Читать книгу Not Just a Wallflower - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 10

Chapter Three

‘I must say, you took your time getting here, Royston.’

Justin, as was the case with most men, was uncomfortable visiting a sickroom, but especially when it was that of his aged grandmother, the dowager duchess being a woman for whom he had the highest regard and affection.

Tonight, the pallor of her face emphasised each line and wrinkle, so that she looked every one of her almost seventy years as she lay propped up by white lace pillows piled high against the head of the huge four-poster bed. A state of affairs that was not in the least reassuring, despite the fact that her iron-grey hair was as perfectly styled as usual and her expression as proudly imperious.

The St Justs, as Justin knew only too well, after learning of his grandfather’s long and private struggle with a wasting disease, were a breed apart when it came to bearing up under adversity; his grandmother might only be a St Just by marriage, but her strength of will was equal to, if not more than, any true-born St Just.

He crossed the room swiftly to stand beside the four-poster bed. ‘I apologise for my tardiness, Grandmama. I was not at home when Cousin Eleanor’s note arrived—’

‘If you lived here as you should that would not have been a problem,’ she said querulously.

‘We have had this conversation before, Grandmama. This is your home, not mine—’

‘You are the Duke of Royston, are you not?’

Justin sighed. ‘Yes, for my sins, I most certainly am.’

Edith eyed him disapprovingly. ‘No doubt living here with me would put a dampener on your gambling or wenching—or both! Which diversion were you enjoying this evening to cause your delay?’ She gave a disgusted sniff, but couldn’t hide the twinkle in her eye.

Justin kept his expression neutral so as not to upset his grandmother; his reluctance to live at Royston House was due more to the fact that he associated this house with the frequent absences of his parents during his childhood, and his subsequent loneliness, than because he feared his grandmother would put a crimp in any supposed excesses of his in gambling and wenching, as she put it. As a consequence, he preferred to remain at the apartments he had occupied before the death of his father. ‘I am sure this is not a suitable conversation for a grandson to be having with his aged grandmother—’

‘Less talk of the aged, if you do not mind! And why should we not talk of such things?’ She looked up at him challengingly. ‘Do you think me so old that I do not know how young and single gentlemen of the ton choose to spend their evenings? Many of the married ones, too!’

‘I believe I may only be called young in years, Grandmama,’ he drawled ruefully; these past three years as the Duke of Royston, and the onerous responsibilities of that title, had required that Justin become more circumspect in his public lifestyle, and at the same time they had left him little or no time for a private life either.

Perhaps it was time he thought seriously of acquiring a permanent mistress, a mild and biddable woman who would be only too pleased to attend to his needs, no matter what the time of day or night, but would make no demands of him other than that he keep her and provide a house in which they might meet. It was an idea that merited some further consideration.

But not here and now. ‘I did not come here to discuss my own activities, when it is your own health which is currently in question.’ he changed the subject deftly. ‘Cousin Eleanor has informed me that Dr Franklyn was called to attend you earlier this evening. What is the problem, Grandmama?’

‘Might I enquire when you decided that Ellie is to be referred to as your cousin?’ Edith raised those imperious grey brows.

‘Ellie?’

‘Miss Eleanor Rosewood, your Cousin Frederick’s stepdaughter, of course,’ she supplied impatiently.

‘I can hardly be so familiar as to address her as Ellie—a name I do not particularly care for, by the by—’ Justin gave an irritated scowl ‘—when her mother, one supposes, bestowed upon her the perfectly elegant name of Eleanor. And Miss Rosewood is far too formal, in view of her connection to this family.’

‘I agree.’ His grandmother gave a haughty nod. ‘And it is Ellie—Eleanor, whom I wish to discuss with you.’

Justin made no attempt to hide his astonishment. ‘Are you telling me that you had me tracked down at my club, with all the fervour of a pack of hounds baying at the scent of fox—’

‘Do not be melodramatic, Justin.’ Edith eyed him with indulgent exasperation.

His brows rose. ‘Do you deny having had a note delivered to my rooms late in the evening, one moreover that appeared to be of such vital urgency that my manservant instantly dispatched one of the other servants to track me down at one of my clubs?’

‘I did instruct the note be written and delivered to you, yes. But it was not so late in the evening when I did so,’ his grandmother added pointedly. ‘Nor can I be held responsible for the actions of your manservant in dispatching a servant to seek you out so doggedly.’

Justin gave another scowl. ‘But you do not deny that the reason for sending the note was so that you might bring me here simply in order to discuss your young companion?’

The dowager duchess sent him a reproachful glance. ‘There is nothing simple about it, my dear. Ellie, and her future, have loomed large in my thoughts of late. Even more so this evening, when I am feeling so unwell—Justin, would you please refrain from pacing in that restless manner and instead sit down in that chair beside me? It is making my head ache having to follow your movements in this way.’ She gave a pained wince.

Only one part of that statement was of any relevance to Justin at this particular moment. ‘In what way are you feeling unwell?’ He pounced on the statement, his expression distracted as he lowered his long length down into the chair beside the bed before reaching out to take one of his grandmother’s delicately fragile hands into both of his.

Edith gave a weary sigh. ‘I find I become very tired of late. An occurrence which has made me realise that—it has made me aware that I should have made much more of an effort to ensure that things were settled before now...’ She gave another sigh, a little mournful this time.

Justin scowled darkly. ‘Grandmama, if this is yet another way for you to introduce the unwelcome subject of my acquiring a duchess—’

‘Why, you conceited young whippersnapper!’ She gave him a quelling glance as she sat up straighter in the bed. ‘Contrary to what you appear to believe, I do not spend the whole of my waking life thinking up ways to entice my stubborn and uninterested grandson into matrimony!’ Then she seemed to collect herself and settled back once more on her pillows with another pained wince.

Justin gave a rueful shake of his head at hearing her berate him so soundly; not too many people would have dared speak to him like that and hope to get away with it! Oh, he was certain that many of the ton referred to him, behind his back, as being ‘arrogantly haughty’ or ‘coldly disdainful’, and even on occasion as being ‘harsh and imperious’ just like his grandmother was, but they would not have dared to do so to his face.

Not when they were sober, at least, Justin acknowledged derisively, as he thought of Litchfield’s insulting behaviour earlier this evening. A rash and dangerous move on Litchfield’s part, when Justin was acknowledged as being one of the finest swordsmen in England, as well as one of the most accurate of shots; no gentlemen would dare to talk to him in that way when they were sober, for fear they might incite—and subsequently lose—the duel that would undoubtedly ensue.

‘I am glad to hear it,’ he drawled in answer to his grandmother’s comment. ‘Pray, then, what are these “things”, which need to be “settled”, Grandmama?’

‘Eleanor’s future, of course.’ She eyed him carefully, her gnarled fingers folding and then refolding the fine bedsheet beneath them. ‘She is so very young, and has no other relatives apart from ourselves, and I cannot bear to think of what might become of her when I am gone.’

Justin tensed. ‘When you are gone? Is there any likelihood of that happening in the near future?’ he prompted sharply as he felt the slight trembling of the hand he still held in his own.

The fact that the love his parents shared had been exclusive and all-consuming, and not one which had allowed time or particular consideration for their only child, had, as a consequence, meant that it was Justin’s paternal grandparents, Edith and George St Just, who were the constant influences in his life, and with whom he had chosen to spend the majority of his school holidays, as well as Christmas and birthdays.

‘Doctor Franklyn is of the opinion that I am simply wearing out—’

‘Utterly ridiculous!’ Justin barked, sitting forwards tensely, blue gaze fierce as he searched the unusual delicate pallor of her face. ‘He is mistaken. Why, you had tea with your two dear friends only a few days ago, attended Lady Huntsley’s ball with them just yesterday evening—’

‘As a consequence, today I am feeling so weak that I do not even have the energy to rise from my bed.’

‘You have overtaxed yourself, that is all,’ he insisted.

‘Justin, you are no longer a child and, sadly, neither am I.’ His grandmother gave another heavy sigh. ‘And I cannot say I will not be pleased to be with your grandfather again—’

‘I refuse to listen to this nonsense a moment longer!’ Justin released her hand to stand up before glowering down at her. ‘I will speak to Dr Franklyn myself.’

‘Do so, by all means, if you feel you must, but bullying the doctor cannot make me any younger than I am,’ Edith reasoned gently.

Justin drew in a sharp breath at the truth of that statement. ‘Perhaps you might rally, find new purpose, if I were to reconsider my decision not to marry in the near future.’

‘Generous of you, Royston.’ She gave him an affectionate, understanding smile, which had the effect of shooting more fear into his heart than anything she might say considering she’d been so hell-bent on seeing him married off as soon as humanly possible. ‘Unfortunately, the outcome would, I am sorry to say, remain the same.’

‘I simply cannot accept that!’

‘You must, Justin,’ his grandmother chided gently. ‘Gratified as I am to see how the thought upsets you, it is a fact of life that I cannot go on for ever. I should, of course, have liked to see you settled before my time comes, but I accept that is not to be...’

‘I have already suggested I might give the matter of matrimony further consideration, if it would make you happy!’ He scowled fiercely at the mere thought of it.

‘You must, and no doubt will, do exactly as you wish. At the moment I am more concerned with my dear companion. I must know that Ellie—Eleanor’s—future has been settled before I depart this world.’

‘I would prefer that you not say that phrase again in my presence, Grandmama.’ Justin had resumed his restless pacing, too agitated by his grandmother’s news to be able to stand or to sit at her bedside any longer.

‘Ignoring something will not make it go away, my dear,’ Edith pointed out.

Justin was well aware of that, but even the thought of his grandmother no longer being here, gently chiding or sternly rebuking him for one misdemeanour or another, was anathema to him. She was only in her sixty-ninth year, and Justin had not so much as spared a thought for the possibility of her dying just yet; Edith St Just had been, and still was, the woman in his life on whom he had always depended, a woman of both iron will and indomitable spirit, always there, the steely matriarch of the St Just family.

‘May we discuss Eleanor’s future now, Justin?’ Edith continued, uncharacteristically meek.

Eleanor Rosewood, and her future, were the last things that Justin wished to discuss at this moment, but a single glance at his grandmother’s face was enough to silence his protests as he noticed once again how the paleness of her face, and the shadows beneath her eyes, gave her the appearance of being every one of those eight and sixty years.

He bit back the sharpness of his reply and instead resumed his seat beside the bed. ‘Very well, Grandmama, if you insist, then let us talk of Cousin Eleanor’s future.’

She nodded. ‘It is my dearest wish to see her comfortably married before I dep—am no longer here,’ she corrected at Justin’s scowl.

He raised his brows. ‘It seems to me that you appear to wish this dubious state upon all those close to you. I am heartily relieved it is not just me you have set your sights on.’

‘Do not be facetious, Royston!’ The dowager frowned. ‘As I have already stated, you must do as you wish where your own future bride is concerned, but for a young woman in Ellie’s position, marriage is the only solution.’

‘And do you also have a gentleman in mind to become her husband? More to the point, does Cousin Eleanor have such a gentleman in mind?’ He raised mocking brows.

His grandmother sighed. ‘She has been so taken up with my own affairs this past year that I very much doubt she has given the matter so much as a single thought.’

‘Then—’

‘Which is not to say she should not have done so.’ Edith frowned him into silence. ‘Or that I should not have insisted she do so, before she is of an age that is considered as being unmarriageable.’

‘Exactly how old is Cousin Eleanor?’ Justin eyed his grandmother incredulously, thinking of the girl’s fresh, dewy complexion and unlined brow.

‘She has recently entered her twentieth year—’

‘Almost ancient then!’ he teased.

‘I am being serious, Justin. A young woman of Ellie’s meagre circumstances, if left alone in the world, will, as I am sure you are only too well aware, have very few opportunities open to her.’ She arched a pointed brow.

Yes, Justin was well aware of the fate that often befell impoverished but genteel young ladies of Eleanor Rosewood’s beauty and circumstance, being neither a part of society and yet not of the working classes either. ‘And exactly what do you expect me to do about it? Settle some money on her as a dowry, perhaps, in order to entice a penniless young man of the clergy or some such into offering her marriage?’ he suggested sarcastically.

‘The dowry would certainly be a start.’ His grandmother took his suggestion seriously as she nodded slowly. ‘Heaven knows the Royston fortune is large enough you would not even notice its loss! But I do not see why Eleanor should have to settle for an impoverished clergyman. Surely, somewhere amongst your acquaintances, you must know of a titled gentleman or two who would willingly overlook her social shortcomings in order to take to wife a young woman of personal fortune, who also happens to be the stepcousin of the powerful Duke of Royston?’

Justin had meant to tease with his suggestion of a providing a dowry for Eleanor, but he could see by the seriousness of his grandmother’s expression that she, at least, was in deadly earnest. ‘Let me see if I understand you correctly, Grandmama. You wish for me to first settle a sizeable dowry upon your companion, before then seeking out and securing a suitable, preferably titled husband, for her amongst my acquaintances?’ The suggestion was not only preposterous, but seemed slightly incestuous to Justin in view of his own less than cousinly thoughts about that young lady just minutes ago!

‘I do not expect you to approach the subject quite so callously, Royston.’ Edith eyed him impatiently. ‘I am very fond of the gel and I should not like to see her married to a man she did not like, or whom did not like her.’

His brows rose. ‘So you are, in fact, expecting me to secure a love match for her, despite her “social shortcomings” as you so tactfully put it.’

‘A suitable marriage does not preclude the couple from falling in love with each other,’ Edith snapped. ‘Your grandfather and I loved each other dearly. As did your father and mother.’

Yes, and it was the example of that deep love his parents had for each other that had made Justin so leery of entering into matrimony himself; he could not bear even the thought of ever loving a woman so deeply, so intensely, that his own offspring suffered because of it.

He suppressed a shudder. ‘I believe you may be expecting too much for Eleanor to secure such a love in her own marriage.’

‘We will not know until you try,’ his grandmother insisted.

‘And how do you propose I go about doing that?’ He gave a rueful shake of his head.

‘As Ellie’s closest male relative—yes, I know you’re about to say that technically you’re not really related to her at all—you might perhaps commence by accompanying her to—to a musical soirée or two, perhaps, in order that you might introduce her to these eligible if financially bereft young gentlemen of your acquaintance?’

‘I—you expect me to attend musical soirées?’ Justin stared at his grandmother incredulously as he once again rose to his feet out of sheer incapability to know what to do next; indeed, he was starting to feel like that toy he’d had as a child which had popped out of the box when the lid was lifted! ‘I believe your current indisposition has addled your brain, Grandmama!’ He shook his head. ‘I do not attend music soirées or balls in the normal course of events, let alone with the intention of marrying off my young stepcousin to some unsuspecting gentleman!’

‘But there is nothing to say that you could not make the exception in these special circumstances, is there?’ she insisted defiantly.

‘No, of course there is not. But—’

‘It would make me very happy if you were to do so, Justin.’

He narrowed suddenly suspicious blue eyes on the supposedly frail figure of his grandmother as she once again lay back, so small and vulnerable-looking against those snowy white pillows. ‘I thought it was Cousin Eleanor’s happiness which was your first and only concern?’

‘It is.’ Edith’s eyes snapped her irritation at his perspicacity. ‘And I can think of no better way to secure that happiness than you publicly acknowledging Ellie as a favoured cousin.’

‘A favoured cousin of such low social standing she has been in your own employ this past year,’ he reminded her drily.

‘I very much doubt that any of the ton would make the connection between that mousy young woman and Miss Eleanor Rosewood, the elegant and beautiful cousin of the Duke of Royston.’

He very much doubted the truth of that claim, in regard to the gentlemen in society, at least; he, for one, had certainly taken note of Eleanor’s understated beauty!

‘And even if they did,’ Edith continued firmly, ‘none would dare to socially cut or slight Ellie whilst she is seen to be under your protection.’

On that subject Justin did agree. But the cost to himself, of being forced into the tedium of attending what was left of the Season, was surely too much to expect of him? His grandmother did not seem to think so...

‘I am to host the Royston Ball in four days’ time and you are always gracious enough to make an appearance on that occasion,’ his grandmother reminded him.

‘The ball may have to be cancelled if you are still feeling so fatigued,’ he said slyly.

‘That will not happen during my lifetime!’ the dowager duchess assured him imperiously. ‘The Royston Ball has taken place for the past hundred years and this year shall be no different, not even if I have to spend the evening sitting in my Bath chair overseeing events,’ she continued determinedly.

‘And you seriously intend to introduce Eleanor into society that evening?’

She gave a haughty inclination of her head. ‘As a guest in my home she will naturally attend.’

‘And you expect me to act as her escort for the evening?’

‘As her guardian, perhaps, which would be perfectly acceptable as you are her closest male relative.’ She nodded briskly. ‘It is also the perfect opportunity for Ellie to see and be seen by the ton.’

Justin had the uncomfortable feeling that somewhere in the course of this conversation he had not only been manipulated, but soundly outmanoeuvred. An unusual occurrence, admittedly, but somehow his grandmother seemed to have succeeded in doing so. He—

‘There is one other subject upon which I shall require your assistance, my boy.’

He eyed the redoubtable old lady extremely warily now. ‘Yes?’

‘I believe it might be advisable, before any marriage were to take place, to attempt to ascertain the identity of Ellie’s real father...’

Justin’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Her real father? Was that not Mr Rosewood, then?’

‘As that gentleman had already been dead for a full year before Ellie was born, I do not believe so, no...’ Edith grimaced.

This situation, one not even of Justin’s own choosing, suddenly became more and more surreal. ‘And is Eleanor herself aware of that fact?’

His grandmother gave a snort. ‘Of course she is not. I only discovered the truth of things myself when I had her mother investigated after that idiot Frederick ran off to Gretna Green so impetuously and married the woman.’

‘So my stepcousin and ward is not only penniless, but is also a bastard—’

‘Royston!’

Justin groaned out loud. ‘And if I should discover that her real father is an unsavoury scoundrel fit only for the gutter?’

His grandmother raised imperious brows. ‘Then you will do everything in your power to make sure that no one else is ever made privy to that information.’

‘And how do you suggest I do that?’

‘I have every confidence that you will find a way, Royston.’ She smiled.

A confidence in his abilities which, in this particular instance, Justin did not share...

* * *

Ellie could not settle as she waited nervously for Justin to join her in the library. Even the warmth from the fire beside which she now sat, lit by Stanhope some minutes ago when he delivered the tray on which sat the two glasses and brandy decanter, did little to ease the chill of nervousness from her bones.

She had been in the dowager duchess’s household for a year now and before this evening could have counted the number of words she had exchanged with the top-lofty Duke of Royston on the fingers of one hand. Nor had he ever deigned to address her by her given name until this evening.

Which was not to say Ellie had not been completely aware of him, or that his full name was Justin George Robert St Just, the twelfth Duke of Royston—and a long list of other titles which escaped Ellie’s memory for the moment. Aged nine years her senior, and so obviously experienced as well as worldly, the golden-haired, blue-eyed Justin St Just had also featured largely in every one of Ellie’s romantic dreams, both day and night this past year, to a degree that she believed herself half in love with him already.

Which made awaiting his appearance in the library now even more excruciatingly nerve-racking. How embarrassing if she were to reveal, by look, word or deed, even an inkling of the sensual fantasies she had woven so romantically about the powerful and handsome duke! Fantasies that made Ellie’s cheeks burn just to think of them as she imagined Justin returning her feelings for him, resulting in those chiselled lips claiming her own, those long and elegant hands caressing her back, before moving higher, to cup the fullness of her eagerly straining breasts—

‘Your thoughts appear to please you, Cousin Eleanor...?’

Ellie gave a guilty start as she rose hastily from the chair beside the fireplace to turn and face the man whose lips and hands she had just been imagining touching her with such intimacy.

Justin did not at all care for the look of apprehension which appeared upon Eleanor Rosewood’s delicately blushing face as she rose to gaze across the library at him. Apprehension, accompanied by a certain amount of guilt, if he was not mistaken. What she had to feel guilty about he had no idea, nor did he care for that look of apprehension either. ‘Perhaps not,’ he drawled as he stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him before crossing to where the decanter of brandy and glasses had been placed upon the desktop.

‘I trust the dowager duchess is feeling better?’

As Justin’s grandmother had elicited several promises from him before allowing him to leave her bedchamber, the condition of her health being one of them, he was not now at liberty to discuss the reason for Dr Franklyn’s visit, with Eleanor or anyone else. That Justin would be having words with the good doctor himself was definite, but his grandmother had insisted that neither of her two close friends, or her companion, be made aware of the reason for her fatigue.

Justin schooled his features into an expression of amusement. ‘She assures me she feels well enough to continue as usual with the Royston Ball to be held here in four days’ time,’ he answered evasively as he turned to carry the two brandy glasses over to where she stood so delicately pale beside the glowing fire.

She made no effort to take the glass he held out to her. ‘I do not care for brandy, your Grace.’

‘I have a feeling that tonight shall be the exception,’ he said drily.

She blinked long silky lashes. ‘It will...?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said distractedly. The flickering flames brought out the red-gold fire in her hair, Justin noted admiringly as he placed the glass in her hand; she really did have the most beautiful hair, in a myriad of shades, from deep auburn to red and then gold. Her eyes were a bright green, the same colour as a perfect emerald, and surrounded by the longest silky black lashes Justin had ever seen. As for those freckles upon her creamy cheeks and nose...

Justin felt a sudden urge, a strong desire, to kiss each and every one of them! He determinedly brought those wayward thoughts to an abrupt end and his mouth compressed. ‘My grandmother has requested that you...assist her in the matter of the ball.’

Her little pink tongue moved moistly across those full and pouting lips, making him shift uncomfortably. ‘I am not sure what assistance I could possibly be in the planning of such a grand occasion, but I shall of course endeavour to offer the dowager duchess whatever help I am able.’

Justin gave her an amused look. ‘You misunderstand, Cousin Eleanor—the assistance required of you is that you attend the Royston Ball.’

She nodded. ‘And I have already said that I shall be only too pleased to help the dowager duchess in any way that I can—’

‘You are to attend the ball as her guest—careful!’ he warned as the brandy glass looked in danger of slipping from her fingers.

Ellie’s fingers immediately tightened about the bulbous glass even as stared up at him in disbelief. Justin could not seriously be suggesting that she was to attend the ball as a member of the ton, was he?

The implacability of his expression as he looked at her down the long length of his aristocratic nose appeared to suggest that he was.