But how to make being together happen?
He frowned, his euphoria dimming a little. It still smacked too much of insult to offer carte blanche to a woman whom he knew should—but now never would—be a respectable member of the ton. Would it be possible to add a discreet intimacy to their friendship, become lovers without making any public acknowledgement of their association and keep it hidden from the world?
But such a relationship would almost certainly, eventually, be discovered. And living discreetly separate would not allow the day-to-day intimacy he craved. He wanted more than Ellie in his bed, he wanted her sitting at his table and in his library, riding in the park, visiting in the countryside—everywhere, all the time.
He sighed. Nothing very discreet about that.
And no matter how he looked at it, the stark fact remained that abandoning his goal of respectable matrimony would hinder his political career.
Very well, but the impediment was surmountable, surely. Although nothing short of legitimate marriage would allow him to complete his circle of friends by taking a wife he could be seen with anywhere, he was reasonably sure the Hellions would receive them, if only in private.
A niggle of doubt shook him. He knew his friends and their wives liked Ellie, had accepted her and dined with her—as a former courtesan. Would they continue to welcome her if he involved her in another illegitimate relationship?
The sort of relationship she’d vowed never to enter again? Could he retain any sense of honour if he urged her back into a role that had filled her with shame and regret? The last thing he wanted was to hurt her.
He couldn’t marry her. But how could he give her up?
The sense of delight with which he’d awakened now dissipated by realising how difficult a dilemma he faced, Christopher jumped out of bed and hurriedly dressed. He’d call on Ellie, talk over the situation with her. Surely they could come up with a solution that would allow them to be together without causing her more pain.
While he stood before the mirror, knotting his cravat, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of his valet, Marsden. ‘Sorry, sir!’ the man said, checking as he saw his master almost fully dressed. ‘I would have come up at once to assist you, had I known you were awake.’
‘Why did you let me sleep so late?’
‘Miss Parmenter instructed us not to rouse you, since you had kept watch most of the night.’
‘When did she leave?’
‘Just after daybreak. Rollins got her a hackney.’
‘Did anyone accompany her?’
‘No, sir, she said that since no one knew she’d been staying here, she would be safe enough travelling alone.’
Frowning as he recalled that she’d been attacked in broad daylight, Christopher hoped so. Would she have gone home? Or to the school? They really needed to finalise the matter of additional watchmen to protect her.
‘I brought up the post, sir. Would you like breakfast now?’
‘Just coffee. I shall be going out almost immediately.’
Accepting the stack, Christopher thumbed through them, setting aside one that was obviously an invitation. The last one had only his name inscribed, in a flowing feminine hand. Ellie’s.
He broke the seal and eagerly scanned the lines.
Dear Christopher,
I think we can both agree that my work is done, and you are now equipped to begin your search for a suitable wife. I wish you all the best in finding the right lady to brighten your days and offer you the assistance you need to reach the highest levels of your career.
Thinking it best to end for good any temptation to delay that task, I will bid you goodbye and good luck.
Your friend, Ellie
PS So you might commence without delay, I’ve sent along an invitation to a reception this afternoon at the home of my Aunt Marion, which will be attended by my sister Sophie and other eligible maidens.
Marsden brought the coffee and set the tray on the table beside him, but Christopher scarcely noticed. He read Ellie’s note over several more times before finally, incredulous, disbelieving, he had to acknowledge that she had just walked out of his life.
With no acknowledgement of the night they’d shared. With barely any indication of warmth at all—just a tepid, ‘your friend’. Without offering him even the courtesy of saying farewell to his face.
Numb disbelief thawed into a piercing pain as the joy within shattered into jagged shards that stabbed deep into his chest. He’d been transported—energised—consumed with need for her. And she had...left him without a word?
For a moment, he felt like that little boy again, holding out the treasure he prized above all others to the father whose love he’d been so desperate to win—while the man passed him by without a glance.
Bile rose in his throat, and for a moment, he thought he’d be sick.
But as he subdued the nausea, a furious anger boiled up. How could she just dismiss him, like a servant whose work didn’t suit? How could she walk away without acknowledging the bond between them, the passion they’d shared, the joy they gave each other? How could she coolly say goodbye as if what had happened last night was as ordinary as afternoon tea, and as soon forgotten? When he’d been touched by bliss as never before?
Damn her, then, and damn her lessons. She wanted him to move forward and court another woman? Well, he’d happily oblige. Hadn’t that been his aim all along? He’d find a wife so skilful and virtuous she would shatter all his doubts about remaining faithful, filling him with confidence that he could dote on her all his life. A woman of such unimpeachable virtue that she would never cause their children a moment’s embarrassment.
Feeding his fury to mask the anguish beneath, he took Ellie’s note and threw it in the fire. Then returned to the table, scanned the invitation, and went to ring the bell pull.
It appeared he’d have that breakfast after all. And then have Marsden dress him in something suitable for impressing a bevy of Virtuous Virgins.
* * *
That afternoon, Christopher presented himself at the town house of the Countess of Enfield, where the afternoon reception Ellie had bid him attend was already in progress. He should be grateful for this chance to mingle with other people, since he’d had little luck focusing his mind on work. In the hours since he’d read Ellie’s note, he’d tried to study the report Giles had sent, but found his attention distracted by the need to periodically rekindle his anger to keep at bay the black depression beneath.
Time to master that for good, and move forward.
After greeting Lady Enfield, who met him with stiff civility, he moved into the room, where he soon realised he knew very few of the attendees—not surprising, since he almost never appeared at Society functions. Bypassing most of the gentlemen, who all appeared younger than he was, he walked over to Lord Bronfield, an ally of Maggie’s father—and recent widower, he recalled. Who, if he were attending this gathering, must be trolling for another bride.
‘Lattimar!’ the baron said, his eyes widening in surprise. ‘Good to see you! If unexpected. Can’t recall you ever taking part in an affair that wasn’t political. What brings you here?’
‘The same reason that brings you, I would expect,’ Christopher replied, snagging a glass from a passing waiter.
‘You’re looking to marry?’ the baron said in disbelief. ‘The ladies of the demi-monde must be weeping!’
Ignoring that, Christopher said, ‘I have on the authority of my friends that marriage is a most desirable estate. Which it must be, if you are angling to enter it again. Already have several heirs, don’t you?’
‘I do. But your friends are correct. There’s a companionship and warmth in marriage that one finds nowhere else. With the right lady, of course. I thought to live without it, after I lost my dear Emma two years ago, but I find I y
earn to have that closeness again.’
‘I hope you’ll find that right lady, then.’
‘You, too, Lattimar. Anyone who’s caught your eye?’
‘I must confess, this is my first reception, and I know practically no one.’
‘Ah, well, let me rectify that! Come along.’
Like a lamb to the slaughter, Christopher couldn’t help thinking as the baron led him where a large knot of guests stood conversing. ‘Ladies, let me present my colleague in Parliament, Mr Christopher Lattimar. Christopher, it’s my pleasure to make known to you Lady Elaine Wyminster, Lady Quinley, her daughter, Miss Quinley, Lord Warner, and Mr Whittiker.’
After bows, curtsies, and greetings, Christopher turned to lady standing nearest him. ‘Miss Quinley, are you newly come to London?’
Miss Quinley, a slender blonde with pale blue eyes, looked down hastily when he focused on her, her face flushing. ‘Yes,’ she said belatedly.
‘How have you found it?’ When she moistened her lips without coming up with a reply, he prompted, ‘Interesting? Noisy? Frightening?’
Casting a desperate look at her mother, who gave her an encouraging nod, she said, ‘Interesting. But noisy.’
‘Do you prefer life in the country?’
With another panicked glance at her mother, she said, ‘I...like the country. Of course, London is...nice, too.’
A very shy girl probably won’t look at you at all, will say little and defer to her mother. Which might be a sign she’s not right for you.
A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips as Ellie’s advice echoed in his ears, before he was distracted by Lady Elaine’s tinkling laugh. ‘Mr Lattimar, spare poor Miss Quinley! My friend is the most gentle creature imaginable, but quite dreads drawing-room conversation.’
That maiden’s relieved smile at the interruption told Christopher Lady Elaine did care about the girl and wasn’t merely trying to steal away his attention.
‘You are part of the Reform movement, Mr Lattimar?’ Lady Elaine was saying. ‘My late husband wasn’t political. Perhaps you could tell me more?’
She took his arm, the touch surprising Christopher until he recalled Ellie saying that a widow had more latitude in behaviour than an innocent miss. Since a quick glance around showed no raised eyebrows, he figured the widow’s gesture must be permissible.
Though he felt the strongest desire to remove her hand.
He suppressed it as she led him a little apart, pulling away once she’d halted in a vacant alcove. ‘Now we can talk without shouting. For I do wish to catch every...intimate...word.’ She gave him a flirtatious glance from under her long lashes.
Though he felt no immediate connection to her, the male in him noticed how close she stood, the alluring tilt of her head, the flicker of tongue moistening her lips.
He looked up to find her watching him inspect her—a knowing smile on her face. And he felt, for the first time in his life, almost...irritated to be the subject of a woman’s amorous overtures.
Before he could think of a way to escape her attentions, a young gentleman hurried up. ‘Lady Elaine!’ he cried, giving Christopher a hostile glance. ‘Here’s the wine you asked me to procure.’
‘Mr Armbruster, how kind,’ she said, bestowing on the young man a smile so dazzling that he froze in mid-step. She plucked the glass from him, in the process giving his hand a lingering caress that rendered him red-faced and speechless.
Lady Elaine’s behaviour brought to mind that of the naughty matrons his mother had invited to ‘distract’ him. A memory that called up Ellie’s voice.
A lady who seems intent on attaching every gentleman around her, as if believing she must always be the focus of attention, would make a taxing wife.
As Lady Elaine turned her seductive smile back on him, he had to agree. This wench must have led Lord Wyminster a merry dance, and he had no desire to follow in the late baron’s footsteps.
‘Why, Mr Lattimar, I had no idea you’d be here today!’
Happy for the interruption, Christopher turned to find the girls from the park walking over.
‘Ladies, a pleasure to see you again. Lady Elaine, you are acquainted with Lady Audrey Thornton and Miss Higgins? And Mr—Armbruster, wasn’t it?’
As they all nodded, Lady Elaine gave the younger girls a brief smile. ‘Hello, girls,’ she said. ‘Mr Lattimar was telling us about politics. Not much to interest you, I’m afraid.’
Though Miss Higgins appeared cowed, Lady Audrey met the older beauty’s stare with a level glance that said she was not at all intimidated. ‘You are mistaken, Lady Elaine. In fact, Mr Lattimar promised me a fuller discussion of his political views when we last rode together. Did you not?’
‘I did indeed,’ he confirmed, to Lady Elaine’s obvious annoyance.
‘Won’t you let me steal you away? Sophie wanted to hear about your work, too, and she’s still assisting her aunt as hostess. She’d be so disappointed to miss the discussion. You’ll excuse us, Lady Elaine, Mr Armbruster?’
Christopher had to chuckle as she bore him away. ‘Neatly done, Lady Audrey,’ he murmured as they walked off, the matron’s affronted gaze following them. ‘Though you may have made yourself an enemy there.’
His escort shrugged. ‘Lady Elaine knows nothing about politics. She just wanted to monopolise the attention of the handsome newcomer.’
‘Audrey!’ Miss Higgins exclaimed in an undertone, flushing. ‘She’ll hear you.’
‘I probably shouldn’t have said that,’ Lady Audrey admitted. But you are new to these gatherings, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit we all find you handsome.’
‘Audrey!’ Miss Higgins exclaimed again, her flush deepening.
‘Don’t worry, Mary. You’re not offended, are you, Mr Lattimar? Sophie says her sister thinks you the most admirable and understanding of gentlemen.’
Ellie said he was admirable and understanding? Then why? As he struggled to suppress the pain that stabbed anew, it was several moments before he realised the girls were gazing at him, still awaiting an answer. ‘No, I’m not offended,’ he said, dragging himself back to the present. ‘As a politician, I appreciate plain speaking. One reaches the heart of the argument—and discovers the possibilities for compromise—much faster that way.’
Could they not do that, if he were just able to see Ellie again?
His already unsettled senses startled again when, after rounding a group of guests, he saw Sophie, the instinctive leap of delight followed by the bitter disappointment that the girl who resembled her so closely wasn’t Ellie.
Then, angry at being once again pulled from the present by the woman who’d abandoned him, he resolved to dismiss her from his thoughts and concentrate his full attention on the ladies before him.
Greeting Sophie politely, he engaged for half an hour in a discussion of the progress of the reform bill that both she and Lady Audrey seemed to want.
If he gazed at Sophie through lowered eyes, he could even for a moment imagine it was Ellie beside him, debating the politics he loved. But when he looked with eyes wide open, he knew that lovely, intelligent and interesting as Sophie was, she was only a pale reflection of Ellie, her character young and not fully formed. She lacked the depth, the sense of calm confidence, the unique spirit of her sister.
Their hostess came to reclaim Sophie, and with an exchange of bows and curtsies, the girls walked off with her. An aching sadness filled him as he watched them, wondering if he’d ever feel like himself again.
In stark contrast to his normal behaviour, this afternoon he’d recoiled from flirtatious overtures to which he would usually have responded, been unable to summon up enough empathy to encourage the ingénue lacking in confidence, and had to push himself to converse with two young ladies who seemed to possess all the attributes he thought he was seeking.
Except for one. Neither one was Ellie.
Disinclined to any further gestures of politeness, he abandoned his original intention of remaining to talk with the girls again, instead seeking out the Countess to take his leave. A few minutes later, he halted on the street, gazing back at the Countess’s town house.
Angry, bitter, scoured by loss. Unable to make himself move forward to do what he must.
The realisation swept through him with the force of a high wind, carrying away frustration and resistance. Why was he trying to deceive himself? It was Ellie he really wanted.
He would cease this minute trying to talk himself into doing what everything within him fought against—settling for a woman who could never be more than an inadequate substitute. It would be agony for him and unfair to the lady, when his heart and soul hungered for Ellie. Just as, throughout this gathering, memories of Ellie and her ghostly voice in his ear had held more of his attention than the conversation of the actual guests.
For the first time since the devastation of reading her note this morning, Christopher felt a surge of excitement and a renewal of purpose. Having finally admitted that he wanted Ellie and no other, now he needed to find her—and convince her they belonged together.
Chapter Twenty
As he set off for the nearest hackney stand, Christopher still didn’t know how he could reconcile their nearly impossible situation. But he would fight as long as it took to win Ellie over.
He instructed the driver to carry him to Dean Street, reasoning that, despite the risk to the girls, she might have felt compelled to check that all was well with the school.
But as he impatiently waited through the transit, an even more obvious truth struck him, so clear and simple, he wondered it had taken him so long to realise it.
Secret Lessons with the Rake Page 21
