Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (28 page)

She had no illusion that her brother intended to reform in any way. Once let the knot be sealed and the dowry his then Deborah could toss her curls all she wanted. She would know little kindness and none at all if she chose to oppose him. The best she could hope for would be to be ignored, and such a sweet child deserved better than that.

On the way home Eleanor tried to decide a course of action, but her brother's warning came into her mind. She could think of no way in which he could hurt her, and yet she knew he did not make baseless threats. Her life was sufficiently complicated, without her brother turning his malice against her. Unless, she thought with bitter humor, his terrible action was to be the revelation of her husband's infidelity.

In the end she settled on a course that she despised. She wrote an anonymous letter to Mr. Derry at his place of business.

Dear Sir,

You are shortly to give your daughter in marriage to Sir Lionel Chivenham. This "gentleman" is the cruelest hypocrite in London and so deeply entrenched in debauchery that no benign influence will reform him.

If possible, prevent your daughter from marrying him. If you choose not to do this, then tie up her money in such a way that she and you will have some future control over his conduct.

Please believe I write not from jealousy or malice but from a desire to avert the extreme unhappiness which faces your daughter in this union.

During a shopping trip, she left the letter herself at the receiving office, hoping she had shed at least one burden from her life.

She needed some relief. Since their argument Nicholas had treated her with icy punctiliousness on the few occasions when they had met. It was far worse than his impersonal courtesy and her heart was breaking. As the days passed and she heard nothing her anxiety over Deborah returned. She paid another visit to the Derrys.

They were as affable as before. On this occasion Mr. Derry, a tall and dignified man with shrewd eyes, was also present.

Mrs. Derry spoke first. "How kind of you to call again, Mrs. Delaney. Your brother left not fifteen minutes past." That gave Eleanor no hope the matter was over with. "He was so pleased to hear you had called. He admitted that the two of you are not close, but he spoke kindly of you and seemed very fond."

"Believe me," said Eleanor with a smile, "I am quite as fond of him." Then she had to sit and hear all the plans for the wedding and even give advice on some points.

At last she could escape. Mr. Derry made to escort her to her carriage, but as they went he asked for a private word. Eleanor agreed with a sinking heart. As she had expected, he produced her letter and asked for her opinion upon it.

"It seems a sincere missive," she said cautiously.

Mr. Derry was not to be put off like that. "Come, come, Mrs. Delaney. What is that to the point? You know your brother. Is that letter truthful?"

With a sigh Eleanor said, "Yes, sir. I am afraid it is."

"My word." Mr. Derry began to pace the room. "Can you give me more details of his wickedness?"

Eleanor was uncomfortable. "Mr. Derry, my brother is most expensive, and this marriage would be excellent from his point of view. You are asking me to spoil his chances. Also, as you know, people differ in their tastes, even in families. We have never got along. In fact, we dislike one another heartily, though in fairness I must say he has never lacked friends." She finished this wandering and useless speech by saying, "Also, I am afraid of him."

"Mrs. Delaney! You think he would harm you if you speak against him?"

"He told me so."

"My word," he said again and resumed his pacing.

"This letter says he is a hypocrite," he barked at last.

"So he is. He always appears jovial and pleasant even when he is doing the most unpleasant things."

"It also says he is deeply entrenched in debauchery."

Eleanor gave up all resistance. "Mr. Derry, I was forced by circumstances to live in my brother's house for a brief period. I left it to marry. You might truthfully say I fled from it. It was a place of drunken orgies, including all the vices of which I am aware and doubtless many of which I am not. The servants were chosen to be participants in these revels, not for any domestic qualities they might possess. I only kept my virtue by locking my door."

And, she might have added, in the end that did me no good.

She stood up. "There, that is the truth. You must do what you think best, but I ask you not to reveal my part in this to my brother."

The worried-looking man took her hand. "Mrs. Delaney, I can only thank you for your frankness and assure you of my discretion."

Eleanor took a calm leave of the man, but she had little hope that her brother would not perceive her hand in the ruin of his plans. She thought briefly of telling the tale to Nicholas and asking for his help, but as things were between them at the moment it seemed impossible. She would have to wait to see what happened.

When, three days later, she was taking her morning walk and saw her brother coming toward her Eleanor knew immediately there would be trouble. It was virtually unheard of for him to be out of his bed so early in the day and indeed, when he was close, she could see by his red and heavily pouched eyes that he was short of sleep.

"Dear sister, good morning!" He was as usual all affability. She discounted it completely.

"Brother." She nodded and walked on.

He fell into step beside her. "I have sad news for you, Nell. My engagement to Miss Derry has been terminated. And after you had gone to such pains to befriend the family. A quite unexpected kindness on your part."

Eleanor hoped she was not showing how his words affected her. "Am I to assume your betrothed detected your true nature?"

"Deborah? Never. She couldn't perceive a wall before her face. No, it was dear Papa Derry who cut up rough. Had enquiries made. I don't suppose he came inquiring of you, did he, sister dear?"

Eleanor suspected he knew of the time she had spent closeted with Mr. Derry and so she said, "Yes, he did, actually, and I assure you the temptation to tell the whole truth almost overwhelmed me."

"Almost? You never resisted the temptation to tell tales on me in the past."

She faced him resolutely. "You will believe what you wish. Mr. Derry did not get his doubts from me during our talk in his study."

After a moment he said, "Almost I believe you. You were never a good liar, Nell. But it makes little difference. I was depending on this marriage and now I must establish myself by other means. You will be hearing from me."

Eleanor blinked. "You expect me to lend you money?"

"Not unless your pin money runs to thousands. But you will help me to make my fortune, indirectly. Fare thee well, sister."

Dismayed, she watched as he strolled off, swiping at flower heads with his cane. She did not underestimate her brother. He meant mischief. She desperately needed to tell her husband what was going on, to lay the burden in his capable hands. The mere thought, however, of approaching him in his present mood, to tell him of the dealings she had been having with her brother, was enough to make her tremble. He had been angry before. This would surely drive him into a rage.

Chapter 10

The Season of 1814 whirled longer than usual, fueled by the peace celebrations, but Eleanor found it more and more of an effort to enter into it with enthusiasm. She went with Lord Arden to view the celebrations in Hyde Park on August 1st, but the crowds and the noise wore at her nerves. By the time the mock battle was waged on the Serpentine, the explosions proved too much and she asked to be taken home.

On the other hand, time spent at home was time to brood, time to face how infrequently her husband was in the house, day or night.

Her plans to avoid his company had been all too successful. Now that she sought an opportunity to rebuild some kind of understanding there seemed to be an unbridgeable gulf between them. Occasionally she had attempted to span it, but he seemed able to slip out of any situation. She wished Amy were back to provide some kind of company. She wished Nicholas didn't look so tired and worn. She wished she didn't care.

The grand celebrations finally fizzled out and the days slipped by quietly. The Rogues seemed to be aware of her low spirits and attempted to find activities to tempt her. She wondered what they made of their friend's behavior toward her, but that was one subject that was never discussed.

When she lost interest in social events they devised other entertainments, such as picnics and drives into the country. Lord Arden and Lord Middlethorpe, as usual, were her most frequent companions.

The former was always able to raise her spirits with his high spirits and teasing, though she sensed at times that he did not take her situation at all lightly and was turning against Nicholas as a result. That distressed her, but there was nothing to be said that would help.

Her feelings for Lord Middlethorpe ran deeper. She knew that in other circumstances she could have grown very fond of him indeed, but she was careful to keep their relationship within bounds. She needed no more complications in her life.

And, she had to confess, despite his behavior, she was not indifferent to her husband. When he spent what she thought of as his "duty time" with her, always in company, he could still make her heart turn with a smile, a witticism, or just the movements of his body. She suspected that if he were suddenly to turn his charm upon her again she would fall into his arms without cavil. The thought should horrify her, and yet it didn't. She must have no pride at all.

She was always aware of Nicholas if he were nearby. If she knew he was somewhere in the house it would take great willpower not to seek him out, just for a moment spent in his presence. When they were together, though, they behaved so coolly that it hardly seemed worth the effort.

As she was browsing the bookshelves in the study one day, he entered. She started with surprise and broke into speech to cover it. "I'm afraid I've bolted through all my novels, and I'm driven to seek my reading among the heavier matter."

"Very intemperate," he said with his impersonal smile. "Another visit to Hookham's is obviously called for."

Grasping at the chance of his company, she continued the conversation. "I feel I should make the attempt to read something more improving. Do you have a book you would suggest?"

His smile warmed. She noted with a jerk of the heart that it seemed genuine for once. "Improving?" he repeated. "Well, I don't think we run to sermons. Would some philosophical essays do as a substitute?" He ran a hand along a shelf. "Here. Some Letters on the Subject of Conscience."

She took it doubtfully, suppressing a cutting comment that rose to mind. "Would I enjoy it?"

"No," he said with a grin. "It was given me by a friend who's now a don at Oxford. An act of spite, I think."

She replaced the book. "I hope you are not trying to pass that spite onto me," she said lightly, wondering at his sudden friendliness. Her foolish, hopeful nerves were all tremor because of it.

She scrutinized the shelves. "
Experiences in Portugal
. Would I enjoy that?"

"I doubt it. It's amazing how some people can travel through an exciting country and see only the most mundane aspects. You might try this." He took another volume from the crowded shelves. "It's a lively account of the lives of the Bedouin, the wandering tribes of North Africa. I've never been there, so I can't vouch for its accuracy, but it makes a good tale. Or there's
The Voyages of Marco Polo
. One of the most interesting books of travel, even though it was written so many centuries ago."

As she prepared to leave with the two volumes he had given her, he said, "I understand you fainted one day, Eleanor. Are you quite sure you are well?"

She turned back, touched by his concern. "I'm very well, thank you. Who on earth told you? There was no need. It was the merest dizzy spell."

"I think I have the right to know if you are ill, Eleanor. Jenny told me. I usually ask how you are."

She hadn't known this. "Thank you. There's no need for concern, though. I must merely learn to avoid crowds, which is easy enough now London is thinning out."