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

by Sally Britton

  Lucas seemed to bite the insides of his cheek at that and it took him a moment to answer. “Your head is not turned by the dazzling dresses or sparkling wealth?”

  Ellen shook her head, lowering it slightly as she did. “Does that disappoint you?”

  “Not at all. I think it’s perfect, for you and Marcus. He doesn’t enjoy society either, you know.”

  That comment took her by surprise. “But he does so well here.”

  “He wears a very fine mask,” Lucas answered, but then said no more as their turn came to join hands in the reel. The movement of the dance separated them for a short time, but when they came together again, at rest while another couple promenaded, Ellen took up the subject once more.

  “What makes you think Marcus doesn’t enjoy the season?” Although she had caught Marcus out in preferring the quiet places of London, he had never said that he disliked the whirl of society.

  “He’s told me,” Lucas answered simply, shrugging very slightly to keep a proper dancing form. “I have known him all my life and he is happiest when he is not on display. I’m afraid being the second son of an earl, and now the younger brother of one, does not give much pleasure.”

  The dance caught them up again, Ellen joining hands with another man and stepping as lightly as she could, given the new thoughts in her head.

  Marcus doesn’t like it any better than I do. Ellen wanted to laugh. It made perfect sense, putting together all the pieces of his personality she understood. When she had first heard rumors of his flirtatious behavior, years ago, she had at first been surprised. He had always been quietly playful, the summers she spent time with him. Ready to tease and laugh, but never one to put himself forward. She thought he must’ve changed. But he hadn’t.

  Marcus wore the mask and played a part, as he had told her before they wed. He knew what society expected and wanted from him and that is what he gave it. He protected his brother, he did nothing to sully his family’s reputation, and he did his mother’s bidding. None of this was wrong, of course, but Ellen realized it was not necessarily a life he wanted to live.

  At Orchard Hill, at home, he spoke with sincerity and without flattery. Here in London it seemed every word that slipped from him was cloaked in a double meaning, or else meant to stroke the vanity of his listeners. He understood society well enough to play the role it had given him, but that did not mean he liked it.

  Then what are we doing here? she asked herself, looking down the row of dancers.

  Lucas returned to stand before her and when their eyes met, she watched his expression change from cheerful to curious. “Something has changed since I saw you last, sister, and that was but moments ago.”

  Ellen forced a smile and put her thoughts away. She would examine them more closely at another time. “I missed you, brother,” she said, then tried his trick of dropping a quick wink.

  The earl’s lips twitched upward, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen on his face. “Very good, Ellen. You will learn to play the game too.”

  She nodded at what he must’ve intended to be a compliment, but Ellen didn’t think this was a game she’d ever enjoy playing.

  When the dance ended, Lucas took her arm again and led her through the crowds. Ellen caught sight of Marcus’s coppery hair first, sadly devoid of its curls since he’d had it cut again, and then saw Collin’s taller head.

  “Marianne,” she exclaimed when they were steps apart. “I’m so glad you’ve come.” She released Lucas’s arm and went to embrace her friend, despite being in a crowded ballroom of onlookers.

  “And I’m glad to see you here, my dear. Looking so elegant, too.” Marianne laughed and set Ellen at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “It seems that marriage suits you, as I knew it would.” The twinkle in her eye, playful as it was, caused Ellen to blush without knowing why.

  “Thank you.” She leaned closer and whispered in Marianne’s ear. “How are you feeling?”

  Marianne colored slightly. “Very well, at present. Collin takes good care of me.”

  Marcus met Ellen’s eyes at that moment, his smile warmer and more genuine than she’d seen since their first night in town, in the privacy of the library. The memory of that night, and waking the next morning in his arms, still flooded her with a pleasurable warmth she tried not to dwell upon. Did he think of it too?

  Her husband moved to her side while Lucas and Collin began a conversation on Parliament. Marcus stood close enough to lean down and speak in her ear. “Did you enjoy your dance with Lucas?”

  “Very much. He is a delightful brother.” She tipped her head to the side enough to meet his eyes. “Have you danced yet?”

  “The only woman I wish to dance with was occupied, first with my mother and then my brother.” He bent even closer, his lips almost against her ear. “And for some reason, society frowns upon a man dancing with his wife.”

  A shiver played up and down Ellen’s spine, though it had nothing to do with the room temperature. Her husband’s nearness would continue to affect her, it would seem. She smiled and lowered her eyes.

  “Must you always do what society wishes you to do, Marcus?” she asked, her voice low. She wasn’t sure she dared look at him, or why she had made such a brazen suggestion.

  But she felt his hand at her elbow, then it slid down her arm to her wrist, and his fingers caught hers in their warm grasp. “I think, in this case, I must not,” he said, his tone warm and firm.

  Ellen looked up at him, her lips parting in surprise.

  “Dance with me, Mrs. Calvert?” he asked, his eyes on hers, taking up her whole world.

  “Yes.”

  And she became aware enough of the world around them to see Lucas over his brother’s shoulder, his eyebrows raised, and Marianne to one side looking pink with pleasure.

  But Marcus didn’t look back at them. He pulled her hand gently to the crook of his arm and led the way to the dance floor. Ellen’s ears picked up, as if from far away, the faint strains of a waltz.

  A waltz.

  Though the dancing forms called for them to occasionally be paired with others, Marcus would be her primary partner, spending most of the time holding her in his arms.

  They came to the floor, bowing and curtsying to those opposite them, and then began.

  Ellen lost count of the number of times her hands clasped his. She went through the steps but could have missed nearly every one without knowing it. Marcus’s eyes remained on hers, regardless of which lady he partnered, guiding Ellen through the movements with no more than a smile in her direction.

  They stood still at last, facing one another, waiting for their turn to step forward once more.

  “Is that the new Calvert woman?” someone said from behind her, loud enough that she couldn’t help but hear.

  “It is, but I’ve never seen her about before. Odd sort of creature, isn’t she?” another voice answered.

  Ellen’s face caught fire.

  Marcus’s expression changed to a frown and she wondered if he hadn’t been able to hear. He was farther from the speakers than she.

  “I heard she was a spinster. No one wanted her. Wonder why Calvert picked her up?”

  It didn’t matter who stood behind her. Ellen knew no one in town. How did they know her? How did they know the bitter truths of her story?

  Marcus moved forward and she realized, a half-step too late, that she should do the same. He caught her hand up anyway and drew her closer to him than the dance called for, his deep brown eyes pulling her in.

  “Ellen, don’t listen to them,” he whispered.

  They stepped apart again and her mortification was complete. Marcus had heard. She looked down at the floor, uncertainty replacing her earlier enjoyment of the dance.

  “You are a Calvert now,” he whispered when they stepped together once more, and he gently squeezed her hand. “More importantly, you are my wife.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but she tipped her chin up. Ellen would not disappoin
t him. As a Calvert, and his wife, she was meant to uphold the family pride and position. But when her eyes met his again, Marcus’s gaze was filled with tenderness. Not pride, or even reassurance.

  Marcus looked as though he wished to hold her, protect her, and Ellen’s heart responded in a quick, fluttering moment.

  Together, they moved down the line, holding each other’s hands. Marcus did not take his eyes from her and she did not look away again.

  “We are in this together, Ellen. Forever.” And then he smiled, as though being joined to her was the greatest possible fate. They stood apart again, and as the waltz ended he bowed, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Lady Annesbury appeared the moment Marcus and Ellen stepped away from the floor, her smile perfectly in place as she embraced Ellen and kissed her on the cheek. Ellen, confused by the gesture, tried not to show it.

  When her mother-in-law spoke, loudly enough for several nearby to hear, Ellen realized what Lady Annesbury was doing.

  “My darling children, I had hoped your first dance would be at your wedding ball. But seeing the two of you together, it positively made my heart burst for happiness. You are truly meant for each other.” She released Ellen to put her arm through Marcus’s.

  “I couldn’t help it, Mother,” her husband said, also loud enough for those nearest to hear. “It’s cruel to keep husbands and wives apart when they prefer one another’s company to all else.” He took Ellen’s hand and she saw the flash of defiance in his eye.

  The family was sending a message, which meant the comments Ellen overheard could not be all that was said that night. Not if Lady Annesbury had come forward to publicly approve of their dancing together.

  Lucas appeared next, Collin and Marianne with him, forming a tight circle around Ellen.

  Ellen’s immediate gratitude for her family, for their obvious support and defense, nearly made up for her disappointment. If something so simple as dancing with her husband could cause a need for this show of strength, and if the gossiping cats of the ton already knew their story, how could she ever fit here?

  Bath society had not been so strict, though it had its rules. She had never been important enough to be of any notice. She had no wish to be important now. Ellen wanted to do her new family credit, uphold their image, and make them proud.

  Instead, they were coming forward to save her.

  “Now, you gentlemen had best be off,” Lady Annesbury said. “Go dance with a few young ladies to smooth ruffled feathers. We will look after Ellen.”

  Ellen’s heart fell. At least before marriage she had not been a burden. It was one thing to be ignored and another to have to be looked after.

  Marcus’s hand slid into hers once more, offering a gentle squeeze. She forced a smile onto her face and darted a glance at him. Then his brother pulled him away and the men disappeared.

  Marianne stepped closer and put her arm around Ellen’s waist. “Your gown is lovely. I didn’t have the chance to ask before, where did you acquire it?”

  Minutes of meaningless conversation passed, and then Lady Annesbury was moving them across the floor again, introducing Ellen to a list of people she had no hope of remembering. Marianne stayed with them, at Ellen’s right hand.

  “How do you do it?” Ellen asked when her mother-in-law was preoccupied with speaking to a friend. “Marianne, how do you enjoy being on display? Being talked of?”

  Marianne kept her polite smile upon her face, lowering her head as she answered. “This is how it has always been, Ellen. I was born to this. With a duke for a grandfather, I’ve been trained since I was in leading strings.” She adjusted a glove, a small frown appearing on her face. “How are you managing?”

  Ellen hid her grimace as she answered. “Terribly.”

  “If you will excuse me for a moment, my dears,” Lady Annesbury said. “I see someone I need to have a word with.”

  “Of course, Mother,” Ellen answered, her dutiful smile in place again.

  Lady Annesbury sailed away from them, more graceful than any debutante Ellen had seen that evening.

  “Let’s walk near the windows,” Marianne said, gesturing to the other side of the room. “We can get some fresh air.”

  Together, they walked arm in arm. As they neared the windows, Marianne veered slightly to a potted fern of an enormous size. “Stand here, Ellen, and take a few deep breaths.” Marianne’s instructions came with a friendly smile. “No one can see you tucked behind the plant.”

  Ellen chuckled and raised a hand to her brow. “If I lose my smile now, I may never get it back. This is not at all the way I thought it would be, Marianne. I’m not meant for London.”

  “Nonsense. Anyone who wishes to belong can. Especially as connected as you are.” Marianne offered an encouraging pat on Ellen’s arm. “And I’m here now. I will see you through it.”

  “That’s the thing,” Ellen murmured, feeling her eyes begin to prickle. “I’m not sure I want to see it through.”

  Marianne opened her mouth to argue, but another voice reached them first, from just beyond the fern.

  “Is that Lady Castleton?”

  A second female voice answered. “Dear me, it is. I had heard she was back from Spain, but I hadn’t thought to see her.”

  “Is that her husband with her?”

  “No, no. The count didn’t come,” said a third voice, a man’s.

  “Then who—?”

  “That’s the brother of the Earl of Annesbury.”

  Ellen could not hear more. She looked up to Marianne, entreating her friend with her eyes to do something.

  Marianne said a very unladylike word beneath her breath, startling Ellen, but she followed Marianne away from the false safety of the plant. They walked along the wall of the ballroom. Marianne kept darting gazes toward the center of the room, but Ellen stubbornly trained her eyes on her friend’s back. She had no wish to look and see what Marcus was doing or who he was with.

  “It’s her,” Marianne said, bringing them to a halt behind a column and looking over Ellen’s shoulder. “But Marcus isn’t anywhere near her. Not anymore.”

  “Can I plead a headache and return home?” Ellen asked, smiling weakly and half joking.

  “Not so soon after Lady Castleton’s arrival. That would cause gossip.” Marianne bit her bottom lip and moved from behind the column. “Ah. There’s Collin. He’s coming our way.”

  Less than a minute later, Collin stood near them. “Little cousin, there you are.” He held his hand out to her. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for the supper dance?”

  Ellen’s eyes widened. “Is it as late as that?”

  “Indeed.” Collin’s smile widened and he sighed. “Aren’t you dreadfully tired? I always am by supper.”

  “Then he gets his energies restored to him.” Marianne laughed, a light and polite sound Ellen didn’t think she could possibly replicate.

  Marcus came around the column next, appearing less cheerful in countenance than his friend. “Ah. Here they are. Lady Falkham, would you do me the honor of joining me for the supper dance?”

  “I see.” Marianne looked between them and then at Ellen, relief in her eyes. “They mean to take us into supper together.”

  “It was Marcus’s idea,” Collin said. Then his eyes focused on Ellen’s and his smile vanished. “Cousin Ellen, what’s wrong?”

  Ellen didn’t know when she had stopped trying to appear pleasant, as though all was well with the world. Perhaps when Marcus arrived and would not meet her eyes. He looked up when Collin spoke, though, the concern apparent on his handsome face.

  “Ellen?” He moved to block the view of anyone behind them who might glance their way. “Ellen, are you well?”

  It was all she could do to keep from begging to leave, to go home to the quiet of a house where she would not be on display. London was not what she had hoped for. In the days since their arrival, they had not been able to go to any of the places Marcus told her about. They had managed shopping for he
r dresses and a stop at a bookseller. Otherwise, she had been with her mother-in-law, attending teas and visiting with people she didn’t care to know.

  Just as she had done before she married.

  “I am well enough,” she answered. Ellen forced the corners of her mouth upward and straightened her posture. “I’m going to dance with Collin, after all.” She turned from her husband and held her hand out to her cousin, who took it with a firm nod.

  “That’s the spirit, Ellen,” her cousin said. As he led her away, she cast one look over her shoulder to find Marcus and Marianne trailing behind them. Marianne’s lips were moving rapidly, though she smiled, and Marcus’s brows were pinched together as he listened.

  “Selene was here,” Ellen said, turning to look at Collin. “Did you see her?”

  A grimace passed over his face and was gone so speedily she could barely be sure she saw it. “I did. I also saw your husband nearly give her the cut direct, which would’ve been disastrous for you both considering he is untitled and she is a countess.”

  Ellen’s heart gave a happy thrum at that news. “Marcus no longer admires her?”

  Collin’s expression changed to one of obvious surprise. “Ellen.” They took their positions on the floor. “How could he, when he has you?”

  The music began and Ellen did not have opportunity to answer that question, for her cousin or for herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Marcus made his way to breakfast later than usual, but that was to be expected after an evening at a ball. He dreaded knowing in two days’ time he and Ellen would be made spectacles of at the ball his mother threw in their honor. It wasn’t for himself he worried, but for Ellen. By supper the night before, she’d been wilting and hardly said two words to him, though he and Collin managed to make certain she was seated between them.

  And in the carriage home, she had leaned against her side of the conveyance and claimed a headache when he asked after her. Why had she not leaned on him? He would’ve happily held her against the bumps and jolts of the road.

  London was too much for her. Marcus had to admit it was often too much for him, and he was more used to it than she.