The Scandal of Lady Eleanor (25 page)

“Excuse me,” he gasped close to her. He quickly stepped behind the curtained area at the back of the box. She could hear him as he frantically toyed with the buttons on his breeches to free himself. The sound of sporadic gulps of air told her exactly what he did steps away, shielded from view by the darkness and the velvet drapery. Ella had seen her father do the same thing, knew how Louis's hand moved up and down his own tumescence until she heard his stifled shudder. A few moments later, he returned to sit beside
her as if nothing happened. “Thank you, my Dear,” he murmured. “That was quite stimulating.”

Ella thought she might lose her stomach. “Might we leave, Sir Louis? I could use some fresh air.”

“No, my Dear. We will sit here and pretend we have not just delved in the forbidden.”

Ella choked back a sob, hiding her face behind her fan. With a convulsive swallow, she stiffened and sat tall, the perfect example of a daughter of the aristocracy. This would be her life—moments of debauchery hidden behind a façade of refinement. How could she live like this? Her only hope was that Sir Louis would leave her at Huntingborne Abbey while he took his perversions elsewhere. If she could live her life in solitude, then maybe she could survive. Solitude. It was her unanswered prayer.

 

“We will make a trip to Nottingham next week for a house party,” Levering announced on their way to Briar House from the theatre.

Ella's head snapped around in surprise. She was purposely watching the busy streets through the carriage window, trying to avoid Levering's close examination. “I do not believe His Grace will approve of our traveling together.”

“Then you will come up with a way to convince him. Tell him you travel with a female friend. Your brother does not need to know what we do with our time.” Ella recognized the menacing threat behind the flippant tone of his command.

“And if I am not successful?” she ventured.

Levering looked away, pretending to take interest in a drunken ruckus on a lighted street corner. “I noticed Miss Aldridge prefers to walk in Hyde Park each day.Would it not be a shame if she lost her balance and slipped into the murky waters of the Serpentine some day.”

He made no effort to mask the warning behind the words. Either Ella complied or Levering would find a way to hurt Velvet. “I will think of something.”

“Of course, you will.You are quite resourceful, one of the qualities which endears you to everyone who knows you.”

Less than a week later, she and Hannah journeyed to Nottingham in Sir Louis's carriage. She had taken an unmarked hack to meet Levering at a posting inn on the London Road. Bran had surprised Ella by allowing her to travel with her “new friend” Miss Nelson to a house party in Leicestershire. Her maid's presence was her brother's only stipulation. Reluctantly, Levering had agreed to tolerate Hannah's traveling with them in the carriage. He would have preferred that Ella's maid ride on the top with his coachman, but Ella had convinced him Hannah would alert Bran of any such impropriety. Persuading Hannah to not disclose they did not journey to Leicestershire would be difficult enough without adding to their duplicity. Ella knew Levering had planned to take advantage of her in his coach's privacy as he had in the theatre box's privacy, more than likely worse than what happened that night.

His plans thwarted, the baronet was not in the best of moods, so both she and Hannah took their cues and sank quietly into the barouche's squabs. Ella pretended to nap while Hannah did so in earnest. Ella listened and watched the man to whom she had committed herself. Besides the blackmail and the inherent threats, Levering of late had taken pleasure in physically hurting her, as he had hurt her hand at the theatre. He always chose a place not readily visible to others. Just the day before yesterday, he had pinched her side so violently he had left a bruise and had brought tears to her eyes. Her offense for his retaliation was tarrying in speaking to Gabriel Crowden in the park. She had felt safe with Godown's closeness and had purposely talked to him longer than the baronet thought appropriate. He had expressed his discontent with the secret abuse.

Now, Ella recognized the man sitting across from her to be a real monster. She had never feared stories of ghosts or goblins as a child, but she recognized evil when she saw it. Louis Levering was pure
evil. He did as he chose and blamed everyone else for his failings. That made him a dangerous man. He would hold her responsible for his lot in life, and she would pay the price. In the past few days, she had quit accepting her fate at his hands, and Bran's insistence on her waiting to marry became a blessing of a sort. It gave her a chance to formulate a way out of this mess. She needed to discover where Levering kept the diary and take possession of it before she could withdraw, but, at least, now she hoped to be free of him.

Ella realized that once she became the baronet's wife, nothing could save her. By law, Levering would have the right to do what he wished with her. A husband could legally punish his wife without fear of retribution. Even Bran could not save her, although she was sure her brother would gladly kill Levering for what she already had suffered; but, she would not let her brother give up Thornhill by calling out Levering in a duel. Ella knew Brantley could kill Louis, no matter how much her future husband bragged of his prowess. However, dueling was illegal, and Bran would be forced to leave England again. She refused to let that happen.

It was funny of sorts; as a child and a young girl, she had thought her father the most base of men. Yet, she never once knew of his forcing his attentions on anyone. Even her own mother welcomed William Fowler to her bed. Every maid and bar mistress he had enjoyed over the years accepted his natural persuasion to become involved with him. Many of the household staff served him for years without his demanding their participation in his lust for carnal release. He asked quite often, but William Fowler accepted a refusal even from a lowly maid, and there was no retribution. Hannah, for example, was but a teen when she came to serve seven-year-old Eleanor. Hannah had never suffered because of the late duke—she avoided any dalliance her employer offered.

Ella could not imagine Louis Levering, however, accepting a denial from any servant in his household. If she became the baronet's wife, Ella would leave Hannah behind. She would force no one else to suffer her private hell. When she sought her father's
attentions, wanting him to lessen the loneliness after losing both her mother and Bran in one fell swoop, he did love her in the only way he knew how. Her father's fixation lay in desires of the flesh. It was as if he could not help himself. She remembered his crying and begging her forgiveness after touching her, but he returned to her time and time again. However, he never did more than fondle her. In fact, what James Kerrington gave her the night of her Come Out ball was much more intimate than any way her father had used her. It was not as if Ella had forgiven the former duke for how he had manipulated her; she had not—she would not, but she understood the difference between the love Kerrington offered and the obvious sickness from which her father had suffered.

She remembered also how Levering's parents had cleverly attached themselves to the duke, and, needing his own form of acceptance, her father had opened himself to them. Her memories, those she had suppressed for so long, had returned over the last few weeks. She recalled once hiding behind a screen in one of the guests' rooms while witnessing Robert Levering tying his wife to the four-poster and using a whip to take his true pleasure on the woman. She could imagine Louis Levering trying something similar with her. Ella was made to undress in front of them that evening, but they did not touch her—just watched with bestial delight before turning to their own form of profanity. Finally, she had escaped with her father's help. He had strode openly into the room and had wrapped her in his arms. “I will not tolerate anyone hurting Ella,” he had declared to the Leverings. “It will not happen.”That was the last time she remembered the Leverings being guests at Thorn Hall.

She had never seen her father so incensed. It was the only time she really felt his love. That time, and when, with his last lucid moments, he had told her she was a “good girl.” At the time, she had thought he meant to compliment her diligence in caring for him during his sickness and for the estate in his absence. As she reflected on the moment, Ella now wondered if he had hoped to arrest her belief that she was not worthy. It was James Kerrington
who had taught her to truly trust herself. He saw a woman he admired—a woman he wanted to love just as she was. She liked the person she saw reflected in His Lordship's eyes.

Quite different from the image she observed when looking at Levering: His countenance hid the ice that flowed through his veins, the flash of a mocking smile, the stony cold roughness barely below the surface. In the inn's private dining room the previous evening, he had twisted her arm behind her back when she resisted his advances, before forcibly pulling her dress down to expose her breasts wrapped tightly in her corset. She had feared he might take her there, but he had amused himself with fondling her breasts and invading her mouth with his tongue.

Setting her away from him, Levering had quickly unbuttoned the front placket of his breeches, freeing his swollen member. Ella had closed her eyes as he encased his rigid manhood in his hand. “Look at me,” he hissed. “Watch how I pleasure myself. Of course, I will let you touch me instead if you insist.” When she shook her head to refuse, Levering chuckled. “I thought not, but someday you will come to enjoy this as much as I.”

Then, in a shameless display, he ignited his own passion, focusing his gaze on her displayed bosom until his jaw locked in fervent pain, and Levering released his seed into the palm of his own hand. Taking the linen napkin from his place setting he wiped himself clean before tossing the cloth into the corner of the room. “Fix your dress,” he ordered as he restored his own clothing. “Go to bed and dream of our joining. It will be glorious,” he had instructed. “I will have a few drinks with the locals at the bar.”

Ella did not argue: She simply escaped as quickly as possible, finding comfort behind a locked chamber door and Hannah's presence on a pallet before the cold hearth.

CHAPTER 9

“IT IS NOTHING BUT A HUNTING BOX,” Ella gasped as Levering's carriage rolled into the circular drive before the small house. “I thought we were to meet some of your acquaintances for a country party.”

“We are,” he taunted, reaching for the coach's handle. “It will be a more intimate party than what you anticipated, my Dear, but it will be a party like no other you have experienced.” He stepped from the coach and turned to help her down. “Come, Lady Eleanor, and meet my friends.”

Reluctantly, Ella placed her hand in his.
What did the secretive baronet have in mind?
Ella had expected interludes similar to what she had experienced in the inn the previous evening, but she had thought that with the number of people at a house party, she could limit her private time with him to a few incidents. Despite his obvious wish to possess her, until now the baronet had respected her virginity. However, as four gentlemen appeared with their “ladies” to greet Levering, she quickly determined her situation was dire. The men were too casual and the women too free in their attire.

“Ella,” he did not even use her title, not a good sign, “these are my old friends, Heath Montford, Gavin Bradley, and Danver Clayton. We have known each other since our school days, and this is a relatively new acquaintance, Allister Collins.”

None of the men even offered her a bow of acknowledgment, an indication of the lack of Society she was likely to find inside the
house. “And the ladies are Susan, Louisa, Fanny, and Millie.” Louis gestured to each woman, accepting a rather passionate kiss from Fanny as he did so. “Hannah, you may join the other staff in the kitchen. I am sure Mrs. Blossom could use your help. Ella will send for you when she needs you.”