Sin and Sensibility (28 page)

“So what did Melbourne actually say when you spoke with him last year?” she asked.

Roger gave a short laugh. “I remember it quite well. It took me three weeks to gather the nerve to approach him.

I had a friend introduce me, and then asked if I might have his permission to call on you. His Grace looked at me as though I were an insect, and then he said, ‘I shall let you know.’ He never did, of course.”

“Of course not.” What Roger didn’t realize was that a 242 / Suzanne Enoch

nondenial from Melbourne was tantamount to a ringing endorsement. Sebastian had probably expected Mr.

Noleville to proceed, or at least to ask permission a second time.

So there was at least one man her brothers considered adequate for her. And she’d voluntarily gone driving with him.
Drat
. She meant to marry, but not to someone who’d received the Griffin stamp of approval more than a year ago. Neither, though, did she intend to ruin a chance at happiness just to spite her brothers. Damnation, this was complicated.

She opened her mouth to make a comment about the unique decorations at the Granden soiree, but abruptly swallowed the words.
He was here
.

He sat on his bay stallion, Iago, to one side of an inter-secting driving path. His blue beaver hat was tilted at its usual jaunty angle on his head, his black, wavy hair touching his collar and swept across one green eye. Her insides clenched in pure lust.
Heavens
. Had it been only twelve hours since they’d held each other, naked, beside the baptismal pond?

Valentine turned his head as though he sensed that she was there. He met her gaze and smiled with easy familiarity, touching his hand to the brim of his hat. And then he turned away.

For the first time she realized that he wasn’t alone. A barouche had stopped beside him, a pair of young ladies on the rear seat. The Mandelay sisters, she noted, hiding a sudden frown. A worse set of flirts she’d never met. He needed to be care—

Eleanor shook herself. He knew what he was doing.

Precisely what he was doing. For goodness’ sake, he prob-Sin and Sensibility / 243

ably knew the sisters better than she did. Eleanor swallowed. He and she had had their evening. As she’d already considered, the Marquis of Deverill would hardly look upon it as life-changing. He probably did that sort of thing nightly, anyway.

“Lady Eleanor?”

She started. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Noleville. What were you saying?”

“No begging is necessary. Lord Deverill is a good friend of your family, I believe.”

“Yes, he is.” And she desperately wanted to talk with him, to find out if he’d given last night—or her—another thought once he’d returned her to Griffin House. But the question would probably prove both painful and point-less, considering where he was and with whom he was chatting.

“Did you need to speak with him?” Roger continued.

“I can drive us over there.”

“Oh. No, no. I just didn’t expect to see him this morning.” Eleanor cleared her throat. “He seems somewhat occupied, anyway.”

“Yes, he does. Hardly a surprise, given his rather…ro-bust reputation.”

“They’re only talking,” she returned, though she wasn’t quite certain why she felt the need to defend him. “Just like we are.”

“Not just like we are,” he said, his brow furrowing. “I called on you at your home, announcing my presence and my interest, and giving any of your brothers ample opportunity to turn me away. And I certainly didn’t accost you in the park while you were out taking the air.”

“I’m sure he didn’t accost anyone,” she retorted, at the 244 / Suzanne Enoch

same time telling herself to keep her blasted mouth shut.

She didn’t feel any particular need to be pleasant to Mr.

Noleville, but she was
not
going to speak up for Deverill.

Not after seeing him happily flirting with Lilith and Judith Mandelay.

“Perhaps not. I would wager the young ladies’ parents, though, would be happier seeing them elsewhere.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that. “No doubt,” she muttered, determinedly turning her attention elsewhere.

The sun shone through a pretty patchwork of clouds, and the light southeast breeze sent the smoke from a thousand chimneys away from Mayfair and in the direction of the Channel. Eleanor took a deep breath. Today was different. Her entire life was different, changed because a man she trusted had helped her find…herself. So what if he’d turned his attention elsewhere? So had she.

“Mr. Noleville, you have several older brothers, do you not?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

He looked sideways at her. “I do. Why do you ask?”

“I have several older brothers myself.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

“My point being, do your brothers ever attempt to…govern your life?”

Roger laughed. “No, that would be my father’s sworn duty. The rest of the brood barely gets a word in edge-wise.” Abruptly his amused chuckling broke off. “Well, that was unspeakably rude of me. I beg your forgiveness, Lady Eleanor. I’d forgotten that you lost your par—”

“Please don’t worry yourself, Mr. Noleville. I was six when their yacht capsized. While I do miss them, I certainly don’t begrudge you your own parents. That would make me a very pitiful creature.”

“Which you are not.”

Sin and Sensibility / 245

Eleanor forced a smile. “Thank you.” She shook herself, remembering that her questions did have a point. “Do you acquiesce to your father’s rules and orders?”

“What an odd question. Of course I do; he is the patriarch of the family.”

“And he holds your purse strings.”

The line of his lips thinning, Noleville drew the curricle to a halt. “I do not discuss monetary matters with young ladies. It’s not gentlemanly. And if I may be so bold, my lady, it isn’t seemly for you to carry on such conversations, either.”

For a moment Eleanor wasn’t certain whether to be angry or mortified. It couldn’t be a good sign when prospective beaux began criticizing her behavior—she’d never met a group of men so willing to forgive anything.

And the fact that this beau was correct didn’t leave her feeling any better. “Perhaps you should take me home, if my conversation offends you.”

He nodded. “I think that’s best. I shall do so at once.

I daresay you are merely out-of-sorts, my lady. A cup of peppermint tea and a nap will no doubt do you a world of good.”

Eleanor refrained from rolling her eyes, but just barely.

Yes of course there must be something wrong with her.

No female in her right mind would ever question the value of patriarchal influence or wonder whether even men had free choice.

Neither of them spoke again until the curricle stopped at her front door. As soon as Stanton helped her and then Helen down to the ground, Noleville doffed his hat, said,

“Good day to you,” and sent his team back down the drive.

She didn’t bother to reply as she stomped inside and up the stairs, her maid at her heels. “Stupid,” she grumbled,

246 / Suzanne Enoch

not certain whether she referred to Roger Noleville or herself.

“That was quick,” Zachary said, sticking his head out of the billiards room door.

“Yes, I suppose it was. I made the mistake of asking an honest question.”

Her brother took a step farther into the hallway. “How honest?”

“Oh, don’t worry, it wasn’t scandalous or anything.

Just something about authority and freedom.”

“Good God, Nell, you’re supposed to talk about the weather and who’s courting whom. Not treatises on free will.”

She grimaced at him. “It was hardly that. And his reply was less than enlightening. He told me I needed peppermint tea and a nap.”

Zachary laughed. “If I told you that, you’d try to blacken my eye.”

“Both of your eyes. Now leave me alone.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Before he could vanish again, though, Eleanor remembered her promise about escorts. “Zach?”

Dark hair and gray eyes peered around the doorway again. “Yes?”

“Will you escort me to the Goldsborough dinner tonight?”

“Oh. Ah, certainly.”

Eleanor put her hands on her hips. “What now?”

“Nothing. I was going to go to the Society and play faro, but I can do that tomorrow night.”

Another head appeared, much like the first, except for the green tint to the light gray eyes. “I’ll take you.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Shay.”

Sin and Sensibility / 247

“He only volunteered because of the Goldsboroughs’

cook,” Zachary put in.

“What?” Lifting both eyebrows, Eleanor looked at the middle Griffin brother. “A cook?”

“Gads, Nell, Mrs. Neal is at least ninety. It’s her chocolate desserts I’m after. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to kill Zachary.”

“Could you wait an hour or two? I’d like him to take Peep and me to the museum. He can visit the statues.”

“Ha ha.”

Shay brushed past her, calling for his jacket. “In that case, I’m coming, too.”

Valentine sat at his desk, four invitations spread out on the mahogany surface before him. A dinner, a recital, and two small soirees. All for tonight, and all at approximately the same time.

He tapped his finger against the recital. It was in all likelihood the one Eleanor Griffin would be least likely to attend, and it was the least appealing to him of the four. Therefore, that was where he should go for the evening. Of course he also had a myriad of clubs where he could spend several hours. Clubs also had the additional bonus of liquor and cards—and no young ladies of good standing.

Grimacing, he pushed the recital invitation off the desk.

A club definitely had more appeal than two hours of squeaky viola or strident pianoforte. With a nod he swept the other three invitations into a stack and dumped them into his top drawer. Halfway to his feet, though, he stopped and sat again.

Maybe he could fool anyone else, but he’d long ago moved past attempting that with himself. Besides being counterproductive, it never worked. And so he had to ad-248 / Suzanne Enoch

mit that he wasn’t looking to avoid seeing Eleanor, or trying to steer clear of any postcoital clinging or hysterics—the sort of thing he usually avoided with a passion.

He had even more cause to do so now, since seeing her in the park today with Roger Noleville had been like having a ramrod driven through his chest. Considering the nastiness of that particular sensation, he wasn’t at all sure why he wanted to see her again. But he did, and he wasn’t going to any damned club tonight.

“You are mad, Valentine,” he muttered, yanking the drawer open and freeing the other three invitations again.

All three were possibilities, since the Griffins knew all three households and would have been invited to all three events.

With a grumble he grabbed one of them and stuffed the other two into his pocket. One in three; he generally liked those odds. As for the reason
why
he was so determined to see her, that would require self-reflection, and he avoided that whenever possible.

Chapter 16

A
s he entered the ballroom of his second soiree of the evening, Valentine began to consider that he should have engaged in at least a little self-reflection before he went scampering about Mayfair looking for a woman he supposedly didn’t want to see. Especially considering that he couldn’t seem to find her.

He detested so-called intimate soirees; all it meant was that the hostess invited strictly those people with whom she wished to be linked, or more commonly, those with whom she wished her son or daughter to be linked. And Mrs. Stewart had two daughters. Even though he was seldom the target, circumstances had been known to cause all sorts of odd behavior among the marriage-challenged.

“Deverill,” the Duke of Melbourne said, clapping him on the shoulder with far too much enthusiasm.

Valentine started, then realized he actually had reason to be relieved to see Eleanor’s brother. “Don’t be so happy to see me,” he murmured, dodging behind a potted plant 249

250 / Suzanne Enoch

as Iris Stewart began a turn in their direction. “I’m not here to frighten off the chits who want to approach you.

In fact, I have no intention of being pulled into this Hades at all. I’m only here looking for Nell.”

“Bastard,” the duke grunted, talking behind clenched teeth and a faux smile, his gaze on the young Miss Stewart as she approached.

“Sorry, there’s only room for one of us back here. Now where’s Nell?”

“She and Charlemagne went to the Goldsborough dinner. Leave while you can; I’ll distract the natives this once, but that will put you in my debt again.”

Valentine scowled. “No, it won’t. I’m escaping in order to fulfill my previous debt. You can’t tack on another one, especially since your damned calendar listed four potential destinations for your sister tonight.”

The duke sighed. “Fine.” He took a step forward, out of Valentine’s line of sight. “Miss Stewart. You are looking especially lovely this evening.”

At the sound of a grating giggle, Valentine grinned. As soon as Melbourne had maneuvered the older Stewart sister away from his hiding place, he dodged out the side entrance and returned to his coach. “Goldsborough House,” he instructed.

He thought Dawson sighed just before the coachman clucked to the team, but considering that Goldsborough House would be their third destination in an hour, he decided to overlook the insubordination. At least the earl’s home was close by. He would be arriving almost halfway through the meal, but as the Marquis of Deverill, he was expected to do such things.

His tardiness would also mean that he would be rele-Sin and Sensibility / 251

gated a place at the foot of the table; Lady Goldsborough would have reshuffled the seating to cover a vacant space farther up the table as soon as the butler confirmed that he wasn’t present. But that was a good thing, since Lady Eleanor would be nowhere near the end of the table. He could look at her, but he wouldn’t have to speak with her.

The Goldsborough butler announced him, and he followed the servant into the large dining room. Since he was titled, everyone stood to acknowledge his presence, but he deliberately refrained from looking about for Eleanor. “My apologies, George, my lady,” he said instead, stepping forward to greet the host and hostess. “I had some business I needed to attend to.”