Eleanor And The Duke (Berkshire Brides Book 1) (14 page)

Eleanor nodded, her heart breaking all over again. Her dream of a life with a husband who revered her, of a home where children were cherished and nurtured, had been unrealistic from the beginning. That sort of marriage was rare among the aristocracy.

“Oh, my dear, I-I do not know what to say. I am terribly sorry.”

“So am I,” Eleanor replied quietly. Sorry and confused.

She considered speaking to Lucy about the letters in her mother’s desk, but just couldn’t. They were much too intimate to share with anyone.

“What, exactly, is Beckworth doing here?” Lucy asked.

“He is punishing me for jilting him.”

“Do you really think so?”

Eleanor swallowed. “Yes.” That, and to seduce her into his bed again, if that kiss the other night was any indication. “My father made him trustee of my annuity. And it’s clear he intends to make me beg for every farthing.”

“I don’t understand,” Lucy said, frowning. “Why doesn’t Beckworth just give you a quarterly allowance?”

“Because he is not a reasonable man.”

Lucy cast her a questioning gaze.

“Well, he is not,” Eleanor stated firmly. Beckworth might appear to be handsome and charming, but she knew just how horrid he could be. She jumped down from the wall and started walking toward a grove of trees that separated Stillwater land from the Parris estate to the south. “Enough about me, Lucy. Before I left England, I thought you were about to become engaged.”

Lucy wrinkled her nose and jumped down next to Eleanor, walking along beside her. “There were some expectations, but he was Papa’s choice, not mine.”

Before Eleanor could question her friend any further, Emily Stillwater climbed down from a stout oak next to the path and perched on one of its low, horizontal branches. She was about thirteen years of age, but gave no indication of becoming a young lady.

“Emily Stillwater,” Lucy admonished, “you get down from there before you tear your stockings.”

“One is already torn,” Emily said with a grin. She swung her legs from the thick branch as though she had not a care in the world. She had the look of all the Stillwater sisters, with dark hair and piercing pale blue eyes. Her cheekbones were lovely and she had a too-wide mouth that Eleanor knew she would grow into, like her elder sisters.

“You should go and rescue Caroline and Meg from Aunt Arden. It’s your turn, Emily,” Lucy said sternly.

Eleanor laughed with genuine mirth at Emily’s sudden pout. There’d been so little enjoyment these past few weeks, it was truly a treat to spend time with these dear friends and share in the antics between sisters.

Emily jumped down. “I don’t know how you can bear it – sitting in the drawing room with a smile on your face as though she weren’t the most horrid old—”

“She is father’s sister, so we have no choice.”

“But what about Jessie? Why can’t Jess—”

“She has taken to her bed with a headache.”

Emily laughed out loud. “I’ll bet she did!”

Eleanor noticed Lucy suppressing a smile. “Go back to the house, Em. Help Mother.”

Emily did, but grudgingly, walking toward Stillwater house with her feet dragging and her shoulders down.

“She has grown up so much since I last saw her,” Eleanor said.

Lucy nodded. “She will be thirteen next month.”

“I can hardly believe it.”

“She has already decided never to spend a season in London as Jessamine has been doing.”

“As you did, too.”

Lucy’s lips tightened. “I hated it.”

“I know,” Eleanor replied. “We were in the midst of it together, remember?”

She wrinkled her nose.

“So, what happened to the suitor your father chose for you?”

“I didn’t like him much.”

“Your father allowed you to refuse the match?”

Lucy nodded, and Eleanor knew how lucky her friend was. Lord Derington would have insisted Eleanor wed Beckworth because he was a duke, with great wealth and influence. It was yet another reason she’d been forced to flee the country to escape the kind of marriage he’d had with her mother.

But now she knew her parents’ marriage was not at all what she or anyone else believed. It was a realization that was taking some time to sink in.

“Is there someone else?” Eleanor asked, shaking off her gloomy thoughts. She looked at her friend and noticed a strange expression in her eyes and a blush coloring her fair cheeks.

“No.”

“Somehow, I don’t quite believe you,” Eleanor said.

“Well, there might be, if only he would notice me.”

“Who is it? Do I know him?”

Lucy took a deep breath and started to say something but changed her mind. She started to skip down the path, heading toward a grove of her father’s fruit trees, calling back, “No one of any consequence. No one!”

Andrew made his escape from Claymere’s party as quickly as he could. He had told his men to wait for him in a tavern at the center of town, and there they were when he came to collect them.

It was still early, and he had the rest of the day to spend with Eleanor. He hoped Mr. Evanhurst had had a chance to visit her and inform her of the changes he’d made to her annuity. Surely that would make her feel somewhat more favorably disposed toward him.

They passed a farmer and his family on their way into town for the festivities and Andrew had Matthew toss the man a few coins. Closer to Primrose Manor, they saw another group of travelers, three men, also walking in the direction of Reading. The three dodged away from the beaten path before Andrew and his party reached them, and walked among the trees.

“There will be visitors aplenty in Reading this week,” Matthew said.

“’Tis like a faire of old,” Carrick remarked.

Andrew did not give it much thought. He was anxious to return to Primrose Manor and spend time with Eleanor. He still had not figured a way to show her that she could trust him, though he hoped the change in control of her annuity could go a long way toward that.

“What do you mean, no one?” Eleanor queried, catching up to Lucy. They bent to pick flowers for the bouquet Lady Stillwater requested. “He must be someone if you are interested.”

“No,” Lucy said as a shadow crossed her brow. “Forget I said anything. No doubt I will be wed to a suitable husband and on the brink of motherhood before I know it.”

“You don’t make it sound very appealing, Lucy.”

“You walked away from the ‘perfect match,’ didn’t you?” Lucy retorted. “Which, by the way, I cannot understand how you could ever think Beckworth is a rake. He had eyes for no one but you yesterday.”

Lucy’s words gave her pause, but Ellie recovered herself. “Well, he certainly would not care to have it known among my neighbors that he is a scoundrel.”

Lucy shook her head. “Honestly, Eleanor. Why do you think that?”

“What? That he’s a scoundrel and a rake?”

“Yes.”

“Lord Weatherby told me.”

“Weatherby?” Lucy stood still, her expression one of surprise. “You mean to say Lord Weatherby actually told you that?”

Eleanor nodded. “He showed me proof that Beckworth purchased a home for his mistress two days before our wedding.”

Lucy frowned. “How would he get hold of such proof?”

The question had not occurred to Eleanor before. “I do not know.”

“And why would Lord Weatherby insert himself into your private affairs?”

Lucy’s question gave Eleanor an uneasy feeling, perhaps because she’d started to wonder the same thing and had come to no conclusion. “Wh-why wouldn’t he? He was one of my father’s closest friends—”

“Wasn’t your father keen to see you wed to Beckworth?” Lucy asked quietly.

Ellie swallowed hard. “He was.”

“But Lord Weatherby thwarted that end. Some friend he turned out to be.”

“I thought perhaps his regard for me – in spite of my father’s wishes – made him speak up.”

“I suppose that is possible,” Lucy said gravely. “Except . . .

“Except what?” Eleanor asked.

“Except . . . My father does not hold him in high regard.”

Eleanor paused, shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it. She had never known Lord Stillwater felt this way about the earl. “Lord Weatherby did not benefit by preventing my marriage to Beckworth. Can you think of any other reason he’d have done it?”

Lucy frowned. “Well, he has no daughter to marry Beckworth in your stead, and his sons are already married, so he cannot have wanted you for one of them.”

“Weatherby’s sons would not have gained in any way from marriage to me,” Eleanor said with a bitter laugh. “My dowry is Primrose Manor and a paltry annuity.”

Lucy shrugged, and Eleanor began to feel a little annoyed. Lord Weatherby would not be so underhanded. He’d shown her the papers. With her own eyes, Eleanor had seen Beckworth’s seal on the property he’d bought for his paramour. The earl had not lied about that. And he’d told her with no small degree of embarrassment that Beckworth had chosen her because he needed a wife who would not question him – he wanted a young lady of good lineage who was naïve to the ways of the world.

Lucy remained quiet as they resumed gathering flowers, thereby delaying their return to the house, and Eleanor forced her thoughts in another direction, for she could not bear to consider yet another betrayal.

“How long will Lady Kildrum stay at Stillwater House?” she asked.

“Not long at all, if Mother has her say,” Lucy replied. “But . . . my aunt plans to find me a suitor.”

Understanding suddenly dawned on Eleanor. “You’re going home with her? To Scotland?” she asked in alarm. “But I only just arrived. You cannot—” Ellie paused and bit her lip. “Oh, what a self-centered brat I am. I’ve been gone for . . . how long? And now I have the cheek to whine about your leaving? I am sorry, Lucy. Do forgive me.”

“There is naught to forgive. I am not looking forward to a trip to Scotland, much less a long visit with my aunt and uncle.”

Eleanor smiled wryly. “But perhaps you’ll snag a braw Scotsman for a husband.” She rolled the R in braw, far more than any Scot would do.

Lucy laughed mirthlessly. “Berkshire is my home and always will be.”

Eleanor put one arm around her friend’s waist as they walked toward the Stillwater pond. “We’re a fine pair, are we not?”

Eleanor was not at home when Andrew returned to the manor. Thornberry informed him that she had gone to Stillwater House for a visit.

“And the elder Miss Easton?”

“She is in the conservatory,” he said. “Also, Your Grace, the solicitor – Mr. Evanhurst – came to see Miss Easton, but she was not at home. Mr. Evanhurst did wait for a time for her to return, but found it necessary to leave.”

“Thank you, Thornberry.”

Andrew could tell her about the changes in the annuity himself, but he did not know if she would believe him. It would definitely be better if Evanhurst informed her.

He walked through the house with Carrick. “You were right about Otley and Stanton. I saw both at the Claymere party.”

“And Lord Weatherby?”

Andrew gave a short laugh. “Oh, yes. As well as his lackey, Lord Maryfield. And they were none too pleased to see me there.”

“No, I should think not,” Carrick said thoughtfully.