesirable trait in a man for a woman who intended to leave the courtesan’s
life behind her for good.
What else?
Adding a number two, she wrote, He makes me long for things I cannot have.
She wasn’t an innocent girl any longer, despite how she’d felt while play-acting with him today. There would be no respectable marriage for her, at least not to a man from the class into which she’d been born, and for his career to prosper, he absolutely must have a bride who was his social equal. Allowing herself to dream about anything else was just as great a hazard to her well-being as desiring him.
Maybe it was the wine, but she didn’t seem able to come up with any other faults. By the time she’d finished the glass, feeling rather desperate, she scrawled, He uses women for pleasure.
Although it wasn’t really fair to accuse him of that. All men ‘used’ women for pleasure. The telling point was who, and how. Lovingly embracing a wife, or a female who’d freely, eagerly, invited the intimacy, was completely different from taking a woman—or a wife—without her permission or any regard for her needs. Worst of all was a man like Summerville, who considered any woman he wanted ‘available’. Whose conscience hadn’t even been pricked by the knowledge that he was ruining her.
In contrast, despite meeting her as Summerville’s mistress, Christopher had unfailingly treated her like a lady. She didn’t know any of the Society matrons with whom he’d been involved, but he had a reputation among the demi-mondaine for being a kind, generous, and appreciative lover. There was always a competition among them to win his favour.
Frowning, she struck out the sentence and thrust the list back into a drawer.
After tomorrow’s interaction, she surely would discover more faults to add to her list—and make better progress at rooting out of her heart the pesky weed of her infatuation with Christopher Lattimar.
CHAPTER EIGHT
At three the next afternoon, Ellie arrived at the home of the Dowager Countess of Enfield, and was shown into a small anteroom where she found her mother and her aunt awaiting her.
Though she looked frailer, and her hair had turned entirely grey, Aunt Marion still had the commanding figure and vital presence Ellie remembered. Nervously, she made her curtsy.
‘Miss Parmenter, I believe you’re calling yourself?’ the Countess said.
Trying not to be disappointed by her aunt’s chilly tone, Ellie chose the most formal reply. ‘Yes, Countess.’
Her aunt looked over at her mother. ‘She’s presentable enough, thankfully.’
Apparently, she wasn’t even to be addressed directly. From out of the hurt stabbing her heart, a defiant burst of anger emerged. ‘You expected me to appear in feathers and a bodice cut down to the nipples, like a proper courtesan? So sorry to disappoint.’
Her mother gasped and the Countess’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Still sharp-witted, I see,’ she said.
‘With only myself to rely on, I had to be, didn’t I?’ she shot back, the anger still smouldering.
To her surprise, her aunt laughed. ‘I suppose you did. Well, let’s not pull caps, shall we? Whoever is at fault for what become of you—and there is a good deal of blame to go around—we can’t change that now. We can, however, ensure that the misfortunes of the past do not continue into the future to ruin Sophie’s chances. I presume you agree?’
‘If I did not, I wouldn’t have come.’
At a nod from her aunt, both ladies rose. ‘I’m pleased you were prompt. The carriage awaits.’
Once they were seated and on their way, Ellie said, ‘May I ask what you wish to accomplish by calling on Lady Sayleford, Countess?’
‘I expect those vulgar shopkeepers in Burlington Arcade are already sniggering behind their sleeves at discovering Miss Wanstead is the sister of Summerville’s former mistress. Ordinarily, my support would be all that was necessary to see Sophie well launched. But given the…unique circumstances, we shall need reinforcement at the highest level. No one in Society wields more power than the Dowager Countess of Sayleford. If she approves your sister, in the full knowledge of her…unfortunate connection, the rest of Society will do so as well. To be sure, there’s no longer any possibility of her making a grand match, but—’
‘And that is my fault?’ Ellie burst out.
‘As I said, fault can be apportioned in several places.’ Her aunt gave her an appraising look. ‘The girl I remember would never have interrupted me to defend herself. You’ve grown quite forthright, my dear. And, yes, I suppose you had to, so you needn’t remind me.’
Ellie’s anger subsided, leaving her feeling drained and empty. ‘What do you want me to do for Sophie?’
‘That will be up to Lady Sayleford. I imagine she means to inspect you, and determine the best way forward. She might recommend that you leave London until the Season is over. Would you be prepared to do that?’
‘I hardly see how that would assist matters,’ Ellie argued. ‘The shopkeeper has already seen us, and will either gossip about it, or not. I’m perfectly prepared to avoid shopping in the fashionable areas for the duration, but I’m not prepared to leave town. Others here depend on me.’
‘That wretched school,’ her mother muttered.
‘Yes, the school,’ Ellie said evenly. ‘A place designed to give girls without other resources basic skills and training—so they won’t end up as I did.’
‘I hope you will not show yourself so defiant to Lady Sayleford!’ her mother cried.
The outburst offered her a chance to inform the ladies that Lady Sayleford was already acquainted with her—and her school. She wasn’t sure why the Dowager Countess had not told her aunt about their prior acquaintance, but since she had not, Ellie didn’t intend to, either. She’d wait and see how the situation developed.
She took a deep breath, the knots in her stomach loosening. Aunt Marion had treated her coldly at first, but was thawing a bit. And once they reached Lady Sayleford’s, she’d have Maggie and Christopher’s support to ease things further.
* * *
A few minutes later, the carriage arrived in Grosvenor Square and they were shown into an elegant blue salon. Though her mother and aunt halted on the threshold in surprise, not expecting other callers to be present, Ellie was delighted to see Christopher standing beside the sofa on which Lady Maggie sat with her aunt.
He gave her an encouraging smile as she entered, the glint in his eyes turning sardonic as Lady Wanstead recognised him and recoiled. Ellie, however, felt her spirits lift. Just knowing he was present calmed her. And ridiculous as the notion was, she couldn’t shake this gut-level conviction that with him near, no injury could befall her.
Her aunt, however, paid no attention to the other occupants, coming straight to the Dowager Countess and leading the ladies in a curtsy. ‘Lady Sayleford, thank you for finding time in your busy schedule to see us on such short notice. But we don’t want to intrude. We can wait until your other visitors leave.’
‘No intrusion at all, Lady Enfield,’ Maggie’s aunt said. ‘Since the matter at hand is deciding how best to present Miss Wanstead, I asked them to come.’
Looking puzzled, Ellie’s aunt opened her lips as if to question Lady Sayleford, then closed them. ‘Very well, I bow to your expertise. May I present my niece, Lady Wanstead, and my great-niece, Miss… Parmenter.’
Lady Sayleford and Maggie both rose, returning the curtsies. ‘Lady Wanstead,’ the Countess said, nodding. ‘Miss Parmenter. And may I present my great-niece, Lady Lyndlington, and her husband’s good friend and fellow Parliamentarian, Mr Lattimar.’
After another set of bows and curtsies, Lady Sayleford turned to Ellie. ‘How are you, my dear? Things are going well at the school, I trust?’
‘They are, Countess. We have several students now, and a programme of instruction in place. Lady Lyndlington and her father have both made substantial contributions towards its support, for which I
cannot thank them enough.’
‘Excellent! As I told you when we dined, I find it both brave and highly commendable of you to take on running such an enterprise. Shall we be seated? Harris,’ she said, turning to the butler, ‘would you bring tea, please.’
Ellie couldn’t help feeling a bitter gratification at the shocked expressions on the faces of her mother and aunt. So the fallen woman knows some respectable people.
As soon as the butler had withdrawn, Aunt Marion said, her tone not entirely masking her irritation, ‘Why did you not tell me you were already acquainted with my great-niece, Lilliana?’
‘You never asked,’ Lady Sayleford said. ‘Only told me of a problem you would need my assistance to circumvent, so that the after-effects wouldn’t ruin the prospects of an innocent girl. An aim of which I approve, which is why I asked you to call. Shall we proceed?’
‘Of course,’ Aunt Marion said faintly. ‘What do you recommend?’
‘As you can see, Miss Parmenter is already supported in her current endeavour by several well-regarded members of Society. Naturally, she can’t accompany you to Society events, but it’s not as if she’d been a dancer on the stage. When word of the relationship gets out—and sooner or later, it’s bound to—simply acknowledge it. You may add that I am aware of the circumstances and have given Miss Wanstead my full approval. Send the curious to me, should they have further questions.’
‘Thank you, Lilliana. That is most gracious.’
Lady Sayleford shrugged. ‘If you wish to receive Miss Parmenter at your home privately, I envisage no difficulties. Though I doubt you will avail yourself of that opportunity. After ten years, you must hardly know each other. If I’ve been correctly informed, there has been no communication with her whatsoever in all that time.’ The Countess looked over at Lady Wanstead. ‘Not even from her mother.’
‘Th-that’s true,’ Lady Wanstead stuttered in alarm, ‘But I hardly see how—’
Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Page 54
