Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (14 page)

She immediately changed into a clear green afternoon gown that was accompanied by cream slippers and a fine paisley shawl a full eight feet long. The outfit certainly did wonderful things for her. The color made her skin glow and the cut gave surprising grace to her figure. The fabric was a little fine for so early in the year, and the bodice was a trifle low. She suppressed a desire that the shawl be a little more substantial and told herself she could have the fires built up instead.

With sudden resolution she asked Jenny to pluck her eyebrows. "And do not heed me if I lose courage halfway, Jenny."

It did not hurt very much, and when she saw the effect, Eleanor was delighted. Her brows had always been inclined to grow together in the middle, giving her a severe expression. Now they curved away from a clear center, and her eyes looked larger and brighter.

Bearing in mind that there might be callers soon, Eleanor then went to inspect the drawing room, which she had ordered readied for use. Over-ornate wallpaper and curtains in green and gold would have to go one day soon, but at least the furniture was tolerable. It was all of simple, modern design, elegantly enhanced by cane and reed work. Mrs. Hollygirt told her this was all of her husband's providing.

The housekeeper had obviously supervised a vigorous polishing and done the best she could, but the room had an empty feel. It lacked the ornaments and smaller items that give a room character.

Eleanor turned to the housekeeper. "Are there any pieces anywhere else in the house which could be brought down here, Mrs. Hollygirt?"

After some thought the woman could only suggest that Eleanor look through the attic storeroom, which was full of bits and pieces brought back from her husband's travels.

"Not that I've seen much there as would fit into a Christian household," the housekeeper added with a sniff.

Eleanor however, ventured to this repository of marvels with hope, for she already knew the housekeeper was hopelessly conservative. She wondered why the Hollygirts had served her husband for three years when he could hardly be the most conventional employer. She supposed his long absences made the post attractive.

One advantage of a house under Mrs. Hollygirt's care was that even the storage room was free of dust. Eleanor did not have to fear for the skirt of her new gown as she explored the neatly stacked objects and boxes. It would take hours, she decided, to learn all that was here, so she contented herself with picking out a few accessible pieces from among the strange weapons and barbaric costumes.

Eventually the footman was sent below with two oriental vases, a jade box, a small screen decorated with feathers, and a little silver tree hung with coral fruit in a delicate rainbow of shades.

At the same time she made mental note of a few other pieces that would enhance her bedroom and boudoir when they were redecorated. It was only as she arranged her finds to her satisfaction that she had a qualm about her husband's reaction toward this plundering of his treasure. She shrugged it off. She already had a comfortable lack of fear of him. He might order the objects returned to storage but he would not fly into a rage.

She wondered if she would ever be able to ask him what Desiree had done to cause him to hit her.

Her musings were cut short by Lord Stainbridge's arrival.

Eleanor could not help but feel uncomfortable at the meeting. Lord Stainbridge gave Eleanor a searching look that she resented. He had no right to concern himself over her welfare. She was surprised to detect a slight dissatisfaction in him and could not account for it. Surely he could not be displeased that she seemed happy and comfortable?

What a strange man he was. She would have married him had he wished, even if she had known the truth. She had, after all, agreed to marry Nicholas in those circumstances. The earl had not wanted that, but now he seemed to begrudge his brother her company.

After a brief interval of social conversation he asked where Nicholas was. His lips tightened when he heard he was not at home.

"Scarce a day after the wedding and he abandons you? I must speak to him, Eleanor. He must learn to be more thoughtful." He attempted a tone of light raillery, but it failed. Bitterness was evident.

Eleanor swallowed a sharp response to this unjust complaint. "He had business to attend to, my lord. He promised to return as soon as possible."

"My brother does not concern himself with business," said the earl flatly.

Eleanor stared. Had he even noticed this beautiful house? Was he blind to his brother's qualities?

She was spared the need to respond when Hollygirt announced the simultaneous arrival of the two aunts.

"Lady Christobel Marchant, the Honorable Mrs. Stephenson, Miss Mary Stephenson," intoned the butler before departing to command the tea tray.

Lady Christobel won the first battle by sweeping in ahead of Mrs. Stephenson. She had been Lady Christobel Delaney before her marriage to a mere commoner and was a tall, handsome woman with sunken eyes and a husky voice that, surprisingly, carried through anything. She had been some years older than the twins' father and was, in many ways, the matriarch of the Delaney family.

Mrs. Stephenson was careful not to follow in Lady Christobel's train but to allow a moment or two's grace and make her own entrance. She had been twin sister to Lady Stainbridge. Unfortunately there seemed to be a pattern of contrasting twins in the family, for the late Lady Stainbridge had been noted for her charm and vivacity, whereas Mrs. Stephenson was a dull and rather silly woman. It was said, chiefly by Lady Christobel, that after his marriage the late Lord Stainbridge had increased her portion to get her out of his hair.

She was generally unassertive except in one matter. Upon her sister's death, while Nicholas and Christopher were still boys, she had conceived it her duty to watch over them. Their father had, to their eternal gratitude, foiled this plan but had not managed to totally discourage what she regarded as a sacred trust.

With a wary air, Lord Stainbridge made the introductions and then seated the two ladies so the widest possible expanse of carpet lay between them.

Mrs. Stephenson won the second round by managing to seat herself close to Eleanor. "I am so pleased," she said in a vague, breathy voice, "to hear dear Nicholas has settled down at last, my dear. So wild, so thoughtless. Always a trial to my poor sister, Selina. Though of course she could not be brought to see it. She would indulge him so. Such a devoted mother." She produced a tiny lace-edged handkerchief and dabbed at her dry eyes. "Her death broke all our hearts." She leaned over and whispered, "It was because of it he went abroad, you know."

Lady Christobel, conversing with her nephew, was quite capable of following two conversations at once, even when one was sotto voce. "Nonsense, Cecily. Selina died in '04 when the boys were fourteen. That was four years before my brother passed on and it was his death which caused the boy to go wandering. Very sensible, too. I do not approve of twins staying together for too long. Saps their personalities."

Mrs. Stephenson flushed. "Dearest Selina had a most positive personality."

"So it always seemed," retorted Lady Christobel. "But to be slipping away from a mere chill... The Delaneys have been most unfortunate in their choice of wives."

She cast a basilisk look at her nephew, who paled.

Eleanor expected him to make some response to this tasteless remark but he remained silent, and so she spoke up.

"I believe Lord Stainbridge's wife died in childbed, Lady Christobel. It could happen to any woman."

Mrs. Stephenson gasped at this plain speaking and cast an alarmed look at her daughter. The girl, however, was following the skirmish with bright eyes.

The look was seen by Lady Christobel. "Don't be a prude, Cecily. If the chit don't know some of the dangers ahead of her, it's time she did." Satisfied with this volley, she turned her guns on Eleanor. "I didn't die in childbed, neither did Cecily and neither will you if I am any judge. Juliette Morisby was quite the most beautiful girl I've seen in a dozen seasons, but anyone could see she wasn't made to be a mother. Are you healthy?"

Eleanor blinked and replied that she was, then quickly turned to Aunt Cecily to discuss her daughter's coming season. Conversation again became general and she sighed with relief. What a horrible woman.

She spared a moment to glance at Lord Stainbridge, but he was chatting amiably with his aunt. She could only assume this sort of dispute was a regular occurrence and no longer had power to disturb him.

"Where is the bridegroom?" barked Lady Christobel suddenly. "That boy has no sense of duty whatsoever. I can see you have no control over him, young lady."

Eleanor diplomatically ignored the latter statement and forbore to point out that the aunts had come without invitation. She replied that Nicholas was expected back momentarily. She felt she was fast losing the habit of veracity.

She soon realized truth might have been wiser.

"Then I shall wait," announced Lady Christobel.

Mrs. Stephenson immediately became glued to her seat. Eleanor cast a desperate look toward Lord Stainbridge, but he merely shrugged resignedly. Eleanor could only hope that Nicholas would come home early. Otherwise she feared she would have to serve the ladies dinner and give them beds for the night.

With skillful handling on the part of Eleanor and the earl, polite conversation was maintained for some time. Then a discussion began about the ornaments in the room. The aunts embarked on a politely cutthroat debate as to which parent had contributed artistic appreciation to the two brothers. As numerous relatives in both families were brought in to support the argument the surface decorum began to fragment.

Eleanor was just beginning to fear that the Chinese vases were going to become weapons of war when her husband entered the room. Eleanor had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

He seemed to take in the situation at a glance, but beyond a wink at his cousin Mary he showed no emotion other than contrition, which he properly expressed to Eleanor for having been delayed.

She watched with admiration as he somehow managed to greet his aunts without giving preference to either.

Then, in a master stroke, he stood back to allow his aunts to attack. Neither did so. Neither wished to express an opinion until she could be sure it would not, by some unhappy mischance, coincide with that of her adversary. Nor could either one disparage Nicholas for fear the enemy would see a way to foist the fault onto her family.

Lady Christobel, quickest to realize the impossibility of the situation, rose to her feet. "Well, Nicholas, I would have wished to see more of you, but I have dallied here quite long enough. No doubt you will have more time for your family soon."

She then turned to Eleanor. "It has been a great pleasure to meet you, my dear. I am most pleased that you agreed to marry the boy, though it should all have been done in a less scrambling manner. But I will say no more on that matter, for I know well whose management that must have been." She turned to pepper Nicholas with disapproval.

How, Eleanor wondered, did he manage to look so contrite but innocent?

Of course, the woman couldn't permit all the blame to lie on her nephew, and the artillery swung back. "I do hope you will develop a little resolution, Eleanor," she said sternly. "A good woman has saved many a sinner."

Eleanor stared wildly at Nicholas, but although he was obviously bubbling with laughter, he was maintaining a wonderfully bland expression. It became a little wary when his aunt turned back to him.

"I do hope you will now conduct yourself as a Delaney should, Nicholas. If not for our sake, then for the sake of your wife." With that she swept out like a triumphant ship of the line.

Once the enemy had departed Mrs. Stephenson became her usual vague self. She made only wandering comments before shepherding her giggling daughter away.

The remaining three gave way to the laughter inside them.

Eleanor was the first to recover. "I do beg your pardon! It is so rude to be laughing at your relatives, but I am sure I could have controlled myself if you two hadn't gone off!"

"Don't give it a thought," gasped Nicholas. "One has to laugh in lieu of strangling the pair of them. I'm truly sorry. Was it very bad?"

"Nicholas," said Eleanor, "they were here nearly three hours. Are they always the same?"

Lord Stainbridge answered. "Don't ask him, Eleanor. How should he know? He has successfully avoided them for years. The truth is we keep them apart except for births, marriages, and deaths, but those are precisely the events which give them greatest scope. If they meet in public they're so sweetly polite one could believe them to be bosom bows."

It was not long after this that Lord Stainbridge took his leave. Eleanor searched her husband's face for some evidence of philandering, but what could she expect to see?

Then she saw him glance around and note the items she had brought down to decorate the room, and a new reason for anxiety presented itself. She swallowed nervously.

But all he said was, "You have done wonders with this room, Eleanor. I recognize some of the bits and pieces." He caught sight of her face. "Good heavens, don't look as if I were going to eat you. It is about time this stuff had some air. You have a magpie for a husband, but I never know what to do with my collection when I get it home. Now, tell me what coals the aunts chose to stir this time."