Barbara Metzger (32 page)

He did not miss a step. “Because you are the right height for me and won’t bore me with tedious small talk.”

She raised the Rothmore eyebrow. “Not out of kindness or sympathy, like at Almack’s?”

“Humph. I could have sent flowers. Besides, the tongues would have tattled more if I had ignored you.”

She waited for another few turns, enjoying the feel of his solid, only slightly overweight body guiding hers. “Why do you come to these affairs, Duke, if you find the talk as boring as I do?”

“Have you never been lonely?” he asked.

Oh, she had been lonely. “Of course. That’s why I fell for—That is, I would never have come to London with Alissa otherwise.”

“So you are looking for a husband?”

“Heavens, I never said that! What, at my age?”

“Your aunt Winchwood never gives up.”

Eleanor did not wish to discuss her marital prospects, nor her aunt’s. “No, I am merely in town to support my brother and his new wife, to relieve the tedium of the countryside, you understand. Adventures are few and far between at home,” she lied, regretting her last not-so-grand adventure more every day. “But what of you, your grace? Are you looking for a new wife?”

He smiled then, a pleasant smile, Eleanor thought, if a bit rueful. “A rich man does not have to go looking, you know. The prospects keep cropping up like toadstools. A wealthy man can find hopeful ladies falling off their horses in the park, dropping their handkerchiefs in the streets, swooning into his arms at balls.”

“I do not swoon.”

“Were we speaking of you, my lady?”

Eleanor coughed, and hoped he did not notice the color tingeing her warm cheeks. “Of course not.”

He noticed, and suggested they walk a bit on the balcony when the dance ended, to cool off.

“Are you not promised for the next dance?” Eleanor asked.

He simply tucked her arm in his elbow and headed toward the glass doors at the far end of the ballroom. He stopped a waiter to relieve the fellow of two glasses of wine before they reached the balcony, where Chinese lanterns had been strung to light the way. “Is it too cold?” Hysmith asked, ready to turn back.

“We cannot stay long, not without damaging your reputation too, but anything is better than that overheated ballroom,” she said, sipping at her wine as she leaned against the balustrade. “And tonight one can see the stars for once. I have missed that, in the city.”

Hysmith leaned too, or as far as his corset permitted. He watched her instead of the sky. “You are still a devilishly handsome woman, Lady Eleanor. I always thought so. Still do.”

Compliments, from the duke? “How kind, your grace.”

He sighed. “You used to call me Morton.”

“We used to be engaged.”

He sighed again, more heavily. “I do not suppose you can ever forgive me for that, can you? I would like to be your friend, if you could.”

Hysmith, her friend? That would be harder to believe than Rockford’s reformation. She started to shake her head, having to reach up to adjust the dratted turban, but then asked, “Why?”

“Why do I wish to be your friend? I always liked you, for one thing, right from the cradle, I suppose.” Which was when and where they had been affianced. “I liked how you always spoke your mind and never suffered fools easily.”

“Then why did you not marry me?”

“Because you always spoke your mind, and never suffered fools easily, I suppose. I was a great gawk as a youth, wasn’t I?”

“You were charming. I thought…”

“Yes?”

“Nothing.” She finished the wine in her glass and wrapped her arms about herself. The cold was starting to seep through the thin fabric of her gown, but she did not wish to go inside yet. Hysmith was easy to talk to now, in the dark, staring up at the stars. “You did not believe my threats to, ah, dis-member you, did you?”

“Of course not. Although you might have tried. I would not have put that past you, even now.”

“Then I suppose I will never understand how you could have been so cruel.”

“Cruel?” He was honestly surprised. “I was saving you from marrying a man you disliked. Your parents would have forced you to go through with the ceremony, no matter what you said.”

“But I never disliked you.”

“You did not trust me, which came to the same thing.”

“How could I trust you? You flirted with every girl in town. You kept opera dancers and actresses. I knew about that little house in Kensington.”

He stepped closer, putting his arm around her shoulders. “For warmth,” he said when she started. Then he asked, “Do you think Lady Rockford can ever trust your brother? He was seeing that Austrian princess even after their marriage.”

“I do not know. I cannot speak for Alissa, but she seems to have a more forgiving nature, thank goodness. I would always wonder, and worry.”

“That’s what I meant. I was just a youth, sowing my wild oats during our engagement. I intended to be a faithful husband, to respect the vows I spoke before God and my family. But you would never have believed that. You would have doubted every word I said, every move I made, thinking I was a hardened philanderer. That was no basis for a marriage, but you would have been forced to it, I knew. So I left, giving us both time to mature. I never took another mistress for the next year, never had even a casual fling with a willing barmaid, you know, to prove to you that I could be true to my vows. I wrote to tell you, but my letters came back unopened.”

“I never knew what they said.”

“How could you, stubborn wench, without reading them? I did try to visit, but was turned away on your orders. Eventually I realized you would never relent. I had the succession to ensure, my family to appease. So I took the bride they selected for me. And I was a faithful husband to her, for all the years we had. They were good years, too, for she was a fine woman, and a beloved friend.”

“I am sorry.” Eleanor was sorry Hysmith’s wife had died, sorry she had been too obstinate to read his letters, sorry for the mess she had made of her entire life.

“So am I,” the duke said, turning her to face him so he could look into her eyes. “So am I, my love.”

His love?

Chapter Twenty-Four

The entire house was in a state of impending doom. Rockford had never known such despair as he suffered that week, and, already exhausted, Alissa could only weep as her worst fears came true. Billy had come down with the same illness as Hugo. The physician declined to repeat his first visit. The nursemaid quit. Two footmen disappeared without bothering to give notice. Aunt Reggie took to her bed, and Claymore took to drinking Rockford’s brandy.

Young Rothmore, Billy to his stepfamily, William to his father, the spawn of Satan to nearly everyone else, refused to stay in bed. He would not take his medicine, would not keep his covers on, would not eat invalid food. He spit up and sat up and would not shut up, all day, all night.

He wanted his new mother, then he wanted his old nanny. He wanted his father, his aunt, and the mother he had never known. He wanted his puppy, and all the other boys’ puppies. He wanted to go home, out to the park, or back to the circus. He was hot, he was cold.

He was having the time of his life. No one else was.

Alissa was run ragged, trying to see to both sick boys and the rest of her household, while Rockford did his best to assist her. His best was playing chess with Hugo, who was much improved. His worst was shouting at Billy to act like a proper young gentleman instead of a monkey, at which his son started sobbing hysterically, until Rockford promised to buy him a monkey. The earl shouted at everyone else then, because he had no intention of honoring such a promise and was furious he had lied to his own flesh and blood. His new secretary resigned.

The Henning boys, who might have been able to help entertain Billy, were not permitted in the room, lest they be stricken. Likewise Aminta and Mr. Lucius Canover, who had to stay healthy to look after Willy and Kendall. Mr. Lawrence Canover was being sent back to his school outside Oxford despite his broken arm. If he was able to pinch the housemaids’ bottoms, Rockford reasoned, he was fit enough for his studies. He was to be put aboard a hired coach in two days, before the earl broke his other arm for tormenting the servants.

Lady Eleanor offered to help, for a price. She had developed a sudden interest in her wardrobe, without the wherewithal to make the needed improvements. The earl had never really spoken to her about her part in Arkenstall’s thievery, and she had never mentioned the allowance that was stopped when she ran off or her dower money that was never paid out. Alissa had simply added Lady Eleanor’s expenses to her own accounts, but Lady Rockford was not going shopping these days. Nor was she going out in public, to need new clothes. Eleanor was.

She hated to ask her brother for money now, when her foolishness had already cost him so much, but she had no choice. He might come out ahead in the long run, anyway, if this investment paid off. “I’ll sit with Hugo in the afternoons while Alissa rests, Rock, if you will let me set up an account at Madame Monique’s.”

“Hell, if you’ll sit with Billy—that is, William—for an hour a day, I’ll buy you the shop.”

Lady Eleanor threatened to tie her younger nephew to the bedpost and read to him from the fashion journals unless he stayed in bed, and Billy had no reason to doubt this aunt who had run away adventuring. Why, there was nothing his aunt Eleanor wouldn’t do, including showing him how to load a pistol and how to spit raisins across the room. They had a great time cutting Rockford’s cravats into new sails for Billy’s wooden boat, too, and using Alissa’s charcoal pencils to draw a lovely mural on the wall.

Kendall and Willy were not having half so much fun. Four untrained dogs were a lot of work, for one thing, and so were four ponies to exercise and groom. They could not go sightseeing, having to wait for the others, but still had to do their lessons. Even when they did get to go out, Mr. Canover seemed much more interested in conversing with Aunt Amy than with the boys. And Willy missed his mother.

One rainy afternoon when the boys were supposed to be working at their sums they grew too bored to keep at it without Mr. Canover’s supervision. Aminta and the tutor were in the library, supposedly looking at his research papers. He’d likely forget all about their assignment anyway, the way he recently did when Aunt Amy was around. Their mother was playing jackstraws with Hugo and Billy.

“Do you think she likes them better’n us?” Willy asked, putting down his chalk and shoving his practice slate to the side.

Kendall did not have to ask who
they
were. He did have to consider his answer for a minute. “No, I don’t think so,” he eventually decided. “Not really. They’re just sick, and she doesn’t want them to die, like Papa.”

Willy barely recalled the man who had sired him, or his illness. “Papa Rock likes them better.”

“Well, he is their father, their real father, not pretend like he is to us. And Hugo’s the heir. Noblemen put a lot of stock in that, Jake says. Like keeping track of a racehorse’s pedigree.”

“He yelled at me to get out of the nursery. And to leave Mama alone so she could rest.” Willy crumpled up the page of his mathematics assignment and threw it across the floor. “I was just going to show her my new tooth.”

“You should have heard what he said to me the night I came to get Mama when Hugo got so sick. She would have washed my mouth out with soap for half of it. Mama didn’t even yell at him.”

“And Aunt Eleanor is never home anymore, except to play with Billy in the morning.”

“She’s not really our aunt anyway.”

“Aunt Reggie cheats at cards.”

“I know, but she says a gentleman never squeals.”

“It’s a good thing she’s not our real aunt either.” Willy had to take the paper out of a puppy’s mouth. He found a ball and started throwing it for the dogs.

They took turns tossing the ball until the little dogs decided they’d rather wrestle among themselves, leaving the boys out of that game, too.

Willy stayed sitting on the floor, rolling the ball between his knees. “I want to go home, Ken.”

Kendall was staring out the window, where cold rain poured down on the nearby park. “What, to that old cottage? It’s not ours anymore, and I don’t care if we ever go back to it.”

“No, to Rock Hill.
Mama said
that is our home now. No one yelled at us there, and Mama had time to tell stories.”

“But Mama has to stay here, to take care of everybody.”

Willy started kicking at the leg of his desk. One of the puppies came over and started chewing on his stocking. Another started gnawing on the chair leg. “The dogs could play outside at Rock Hill without having to be on leashes.”

Kendall rescued his brother’s chalk from another dog. “Jake built a run, just for them.”

“And we could play outside at Rock Hill without having to tell anyone but Claymore.”

“Claymore has to stay here, too. You heard Mama say she could not manage without him.”

“But she took away the earl’s decanters. I saw her do it.”

Kendall shook his head. “Claymore would never leave here. He has the key to the wine cellar, and he likes being butler with all those footmen to boss around. He likes going to his pub to tell the other butlers that Prince George himself sent a set of toy soldiers.”