Читать книгу Regency Surrender: Scandalous Return: Return of Scandal's Son / Saved by Scandal's Heir - Janice Preston, Janice Preston - Страница 23

Chapter Fifteen

Matthew stood in the shadows of King Street, opposite the house where his life had changed for ever. It looked smaller, somehow, and seedier than he remembered. Or was it the enthusiasm of youth that had coloured the place as glamorous and alluring? The sight of excitable young bucks, in twos and threes, swaggering along the street before lifting the knocker and gaining admittance, was profoundly depressing. Nothing changes. Young men...their bravado...seeking thrills...believing themselves up to any and every trick in the book.

If only they knew...

Thud...chest about to explode...king of hearts, fluttering to the floor... Henson, accusing, face dark, fists clenched...thud, thud...stammered denial, hands shaking, mouth sucked dry...faces, in and out of vision, disbelieving, sneering...voice hoarse, trying to be heard...needing to be believed...failing...alone...thud, thud, thud...anger, fury boiling over, challenging Henson...challenge accepted...men turning from him...no one willing to stand as second.

His breath juddered as he hauled it in and he was aware of sweat coating his brow and upper lip. He reached for his handkerchief, and passed it over his face. So real. He had sworn never to return. Why had he come?

A pair of large, tawny eyes materialised in his mind’s eye. He had handed Eleanor his address as he took his leave of her and, for the first time in days, her outer shell of bravado had cracked. He had glimpsed the frightened girl inside, belying her rejection of his help. He had itched to take her in his arms and soothe away her fears. He would never have that right, but she needed protection and he could not deny that urge deep in his gut, no matter how hard he tried. He must find out who was trying to kill her. It was his duty to keep her safe, even if it meant facing his worst fear.

When he’d arrived from India, nigh on a month ago now, he would have cut his eyes out rather than start probing this old sore. Henson had been stabbed and robbed that same night, before their duel, snatching away Matthew’s chance to fight for his honour and to clear his name.

Dishonourable conduct. He could not allow his scandal to taint Eleanor by association, which it would surely do once his true identity became known. He must—somehow—prove his innocence. A lead weight settled in the pit of his stomach as he pictured Eleanor’s growing trust of him turn to scorn when she discovered the truth of his exile to India.

He would gain nothing by going inside the house opposite. All these hells were crooked—in favour of the house, of course—but it was not the house that had falsely accused him of cheating all those years ago, nor the house that had believed him responsible for attacking Henson shortly afterwards. The old resentment curdled his stomach. His own father. His own family. They had believed him capable of both charges. They had washed their hands of him. And now, if he was to protect Eleanor, he would—inevitably—be recognised. Remembered. Accused all over again.

Henson.

Where to begin to look? Matthew ran through the names of the men round the table that night—names branded in his memory.

Henson, both Alastairs—Lady Rothley’s sons, Silverdale, Hartlebury, Perivale.

He would have to hope some of them were in London for the Season. The older of the two Alastairs, Lucas—now the Marquis of Rothley—was not in town. That was no loss; he and Henson had been thick as thieves. But the younger brother, Hugo...he might be a good place to start.

He must prove his innocence. Deep in his gut, he believed others around that table must know the accusation to be false. They just hadn’t spoken up against Henson—older, worldly-wise, a man the young bucks admired and wished to emulate. Maybe now, as more mature and, hopefully, responsible adults, they would take the opportunity to clear their consciences.

Matthew turned abruptly on his heel and strode away.

* * *

Three days after their arrival in town, Pacey opened the front door for Eleanor and Matthew was on the doorstep. Rendered temporarily speechless, she was grateful Aunt Lucy took charge.

‘Mr Thomas! Why, what a pleasant surprise. How do you do?’

Matthew removed his hat and bowed, his blond hair glinting in the early afternoon sunlight.

‘Good afternoon, Lady Rothley.’ He bowed and then his blue gaze rested on Eleanor’s face and her heart kicked into a gallop. ‘Your servant, Lady Ashby. I am very well, thank you. Have I called at an inconvenient time?’

‘Yes,’ Eleanor said. ‘We are—’

‘No,’ Aunt Lucy said. ‘Your timing is perfect. We are going to call on Eleanor’s cousin, James. Would you care to accompany us?’

‘Aunt! I don’t think... I beg your pardon, Mr Thomas, but—’

‘I should be honoured,’ Matthew said. ‘Are you planning to walk?’

‘Yes,’ Aunt Lucy said. ‘It is not very far, but it will be pleasant to have a gentleman’s arm to lean on. Come, Ellie. Peter and William can still accompany us.’

Eleanor straightened her bonnet and sailed past Matthew on to the pavement. She could think of nothing worse than Matthew being present when she and James had their first meeting. Her irritation that James had not even had the courtesy to call on her in the three days since her arrival was bound to reveal itself and she was loath to give Matthew another reason to think ill of her cousin.

Eleanor winced inwardly at the spectacle they must present: it was bad enough having two burly footmen dogging her footsteps wherever they went but, now, to be seen in the company of... Eleanor looked beyond Aunt Lucy to Mr Thomas, strolling nonchalantly along the pavement, cane swinging. A cane? His blue superfine coat was well tailored, his tall hat set at a jaunty angle and—although he still presented a rugged and slightly dangerous appearance—no one would doubt him a gentleman. Mayhap he was wealthier than she had assumed. But he was still a merchant.

‘...and we have spent much of our time shopping and with dressmakers,’ Aunt Lucy was saying. ‘The fire at Ashby destroyed much of Eleanor’s clothing, of course, and it is a long time since I came to London. My dresses are sadly outmoded, I fear.’

Eleanor smiled to herself, recalling their argument over Aunt Lucy’s need for some new gowns. Suspecting her aunt’s funds were limited, Eleanor had refused to give way and eventually Aunt Lucy had conceded that Eleanor might treat her to a couple of new evening gowns. After all, Eleanor had argued, you are only in London on my behalf. It is right and fair that I should bear your expenses. Pride satisfied, Aunt Lucy had then thrown herself with enthusiasm into their shopping expeditions.

‘What had your cousin to say about the carriage accident and the attack on that girl?’ Matthew asked as they turned into Hill Street, where James and Ruth lived.

Trust him to settle upon the one topic she had hoped would not arise. Anger at James for not visiting her battled against her anxiety at seeing him again.

‘We have not yet spoken,’ she replied.

‘Very discourteous of him,’ Aunt Lucy said. ‘Both Eleanor and I are disappointed by his neglect of his familial duty. It’s been three days since our arrival and not even a note from him to enquire if the house is satisfactory.’

‘I am sure he has good reason, Aunt.’ Why she felt obliged to defend James, she did not know, when in reality she thought his conduct indefensible. She glanced behind, reassured by the stoical presence of William and one of the new footmen, Peter.

‘No doubt his guilty conscience,’ Matthew said.

Eleanor glared at him. ‘Mayhap you should not come inside with us, if you are determined to stir the coals. James is hardly likely to attack me in his own house. Even if he is guilty.’

‘Please do not desert us now, Mr Thomas. I feel so much safer with you here. I begged Ellie not to call upon James unannounced like this, but she would not listen to me.’

‘Why did you not just send him a note and ask him to call on you?’ Matthew said. ‘Then you would meet him on your territory.’

‘I cannot sit at home on tenterhooks waiting and wondering when he might appear. Surely that is understandable?’

‘I understand you are impatient, Eleanor. Just like your mama.’

Eleanor stiffened. Just like her mama. That was exactly what no one must think any more. Apprehension had churned her stomach on and off all day, for tonight marked the beginning of her assault on society, at the Barringtons’ ball. Aunt Lucy had been busy leaving cards with her old acquaintances and the invitations had started to trickle in.

Their new gowns had been delivered that morning and Eleanor was both looking forward to and dreading the moment she must enter the Barringtons’ house and find all those eyes upon her. This time, however, she would not allow the whispers and innuendoes to overset her. She would hold her head high and prove she was not like her mother. At least visiting James gave her something else to worry about.

Aunt Lucy grabbed Eleanor’s hand. ‘I am sorry, Ellie. I don’t know why I said that. I dare say I am nervous at the thought of facing James and what to say to him. I know you are nothing like my silly, selfish sister.’ She halted outside a tall, narrow house. ‘Look, isn’t this James’s house?’

‘Yes,’ Eleanor said, her stomach beginning to churn. ‘This is it.’

She inhaled deeply to settle her nerves as Matthew rapped on the door.

‘Mr Thomas, I know I do not have to say this, but please do not say anything to provoke James.’

‘Me? Provoke?’ Matthew’s brows shot up.

Eleanor laughed. ‘Of course, you would never dream of such behaviour, would you?’

For a long time there was no sound from within but, just as Matthew lifted the brass knocker to rap again, the door opened.

Eleanor stepped forward. ‘Be so good as to inform Mr Weare that his cousin, Lady Ashby, is here and begs a few moments of his time.’

The footman stared at her with a doubtful expression and then stood aside. ‘Good afternoon, Lady Ashby. I shall inform the master you are here. If you would care to follow me?’

They entered a dim hallway that, despite the good address and smart external appearance of the house, showed signs of wear and neglect. The house smelled in need of a good dose of fresh air, to blast away the stale cooking odours. The footman led them into a small reception room—equally musty and shabby, with heavy, dusty-looking dark green curtains framing the dirty glass of the window. Eleanor stripped off her gloves to await her cousin, trying to conceal her increasing unease.

Within a few short minutes, the door flew open and James appeared. Eleanor went to him, her hands held out in greeting, smiling, genuinely pleased to see him again. One look into those clear grey eyes banished many of her doubts. This was James—her beloved cousin, her childhood playmate.

‘James, my dearest cousin, it has been much, much too long. Do please forgive us for calling unannounced, but I could not wait to see you. I do hope we are not putting you out?’ She looked him up and down, then added, teasingly, ‘You look very well, Cousin, but it seems you might have gained one or two pounds since last I saw you. You remember my aunt, Lady Rothley, do you not?’

‘Indeed I do,’ James responded, with a brief bow in Aunt Lucy’s direction. ‘How do you do, Lady Rothley?’

‘And this is Mr Thomas.’ Eleanor sent Matthew a warning look, which he returned with an innocent lift of his brows. How should she explain his presence? ‘He kindly escorted us here.’

‘In addition to the two footmen loitering in my hall?’ James asked, but nevertheless shook Matthew’s hand. ‘You are looking very well, Eleanor,’ he continued, ‘but you should have informed me of your arrival. I would have called upon you.’

Eleanor frowned, puzzled by his manner. As James entered the room his surprise had been palpable, but there had been no sign of pleasure, and his greeting—although polite—held no warmth. Neither had he reassured her that they were welcome. Indeed, his words held more of a scold than a greeting. There was something about his manner—an edginess—she could not understand. Her doubts began to stir again.

Surely Matthew can’t be right about James? No! I will not believe it.

Her stomach started to churn and she clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms. ‘You must have been aware we were to arrive on Saturday.’ She squared her shoulders, steeling herself to keep her voice steady. ‘It was you, after all, who made the arrangements for the journey. For which, by the by, I thank you.’

James frowned. ‘I am sorry, Eleanor. I left the arrangements to my man and I seem to have lost track of the days somewhat.’

It is up to me to bridge this divide between us.

‘Well, never mind now. It is not so very far to come. Oh, it is so very good to see you again, James.’ Eleanor determinedly quashed her doubts as she clasped his hands again. ‘We have become virtual strangers since you left Ashby. I do so wish it could be otherwise.’

James’s face darkened at the mention of the Manor. ‘There is nothing for me there, Eleanor, as you very well know. We are better off in town.’

Again, an underlying wariness. ‘Is there anything amiss, James? You do not seem completely happy to see us and you have not even invited us to take a seat. Have we called at an inconvenient time?’

He had the grace to look ashamed, casting a fleeting glance at the door as he said, ‘I’m sorry. I’m afraid I have an appointment in half an hour, one I cannot cancel. May I arrange to call upon you tomorrow instead?’

The door opened and Ruth—a slight woman with wispy, fair hair—entered the room. On seeing Eleanor, she stopped abruptly, her pale face set in its customary peeved expression.

‘You did not tell me we were expecting visitors, James,’ she said.

‘I am sorry, my dear.’ He hurried to her side, placing one hand under her elbow. ‘Come and say hello to Cousin Eleanor. Her aunt Lady Rothley is here, too. And this is Mr Thomas. I was just explaining to Eleanor about our appointment.’

‘I am sure they can have no interest in that,’ Ruth said, as James urged her forward.

Reflecting that uncivil behaviour in another did not mean one should forget one’s own manners, Eleanor smiled at Ruth, extending her hand.

‘Cousin Ruth, how do you do? I hope we find you in good health?’

Ruth touched Eleanor’s hand fleetingly. ‘I am well enough, thank you.’

She dropped a brief curtsy to Aunt Lucy, ‘Lady Rothley,’ and nodded unsmilingly at Matthew, ‘Mr Thomas.’ After a brief pause, she added, ‘I am sorry, Cousin Eleanor, but we must leave now if we are not to miss our appointment. I hope you will forgive us.’

Aunt Lucy caught Eleanor’s eye and raised an elegant brow.

‘There is no need to apologise, Ruth,’ Eleanor said. ‘We took a chance in calling upon you uninvited and I understand you cannot tarry if you have an appointment. I hope you will both call upon us soon so we can have a proper catch up with all the news.’

Ruth smiled again and inclined her head. ‘We shall bid you goodbye, then.’ She tugged her arm free from James’s grip and moved to stand by the open door, leaving the visitors no choice but to leave.