NOT JUST A WALLFLOWER (16 page)

‘I remind you once again that there are ladies present!’ Justin held on to his own temper with difficulty, inwardly wishing to do nothing more than to punch Litchfield on his pugnacious jaw, an action as unacceptable, in front of the ladies, as was the other man’s swearing.

Litchfield snorted. ‘I am sure they are all well aware of what an interfering bastard you are—’

‘You, sir, will remove yourself, and your foul tongue, from my hallway immediately!’ The dowager duchess, obviously having heard more than enough, now stood up to glare imperiously at their uninvited visitor.

Litchfield gave her a sneer. ‘You all think yourselves so damned superior—’

‘Perhaps that is because they are superior?’ Eleanor interjected. ‘Certainly to you. In every way.’

Justin turned slowly to look at her, his chest swelling with pride as she stared at Litchfield down the length of her tiny freckle-covered nose.

Her chin was tilted at a determined angle as she stepped forwards. ‘It is entirely unacceptable for you to burst in here, uninvited, and then insult the dowager and her family.’

‘Don’t get hoity-toity with me, missy, when I know your own mother to have been no better than a who—’

‘That is quite enough, Litchfield!’ a third male voice thundered across the entrance hall.

Ellie’s startled glance moved past Lord Litchfield to see the Earl of Richmond moving swiftly across the hallway, his evening cloak billowing out behind him, his handsome face dark with anger.

‘You will excuse my interruption, ladies.’ He gave them an abrupt bow before turning his attention back to Dryden Litchfield. ‘We will take this conversation elsewhere,’ he ground out.

‘And why would I do that?’ the other man challenged insolently.

The earl narrowed hazel-coloured eyes. ‘Because if you do not do as I suggest, then I will have no choice but to have you arrested forthwith.’

‘Arrested?’ Litchfield scorned. ‘For what, pray?’

‘I believe there are any number of charges which might be brought against you.’

‘By whom? You?’ he sneered.

‘If necessary, yes,’ the earl bit out grimly.

Litchfield gave a contemptuous shake of his head. ‘I believe all your years of being married to a madwoman must have addled your own brain, Richmond—’ His words came to an abrupt halt as the earl’s fist landed squarely on his jaw, his eyes rolling back in his head even as he toppled backwards.

Stanhope, in a position to catch him as he fell, instead stepped aside and allowed the other man to drop to the marble floor of the grand entrance hall, his top lip turned back contemptuously. ‘Shall I have one of the footmen assist me in ridding us of this...person, your Grace?’ He looked enquiringly at a grim-faced Justin.

‘Yes—’

‘No,’ Richmond put in firmly before turning to bow to all the St Just family. ‘I apologise for my impertinence.’ He looked at the duke, his expression stern. ‘But information has come into my keeping this evening which I believe dictates we must settle this matter with Litchfield once and for all right now, Royston.’

Ellie was still bewildered by Lord Litchfield’s insulting remark about her mother. Shocked that this obnoxious man should have even known the sweet and gentle Muriel! Nor did she completely understand his comment concerning the Earl of Richmond’s deceased countess, although there was no mistaking his intended insult—and the earl’s swift retribution for it!

The duke scowled at the unconscious man. ‘Have him carried to the library, Stanhope.’

‘Justin, would it not be better if we were to all hear what the earl has to say?’ the dowager asked, quite pointedly, it seemed to Ellie.

The duke met his grandmother’s gaze, a silent message seeming to pass between the two of them before he turned back to the earl. ‘Richmond?’ he said finally. ‘My grandmother, at least, is already conversant with...some of the events of the past.’

The earl winced. ‘The truth of that is...not as we thought it might be, Royston.’ He glanced uncomfortably at Ellie as he spoke.

Which only served to further increase her alarm, following so quickly on the heels of Lord Litchfield’s earlier remark about her mother. ‘Justin, what’s going on?’

* * *

Justin could tell Eleanor was deeply disturbed by recent events.

He was also troubled by Richmond’s implication that Litchfield was not Eleanor’s father, after all.

For if not Litchfield, then who...?

Surely not someone Muriel Rosewood had met after returning from India; the timing of Eleanor’s birth was all wrong for that to be the case.

Then perhaps some other gentleman Muriel had been close to in India?

Chapter Seventeen

‘Y
ou will ask chef to delay dinner for half an hour,’ Rachel St Just instructed Stanhope once the butler and a footman had deposited Litchfield on the rug in front of the unlit fireplace, the dowager having refused to allow him to soil any of the Georgian furniture with his less-than-clean appearance. ‘After which, you may come back and remove him from our presence,’ she added with a disdainful curl of her top lip.

Justin had never admired his mother more than he did at that moment, the truths she had told him yesterday at last allowing him to see her for the redoubtable woman that she was, rather than the mother he had believed to have abandoned him for so many years.

Richmond, he noted abstractly, was also regarding her with similar admiration.

‘Justin...?’

He drew his breath in sharply, knowing he had been avoiding looking at Eleanor for the past few minutes as he saw to the removal of Litchfield, knowing he could delay no longer. A lump formed in his throat as he turned to see that she looked more lost and vulnerable than ever.

He stepped forwards with the intention of taking her in his arms.

‘Lord Anderson,’ the dowager made what was undoubtedly a timely interruption at the same time as she shot Justin a warning glance, ‘would you care to tell us what you meant when you threatened to have this obnoxious creature arrested?’

‘I fear the reasons for that are not for the delicate ears of ladies.’ The earl’s voice contained an edge of restrained anger. ‘Suffice it to say, the man is completely beyond redemption.’

‘What did he mean by his remark about my mother?’ Eleanor asked.

‘Royston!’ the dowager protested as Justin moved determinedly to Eleanor’s side.

He chose to ignore that second warning and instead placed an arm protectively about her waist. ‘I believe it would be beneficial if you were to sit down,’ he suggested kindly.

Ellie was stunned by the compassion and gentleness of his expression as he guided her to an armchair, both of them emotions she was unaccustomed to seeing on the face of the man she loved. There had been concern for his grandmother’s health, yes. Also that inborn arrogance that was so much a part of him. Passion and desire, most certainly. But she had never seen the endearing combination of more tender emotions in him before now.

‘You are keeping something from me,’ she spoke with certainty as she refused to sit down.

He straightened tensely, a shutter falling over those deep-blue eyes. ‘Eleanor—’

‘Royston is not the one responsible for keeping something from you,’ the Earl of Richmond interrupted firmly.

‘Then who is?’ she wanted to know.

‘I am.’ The earl looked uncharacteristically nervous as he crossed the room to take one of Ellie’s hands in his both of his. ‘And it is my sincerest wish—’

‘What the hell are you doing, Richmond?’ Justin exploded, immediately filled with a possessive fury that the handsome man was touching her so familiarly. He still wasn’t sure Richmond didn’t have a
tendre
for her.

‘Justin, please...!’ His mother sounded distraught at his aggression.

His glittering blue gaze remained fixed on Bryan Anderson, his jaw clenched. ‘Take your hands off her!’

Ellie blanched. ‘I do not believe Lord Anderson means to give offence, Justin,’ she murmured.

‘He is offending me by touching you!’ Justin continued to glower at the older man. ‘I told you to let her go!’

‘Really, Justin, do try to remember the earl is a guest in our home,’ his mother reproved. ‘Your own invited guest, in fact.’

Lord Anderson gave Ellie’s fingers a reassuring squeeze before releasing her to turn and bow to the two St Just ladies. ‘Do not be alarmed, ladies. As Eleanor’s guardian, Royston’s objection to what he thinks is my familiarity with Miss Rosewood is perfectly in order.’

‘I don’t just think anything—you
were
damned familiar!’ the duke bit out tautly.

Ellie reached out to place a hand lightly on his tense forearm, unsure why he was reacting so strongly. ‘Please allow Lord Anderson to continue.’

Justin drew in a deep controlling breath, before nodding in reluctant acquiescence. ‘Just keep your hands to yourself,’ he warned the earl.

At any other time it would have been thrilling for Ellie to imagine that Justin’s behaviour might mean that he truly cared for her, that he actually disliked seeing another man’s hands upon her. Except she already knew that he did not, that he had stated quite clearly, on several occasions, that he would never fall in love with any woman. His protectiveness towards her now was, as Lord Anderson had already stated, merely part of his role as her guardian. ‘Lord Anderson?’ she asked.

‘It is my sincere wish that you will try to understand and forgive what I am about to tell you, El—Miss Rosewood,’ he swiftly amended as Justin gave a low, warning growl. ‘To believe me when I say that if I had known at the time, I would have behaved otherwise—’ He broke off, obviously finding this difficult. ‘There is no easy way to say this. No way that I can soften the blow for you—’

‘Then why say it at all?’ Justin said darkly. ‘Surely there is no need, when you have already stated that Litchfield was not the one responsible?’

‘He is not.’ Richmond’s face appeared very pale against his white shock of hair and black evening clothes. His gaze returned to Eleanor. ‘May I first say how like your mother you are, my dear.’

She blinked. ‘You knew my mother?’

He nodded. ‘Many years ago, in India.’

Her throat moved as she swallowed before speaking. ‘Then you must have known my father, too?’

‘I was Henry Rosewood’s commanding officer.’ Richmond told her. ‘He was a well-liked and heroic officer.’

A tinge of pleased colour warmed Eleanor’s cheeks. ‘I never knew him, and—my mother talked of him so rarely.’

‘Perhaps because it was too painful for her to do so,’ the earl suggested gruffly.

‘Perhaps.’ Eleanor smiled sadly.

‘The likeness between you and your mother is—startling. I had no difficulty in instantly recognising you as Muriel’s daughter when I first saw you the evening of the Royston Ball,’ Richmond continued emotionally. ‘A fact I noted to the duke shortly afterwards.’

‘He did not mention you had done so.’ Eleanor gave Justin a brief puzzled glance.

‘Perhaps because I did not see it as being of particular importance at the time.’ He shrugged.

‘But it is now?’

Justin had admired Eleanor for her intelligence more than once, but at this moment he might have wished her a trifle less perceptive.

‘Justin, is it possible this business has something to do with that private matter I requested you look into?’ his grandmother asked sharply.

God save him, he was surrounded by intelligent women! ‘Yes,’ he sighed.

The dowager looked down in horror at the man still prostrate upon her Aubusson rug. ‘Surely not...?’

‘Richmond seems to think not, no,’ Justin confirmed drily.

‘That is something, at least!’ His grandmother raised a relieved hand to her ample bosom.

Justin agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment. Although he could not help questioning Richmond’s certainty on the matter.

Ellie looked dazed, having no idea what the dowager was referring to. But then, most of this past few minutes’ conversation was a complete mystery to her. ‘I still fail to see why Lord Litchfield forced his way in here uninvited this evening. What on earth was the matter?’

Justin’s mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘He obviously took severe exception to learning I had employed someone to investigate into his private affairs.’

She blinked. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’

The dowager stood up. ‘I am afraid I am partly to blame for this, Ellie.’ She ignored her grandson’s glower at her use of the shortened name. ‘I asked Justin to...to look into a certain matter for me and it would seem that this is the unfortunate result.’

Ellie was none the wiser for this explanation. ‘But surely this can have nothing to do with me?’

‘I am afraid it has everything to do with you, my dear.’ The dowager raised her hands in apology. ‘But I had no idea, when I made my request to Justin, that the matter would become so complicated.’

Again, Ellie was no nearer to understanding this conversation than she had been a few minutes ago. ‘And what request did you make of Just—the duke?’

‘I merely—I had realised—’ The dowager appeared uncharacteristically flustered as she quickly crossed the room to take both Ellie’s hands in her own. ‘There is no easy way to say this, my dear, so I shall simply state that Henry Rosewood was killed in battle exactly a year before you were born.’

Ellie literally felt all the colour drain from her cheeks as she absorbed the full import of this statement. Henry Rosewood could not have been her father.

She stumbled slightly as she pulled her hands free of the dowager’s to drop down into the armchair she had earlier refused. Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at Justin accusingly. ‘You knew about this.’ It was a statement, not a question.

A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Yes.’

‘How long have you known?’

‘A week, no more. Eleanor—’

‘No! Don’t!’ She lifted a restraining hand as Justin would have moved to her side, grateful when he halted in his tracks. She needed to—had to somehow try to assimilate exactly what this all meant to her.

Obviously she was Muriel’s daughter. But not Henry’s. And if not Henry’s daughter, then whose—?

Her horrified gaze moved to Litchfield, who still lay unconscious upon the rug in front of the fire. No! She could not bear to be the daughter of such a dreadful man! It would be worse, even, than learning that she was illegitimate—

‘I am your father, Eleanor.’

Ellie was barely aware of the combined gasps of all the St Just family as she raised her stunned gaze to look at Lord Bryan Anderson, the Earl of Richmond.

‘I am your father, Eleanor,’ he repeated as he came down on his haunches beside her, his hazel gaze unwavering upon her face as he took the limpness of her chilled hands in his. ‘I swear to you I did not know it until a few hours ago, but I know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am your father. And you can have no idea how very much it pleases me that I have a daughter,’ he added emotionally, tears glistening in his eyes.

Ellie continued to stare at him for several long breathless seconds, looking for—hoping to see—some likeness to herself in his face. His eyes were a mixture of blue, green and brown, his features both strong and handsome, his hair that premature shock of white, his form both fit and muscled for a man his age.

But she saw nothing, no likeness to herself, to confirm that he was, indeed, her real father.

‘My hair was once as auburn as your own,’ the earl supplied, as if he knew her thoughts. ‘I received a severe shock in my mid-twenties, which turned my hair completely white. You see, my wife of only a few months was involved in a hunting accident, from which she never fully recovered, physically or mentally. We never had a true marriage again.’

‘So you were married when you and my mother—when the two of you—’

‘I was,’ he confirmed grimly.

Darkness started to blur the edges of her vision as the shock of it all suddenly hit her with the force of a blow, that darkness growing bigger, becoming deeper, as she felt herself begin to slip away.

‘Out of my way, Richmond!’ she heard Justin shout, before strong arms encircled her just as the darkness completely engulfed her and she collapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

‘For goodness’ sake, stop your infernal pacing, Justin, and go up to the girl if that is what you wish to do!’

Justin made no effort to cease his ‘infernal pacing’ as he shot his grandmother a narrow-eyed glare. ‘I am the last person Eleanor wishes to see just now.’

‘Nonsense!’ the dowager dismissed briskly. ‘Once she is over the shock she will be gratified to know she is the daughter of an earl—’

‘The illegitimate daughter of an earl!’

‘I am sure Richmond will wish to acknowledge her as his own.’

‘Whether he does or he does not, I very much doubt that Eleanor will thank any of us for our part in this,’ Justin muttered dully. ‘In just a few short minutes she has gone from believing her father to be Henry Rosewood, to that reprobate Dryden Litchfield, only to finally learn that her father is actually the Earl of Richmond.’

Doctor Franklyn had been called to attend to Eleanor, first giving a minute of his time to declare that Litchfield was only suffering from a badly bruised jaw from Richmond’s blow. After which Justin and Richmond had both very much enjoyed telling that obnoxious gentleman exactly why it was he would not be talking of this evening’s events, or those of the past, to anyone. The information they had both gathered, on Litchfield’s behaviour this past twenty years or more, was more than enough to put him behind bars if charges were levelled against him, several other reputable ladies having also suffered at his brutal treatment. Knowledge they would prefer did not become known to the public, but which they would quite happily testify to in private, if necessary.

As for Eleanor, this last few minutes was too much for any young woman to accept with equanimity. Damn it, he was having trouble coming to terms with Richmond as her father, so how could she possibly be expected to do so!

Nor, knowing her as he did, would she easily forgive his own part in keeping such knowledge from her.

Justin had carried Eleanor upstairs after she had fainted, and she was upstairs in her bedchamber even now, being attended to by Dr Franklyn and watched over like a protective hawk with its newly hatched chick by Bryan Anderson.

By her real father...who had a lot more authority to be there than Justin did.

The earl had spared only enough time, as they waited in Eleanor’s bedchamber for the doctor to arrive, to tell them all briefly how it had come about.

Richmond’s own enquiries into the events in India twenty years ago had resulted in more than just the damning information he had gathered on Dryden Litchfield. He had received a letter earlier this evening, from the wife of a fellow officer who had also been a particular friend of Muriel Rosewood, in which she had stated that Muriel had given birth to a baby girl exactly nine months after leaving India. Exactly nine months after Bryan Anderson had spent a single night with Muriel before she sailed back to England.