Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (24 page)

"Francis! What an hour to come calling. Shall I request another place to be laid?"

"No, no. Well, why not? I'm devilish hungry. In fact, I'm in a bit of a fix and I'm hoping you will help me out."

It was obvious he was disturbed, as he was normally unflappable, but she waited until he had been settled beside her at the table before asking for the explanation.

"Caroline has the measles," he declared. He saw Eleanor's lack of comprehension. "My youngest sister, don't you know. Badly knocked up, I'm afraid, though hopefully not in danger. Of course my mother wants all the other girls out of the way. They're to go to Aunt Glassdale's in Yorkshire, but Amelia doesn't want to go. I wondered if she could stay here?"

Eleanor's head was reeling with this assault of information. "Your sister? Here?"

"I know it's a devilish cheek, Eleanor, but there's nowhere else she could stay in Town, and she particularly doesn't want to leave, not with the Season at its height."

"Well, I can understand that, but there must be a relative with whom she could stay. It's not that I'm unwilling, but will it not seem rather strange?"

"Not if we tell people you're friends. After all, she is only a year or so younger than you, Eleanor. And no, there really isn't anybody else. Aunt Hortense is in Town with her brood, but their house is bursting at the seams."

Eleanor gave in. "Very well. I'll be pleased to have the company." Thought of her abandonment reminded her of her husband. "I will have to ask Nicholas, of course, but I doubt if he will object." She doubted whether he cared in the slightest about anything she did. She quickly shook off the despondency before Middlethorpe could notice. "However," she said dryly, "I do recollect you describing your sisters as a set of troublesome minxes."

"Yes, well..." he grinned uneasily."They're none of 'em quiet, but there's no vice in 'em, and I'll be around if she gives you any trouble. But Amelia is a good 'un. No beauty, I'm afraid, but warmhearted."

Two days later Lord Middlethorpe delivered his sister to Lauriston Street, where Eleanor awaited her guest. For once Nicholas was by her side.

As Lord Middlethorpe had said, Amelia was no beauty. Her hair was mousy and escaping from its pins, and her features could best be described as smudged. She moved with grace, however, had a good figure, and bubbled with joie de vivre.

"Mrs. Delaney," she exclaimed, running over to grasp Eleanor's hands. "Thank you, thank you! I promise you will not regret this. Francis has lectured me most sternly and threatened to beat me if I cause you a moment's trouble."

"Over my dead body," declared Nicholas, and picked Amelia up to swing her squealing in a brotherly hug. "Amy. You've grown up!"

She chuckled. "Well, at least I've no pigtails to pull." She studied him carefully. "My, but you're brown. You look like a pirate, but it's quite fetching. Perhaps I'll take to walking in the sun without a hat."

He grinned. "Odds are you'd freckle."

"I know," she said mournfully. "Mama has spent the family fortune on Denmark Lotion and throws a fit if I so much as step outdoors on a sunny day. How is it I have not set eyes on you these past weeks? I assure you, I've been at all the best crushes."

"You know I always shirk my social duties, Amy," he replied easily. "Eleanor is kind and does not bully me into attendance too often."

Kind Eleanor observed this easy relationship as if from a distance, wondering what would happen if she tried to bully him into something. The friendly banter between Nicholas and Amelia hurt when their own dealings had become so formal. She suddenly looked around to see Lord Middlethorpe watching her. She hoped she hadn't betrayed her feelings, but suspected she had. She handled the moment by taking Amelia off to the room that had been prepared for her.

"This is a very pretty house," Amelia said as they climbed the stairs. "I much prefer it to Francis's house, which is stuffy and grand."

"But consider the disadvantages," said Eleanor. "There's no ballroom, for one."

"That is true. It's definitely an advantage to have a ball in one's own home rather than have to hire a room. Once having been fired off, however, a simpler place is better, I think. How lucky you are to have married Nicholas. I used to be quite desperately in love with him, for he always treated me as if I were beautiful or as if I would be beautiful one day, which I wasn't and never will be. But it was a precious idea when I was younger."

Eleanor was touched by this, but she worried that there might still be a lingering attachment. It could be most embarrassing. "This feeling has passed?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," said Amy. "Of course I am still very fond of him, and he is quite wonderful. But I am in love with someone else," she confessed, blushing.

"I see," said Eleanor, seeing another quagmire before her. "I do hope this is someone suitable, for I suppose he is the reason you were so anxious not to have to leave Town."

"Did Francis not tell you? Perhaps he thought it would sound too romantical. He is still not quite used to the idea of his sister contemplating marriage."

"I gather this is an approved connection, then," said Eleanor with relief as she led Amelia into her room. At least no one was expecting her to countenance anything underhand.

"Oh, yes. Mama is delighted. We've known Peter forever. I used to think I loved him like a brother, just like Nicholas, but then I suddenly realized it was quite different. It was to have been announced shortly, but now we will have to wait because of the measles. The wedding is fixed for October. I hope," she said anxiously, "you will have no objection to him calling on me here?"

"Of course not," said Eleanor. Then, knowing her duty, she encouraged Amelia to expand at great length upon the perfections of Peter Lavering—his home, his family, his dogs, and his cleverest sayings—until they rejoined the gentlemen below.

She was envious of the younger woman's freedom to extol her darling and profess her love. She couldn't help doubting, however, that Peter Lavering was quite the godlike figure he appeared to be. She supposed that love, as usual, was blind.

As she presided over the tea tray Eleanor felt a great depression growing in her. Here was the Nicholas of the early days of their marriage—witty, generous, and lighthearted. It was also the Nicholas who occasionally performed for her in public, but here, for the first time in months, it was genuine.

It was all, however, for Amelia and Francis. Even in this relaxed mood, whenever he addressed his wife a certain formality crept into his manner. She found herself wondering again when would be a good occasion to tell him she was certain there would be a child, that she had consulted a doctor to be sure.

Soon he'd be able to tell just by looking at her. Perhaps he just assumed it to be the case, but she would like to tell him formally. They were never, however, alone, and it hardly seemed a matter to blurt out over a stranger's dinner table or in a crowded box at the theater. He would probably think it news of no importance anyway, but she could not bear to tell him in public.

This thought led to another. "Nicholas, I think we should give a small entertainment now that Amelia is staying with us. When would be convenient, darling?"

She had developed this habit of throwing endearments at him in public. If he could put on an act, so could she. It was her only gesture of pique, and he never reacted.

"This coming Thursday would be best," he replied politely. "If that fits in with your own engagements, my dear."

She consulted her little gold-cased notebook—another of his gifts. "Only a tedious list of possibilities. Thursday then. Can we count on you, Francis?"

"Of course, if only to keep an eye on my sister."

"I will invite the Merrybrookes, the Ashbys. What a shame the Brettons have left. Do you know if Mr. Cavanagh is still in town? He will ensure the evening will not be dull. The Misses Marmaduke are very pleasant..."

She broke off, seeing the gentlemen's faces, and laughed. "Oh, very well. Like all men, you will enjoy the event but want nothing to do with the planning. Go away to your club and let Amelia and I put our heads together."

As soon as they were gone Eleanor smiled at the other woman. "May I call you Amy, as Nicholas does? It slips more easily off the tongue. You must help me with this party, you know. I have never organized anything like this before."

Amy's eyes widened. "Oh. Why not?"

Eleanor supplied an edited story of her upbringing. Once she understood the situation, Amy was eager to help. Lady Middlethorpe had trained all her daughters thoroughly, and so she was well able to draw up a plan for the evening. As Hollygirt could be trusted to procure all they needed, there should be no further trouble.

"You must send an invitation to your Peter," Eleanor reminded Amy.

"As if I would forget. And nothing would keep him away. He can be so jealous that I have to laugh. He hates to see other men even dance with me, and at home, where we know everybody, he glares at any man who might be a step out of line." Amy's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I find it absolutely delicious. I can never get over the fact it is me he loves so fiercely, and I so... well... plain."

Eleanor could not wait to meet Peter Lavering. Amy's descriptions seemed full of contradiction. He was slim and of godlike proportions; gentle, good-natured, and ferocious as a lion; a country man, loving his land and his horses but able to shine as fine as any dandy; easygoing in his relationships and yet fiercely possessive.

She had decided to discount the most part of it and firmly expected to meet a very ordinary gentleman.

She was stunned when she met the reality. Peter Lavering was well over six foot tall, of a superb athletic build and incredible good looks. Curling hair the color of autumn leaves framed the face of a Greek god, and dark eyes flashed with whatever emotion possessed him at the moment. He and prosaic little Amy seemed like beings from different worlds. Eleanor just could not link them, but the lovers themselves seemed unaware of any incongruity.

"Hello, Mouse," said the Greek god with an ungodly grin. "How much mischief have you got up to so far?"

"I am being a perfect lady, Peter. Tell me all the news."

This prosaic greeting was belied by a warm hug and the messages that passed between their eyes. Eleanor chaperoned them for a while and then quieted her conscience and slipped away for a few moments.

In the hall she met Nicholas as he entered the house. He had not been home the night before, as far as she knew, but that was not uncommon these days and was not the kind of subject ever mentioned between them.

"You're looking very guilty," he remarked as he gave her an impersonal peck on the cheek.

"I feel it," said Eleanor. "I have left Amy and her Peter alone for a few moments. I think they will die if they cannot have one little kiss."

She became very aware of their situation, and of how much she would like "one little kiss." What would he do if she were to kiss him? Surely he could not reject her...

He had already moved slightly away.

"I insist on returning with you," he said lightly. "I'm eager to meet this paragon. By the way, Miles asks if he may bring his brother to our soiree. He is in town for a few days. He's a naval officer, but Miles vouches that he'll do his duty by the wallflowers."

Eleanor abandoned any foolish ideas of seducing him and agreed to the inclusion of such a treasure readily enough. "Will you tell him, or do you think I should send an invitation?"

"Oh, I'll tell him. Perhaps we should go and interrupt the lovers."

Such were their conversations these days.

Even though the invitations had gone out at such short notice, they were not short of company for their entertainment. Eleanor had decided to keep the affair informal. There was an ample supply of excellent food and drink and a skillful trio to play music, or for dancing. As most of the guests were young and lively it was a spirited evening, but for Eleanor it was a tainted pleasure.

She was pleased to see Nicholas exerting his charm to the utmost in order to secure the success of the event, but this also led to bitterness. If he can turn it on and off so easily, she thought, it wouldn't hurt for him to turn it on for me just now and then. There are many times when I could do with my spirits raised.

Eleanor found amusement in seeing the jealous care that Peter took of Amy, until she compared it to Nicholas's casual regard of herself. Even when Lord Arden went on one knee before her to beg for a rose from her hair, her husband merely smiled. From then on she could not help feeling sour at every fiery, adoring look directed at Amy by Peter. She must have shown her hurt, for Lord Middlethorpe, standing beside her, said, "Now what in the sight of those sickening young lovers can be making you look so sad?"

"Nothing," she said with a tolerable attempt at lightness. "I am just worrying about arrangements. This is my first real party, you know."

But he shook his head. "Won't do, Eleanor. May I try my hand at mind reading? You were looking at Peter and Amy and wishing Nicholas was hovering over you in the same way."

She knew she had colored and did not attempt to deny it.

"He wouldn't be a very good host if he did that, you know. And perhaps he trusts you rather more than Peter appears to trust Amy."