Читать книгу Not Just a Wallflower - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 11

Chapter Four

‘You may find a sip of brandy to be beneficial...’

Ellie was still so stunned that she obediently sipped her drink—and immediately began to choke as the fiery liquid hit and burned the back of her throat. A dilemma Justin immediately rectified by slapping her soundly upon her back.

Perhaps a little harder than was necessary?

Ellie shook her head as she straightened, her eyes watering, her face feeling hot and flushed as she spoke huskily, ‘I have no idea what her Grace can be thinking! I could not possibly attend the Royston Ball as a guest.’

‘My grandmother has decreed otherwise.’

As if that announcement settled the matter, Ellie realised dazedly. ‘And what is your own opinion on the subject, your Grace?’ she prompted, sure that he could not approve of such a plan as this.

He gave a shrug of those wide and muscled shoulders before drawling, ‘I make it a point of principle never to disagree with my grandmother.’

Ellie knew that to be an erroneous statement from the onset; if Justin listened without argument to everything his grandmother said to him, then he would have long since found himself married, with half-a-dozen heirs in the nursery! For Edith St Just made no secret of her desire to see her grandson acquire his duchess, and not long afterwards begin producing his heirs. A desire which Ellie knew he had successfully evaded fulfilling during this past year, at least.

Ellie looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes as she tried to gauge the duke’s response to his grandmother’s unexpected decision to invite her lowly companion to attend the prestigious Royston Ball. A fruitless task, as it happened, the blandness of Justin’s expression revealing absolutely none of that arrogant gentleman’s inner thoughts. Although Ellie thought she detected a slight glint of amusement in the depths of those deep blue eyes... No doubt at her expense, she thought irritably.

Ellie was not a fool and she might well consider herself half in love with Justin, and find him exciting in a forbidden way, but that did not preclude her from knowing he was also arrogant, cynical and mocking. Or that his mockery on this occasion was directed towards her.

She drew in a ragged breath in an attempt to steady herself. ‘I shall, of course, explain to her Grace, first thing in the morning, exactly why it is I cannot accept her invitation.’

‘And I wish you every success with that.’ There was no mistaking the amusement this time in those deceptively sleepy blue eyes.

Deceptive, because Ellie was sure that nothing escaped this astutely intelligent man’s notice! ‘But surely you must see that it will not do?’

‘I am not the one whom you will have to convince of that, Eleanor,’ the duke pointed out almost gleefully, she thought crossly. ‘My grandmother, once her mind is settled upon something, is rarely, if ever, persuaded otherwise.’

That might well be so—indeed, after this past year spent in that lady’s household, Ellie knew for herself that it was!—but in this case it must be attempted. Only the cream of society was ever invited into the dowager duchess’s home, to attend the Royston Ball or on any other social occasion, and Ellie knew that she was far from being that. Admittedly, her mother and father had been on the fringes of that society, her father because he was the youngest son of a baron. And although her mother had been merely a country squire’s daughter, she had been elevated in society by her first marriage to the son of a baron, and again at the second marriage to the son of a lord, the dowager duchess’s own nephew. Even so, Ellie’s own place in society was precarious at best.

‘Indeed, I see no reason why you should wish to do such a thing,’ the duke continued. ‘If my grandmother has decided that you are to be introduced to society, then you may be assured that none in society will dare to argue the point.’

‘Even you?’ she couldn’t help asking, then flushed at her own temerity.

Justin frowned at this second attempt on Eleanor’s part to ascertain his own views on the subject. Especially when he was now unsure of those views himself...

Admittedly, he had initially dismissed the very idea of her introduction into society, but second, and perhaps third thoughts, had revealed to him that it was not such an unacceptable idea as he had first considered. His grandmother’s argument, in favour of doing so, in an effort to secure Eleanor a suitable husband, although a considerable inconvenience to himself, was perfectly valid. Most especially if Justin were to provide Eleanor with a suitable dowry, as his grandmother suggested he must do.

Eleanor was both ladylike in her appearance as well as her manner. The fact that she also happened to be impoverished should not prevent her from seeking the same happiness in the marriage mart as any other young lady of nineteen years.

There was that irritating question as to whom Eleanor’s real father might be, of course, but Justin had his grandmother’s assurances that Eleanor knew nothing of that, believing herself to be the daughter of Mr Henry Rosewood. And if Justin’s investigations into that matter, at his grandmother’s behest, should prove otherwise, then who needed to be any the wiser about it?

The father, perhaps, if he did not already know of his daughter’s existence...

Only time, and investigation, would inform Justin as to whether or not the name of Eleanor’s real father was of any relevance to this present situation.

His grandmother having elicited his next promise—that he would not speak to Eleanor on that particular subject either—Justin now turned to the reason for Edith’s insistence on Eleanor’s début into society. ‘The dowager duchess has decided it is time for you to acquire a husband.’

Green eyes widened incredulously at his announcement, even as those creamy cheeks became flushed. With embarrassment? Or temper? Or perhaps excitement? He wished he knew.

Justin did not know her well enough to gauge her present mood, but he was certainly man enough to appreciate the added depth of colour to the green of her eyes, and the flushed warmth in those creamy cheeks, as well as the swift rise and fall of the full swell of her breasts. Indeed, if this young lady had been anyone other than his grandmother’s protégée, then she would have been the perfect choice for the role of his mistress he had been considering earlier—

Justin called a sudden halt to his wandering thoughts. His grandmother’s request had now placed him in the position of guardian to this particular young lady, and as Eleanor’s guardian Justin would frown most severely upon any gentleman having such licentious thoughts, as his had just been, in regard to his own ward!

She drew in a deep breath, unwittingly further emphasising the fullness of those creamy breasts. ‘I am sure I am very...gratified by her Grace’s concern—’

‘Are you?’

Ellie gave Justin a quick glance beneath lowered lashes as she heard the mocking amusement in his tone; grateful as she was to the dowager duchess for coming to her rescue a year ago, it had not been an easy task for Ellie to learn to hold her impetuous tongue, or keep her fiery temper in check, as was befitting in the companion of a much older lady and a dowager duchess at that, and they were faults her mother had been at pains to point out to Ellie on a regular basis when she was alive.

The duke’s amusement, so obviously at her expense, which she once again saw in those intense blue eyes, was enough to make Ellie forget all of her previous caution, as she snapped waspishly, ‘I am gratified to see that at least one of us finds this situation amusing and it is not me!’

‘If nothing else, it has at least succeeded in diverting my grandmother’s attention from my own lack of interest in the married state!’ he lobbed back lazily.

Ellie eyed him in frustration. ‘I am no more interested in entering into marriage, simply because it’s convenient, than you are!’

Her mother’s marriage, to a youngest son, had resulted in Muriel Rosewood being left a virtually impoverished and expectant widow on Henry Rosewood’s death, with only a small yearly stipend from the Rosewood family coffers, and no other interest in the widow and her daughter from that family, with which to support them.

Muriel’s second marriage ten years later, to a rake of a man whom she did not love, but who offered her a comfortable home for herself and her young daughter, had not been a happy one. Far from it.

As a consequence, Ellie had decided that she would never marry for any other reason than that she loved the man who was to be her husband. Far better that she remain an old maid, she had decided, paid companion to the dowager duchess, or someone very like her, than that she should end up as unhappy as her mother before her, unpaid servant and bed partner of a man who did not love her any more than she loved him.

The duke chuckled huskily. ‘My grandmother is not easily gainsaid.’

‘You appear to have done so most successfully all these years,’ Ellie pointed out smartly.

Justin gave an acknowledging inclination of his golden head at the hit. ‘And with my grandmother’s determined efforts now firmly concentrated upon your own marital prospects, my dear cousin, I fully admit I am hoping to continue that enviable state for several more years to come.’

She frowned. ‘I do not have any “marital prospects”!’

‘But you will have, once I have settled a sizeable dowry upon you.’

‘A sizeable dowry!’ Ellie repeated, staring up at him incredulously. ‘And why, pray, would you wish to do that?’

He lifted a brow. ‘Because it would make my grandmother happy if I did?’

Ellie continued to look up at him for several long seconds, a stare the duke met with unblinking and bored implacability. Bored?

So he found the idea of marrying her off, whether she wished it or not, whether she would be happy or not, to be not only amusing but boring as well?

And to think—to imagine that she had thought only minutes ago that she was in love with Justin St Just! So much so, that she had awaited with trepidation the announcement of his betrothal and forthcoming marriage to some beautiful and highly eligible young lady. Now she could not help but feel pity for whichever of those unlucky women should eventually be chosen as duchess to this arrogant man!

Indeed, as far as Ellie was concerned, Justin St Just had become nothing more than her tormentor, out to bedevil her with threats of arranging her marriage to a man she neither knew nor loved.

It could not be allowed to happen!

Except...Ellie had no idea how she was to go about avoiding such an unwanted outcome when the duke and the dowager duchess, both so imperious and determined, seemed so set upon the idea.

She placed her brandy glass down upon one of the side tables before commencing to pace the room, as she feverishly sought for ways in which she might avoid the state of an arranged, unhappy marriage, without upsetting the kind dowager duchess, or incurring the wrath of her devil of a grandson.

Justin replenished his brandy glass before strolling over to take a seat beside the warmth of the fire, observing Eleanor’s agitated movements from between narrowed lids.

That she was displeased at the idea of an arranged marriage was completely obvious. A deep frown marred her brow as she continued to energetically pace the length of the library, which allowed Justin to appreciate the outline of her slender and yet curvaceous form in the plain brown gown and the creamy expanse of her throat above the swell of her breasts, as well as the fineness of those furiously snapping green eyes.

He couldn’t help but wonder how much more beautiful she might look with that abundance of red curls loose about her shoulders and dressed in a clinging gown, or possibly a night rail, of deep green silk...

And to think he had been bored to the point of ennui earlier this evening!

Not so any longer. Now Justin felt invigorated, the future full of possibilities, as he considered the challenge ahead of him in procuring a suitable husband for the surprisingly feisty, and obviously unwilling, Miss Eleanor Rosewood.

He was not a little curious as to the reason for her obvious aversion to an arranged marriage, when, in Justin’s experience, for the majority of the women of his acquaintance an advantageous marriage appeared to be their only goal in life.

Could it be—did Eleanor’s tastes perhaps run in another direction entirely? No, surely not! It would be a cruelty on the part of Mother Nature if a woman of such understated beauty, and surprisingly fiery a temperament as Eleanor, was not destined to occupy the arms, the bed, of some lucky gentleman. In other circumstances, she would almost certainly have made the perfect mistress—

No, he really must not think of her in such terms. He must in future consider himself as purely a guardian where she was concerned.

Even if his extremely private inner thoughts strayed constantly in the opposite direction!

‘Have you drawn any conclusions yet as to how you might thwart my grandmother’s plans for your immediate future?’ Justin teased after several long minutes of her pacing. ‘If so, I wish you would share them with me, if only for my own future reference?’

Ellie came to an abrupt halt to glare across the library at the lazily reclining form of the relaxed duke, the glow from the flames of the fire turning his fashionably styled hair a rich and burnished gold, those patrician features thrown into stark and cruel relief, and causing Ellie’s pulse to quicken in spite of herself.

The rapidity of her pulse, and sudden shortness of breath, told her that, although she now doubted herself in love with him any more, she was still not completely averse to his physical attributes, at least.

His arrogance and mockery, when directly aimed at her, as they now were, were something else entirely, the former frustrating her and the latter infuriating her.

She drew in a deep and steady breath before answering him. ‘I do not see why I cannot, politely but firmly, inform her Grace of my feelings of aversion to an arranged marriage—you find something amusing in that approach?’ she prompted sharply as he laughed out loud.

‘Truth be told, I find it ridiculous in the extreme.’ Justin flashed his even white teeth in an unsympathetic grin. ‘My grandmother, as I am sure you are aware, has all the subtlety of a battering ram. That being so, I doubt your own feelings on the matter will even be considered. Nor will anything you have to say on the subject shake her unwavering certainty that she feels she knows what is best for you,’ he added firmly as Ellie would have protested.

‘Perhaps if you were to—no, I see that you are so entertained by the whole idea, you would not even consider coming to my aid!’ Ellie eyed him in utter disgust as he continued to grin at her in that unsympathetic manner.

He eyed her mockingly. ‘Perhaps if you were to tell me of the reasons for your reluctance in this matter, I’d feel more inclined to help you out?’

Ellie gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘No doubt they are the same as your own. I could never marry anyone whom I did not love with the whole of my heart and who did not love me in the same way.’

All amusement fled as he stood up abruptly, his eyes now a cold and glittering sapphire blue. ‘There you are wrong, Eleanor,’ he rasped. ‘My own feelings on that particular subject are in total opposition to your own,’ he elaborated harshly as she raised questioning brows, ‘in that I would never consider marrying anyone who declared a love for me, or vice versa.’

Ellie’s eyes widened at his words and the coldness of the tone in which he said them. She had believed that the duke’s aversion to marriage was because he had not yet met the woman whom he loved enough to make his duchess. His statement now showed it was the opposite.

Ellie could not help but wonder why...

She was aware, of course, that many marriages in the ton were made for financial or social gain, as her mother’s had been to Frederick St Just. But often the couples in those marriages learnt a respect and affection for each other, and in some cases love itself. Again, that had not happened in her mother’s case, her marriage to Frederick, an inveterate gambler and womaniser, tolerable at best, painful at worst, certainly colouring Ellie’s own views on the subject.

But for any gentleman to deliberately state his intention of never feeling love for his wife, or to have her feel love for him, seemed harsh in the extreme.

And surely it was asking too much of any woman, if married to Justin St Just, not to fall in love with him?

Or perhaps the answer to his stated aversion to loving his future wife had something to do with why he could not initially be found earlier on this evening...?

Ellie knew that many gentlemen of the ton had mistresses, women society dictated they could never marry, but for whom they often held more affection than they did their wives. Perhaps he had such a woman in his life? A low-born woman, or possibly a married woman of the ton, whom he could never make his duchess, but for whom he had a deep and abiding love?

Yes, perhaps that was the explanation for his stated desire for a loveless marriage. ‘Would such a situation not be unfair to your future wife?’ she ventured softly.

He looked down the length of his nose at her. ‘Not if she were made aware of the situation from the onset.’

She gasped. ‘Surely no woman would accept a marriage proposal under such cold and unemotional conditions?’

He gave her a pitying smile. ‘It has been my experience that most, if not all women, would maim or kill in order to marry a duke and love be damned.’

‘But—’

‘The hour grows late, Eleanor, and I believe we have talked on this subject long enough for one evening.’ Justin abruptly placed his empty brandy glass down upon the mantelpiece before turning away, no longer in the least amused by this conversation. ‘If I might ask that you send word to me tomorrow regarding my grandmother’s health?’

‘I—of course, your Grace.’ Eleanor seemed momentarily disconcerted by the abrupt change of subject. ‘Hopefully I might also be able to inform you of her change of mind in regard to my attending the Royston Ball.’

Justin grimaced. ‘You are an optimist as well as a romantic, I see.’

A faint flush darkened her cheeks even as she raised her chin proudly. ‘I would hope I am a realist, your Grace.’

He gave a slow shake of his head. ‘A realist would know to accept when she is defeated.’

‘A realist would accept, even with your generous offer of providing me with a dowry, that I am not meant to be a part of society. Indeed,’ she continued firmly as he would have spoken, ‘I have no ambitions to ever be so.’

Justin raised his brows. ‘You consider us a frivolous lot, then, with nothing to recommend us?’

He found himself the focus of dark-green eyes as Eleanor studied him unblinkingly for several seconds before giving a brief, dismissive smile. ‘There is no answer I could give to that question which would not result in my either insulting you or denigrating myself. As such, I choose to make no reply at all.’

It was, Justin realised admiringly, both a clever and witty answer, and delivered in so ambiguous a tone as to render it as being at least one of the things she claimed it was not meant to be!

Again he found himself entertained by this surprisingly outspoken young woman, to appreciate why his grandmother was so fond of her; Edith St Just did not suffer twittering fools any more gladly than he did himself.

He gave her a courtly bow. ‘I greatly look forward to being your escort to the Royston Ball.’ And it was true, Justin realised with no little surprise; it was diverting, to say the least, to anticipate what this young woman might choose to do or say next!

Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘My escort?’

He shot her a disarming grin. ‘Another request from my grandmother.’

‘But why should I be in need of an escort, when I already reside here?’

Justin smiled. ‘Because a single lady, appearing in society for the first time, must be accompanied by her nearest male relative and guardian, and it appears I have that honour.’

Panic replaced the alarm in those deep-green eyes. ‘Everyone would stop and stare, and the ladies would gossip speculatively behind their fans if I were to enter the ballroom on the arm of the Duke of Royston!’

‘I believe that to be the whole point of the exercise, Cousin.’

‘No.’ Eleanor gave a decisive shake of her head, several red curls fluttering loosely about her temples as she did so. ‘If I am to be forced to attend, as you believe I will be, then I absolutely refuse to make such a spectacle of myself.’

He raised haughty brows. ‘Even though you will have the honour of being the first young woman whom the Duke of Royston has ever escorted anywhere?’

She looked startled for a moment, but recovered quickly. ‘That only makes me all the more determined it shall not happen.’

Justin’s smile widened at her stubborn optimism. ‘I do not believe there is any way in which you might prevent it—other than your possibly falling down the stairs and breaking a leg before then!’ He laughed in earnest as he saw by Eleanor’s furrowed brow that she was actually giving the suggestion serious consideration. ‘Would it really be such a bad thing to be seen entering the ballroom on my arm, Eleanor?’ he chided softly as he crossed the room to stand in front of her. ‘If so, then you are not in the least flattering to a man’s ego.’

‘I do not believe your own ego to be in need of flattery,’ Ellie murmured huskily, totally disconcerted by Justin’s sudden and close proximity. Indeed, she could feel the warmth of his breath ruffling those errant curls at her temple.

‘No?’ Long lean fingers reached up to smooth back those curls, the touch of his fingers light and cool against the heat of her brow.

Ellie swallowed before attempting an answer, at the same time inwardly willing her voice to sound as it normally did. ‘How can it, when you are the elusive but much-coveted prize of the marriage mart?’

She sounded only a little breathless, she realised thankfully, at the same time as she knew her disobedient knees were in danger of turning to water and no longer supporting her.

‘Am I?’ A smile tilted those sculptured lips as those lean fingers now trailed lightly down the warmth of her cheek.

Her throat moved as she swallowed before answering. ‘Elusive or much coveted?’

‘Either.’

Ellie found she was having trouble breathing as his fingers now lingered teasingly close to, but did not quite touch, the fullness of her lips. Suddenly she possessed both dry lips and a throat she necessarily had to moisten before attempting to speak again. ‘This is a ridiculous conversation, your Grace.’

‘Ah, once again you seek to put me firmly in my place with the use of formality,’ he murmured admiringly.

‘I do no such thing!’ Ellie attempted to rally her indignation—not an easy task when the soft pad of the duke’s thumb was now passing lightly across her bottom lip, and sending rivulets of excitement to the tips of her breasts and an unaccustomed warmth to gather between her thighs. ‘Your Grace—’

‘Justin,’ he correct softly. ‘Or Cousin Justin, if you prefer.’

‘I do not,’ she stated firmly, knowing that if she did not stop his teasing soon she would end up as a boneless puddle at his highly polished, booted feet. ‘It is late, and I— Perhaps there is some—someone anxiously awaiting your returning to her tonight?’

He stilled as those narrowed blue eyes moved searchingly over her flushed face. ‘You implied something similar when I arrived earlier tonight...’

‘Your Grace?’

‘It becomes more and more obvious to me that you, like my grandmother, believe my delay in arriving here this evening to be because I was in the arms of my current mistress,’ he said speculatively.

Ellie felt her cheeks flush even warmer, no doubt once again clashing horribly with the red of her hair, as well as emphasising the freckles across her cheeks and nose that had long been the bane of her life. ‘I am not in the least interested as to the reason for the delay in your arrival—’

‘Oh, but I think you are, Eleanor,’ he contradicted softly. ‘Very interested.’

She gave a pained frown as she looked up into those intent blue eyes and decided she had suffered quite enough of this gentleman’s teasing for one evening. ‘Is your conceit so great that you believe every woman you meet must instantly fall under the spell of your charm?’

‘Not in the least.’ Those blue eyes now twinkled down at her merrily. ‘But it is gratifying to know that you at least find me charming, Eleanor—’

‘What I believe, your Grace, is that you are a conceited ass—’ She fell abruptly silent as Justin lowered his head and bit lightly, reprovingly, on her bottom lip.

Ellie stiffened as if frozen in place and her heart seemed to cease beating altogether as she acknowledged that the coldly arrogant Duke of Royston, the mockingly handsome Justin St Just, had just run the moistness of his sensuous tongue over her parted lips...