His Bluestocking Bride: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 3)

by Sally Britton

  “Oh, lovely, ma’am. We had a grand time in the carriage.” The servants left earlier that morning, from the last inn, in order to prepare the way for their employers. “And I’ve unpacked and put some things in the clothes press for dinner tonight. I asked ‘round to see if it warranted anything special.” She began to help Ellen out of her traveling costume. “There’s to be a few guests to welcome Mr. Calvert and yourself to town.”

  That gave Ellen pause. “Oh? Any idea who?”

  “Friends of the earl and a few ladies.” Sarah shrugged, quickly wrapping a dressing gown around her mistress’s shoulders. “If you’ll sit, I’ll take out your hair so you can relax a bit before dinner.”

  “Thank you. A nap might be just the thing.” Ellen allowed her maid’s ministrations and listened with half an ear as Sarah told her all about the household, the staff, and her impression of the city she had never thought she would visit.

  Sarah had finished tying a ribbon at the end of Ellen’s braid when a soft rap came from the door separating her bedroom from her husband’s. Sarah and Ellen both turned to the door and stared at it in silence for a long moment.

  “Ought I to get it, ma’am?” Sarah asked, eyebrows raised at the door. “I’m not sure what propriety dictates.”

  “Take these things to be cleaned, Sarah, if you will.” Ellen waived vaguely at the clothing she had cast off and stood, tightening the sash around her wrap. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” She walked to the adjoining door but waited until Sarah had gone before she leaned close. “Who is it?”

  What a ridiculous thing to say. As if anyone would knock at that door other than her husband.

  A little thrill shot through her at the thought.

  “Might I have a word, Ellen?”

  Ellen took a deep breath before opening the door a crack. How silly, for a wife to hesitate in opening a door to her husband.

  “Yes, Marcus?” She tried to look more at ease than she felt.

  He stood on the other side of the door, head cocked to one side as he peered in at her. He appeared half-dressed, without a coat or neckcloth, and lacking shoes. When she noticed his stocking feet, Ellen quickly pulled her gaze back up to his face, hoping her blush was not overly visible.

  Marcus half-grinned at her. “I’ve been informed there is to be a dinner party tonight. I think your abigail is aware. But I wondered if you are up to attending, given we have been on the road for several days. It would be an easy thing for you to be ill or exhausted from travel.”

  “Only me? Do you plan to attend, either way?” she asked, curious.

  “Yes. It would appease Mother if one of us is at dinner.”

  “Then I will attend as well. I think after a short nap I will be equal to the task.”

  “Excellent.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, seeming in no hurry to end their conversation, for all it resembled border guards discussing the weather. “Is your room to your liking?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the beautiful furnishings and the sumptuous bed. Her body positively ached. “Yes, very much. Especially that beautiful bed. I want nothing more than to crawl beneath its covers.”

  She turned her attention back to him and his grin had returned, in a most crooked manner. When she realized what she said, and how it must sound, and how they both were lacking in proper attire, her face went up in a blaze of embarrassment.

  “I must retire now. Excuse me. Good afternoon,” Ellen stammered before she shut the door abruptly, feeling it clip his shoulder as the handle snipped into place.

  Standing perfectly still, Ellen heard him chuckle, and then his soft footfalls on the polished floors padded away. She turned and walked dazedly toward her bed and sank into the mattress, pulling the blankets over her head.

  “He must think me a complete simpleton,” she muttered.

  But he had been the one to break their unspoken arrangement, their adherence to complete privacy.

  Of course, four days on the road together, in the same carriage, meant a great deal of that privacy from home had evaporated. But she assumed once their travels came to an end they would pick up their usual habits. For Marcus to so blatantly change the rules unnerved her.

  Or, she thought with a frown, after those days together in the carriage, during which time he touched her to hand her in and out of the conveyance, he no longer thought they need worry over those barriers.

  Rolling over, Ellen gave her pillow a harsh thump. “You knew what you were getting into, marrying him,” she muttered to herself.

  Ellen forced herself to close her eyes, tried to make her body relax, and had achieved some measure of peace when her eyes flew open and she sat up, staring at the doorway between their rooms.

  There was no lock on her side of the door. Nothing. No keyhole. No bolt. Just an intricately curved handle.

  She fell back into the pillows and shook her head. While she doubted her husband would breach the doorway, the fact that he could, the fact that he was expected to by whoever arranged their rooms, made her stomach clench and her mind whirl.

  Her plan for a nap before dinner was thoroughly ruined.

  ¤

  Marcus made his way downstairs early, ready for dinner but searching out his brother. He had not had word from Lucas since the wedding and was curious what was happening in Parliament. He made his way to Lucas’s study, hardly noticing the familiar sights of the family townhome. The floors were tiled with black and white marble, paintings and family portraits hung along the walls, and vases of flowers were on every table.

  He knocked on the dark oak paneled door.

  “Enter,” his brother called and Marcus stepped inside. “Marcus, there you are. You avoided us rather neatly this afternoon.” Lucas came from around his desk, extending his hand to Marcus, who accepted the firm handshake. Lucas clapped him on the arm as he stepped away. “And how is Mrs. Calvert?”

  “She is well, though perhaps uncertain about her first season in London.”

  “Abigail was nervous the first year we married,” Lucas said with an understanding nod. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No, thank you.” Marcus followed his brother to the desk where they each took a chair on the same side. “Did you worry after Abigail that year?” He could not imagine his brother’s late wife had been too uncomfortable. Not like Ellen. Abigail had been the eldest daughter of an earl and had been born to the lifestyle of the ton’s elite.

  “For a time, I didn’t leave her side,” Lucas admitted, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “There are a different set of rules for the married women of the ton. After a few weeks, she found her footing.”

  Marcus tried to imagine what his brother’s life might be like. He knew Lucas and Abigail had a love match, adoring each other from nearly the first moment they met. What would it be like to find that connection to another person and then lose them?

  “I hope Ellen can find her place. She’ll not have a title to lift her in society, only connections to you and the Falkhams.”

  “And to you.” Lucas raised his blond eyebrows high. “You are her most important connection. I hope you’ll not forget that.”

  Marcus nodded. “I will do all I can to see to her comfort.”

  “You are getting on with her?” Lucas asked, tilting his head to one side. “I have wondered, given the nature of your marriage, if you’d find a practical wife suitable after the passage of some time.”

  “More so than ever,” Marcus answered. “Ellen is a godsend. She took the reins of the household and everything runs smoothly. It’s a marvel, and all the servants respect her. She’s been helping me with my education in tree-farming as well. Truly, her advice and perspective have been invaluable to me.” The pride he felt in his wife and her abilities must’ve shown on his face, and he let slip more in his expression than he meant to.

  “Marcus.” Lucas leaned forward and clasped his hands together beneath his chin, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Do you have feelings beyond your o
bvious gratitude for your wife?”

  “I admire her a great deal,” Marcus said slowly.

  “I see.” Lucas raised his eyebrows higher. “And?”

  The two of them had always been close. Marcus trusted his brother with his life but trusting him with the secrets of his heart was more difficult. He wanted to run his hands through his hair, to tug at his too-stiff collar, to stand and pace like a caged lion at the Tower menagerie. But Lucas’s earnest expression, and Marcus’s uncertainty, finally won out.

  “I think I’m falling in love with Ellen.”

  Lucas sat back, his eyes going wide. “That’s wonderful news, isn’t it? You don’t look like you think it’s wonderful news.”

  “I don’t know that it is.” Marcus stood, unsettled, and gave in to the desire to pace. If he touched his hair or collar, after all, both his mother and his valet would have his hide. “I have no knowledge of her feelings for me, and love has done neither you nor I any favors.”

  “It has caused a great deal of pain,” Lucas said, his voice somber. Marcus paused, seeing the shadows from the fire deepening the lines of sorrow in his brother’s face. “But only because it was taken from me and not returned to you. I think you should tell Ellen.”

  “I think I should wait.”

  Lucas shook his head and leaned back. “You know best. But what have you to lose if she doesn’t return your feelings? You are still married. You have your whole life to woo her.”

  “If she doesn’t return them, she could be disgusted completely by them.” Marcus dropped back into his chair with a grimace. “She could be put off by me. Become uncomfortable in my presence. Any number of awful things could happen should I speak before she is ready to hear.”

  “Then you had better get her ready to hear.” Lucas shook his head and pointed at the glass cabinet on the wall. “Would you like that drink now? You look like you could use it.”

  Marcus groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “I told her I didn’t hope for romance. Told her I couldn’t allow that into our relationship. Ever.”

  “Then you lied, didn’t you?” Lucas asked, a faint trace of humor in his tone. “But she’ll likely forgive you, if you ask politely enough.”

  Marcus shot an irritated look at this brother. “Don’t say anything about this, Luc.”

  “Not a word, Marc.” He stood and bowed. “But you can’t blame me if I enjoy watching the dance between you.”

  “I suppose not.”

  Lucas went to the cabinet and began to prepare their drinks, his back to Marcus. “Did you hear that Selene is in London?”

  Marcus’s shoulders dropped and he closed his eyes tightly. “Of course she is.” He would rather not think about her at all, especially given the situation he found himself in with his wife. Lady Castleton could take herself off back to the Continent, as far as he was concerned, as he had enough trouble at hand without whatever cloud of gossip trailed behind her. “I hope no one speaks of it to Ellen.”

  “It’s the ton, Marcus. Everyone will positively rush to tell her.”

  Marcus hated that his brother was right.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ellen slipped into the impressive library of her brother-in-law’s home and stood near the fire, leaning against the mantle-piece. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the marble, soothing her headache by pressing against the cool stone. She could hear the rest of the family and guests in the entryway, saying farewell and goodnight.

  At least she did not have to become overly accustomed to these events, she told herself. She was not the countess, only the wife of a second son.

  Watching Marcus converse with and flatter the other ladies in the party all evening surprised her, but she supposed she ought not to have expected his behavior to be different. No one else thought it strange for him to behave as he always had before.

  The voices in the hall grew more faint, with fewer participants speaking, and then she heard the click of boots moving toward the stairs. The family must be alone in the house at last. Ellen relaxed and sighed. She might finally obtain some rest. Supposing Marcus felt no need to rap on the door adjoining their rooms again.

  The door to the library opened and Ellen hurriedly stood straight and away from the wall, attempting to appear properly composed.

  “It’s me, Ellen.” She turned and Marcus stood there, closing the door behind him. “I knew you’d be here, if you hadn’t already gone to bed.” He looked about the room, at the roaring fire and the shelves of books. “How do you like the library?”

  Ellen stared at him and offered a shrug. “It’s very fine.”

  “Very fine?” he repeated, coming forward. “That will never do. Not from you. You’ve not taken the time to appreciate it fully.” He held his hand out to her and she slipped hers in without a thought. Marcus tugged her gently towards one of the well-cushioned sofas in the room and motioned for her to sit.

  “I will appreciate it more from this vantage point?” She settled on the couch and then looked towards the shelves. “I’m afraid it looks the same, but that isn’t a bad thing. It is a very fine library, Marcus.”

  He settled next to her and looked around again. “I always liked it. I spent many afternoons here reading while my mother entertained callers.”

  “As a boy?”

  His expression turned inward, though he remained facing the fireplace. “Mm. And as a young man. And an adult. Conceivably as a married man, too, while you both wait upon the finest ladies of London society.”

  Unable to help it, Ellen shuddered at the very thought. “Your mother, is she in great demand still? Even as a dowager countess?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes. She is a great favorite to many. I think it’s because she isn’t a toad eater. Mother is always honest in her words and relationships. That’s rare in society, especially when a person is able to be that way and remain kind.”

  Although she didn’t speak, Ellen wished to ask why he would spread flattery around so liberally with the example of his mother’s finer behavior before him. Instead she leaned into the back cushion more, allowing her eyes to linger on her husband.

  “I have always liked your mother. I cannot be surprised others find her as I do.”

  Marcus stretched his arm over the back of the sofa, his forearm resting above her shoulders. He leaned back and sighed.

  “They will like you, too, Ellen. You are kind, intelligent, and have a good heart. People will see that. The cats in society will hate it, poke their fun, and then leave you alone when you don’t rise to meet their behavior. But the truly noble women, and men, will admire you.”

  Though her heart warmed at his words, she reminded herself this was but the latest in a long list of compliments bestowed by him tonight. The words sounded sincere, but she couldn’t allow herself to be overly moved by them.

  She forced a smile. “I have no need for admiration. I’m content if I have a few friends and if I do the family credit when I am out in society. That is enough for me.”

  He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers, filled with an emotion she could not place. Admiration? No, it must be fondness. He lowered his hand from the furniture and placed his arm around her in a way he never had before. The gesture made her stomach flip.

  “You are a wonder, Ellen. I am forever grateful we met at your cousin’s. I am glad of it, and glad to have you for a companion.”

  She sighed and lowered her hands to her lap. They were both being too serious, and she must dispel the air of such talk quickly, lest things become uncomfortable for either of them. He spoke of her as a companion, as one might speak of any chum or even a favored hound.

  “You’re glad of it because I don’t make frivolous demands of you. Perhaps I ought to. I ought to demand that you take me to the park tomorrow, during the fashionable hour, and parade me about to all of London.” He blinked at her in surprise, though his lips twitched slightly.

  She continued her list with enthusiasm. “Or I could insist
on visiting the Palace gardens, as I hear they are lovely even in the depths of winter. Or we could attend the saloons I have heard so much of or go to Gunter’s to see and be seen.” His smile grew with each idea, his eyes twinkling at her. “Let us go to the zoo and look at the tiger. Or to the university to tour the grounds and sit in lectures. I might even persuade you to take me to a surgical theater.”

  His words finally burst out. “Surgical theater? I cannot think of another woman of my acquaintance who would suggest such a thing, even in jest.”

  He started laughing and drew nearer her, his leg brushing against hers and his arm tightening around her shoulders. Her stomach performed that strange flip again and her head felt light, as it did when she imbibed one glass of wine too many at her sister’s wedding. She laughed too, more out of nerves than anything. Her husband sobered after a moment, looking down at her, the last vestiges of humor still glittering in his eyes.

  “Ellen, you must know, I would take you wherever you wished to go.”

  Ellen could not hide her surprise. “Would you? Even to the surgery? Or to university lectures?”

  “Yes. Anything, anywhere. I have seen and done all that I can in London. It would be diverting, and an honor, to squire my wife about town and allow you to see everything you wish.” He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “There are many things to see in London.”

  Although tired, Ellen could not bear to leave an opportunity to learn more about her husband. “Which are your favorite places? Where have you been?”

  “I enjoyed the Pall Mall Picture Galleries.”

  Ellen tilted her head up, meeting his look with surprise. “You did? The art museum?”

  “Of course. And there is the Royal Museum, as we spoke of before. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  She was still trying to picture him walking around an art gallery and commenting upon the English masters hanging there. “What else?”

  “Most places in London are made for people to go and be seen. But there are quiet corners here and there. Private galleries, parks that see little use when everyone is busy parading down Rotten Row. Shops hidden at the ends of streets.”