Читать книгу The Complete Regency Surrender Collection - Энни Берроуз, Louise Allen - Страница 135

Chapter Twenty-Two

‘This,’ said Aunt Lucy, as they wound their way up the magnificent staircase at Beauchamp House in Grosvenor Square, ‘is the ball of the Season. Everyone who is anyone is invited, and no one—unless they are on their deathbed—refuses.’

‘It was good of the duke to send us an invitation,’ Eleanor said, as they waited their turn to be greeted by their host—the widowed Duke of Cheriton—and his family.

‘It was indeed. Although he could hardly hold the ball of the Season without the Catch of the Season gracing his ballroom with her presence, could he?’ Aunt Lucy took great delight in teasing Eleanor about her newly minted title.

Eleanor was saved from replying by the duke himself.

‘Indeed I could not,’ he said, his deep voice warm with amusement. ‘And grace my ballroom you most certainly will.’ His silvery-grey gaze skimmed Eleanor in her blue-silk gown, his appreciation clear. He bowed. ‘You are both very welcome.’ His expression sobered and he leaned towards Eleanor, lowering his voice. ‘I have doubled the footmen on duty, Lady Ashby, so you need not fear for your safety in this house.’

‘I...’ Words failed Eleanor. How did he know?

‘And if there is anything I can do to help, you have only to ask,’ he added. ‘Now, please allow me to introduce my son, Avon—’ the youthful Lord Avon was the spitting image of the duke as he bowed elegantly ‘—my sister, Cecily, and my brother, Vernon.’

Lady Cecily and Lord Vernon—both unwed, as Aunt Lucy had informed Eleanor in the carriage on their way to the ball—smiled as they greeted Eleanor. They were very alike, with auburn hair and green eyes, in contrast to the duke’s dark colouring.

‘Most of our guests have arrived by now, Leo, so you won’t miss me from the line-up,’ Lord Vernon drawled, eyeing Eleanor with as much appreciation as his brother. He stepped forward and crooked his arm. ‘Might I escort you into the ballroom, Lady Ashby?’

‘Why...yes. Thank you, my lord.’

Eleanor shot a look at Aunt Lucy, who merely raised her brows in response. Lord Vernon Beauchamp’s caution in never allowing his name to be linked to any woman was common knowledge, as was his determination never to marry. Was he, like the duke, privy to her personal business?

As they descended the short flight of steps into the glittering ballroom Eleanor frowned as she noticed a seemingly casual, but consistent, movement of the people nearest to her. What was going on? A distinct area of clear space materialised at the foot of the steps. Stationed—really, there was no other word for it—around the perimeter of the clearing were five tall, broad-shouldered gentlemen whom she recognised as some of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. Not one of those gentlemen had formed part of her court since her arrival in London—they were the older bachelors, the most pursued and, from Eleanor’s observation, the most determined to avoid matrimony. She had danced with some of them, but it was clear none were on the lookout for a wife. They had indulged in a little light flirtation with her—as was to be expected from men of their ilk—but none had subsequently called upon her, or sent her flowers.

So why were they now so focused on her? For focused they were. Even as their gazes ceaselessly scanned the other guests, she could feel their attention.

‘What,’ she whispered to Lord Vernon, ‘is going on?’

Vernon glanced down at her, eyes crinkling, as he led her deeper into the ballroom. The other men formed a rough circle around them, keeping the other guests at bay.

‘We take care of our own. Ah, here comes Damerel. I shall leave you in his capable hands.’

He bowed and sauntered over to speak to another of Eleanor’s self-appointed guardians.

‘Well! Really!’ Eleanor hissed to Aunt Lucy. ‘What on earth do they think they are doing? And who, I should like to know, told them about me? I knew we shouldn’t have told Sir Horace what has been happening.’

‘Ellie, please do not throw such accusations around without good reason,’ Aunt Lucy said. ‘Why, it could have been...well, it might have been the servants. You know how they gossip between the households. Or Mr Damerel, even. Why do you not ask him?’

‘Ask me what?’ Matthew said, as he reached Eleanor’s side. ‘Good evening, ladies. May I say how very charming you both look this evening?’

His eyes lingered on Eleanor’s décolletage, igniting sparks that flickered along her veins, heating her skin. She curled her fingers against the desire to tug her neckline higher.

‘Why, I appear to be the centre of attention of some of the most powerful gentlemen in the ton,’ she said. ‘Please tell me you have not told them of my...my predicament.’

‘Of course I have not. I...oh! Deuce take it! Stephen?’

Stephen Damerel stood chatting with Lord Derham, who also formed one of Eleanor’s ‘guards’, as she had come to think of them. At the sound of his name, Stephen strolled over to Matthew and Eleanor.

‘Matthew?’ He raised an elegant brow.

‘You told your brother?’ Eleanor hissed. ‘What made you think it would be acceptable to me for anyone to know my business? And now...look!’ In her agitation, she swept her arm aloft, indicating the surrounding gentlemen. ‘The very last thing I wish is to be the centre of attention like this.’

She glared at Matthew, whose jaw firmed. ‘I told Stephen because he was full of conjectures as to why I appeared so interested in you and I needed to nip them in the bud.’

Of course, it would never do for anyone to presume he was interested in her as a woman, would it? She could quite see how embarrassing that would be for him.

‘And besides...’ he lowered his voice and dipped his mouth close to her ear ‘...how did imagine you could fail to be the centre of attention in that dress?’

His breath tickled her neck and his scent surrounded her, sending her senses reeling. She stepped away, intent on clearing her head, and looked accusingly at Stephen Damerel.

‘You are in danger. You need protection,’ he stated unrepentantly. ‘I only told a few of my most trusted friends—it is not common knowledge.’

‘What do you imagine could possibly happen to me in the duke’s ballroom?’

Stephen shrugged. ‘They will be discreet—you need not worry. Look, they are mingling now. They only wanted to ensure your safety until Matthew was here to look after you. They will still keep an eye out, but from a distance. No one will know. If I am honest—’ a charming smile lit his face ‘—we are delighted to be of service. It makes a change to have a purpose to these gatherings.’ He bowed and wandered away.

‘You will not persuade them otherwise, you know,’ Matthew said. ‘They see it as their duty to protect a lady in need.’

‘I know. Which is why I wished to keep this whole débâcle out of the public eye,’ Eleanor said.

‘Admit that you will feel more secure, knowing there are several pairs of eyes watching over you instead of just mine,’ Matthew said. ‘You’ve been feeling vulnerable ever since we arrived in London, I know you have. You wouldn’t have asked me about a pistol if you weren’t scared.’

‘A pistol?’ Sir Horace Todmorden had joined them. ‘What is this?’

‘Hush,’ Eleanor said, glancing at Aunt Lucy whose attention, thankfully, had been claimed by old Lady Ely. ‘I asked Mr Damerel to help me purchase a small pistol. For protection.’

‘Oh, my dear lady, no. I really cannot condone...what? A young lady such as yourself with a firearm? No, no, no. It is far too dangerous. Why, what if the rogue should disarm you? Where would you be then?’

‘No worse off than if I had no weapon,’ Eleanor said. ‘At least if I buy one, I will sleep better at night. There are no tonnish gentlemen around at that time to watch over me,’ she added, with an innocent look at Matthew.

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head at her as Sir Horace barked a laugh.

‘You’ve got your hands full there, my lad,’ he announced, slapping Matthew on the back.

Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat as her cheeks burned. Were their names already being linked? She must take care not to gain a reputation for being fast if Emily Cowper was to succeed in adding her name to the list for Almack’s. She raised her fan and, under cover of cooling her face, glanced around the ballroom. Nobody was paying them attention. Her breathing eased.

‘Sir Horace,’ she said, ‘I think you may be suffering under a misapprehension. I know I may speak freely, with you being such a particular friend of my aunt’s. Mr Damerel is just a friend who is kindly helping me through this difficult time. That is all. There is no romantic intention on either side, I assure you.’

‘None,’ Matthew confirmed. ‘I am a merchant who works for his living and, once we unmask the culprit, I shall return to my own life. I should hate for any untoward rumours to circulate. There is Lady Ashby’s reputation to consider.’

‘Of course. My profound apologies, dear lady. Damerel, pray forgive me. I did not mean to imply...oh, dear me, no... I know you only...but your aunt did express a hope...’

The poor man was mortified. Eleanor smiled at him. ‘There is no harm done. I am persuaded you understand the situation now. Let us forget all about it.’

Sir Horace, still beetroot-red, bowed. ‘You are most gracious. Now, if you will excuse me...?’ He left them to join Aunt Lucy and Lady Ely.

What had Aunt Lucy been saying? For that matter, what did she think? Was she harbouring romantic notions about Eleanor and Matthew? Eleanor’s heart fluttered against her ribs. Until yesterday, any future had seemed impossible but...now...might there be hope? They were equals by birth. Might there, possibly, be a chance they could...?

Her thoughts faltered. This was foolish thinking. He was a third son and in trade. Her hopes of living down her mother’s scandal would be lost for ever. Besides, there was his pride to consider. I could never accept a woman who outranks me and has tenfold my wealth.

No, we can only ever be friends.

‘Eleanor?’

Her name caught her whirling thoughts. ‘Sorry. Did you say something?’

Matthew was watching her, a frown creasing his brow. ‘I was saying, on the subject of your protection, I felt I should warn you that your cousin and his wife are present tonight.’

The news set her stomach roiling. She had not seen James since he had slammed from her house in a temper after realising he was under suspicion. What would he say? How would he react? Here was another reason to regret that others were aware she was in danger for, surely, they could not help but suspect James, the same as both Matthew and Aunt Lucy.

Eleanor licked at suddenly dry lips and Matthew signalled to a passing waiter for a glass of wine. She sipped at it gratefully. ‘Thank you for the warning.’

‘About that pistol,’ Matthew said.

Eleanor raised a brow, encouraged that he had broached the subject voluntarily.

‘You need a lady’s muff pistol. That will be small enough to carry in a reticule or, as the name implies, conceal in a muff. There is an excellent gunmaker on Shoemaker’s Row, in Blackfriars. Richard Fenton. I shall buy you one tomorrow and teach you how to shoot.’

‘I understood the gentlemen of the ton always patronise Manton’s?’

‘Ah, but you forget. I am no gentleman of the ton. My associates frequent different haunts.’

‘Oh!’ Eleanor pictured a seedy workshop in a dark alley. ‘I am not sure...would it not be safer...? I mean, I hope he is reputable.’

Matthew laughed. ‘Of course he is reputable. What do you take me for? He is simply not quite as fashionable as Manton or his brother.’

‘I see.’ Eleanor fidgeted with her fan. ‘It was my intention to choose my own pistol.’

‘Trust me,’ Matthew said. ‘I shall find you the perfect pistol. A gunmaker’s shop is no place for a lady.’