A Lady's Deception

by Pamela Mingle

  She pushed back her chair, rose, and walked to the windows. The sun was just setting, a brilliant disk of orange. At last she turned and faced her father. “This is not acceptable, Papa. The Abbots signed an agreement with us, and he should not be allowed to violate it.”

  “I don’t dispute that.”

  “So you’ll call on him?” Eleanor waited by the windows, hardly breathing. If her father was the kind of man she’d always believed him to be, he would agree.

  “Very well. I’m not sure what good it will do, but no harm can come of it.”

  “We’re paying him, Papa!” She walked toward him and said, “And I’m frightened. I don’t like this. Any of it. Lili is living with a man who hurts his own wife.”

  Now Sir William stood and came to her. Patting her shoulder, he said, “I’ll see the man, Norrie. We’ll get this straightened out. No more worrying, now.”

  Eleanor looked him in the eye, holding his gaze momentarily. Something was not right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Finally, she nodded, and her father excused himself to dress for dinner.

  After the meal with her parents, Eleanor changed back into a day dress and, despite her mother’s disapproval, left for the cottage. Preoccupied throughout the evening with the earlier conversation with her father, she’d paid scant attention to Kitty Broxton’s prattling about parties and receptions. At some point she’d even mentioned the Jensens’ son, but Eleanor had completely ignored that. Despite her own wishes, she’d agreed to attend the Carringtons’ garden party the following afternoon. She could ill afford the time away from her work, but sometimes she acquiesced to her mother’s demands simply to silence her.

  Bobby pranced along ahead of her, dashing into the woods whenever he scented something he thought worth chasing. What a scamp he was. Eleanor jolted to a stop when she heard someone else on the path. Someone who was whistling. Surely a person intent on mischief would not be whistling. Nevertheless, she moved off the trail. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a convenient tree to hide behind.

  Whoever it was soon encountered Bobby. “Ho, there, rascal,” the voice said. “Are you on your way to my building site again?”

  Hugh.

  Eleanor knew, of course, she couldn’t avoid him forever, but to meet like this, in the dark…how awkward. She must make herself known before he discovered her cowering in the night. “Hugh? I’m here.”

  “Eleanor? Out so late by yourself?” He was wearing only his shirt and britches, and his broad chest was mere inches from her gaze.

  “I dined with my parents and stayed rather late, I suppose.” He was carrying something under his arm, but she couldn’t make out what it was. Although she had a good idea it might be a drying cloth with a cake of soap wrapped inside.

  “I’ll accompany you to the cottage.”

  “Truly, that’s not necessary. I’m fine on my own. I do this frequently.”

  She could just make out his handsome features, the hard line of his stubbled jaw, his straight nose and wide-set eyes. “You should not. I’ve several men sleeping in my stables, not all of whom I can personally vouch for.” He grasped her elbow and reluctantly, she let him guide her. He let go after he’d made certain her footing was sure, and then, in the next minute, he halted abruptly.

  “Hugh? Is something wrong?”

  He cocked his head at her. “Will you come with me to the mere? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

  Warmth spread from her chest down to the juncture of her thighs when she recalled how splendid Hugh had looked emerging from the water. If he wanted to kiss her, or do more, Eleanor wasn’t sure she would be strong enough to resist. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “I swear I have nothing devious in mind, Eleanor.” When she still hesitated, he said, “Trust me.”

  Of course, she trusted him. He was the father of her child, wasn’t he? He winged his elbow, and she grasped it. The little dog scampering ahead of them, they reached their destination in just a few minutes.

  “We must walk around to the other side to get the full effect,” Hugh said mysteriously. “There’s a bench we can sit on.” And then, when they rounded the far end, Eleanor knew what he wanted her to see. The full moon was reflecting gloriously, spectacularly, in the center of the mere. A silvery pillar with a ball of light on top. She gasped with the beauty of it, then heard Hugh’s voice.

  “The moon shines bright. In such a night as this, when the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees…”

  They had reached the bench, and after Hugh ran his drying cloth over it, he motioned her to sit. “Shakespeare?” Eleanor asked.

  He lowered himself beside her. “Lorenzo, The Merchant of Venice.”

  She nodded. “It’s one of the plays I don’t know well.”

  “You’ll recognize this one: “Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.” Eleanor caught the scent of brandy on his breath, with a hint of orange.

  His voice was mesmerizing, low and resonant, and she had to give her head a shake before responding. “Yes. Romeo telling Juliet that the moon is envious of her beauty.” The bench they sat upon was small, and their shoulders and arms brushed lightly against each other. She wanted to press herself into him; even the slight touch of their bodies made her skin feel alive, made her quiver inside. Instead, she offered a quote of her own. “But what of this one? O, swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”

  “Juliet fears his love will not last. But not all men are so capricious.”

  Was he referring to himself? No, she was reading too much into his words.

  They were quiet a moment, simply taking in the splendor. And then Hugh spoke. “Adam and I used to come here as boys. We would sneak out in the middle of the night, sometimes just to lie back and listen to night sounds. Other times we brought along a spear and caught frogs.”

  As if on cue, a bullfrog gave a throaty croak, and they both laughed. “You have no siblings, Eleanor?”

  “No. My mother had two stillbirths after I was born. I believe it was a great sorrow to both my parents. They never mention it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “I was too young—I don’t remember at all. What I do remember is my childhood being somewhat lonely and isolated. I longed for a sister or brother.”

  “Deborah lost a child, too. I was quite grown up when it happened, and I recall to this day how sad and bewildered I felt. It was a girl.”

  Hugh’s voice had caught on his last words. After all these years, he still mourned the loss of a sister who never lived or drew breath. Eleanor wanted to hold him, comfort him, because he seemed so full of sadness, but she didn’t dare. A pang of guilt—and regret—stabbed at her. He had lost a sister, and now she was keeping him from his daughter.

  Hugh got to his feet. “I’d better get you home.”

  Reluctantly, she rose. He reached for her hand, clasping it in his much larger one. Its warmth shot spirals of pleasure through her body. She should protest, tell him she’d be perfectly safe by herself, but she wouldn’t withdraw her hand even if God himself commanded it.

  Eleanor called for Bobby, and Hugh said, “Would you mind if I carried him? I’m afraid I might trip over him, or worse yet, step on him.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Be my guest. But I warn you, he wiggles.”

  Hugh squatted gracefully, scooped up the naughty dog, and rose. “You forget, I carried him all the way from Longmere to your cottage. I know what he’s like.”

  Eleanor couldn’t fathom why Hugh was being so considerate of her. She didn’t deserve his kindness after what had happened between them at the dinner party. They walked along in silence for a time, and Eleanor noticed that Bobby, clutched firmly against Hugh’s chest, held perfectly still, the little traitor.

  “You must be working day and night, now that
the end of the Season is fast approaching,” Hugh said, breaking the silence. Eleanor could feel his eyes on her. She liked the feeling.

  “We are. I count it a good day, though, if the light is sufficient to sew into the afternoon. We dare not bring the candles too close.”

  “Have you tried gas lanterns?”

  “Too smoky. Combined with the fireplace, the smell is not only terrible to breathe, it begins to permeate the fabrics. The room already smells of smoke, as you pointed out.” She sighed. “I’m afraid there’s no acceptable solution.”

  “I’ll ponder it,” Hugh said. “I’ve got an architect working for me, after all. I’d be surprised if he hadn’t encountered the problem before.”

  “Thank you. That would be a great help.”

  “And I happen to have hired the best steward in Surrey. He’s clever and loves tackling seemingly impossible problems.”

  “How is the building coming?” she asked.

  They’d reached the cottage. Before answering, Hugh unlatched the gate, and they both stepped into the garden. “Slowly,” he said. “I’ll show you around the site sometime, if you’re interested.” He reached out and handed Bobby to her.

  “I’d like that. Can you stay for a moment?” She hadn’t meant to ask. After all, they’d just been sitting together by the lake.

  “I’d better not. I was on my way to bathe when I encountered you. I prefer to do so at night, under cover of darkness. I wouldn’t want to be caught naked. Again.” He grinned, the rogue, and before she could come back with a clever riposte, he said, “I would see you safely inside, Eleanor. I’ll wait here while you light a candle and lock the door.”

  She laughed. “I rarely lock it.”

  “But you will do so regularly, now that I’ve explained about—”

  “Yes, I know, the strange men wandering about who may have designs on me.”

  “Good night, Eleanor. Pleasant dreams.”

  “Good night, Hugh. And…and thank you for showing me the mere in the moonlight.”

  He nodded. “I hope we might do it again.”

  Before she could answer, he’d moved away. He was leaning against the gate, waiting. Quickly, she opened the door and turned the key. He would hear the bolt click into place. Then she lit a candle, walked to the window with it, and waved. Silly, because he probably couldn’t see her.

  …

  It had taken a supreme effort of will to walk away from Eleanor when everything in him wanted to reach for her, pull her into his arms, and kiss those sweet lips until she begged for more. His cockstand was so hard, walking was uncomfortable. As soon as he reached the pond, he stripped and dived in. After a minute, the cold water eased his discomfort.

  While he soaped and rinsed himself, he thought about his encounter with Eleanor. Determined not to importune her again, he’d kept his distance as much as possible. For whatever reason, she’d pushed him away the evening of the dinner party, and he must respect that. He would content himself with friendship for now. Befriending her, tamping down his physical desire for her, perhaps was the way to her heart. If he wanted her heart. Did he? Make no mistake, he certainly wanted her body.

  Tomorrow he’d talk to Ridley, if he was on the site, about lighting. And he’d see if Ned had any ideas. It remained a mystery to Hugh exactly why Eleanor worked so hard. She was consumed by it. Her parents were well-off and perfectly able to care for her, so why did she not live with them, as other young, unmarried ladies of her age did? They must have had a falling-out. One so agonizing that it had driven Eleanor away.

  He wished he were on better terms with Adam. He might know. But Hugh wouldn’t dare ask for any favors from his brother. He might take that as a sign Hugh wanted an association, when nothing could be further from the truth.

  The next day

  When John Ridley showed up at Longmere in the morning, Hugh queried him about lighting. Ridley said poor light made drawing up his architectural plans difficult. Since the actual building was done primarily in the daylight and out of doors, he’d not encountered so many problems there. “In my office, I use an Argand lamp. Are you familiar with them?”

  “I’ve seen them, yes.” Hugh recalled his brother having one in his library at the townhouse. “Never used one myself, though.”

  Ridley rubbed his jowls. “They use whale oil. Cleaner. There’s little flickering and less smoke.”

  “Thanks. I’ll check into it. Do you think I could find one in Haslemere?”

  “Probably need to order one from London,” Ridley said.

  Later when he and Ned were hauling planks of wood closer to the house, he put the question to his steward. “I’ve a friend who’s in desperate need of better lighting for her work. She’s a dressmaker. Any ideas?”

  They dropped the lumber they’d been carrying. Ned pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “Hmm. Mirrors reflect whatever the light source is and can serve to illuminate an area. Are there windows?”

  Hugh frowned, trying to picture the interior of the cottage. “The work area is beneath the casements, but they face north. Candles are too risky—they could drip wax on the fabrics, or worse, ignite them if one were knocked over.”

  “What about a standing candleholder? I used to work at the ironworks, and we made them. She could position one or two fairly close without worrying about anything catching fire.”

  Hugh clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Good suggestions, all. My thanks, man.”

  Ned cleared his throat. “Who is this, ah, friend?”

  Hugh was afraid that was coming, so he was prepared. “Just that. A friend, and that’s all you need to know.”

  Ned showed the palms of his hands. “Far be it from me to nose around in another man’s business. Especially if it involves a woman.” His lips quivered.

  “Christ in a cradle. The cheek I put up with around here.” Hugh turned and stomped off. When his back was to the steward, he smiled. He was feeling so good, he did not even mind dressing for the garden party he was attending this afternoon. He’d turned down other such invitations, but knew if he continued to do so, his status as Benjamin Grey’s dissolute son would take on new life. He believed his standing in Haslemere was on the rise, and he wanted it to continue its ascent. If you employed the citizens and treated them well, it got around. Hugh didn’t want to risk his reputation by never making an appearance in Society. And besides, Eleanor might be there. That was the true reason he wanted to attend.

  …

  After Eleanor, Minnie, and Jane had shared a light collation, they resumed their work, taking advantage of the bright daylight. Eleanor had propped open the door, which also helped.

  The two girls, as was their habit, were gossiping about various goings-on in the town. Eleanor was half listening, until she heard Hugh’s name mentioned.

  Minnie was chortling. “Did she really say that?”

  Jane nodded, sending them into whoops of laughter. Now Eleanor was curious. “Who said what?”

  Minnie’s face reddened. “Gracie Allanson said she’d like to do you-know-what with Sir Hugh! But she didn’t say it in a ladylike way, if you take my meaning.”

  Eleanor’s mouth quirked up. “Is there a ladylike way to say it?” More giggling. “Really, girls, it’s one thing to admire a man from afar, but an entirely different one to announce it in public. I hope neither of you would do such a thing.” Good Lord, she sounded missish.

  Her lecture fell on deaf ears. “Oh, Gracie’s not the only one who’s saying it. He’s that handsome, miss.”

  “I’m well aware of his handsomeness,” Eleanor said. Is handsomeness a word? She wasn’t sure.

  “So you think so, too, miss?”

  “I can’t deny that he has a certain male, um, presence about him.”

  Minnie seemed genuinely puzzled by this comment. “What do you mean by that, miss?”

  Since both girls looked fit to burst with laughter, she thought she’d been deliberately caught, and now they were reeling
her in. She raised an eyebrow. “You both know perfectly well what I mean.”

  “Yes, miss,” Jane agreed. And then the dam burst, and both girls indulged in unbridled fits of laughter.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Eleanor said, but she was smiling. Best to change the subject. “Heavens! I nearly forgot, I’m attending the Carrington’s garden party this afternoon. You two will need to carry on without me.”

  Jane poked Minnie in the ribs before saying, “Maybe Sir Hugh will be there!”

  Eleanor laughed, despite her determination not to. It was innocent fun, after all. She hadn’t thought about Hugh being at the party, but now that the possibility had arisen, she didn’t resent going so much. “I must dash. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter Nine

  The Carringtons lived in a classical-style brick house set above the Town. The carriage pulled into a driveway lined with plane trees, and John Coachman dropped them off at the front. Evenly spaced, linteled casements lined up on every story, with wrought iron balconies featured on the second. The doorway was arched, with a pediment. Mr. Carrington had made his money in ironworks, and his home left no one in doubt as to the level of his competence.

  In the entryway, a receiving line awaited them. Eleanor had hoped for less formality, but it was too late to back out now and too early to make her escape. Mrs. Carrington, her long nose and narrow face lending her an air of superiority, shook her hand. “We don’t see enough of you, my dear. I have some friends I would like you to meet later.” She smiled, and Eleanor was sure the matron winked at her mother. Oh, no. That meant male friends. Coming here had been a terrible mistake if Mama and Mrs. Carrington were conspiring to introduce her to eligible men.

  Eleanor distanced herself from her parents and meandered through the crowd toward the terrace. Ah. She could breathe again. Despite her distaste for the party, she had to admit the gardens were lovely. She walked along a path with lavender borders toward the roses, where she spied some of her girlhood friends gathered in a group.