Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (20 page)

The play was a comedy entitled
Esteban and Elizabetta
, with Blanche Hardcastle in the leading role. The actress was an enchanting creature who, Eleanor quickly gathered, made it her characteristic to always dress in white to match her prematurely white hair. Hence her name: the White Dove. She was a tolerable actress, but her greatest gift was a remarkable grace of movement and an abundance of charm and wit that easily crossed the stage lights to the audience. The marquess watched the woman with warm pride.

Eleanor reflected that his wife, when he finally chose one, would face a considerable challenge. Then she remembered Nicholas and his beautiful French whore and sighed. How could any ordinary woman compete?

By Friday, the day scheduled for the family dinner and her husband's return, a number of Eleanor's projects were progressing. She had ordered the furniture for her bedroom and decided on the style for it and her boudoir. She had chosen a light color scheme, to be enriched by new furniture of inlaid amboyna. The new cards had arrived, so if she should have occasion to pay morning calls, she could do so in the correct manner.

Last and most marvelous, after a grueling interview with the formidable Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, she had been promised the entree to Almack's. Lady Christobel had called afterward to emphasize just what a labor of Hercules this had been and to command Eleanor to be sure never to introduce her brother to anyone. Though she couldn't like her aunt by marriage, Eleanor had been as grateful as anyone could desire.

Because of all this, Eleanor was able to greet her husband on his return with cheerful chatter that, she hoped, conveyed the impression that she had hardly noticed his absence at all.

As she poured tea for him, and selected cakes to place by his side, she related her activities. "...and your Aunt Cecily is planning a Venetian breakfast for me next week. For you, too, if you are able to attend."

"Must I?" he asked with a lazy smile. She could tell that her industry pleased him. He had seemed a little tense when he entered but was now relaxed.

"Of course not, if you don't wish to. It is mainly so I can meet the right sort of people."

"I'll try to attend," he promised, but without enthusiasm.

"You do remember the family dinner?" she asked anxiously. He seemed in danger of falling asleep. "I'm sure you would prefer a quiet evening at home, but I hardly feel we can miss it."

He rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, yes, I remember. If not for that I would have delayed my return a few days. The business turned out not to be as simple as I expected." There was a sudden bleakness in his expression that told her this "business" was more serious than she had supposed. And she had half suspected he was off with his mistress.

"I am sure this is foolish, Nicholas," she said out of guilt, "but is there any way I can help you?"

He smiled directly at her and her heart did a little dance. "Thank you, my dear, but no. It is a... commission for a friend which must be tied up soon. The only problem is it will force me to neglect you for a while longer. If you will bear with that kindly, that is all the help I ask."

"Of course. You must not feel constrained by me."

Eleanor hesitated and then decided this was a good time to raise a problem. "Nicholas, I am sorry if this is impertinent, but would it not be wise for you to tell me where you go when you are absent from home? What if there should be a family emergency? I would feel foolish not knowing where to send for you."

She knew when she had scarcely started that it was the wrong thing to say. The humor drained from his face and his eyes moved away to study the landscape on the wall.

When he responded, however, his voice was even. "Of course. You are quite correct. You must forgive me if I sometimes forget. Being a husband is new to me."

His eyes came back to hers, catching her unawares. The expression in them was unreadable but somehow disturbing. She suspected with surprise that he simply did not know what to say next.

They sat looking at one another for a long time.

Suddenly Nicholas shook his head as if coming out of a dream. "Eleanor, my wits are wandering, or it is simple exhaustion. Excuse me, but if I am to glitter for the family vultures I think I should rest for a while."

He rose from his chair in a smooth, fluid movement and came to place a gentle kiss upon her hand. "If you have a gown which will do justice to the pearls, I think you should wear them."

With that he left her. Eleanor stayed, hands resting in her lap, to consider the encounter. As far as her plans went it had gone well, but she could not hide from herself that at the end his spirit had not been easy. Was it her fault or the fault of this tiresome business he had undertaken? During their short acquaintance she had never seen him lose control as he had just then.

She had taken his weariness as that typical of a person who has just traveled all day, but it was not so. That smooth rising from the chair had exposed the fact that he was not physically tired at all. It was a heaviness of the spirit that pressed upon him.

She sighed. She knew he would not welcome her brooding over him. She would have to remove from him even the burden of her concern.

* * *

Jenny and Eleanor worked hard in preparation for the evening. Eleanor knew precisely the image she wanted to create—a handsomeness worthy of him, but with sober, respectable overtones.

The ivory silk dress with the pink embroidery, specified by Madame Augustine as being suitable for the pearls, had just arrived. Eleanor was pleased with it, but when she was dressed she realized the bodice was alarmingly low. For a panicked moment she considered wearing a fichu for modesty, but Madame Augustine would never forgive her.

"Jenny," she whispered. "Do you think this dress is indecent?"

"Lord, no, ma'am," said the girl with shining eyes. "It's wonderful!"

"But it... it almost shows my nipples!"

"But it don't, ma'am," Jenny assured her, twitching the shoulders into line. "It sort of suggests it might, but it don't. It'll make the master's eyes pop, for sure."

"But I want to be respectable tonight," Eleanor complained.

"It is respectable," stated the maid firmly. "It'll just give the men ideas. And that's their problem, ain't it, ma'am?"

Eleanor gave in for the moment. She would see what her husband said. There would always be time to change, but she didn't have another gown suitable for the pearls. She chose a simple coiffure and only a bracelet of carved ivory by way of ornament.

Then, nervously hoping for her husband's approval, for his admiration even, she went to tap on the door of Nicholas's dressing room.

Clintock opened it wide for her to enter, and she saw Nicholas seated before the mirror making the final adjustments to a beautifully arranged cravat, the frills of his shirt impeding his long, skillful fingers.

Then he stood up and turned, lithe and elegant in his formal knee breeches. Eleanor, however, was concentrating on his face. First, she was reassured to see his usual good humor restored. Whatever devils had nagged him before had been exorcised. Second, he showed nothing but appreciation for her gown.

"That must be one of Madame Augustine's works of art," he said with a grin. "Demure with a hint of wickedness, sophisticated but with something fresh and young about it. And it could have been made for the pearls."

He allowed his valet to ease him into a richly embroidered waistcoat and a snug-fitting dark jacket. He then chose a few fobs, a ring, and, carelessly, an enormous diamond pin for the cravat.

"Will I do you justice?" he asked with a grin, striking a pose.

Eleanor couldn't help but laugh in a way she had forgotten, the way children laugh, just for joy. In this mood he was a delight, and she feared, if he were to ask it, she would lay her heart down for him to use as a stepping stone. Oh, it was dangerous, the way this man made her feel.

For a moment, meeting his gleaming, gold-flecked eyes, she felt she had only to reach out and she would have the moon in her hands. In a moment, perhaps in response to what he saw in her face, he faded from brilliance to a friendly courtesy. The opportunity, if such it had been, was gone.

Or almost.

He was still in high spirits. Like children, they hurried down to take out the fabulous necklace, and then spent fifteen minutes arranging it to best advantage. Finally they were satisfied with three loops lying against her skin, glowing like a pale dawn sky. He snapped on the diamond clip that would hold them together at her nape.

Her nerves, already sensitized by the busy working of his fingers against her skin, leaped when his lips played where his fingers had been. In the mirror, she could see him looking down at her shoulders. Surely that was tenderness on his face.

Then he raised his eyes to meet hers and a shadow clouded them.

Eleanor was adrift. She knew nothing of men, of how she was expected to behave even in normal circumstances, never mind this extraordinary marriage. What did he want of her? She remembered the night before he left. Did he expect her to respond as warmly now as she had done then in the heat of the wine? Was she supposed to turn to him?

But whatever had been needed or expected, the moment was gone. He moved away and rang for their cloaks. Soon they were on their way to Lord Stainbridge's mansion.

It was hours before Eleanor had time again for introspection. There were twenty relatives gathered to inspect her, ranging from the twin's grandfather, who clearly terrorized his daughter, Mrs. Stephenson, to a bunch of young cousins, including Mary Stephenson and her brother, Ralph.

Whenever possible Eleanor gravitated to the younger set. They were far less likely to catechize her on her life history. She was aware that Nicholas was observant of her, and she was sure he would rescue her if problems developed, but he had his own hands full in charming the older set and surviving their inquisition into his way of life.

Because she maintained a peripheral awareness of him, however, she observed a strange moment.

Fringe members of the Stainbridge clan had been invited for after dinner, and among these were two young pinks. As they entered the room Nicholas's face froze for the merest second before he picked up a conversation with a great-aunt.

Eleanor waited eagerly to be introduced to the newcomers. They turned out to be Thomas Massey and Reginald Yates, likable enough fribbles but of no obvious significance. She could only assume there was some longstanding grudge between one of them and her husband.

This seemed confirmed when she observed Mr. Yates looking at her with what appeared to be sneering humor. When the young men went off to congratulate Nicholas, however, she could detect nothing out of the ordinary on anyone's part. She knew her husband to be an adept dissimulator, but there could be no reason for the two dandies to hide any ill-feeling.

Her overstretched nerves must be playing tricks on her.

She was, however, to learn more before the evening was over.

Cedric Delaney, a distant cousin of the earl's who had constituted himself family historian, insisted on taking her to see the various family portraits in the house. Eleanor found it most interesting.

The twins' looks seemed to have come almost entirely from their entrancing mother. A bridal portrait showed her sitting beneath a leafy tree and laughing at the antics of a small King Charles spaniel. She looked very like Nicholas in his funning mood. The twins' father, standing un-amused behind his wife, was dark-haired and rather heavy of feature. If there was any resemblance to be found in his sons it was in the earl, in a serious mood.

They came to some Holbein sketches that Cedric said were of particular interest. Unfortunately, the hanging oil lamps did not illuminate the spot, and so he hurried off to find supplementary candles. Eleanor was left alone for a while on the second floor gallery, which worked around three sides of the tall entrance hall. She discovered the hall, which raised the height of the house to a magnificent skylight, carried sound wonderfully. As she waited she clearly heard the butler's quietly voiced instructions to the busy servants, and a few irreverent comments from them as well.

Then, as she was beginning to think she would have to give up on her guide and return below, she heard the voices of Mr. Massey and Mr. Yates.

"God, Pol," drawled Mr. Yates. "Had to escape for a moment. Effort of keepin' a straight face is killin' me, damned if it ain't."

"What's up?"

"It's Nicholas Bloody Delaney and his beautiful bride. Standin' there actin' the perfect husband. Not two days ago I met him with quite another filly at a certain place out near Aldershot! Looked queer as Dick's hatband when I came in. Tipped him the wink, of course. I'll not queer his pitch, but when Lady Christobel started tellin' me he was settlin' down and I ought to do the same... Well, I nearly said, 'Give me the same piece of fancy, and the matter's done!'"

"Lord, yes. You do mean Madame Therese Bellaire, don't you? You mean you've been down to her little country place? I didn't know it was on the go yet. Look here, Yatters, I wish you'd take me there. It's going to be the place!"

"Certainly is, Pol. This was the grand openin'. The fabulous madame has finally arrived, you see. I only got down there because I've been goin' to the town place pretty regularly. They kept saying what a great thing it was goin' to be when she came, and they weren't pullin' whiskers. What a woman! Tell you what, I'll take you to her house tomorrow. Country's only by invitation, don't you know."