by Ella Edon
Something was really wrong in this house, and then Nathan saw the bruise on Desiree’s cheek. It was fresh. It looked like someone had hit her recently. Nathan stared.
“What the...who hit you, Desiree?”
“What?” Desiree’s hand shot up to her cheek and her face went bright red. “Oh, that’s nothing. I collided with a door, that’s all. Wasn’t watching where I was going. Do you want to speak to Lady Brixton?”
“Please. She’s the reason I came home.”
“I’ll leave you be, then.” Desiree paused, glancing up at him. “Forgive me, my Lord.”
Then she practically ran from the room. Nathan stared after her. This was getting stranger by the minute. He had been sure that something was going on. At least he had listened to his gut.
“Nathan?”
Nathan turned. Vanity hadn’t moved off the couch, but she had opened her eyes. How much of that had she heard? Nathan smiled and approached her.
“Mother.”
Chapter Eleven
Kneeling beside the couch, Nathan kissed his mother’s cheek. Vanity looked just as relieved as Mason when Nathan drew back.
“What is going on here, Mother? First Mason nearly faints answering the door, then Harrison looks terrified at my presence, and now Desiree threatens me with the knife you use for opening letters. What’s all that about?”
“Ignore them. It’s been rather tense for everyone lately.” Vanity’s expression softened as she reached up, brushing her fingers over Nathan’s smooth jaw. “Look at you. I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“I’m good at what I do, Mother.” Nathan grinned. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Good.” Then Vanity made a face. “I wish I could get rid of the smell, though.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to have a bath once it’s ready. I only had enough time to have a shave.” Nathan moved to sit in the chair vacated by Desiree. “Better?”
“A little bit.” Vanity sat up, shifting around to put her feet on the floor. She patted her hair, not a curl out of place. “I wish you didn’t have to go to war, Nathan. You should be here.”
“It’s my calling and I’m serving my country. I know you understand that.”
“And your title means nothing?”
Nathan sighed. They had been through this before. Nathan had hoped they could let him have a bath and something to eat before this started up.
“I’m sure you can do things in my absence. You have done them since Father died. And I hope that’s not why you requested that I came home, because if it was…”
“I’m dying, Nathan.”
Nathan broke off. Vanity was looking at him with an expression he had never seen on her before. Fear. Genuine fear.
“I…” Vanity licked her lips. “I don’t have long to live.”
“Then you need to get rid of whoever said you were dying, Mother.”
“You doubt my physician?”
Nathan rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean to be rude, Mother, but not even Mr. Fallowfields can tell if someone is dying until they’re moments away from meeting Saint Peter at the pearly white gates. He’s not stupid enough to declare that when he can’t say for certain.”
“Mr. Fallowfields isn’t wrong on this.”
“And I’ll be having a word with him about that. Besides, the last time you said you were dying, you only had a bout of influenza, and it wasn’t even that bad.”
Vanity blinked. She faltered.
“But you still came,” she murmured.
“I’m only here because I suspected something was wrong. I’m here to put it right. Once I have, I’m going back to France. I left a platoon who needs me to follow your whims.” Nathan didn’t flinch as Vanity winced. “They’re my responsibility. I made a promise to make sure all of them came back alive.”
“Your responsibility.” Vanity pursed her lips. Now she was beginning to look like her former self. “What about your responsibilities here?”
“That is your duty, not mine, Mother. We’ve been over this.” Nathan sat forward. “Why did you send for me? And don’t say it was because you’re dying, because we both know that’s not true.”
To her credit, his mother didn’t say that again. She placed her hands in her lap, straightened her back and pulled her shoulders back. The perfect society woman. She did look the part. Nathan had to admire her for putting that mask on when she needed to.
“I have someone for you.”
“Someone?”
“A young lady.”
Then the penny dropped. Now Nathan knew why he was here. He scowled. “You brought me back for a marriage?”
“Would you have come back if I told you outright?”
“Of course not.” Nathan shot to his feet. “Because you don’t have any control over me regarding that. I’m a grown man!”
“A grown man who’s been shirking his duties for years.” Vanity pointed out. “You need a wife, Nathan.”
“No, I don’t.”
Vanity didn’t blink, looking up at Nathan with her usual cool gaze. This was the woman he knew.
“Yes, you do.” She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. “People are beginning to talk about your bachelor status. Wondering if there’s something wrong.”
Nathan snorted. “Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with me. I just don’t want to get married.”
“And you’re happy to let that go on?” Vanity shot back. “What happens if you die in France and you don’t have an heir? Even I don’t know where the title will go. I want to keep it in the family, as your father wanted. He wanted you to marry and have a child before he passed so he knew the line was secure, and you refused to give that to him.”
“Because I didn’t want to marry,” Nathan snapped. “Father respected that.”
What he really wanted was to marry for love. Nathan had given up on love years ago, seeing love never came into it when there were prominent matches to be made. He was not for matchmaking because of a title. If he was to be matched, it was to someone he could respect and love and get that in return. A woman who saw him and not the title, the wealth and prestige that came with it. He was not a piece of property. Being out fighting the French made it difficult to meet women, but Nathan was content with it. He had plenty of time.
If he didn’t find a woman to love, then no skin off his nose. It wasn’t a priority for him.
Vanity rose to her feet. She swayed a little, but she still looked composed.
“What you want and what you need to do are incredibly different,” his mother said coolly. “You need to step up and take some responsibility, even if you’re not going to be here.”
“So, you choose to do it for me,” Nathan growled. He ran his hands through his hair. It felt strange to do after doing it with longer hair. “Mother, I know who you think are good types for me and I don’t care for them. Remember Lorraine Brooks? You made her believe that we were a good match and that I was incredibly stubborn, so she should not give up on me. She took you literally, and she still does.”
Vanity winced. “I will admit that I messed up on that one. I apologize for that.”
“You more than messed up. I saw her earlier today when I was coming back. She’s a widow now, and she’s still taking what you said literally. If her daughter hadn’t been with her, I would have told her in very ungentlemanly terms where she could go.”
Vanity looked at the floor. Now she looked chastised.
“I can only keep apologizing for that, Nathan, but I do have a girl lined up for you, and she’s not like Lady Chapman at all. She’s not one of the girls who’s just had her first season. She’s a little more...more refined than an eighteen-year-old child.”
“You’ve saddled me with an old maid.” Nathan snorted. “Thank you for nothing.”
“Don’t be rude.” Vanity looked up at him with a frown. “She’s a nice young lady about your age, and from what I hear, she’s very attractive. You would like her.”
“I doubt it.”
A spinster. Vanity had to be scraping the barrel. Nathan didn’t want to be saddled with a woman who saw a title and not him, but to be stuck with a woman no one else would marry? There had to be something wrong with the woman if she was unmarried at her age. Maybe she was ugly. Maybe she had a limp or a physical deformity. How was he supposed to get an heir with someone nobody else wanted?
Vanity sighed and closed her eyes for a moment with a pained expression. She looked suddenly worn out. “Look, Nathan, just do this for me. Marry this girl, and then you can go back to France. Just as long as you give yourself an heir first. If you can do that, you can go back playing soldiers and I won’t bother you with anything again.”
“You will, Mother. You can’t help it.”
Nathan rubbed his hands over his face. He should have known this was about a marriage. His mother would do something sneaky. But at least he could put his mind at rest that she was alive and well and not going anywhere anytime soon. But she had done something Nathan had told her never to do. He wasn’t about to be treated like a toy, something Vanity could prod and poke into the mould that she wanted.
However, this would get his mother to stop pestering him about a wife and an heir. It had been on her mind a lot more the older Nathan got, especially since his father died. He was the last in line, and Nathan had no idea where the title was going to go once he was gone. The sensible solution would be to secure an heir. Which would mean finding a wife, and Nathan didn’t have the time or the inclination to find a suitable lady to marry.
At least Vanity had got rid of that part. To her credit, her judgement of character was often quite good. Lorraine Chapman aside, she could pick out who was a good person and who was a bit suspicious better than Nathan could. If she was sure about this spinster, then Nathan would have to go with it.
He could have a wife, do as much as possible to get an heir, and then leave. It wouldn’t take long, if Nathan could bring himself to lie with his wife. If she was attractive, then it would help. But he wasn’t going to lie about what he was doing. The woman deserved honesty, at least.
It meant he had a little longer to find Mr. Black and the smuggling gang. That was on his list of priorities too, and Nathan knew there needed to be some explanation and closure. He needed to do that, and then he needed to get back to his men.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Nathan turned to Vanity.
“All right. I’ll do it. But as soon as I know there is an heir, I’m going back to France. It’s where I’m needed.”
Vanity’s relief was obvious, and her shoulders slumped. She managed a grateful smile. “Thank you, Nathan. That would make me so happy.”
Nathan knew it would, but it wasn’t about to make him happy. It felt like he was wrapping something around his neck, and it was tightening. He headed towards the door.
“I’m going to take that bath. It should be ready by now.”
“Don’t take too long.”
Nathan slowed and turned. “Because you want to talk to me about how good this will be for me and my place in society?”
“No, because your future bride is coming for tea this afternoon.” Vanity rose to her feet, looking more composed again. “I want you to make a good impression.”
Nathan stared. He really hadn’t been given any choice on it. The match would have happened with or without his consent. He gritted his teeth.
“You got lucky there, Mother. What if I had been delayed getting back?”
“I know you, Nathan. When you say you’ll be back on a certain date, you are.”
“You couldn’t let me have a rest before I became sociable again.”
“And have you made excuses about why you can’t be here to greet her?” Vanity arched an eyebrow. “Like I said, I know you.”
That she did. All too well.
“Eleanor?”
Eleanor looked around as a warm hand laid over hers. Marion sat beside her, watching her closely. They were in the carriage Lord Brixton had sent for them, on their way to have lunch at his home. It felt incredibly strange going to have lunch with a gentleman. Eleanor didn’t know what to make of it.
The only time she had been to lunch with a gentleman had been when she was eighteen. And that had ended badly because Leyton had come to the house and made a scene. He had somehow found out where Eleanor was and didn’t like the fact someone else was attempting to court her. The young man, the son of a viscount from what Eleanor recalled, had stopped any contact with her after that. Eleanor couldn’t really blame him. Who wanted to deal with the mess that was Matthew Leyton? She certainly didn’t.
It was hard to believe that he had been sent away by his family and committed in a remote part of the country. Then again, after being a victim to Leyton’s attitude and the way he treated her despite being told no, Eleanor could very well believe it.
“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Marion murmured.
Eleanor huffed. “Wouldn’t you be if you were meeting a man you’ve never met but were expected to marry to wipe out your father’s debts?”
Marion wrinkled her nose. “If my father was involved in a marriage for me, I would be incredibly surprised.”
Eleanor winced. She had forgotten that Marion’s father had simply walked out when Marion was three. Her mother had raised Marion alone while being a governess to Eleanor. Eleanor’s parents had treated her kindly, considered her one of the family. Marion and Eleanor had played together. They had been the ones who picked her up off the floor when Marion’s father had walked away from his marriage, his wife and his daughter. There had been no explanation to it, either. He had just simply disappeared. As far as Eleanor knew, Marion had never forgiven her father for doing that.
“Forgive me, Marion. I forgot.”
“It’s fine. There are times when I forget I have a father myself.” Marion scowled. “Wherever he is.”
“I know.” Eleanor squeezed her hand. “Let’s forget him. Let’s focus on this and get through it without making a fool of ourselves. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
The carriage stopped with a gentle jolt. Then the door opened, and a footman was there, stepping aside with a slight bow and an offered his hand. Eleanor took the hand first and got out, Marion following close behind. Brixton was an attractive part of the city, situated near the river. The Earl of Brixton’s house was very stately, a simple white brick gleaming like marble in the sunshine.
Hopefully, he wasn’t arrogant and snobbish with his wealth like so many of Eleanor’s peers. They made her turn away in disgust. Not everything was about money. Money could be gone in an instant. Friendships lasted longer, especially if they were based on genuine respect.
Chapter Twelve
The two women headed into the house. A grey-haired, thin man approached them and took their cloaks and bonnets, giving them both a nod as he turned away. Then Eleanor saw a tall, statuesque woman approaching from across the hall. She was middle-aged, nearing sixty, but she was still a very handsome woman. Her black hair was starting to show strands of silver, appearing mostly at the temples. Her face was still devoid of wrinkles, and her eyes looked sharp and alive. She was dressed in a beautiful dove-blue colour dress.
This had to be the Dowager Countess. Eleanor thought she looked every bit as graceful as the rumours made her out to be. Poise and grace were what Lady Brixton had in droves. Eleanor felt like an awkward little girl in front of the older woman.
“Lady Eleanor?”
Eleanor nodded. Then she remembered her manners and curtsied. “Lady Brixton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you, my dear.” The Dowager Countess smiled. “I am delighted to finally meet you.”
She seemed nice enough. There had been other whispers that Lady Brixton was a very prim and proper woman, that she didn’t have much of a sense of humour. Eleanor could very well believe that, but she wanted to put that aside. She didn’t want to get on the wrong foot with her future mother-in-law.
Remembering Marion, Eleanor made the introductions. How could she have forgotten her friend was there as well?
“This is my friend and chaperone, Marion Laurie. I hope it’s appropriate for her to be here.”
“Of course.” Lady Brixton barely blinked. “But I assure you, my son will not be inappropriate with you. He’s an army officer and they treat everyone with the utmost respect, especially women.”
Eleanor frowned. “He’s an army officer?”
“Yes. He’s currently on leave from the front line in France. He’s only been back a day.” Lady Brixton frowned. “Did you not know that about my son?”
