NOT JUST A WALLFLOWER (5 page)

Justin’s gaze narrowed. ‘“Offhand in his attentions”...?’ he repeated slowly. ‘Was Frederick an unkind stepfather to you?’

‘Not at all.’ Eleanor gave a reassuring shake of her head. ‘He was merely uninterested in either my mother’s or my own happiness once his interest in bedding my mother had waned.’

‘Eleanor!’

She shrugged. ‘It is not unusual amongst the gentlemen in society to marry for lust, I believe.’

‘No,’ Justin acknowledged abruptly. ‘And you are saying that Frederick married your mother for just that reason?’

Eleanor nodded. ‘So she explained to me when I had attained an age to understand such things, yes. Frederick married my mother because he desired her, my mother married him in order to secure the future for both herself and her daughter. Once Frederick’s desire for her faded, as it surely must have without the accompaniment of love—’ she grimaced ‘—it was not a particularly happy marriage.’

Justin began to understand now Eleanor’s own aversion to a marriage without love. How ironic, when his parents’ exclusive love for each other had determined his own aversion to a marriage
with
love.

* * *

Ellie was unsure as to the fleeting emotions that had settled briefly on the duke’s harshly etched features, before as quickly being dismissed in favour of him looking down the length of his nose at her with his usual haughty arrogance. ‘Will your own mother be attending the ball this evening?’ she prompted curiously, not having met Rachel St Just as yet.

Her son scowled darkly. ‘My mother never leaves her country estate.’

‘Never?’

‘Never.’

He answered so coldly, so uncompromisingly, it was impossible for Ellie not to comprehend that his mother was a subject he preferred not to discuss. Not that she was going to let that stand in her way! ‘Was your own parents’ marriage an unhappy one?’

‘Far from it,’ he rasped. ‘They loved each other to the exclusion of all else,’ he added harshly.

To the exclusion of their only child? she pondered, slightly shocked. And, if so, did that also explain his own views on the married state? It was—

‘Good Gad, Royston, what a shock to see your illustrious self out and about in the park!’

Ellie forgot her musings as she turned to look at the man who so obviously greeted the duke with false joviality. A gentleman who might once have been handsome, but whose florid face and heavy jowls now rendered him as being far from attractive, and his obesity was obviously a great trial to the brown horse upon which he sat.

‘No more so than you, Litchfield,’ Justin answered the other man languidly, causing Ellie to look at him searchingly before turning her attention back to the man he had addressed simply as Litchfield.

As if sensing Ellie’s curiosity, the older man turned to return her gaze before his pale hazel eyes moved from her bonneted head to her booted feet, and then back again, with slow and familiar deliberation. ‘Perhaps it is your charming companion we have to thank for your presence here today?’ he suggested admiringly.

Justin’s tightened. ‘Perhaps.’

The other man raised pepper-and-salt brows. ‘Not going to introduce us, Royston?’

‘No.’ The duke’s steely gaze was uncompromising.

The other man’s pale eyes, neither blue nor green nor brown, but a colour somehow indiscriminately between them all, returned to sweep over Ellie with critical assessment. ‘You seem somewhat familiar, my dear. Have we met before?’

‘I am sure I should have remembered if we had,’ Ellie replied ambiguously.

Litchfield turned to grin at Justin. ‘She’s a beauty, I grant you that,’ he drawled appreciatively.

Ellie might be slightly naïve herself when it came to the subtleties of society, but even so she was perfectly well aware that this Litchfield was, in fact, challenging the duke and he was using her as the means with which to do it. ‘You are too kind, sir.’ She gave Litchfield a bright and meaningless smile. ‘If you will excuse us now? We were about to leave.’

‘Indeed?’ Litchfield gave her a leering smile, revealing uneven and brown-stained teeth in his unpleasantly mottled face, wisps of auburn hair, liberally streaked with grey, peeping out from beneath his hat and brushing the soiled collar of his shirt.

‘Indeed,’ Ellie confirmed coolly.

‘If you would care to...ride, another afternoon, then I should be only too pleased to offer my services as...your escort. You have only to send word to my home in Russell Square. Lord Dryden Litchfield is the name.’

The man’s familiar manner and address, considering the two of them had not so much as been formally introduced—deliberately so, on Justin’s part?—were such that even Eleanor recognised it as being far from acceptable in fashionable circles. As she also recognised that Lord Litchfield was far from being a gentleman. Which begged the question as to how Justin came to be acquainted with such an unpleasant man.

‘I will join you shortly, Eleanor,’ Justin bit out harshly.

‘Your Grace?’ she said in surprise as, having turned her horse back in the direction they had just come, she now realised he had made no effort to accompany her, the two men currently seeming to be engaged in an ocular battle of wills.

A battle of wills she had no doubt the duke would ultimately win, but it was one which Ellie would prefer not take place at all; not only would it be unpleasant to herself, but she very much doubted the dowager duchess would be at all pleased to learn that Ellie had been present during an altercation in the park between her grandson and another gentleman.

Justin’s hands tightly gripped the reins of his restive black horse as he continued to meet Dryden Litchfield’s insolently challenging gaze. ‘You will wait for me by the carriage, Eleanor,’ he commanded firmly.

‘But—’

‘Now, please, Eleanor.’ He did not raise his voice, but she must have realised by the coldness of his tone that it would be prudent not to argue with him any further on the matter, and he thankfully heard her softly encourage her horse to walk away from the two men. ‘Do you have something you wish to say to me, Litchfield?’ he prompted evenly.

The other man feigned an expression of innocence. ‘Not that I recall, no.’

Justin’s mouth thinned. ‘I advise that you stay well clear of both me and mine, Litchfield.’

Those pale eyes glanced across to where Eleanor now sat on her horse, talking to the maid inside the waiting carriage. ‘Is she yours, Royston?’

‘Very much so,’ Justin confirmed instantly.

‘If you say so...’ the other man taunted.

His jaw clenched. ‘I do.’

‘For now, perhaps.’

‘For always as far as you are concerned, Litchfield.’ Justin scowled darkly.

‘And if the lady should have other ideas?’

Justin drew in a sharp breath at his insolent persistence. ‘Do not say you have not been warned, Litchfield!’

‘You seem mightily possessive, Royston.’ The older man gave him a speculatively look. ‘Can this be the same young lady whose missive caused you to end our card game so that you could run eagerly to her side?’

Eleanor’s note was indeed responsible for that occurrence, but certainly not in the way in which Litchfield implied it had.

‘Ah, I see that it is indeed the case.’ Litchfield nodded in satisfaction at Justin’s silence. ‘As I said, she is certainly a rare beauty—’

‘And as I have said, she is not for the likes of you,’ Justin bit out tautly.

‘Well, well.’ The older man eyed him curiously. ‘Can it be that the top-lofty Duke of Royston has finally met his match? Are we to expect an announcement soon?’

‘You are to
expect
that I shall not be pleased if I hear you have made so much as a single personal remark or innuendo about the young lady who is my ward,’ Justin snarled, wanting nothing more than to take this insolent cur by the throat and squeeze until the breath left his body. Either that, or take a whip to him. And Justin would cheerfully have done either of those things, if he had not known it would draw unwanted attention to Eleanor.

Litchfield’s eyes widened. ‘Your ward...?’

Justin gave a haughty nod. ‘Indeed.’

The other man continued to look at him searchingly for several seconds before giving a shout of derisive laughter and then turning to look at Eleanor speculatively once again. ‘How very interesting...’ He raised a mocking gloved hand to his temple before turning his horse and deliberately riding in the direction of the Royston carriage, raising his hat to Eleanor as he passed and so forcing her to give an acknowledging nod in return.

Justin scowled as he recalled Anderson’s previous warning for him to beware of Litchfield in future, with the added comment that the other man was at the very least a nasty bully, and at worst, a dangerous adversary. Indeed, if not for the fact that it would have been damaging to Eleanor’s reputation, then Litchfield would have been made to pay for his insulting behaviour just now, possibly to the extent that the other man found himself standing down the sights of Justin’s duelling pistol. As it was, Justin had dared not involve Eleanor in the scandal of a duel before she had even appeared in society!

Tomorrow, or possibly the next day, was another matter, however...

* * *

‘What an unpleasant man.’ Ellie could not resist a quiver of revulsion when Justin finally rejoined her and the two of them turned to walk their horses back to Royston House.

‘Very,’ he agreed.

‘Will he be attending the ball this evening...?’

The duke gave a scathing snort. ‘My grandmother would never allow one such as he to step over her threshold.’

She eyed him curiously. ‘And yet he is obviously a man of your own acquaintance, is he not?’

‘We have shared a card game or two, which he has invariably lost.’ Justin shrugged dismissively. ‘His reputation is such that much of society shuns him. And while we are on the subject,’ he added harshly, ‘I forbid you to so much as acknowledge him should you ever chance to meet him again.’

‘You
forbid
it?’ Ellie gasped incredulously.

The duke looked implacably at her. ‘I do, yes. Unless, of course, I am mistaken and you would welcome Litchfield’s attentions?’

She gave another shudder just recalling that unpleasant man. ‘Of course I would not.’

‘Then—’

‘Whilst I accept that we are distantly related by marriage,
Cousin—
’ Ellie’s bland tone revealed none of her inner anger at his high-handedness ‘—and that you are the grandson of my employer—’

‘—and your newly appointed guardian—’

‘Perhaps that is so—’

‘There is no perhaps about it!’ the duke swiftly interjected.

‘Even so, I cannot—I simply cannot allow you to forbid, or allow, any of my future actions,’ Ellie informed him firmly, with far too many memories of how his cousin Frederick had held such sway over her poor mother for the last years of her life.

Justin reached out and grasped the reins of her horse as she would have urged her horse into a canter. ‘In this instance I must insist you obey me, Eleanor.’

Tears of anger now blurred her vision. ‘You may insist all you please, your Grace, but I refuse to allow myself to be bullied by any man.’

Justin scowled his frustration as Eleanor wrenched her reins from his grasp, leaving him to sit and watch as she urged her horse forwards and away from him.

Damn Litchfield.

Damn his troublemaking hide!

Chapter Six

‘I
believe, Royston, that if you do not cease scowling, you are in danger of taking your duties as Ellie’s guardian to such a degree that you will succeed in scaring away all but the most determined of eligible young gentlemen!’

Justin turned to raise one arrogant brow as he looked down to where his grandmother had moved to stand beside him at the edge of the crowded dance floor in her candlelit ballroom. Still slightly pale, and uncharacteristically fragile in her demeanour, the dowager duchess had, as she had said she would, rallied from her sickbed in order to take her place as hostess of the Royston Ball.

Justin’s mood had not improved since he and Eleanor had parted so frostily upon returning to the stables behind Royston House. For the most part because Justin knew he had handled the situation badly, that issuing orders to a woman as stubborn as Eleanor was proving to be was sure to result in her doing the exact opposite of what was being asked of her—an accusation, which if repeated to Eleanor, would no doubt earn him the comment of ‘the pot calling the kettle black’! Not that Justin thought for a moment that she would ever encourage Litchfield’s advances, but he had no doubt she would find some other way in which to bedevil him for what she had considered his high-handedness this afternoon.

He had known, the moment Eleanor walked down the grand staircase at Royston House earlier, and he had seen the light of rebellion in those emerald-green eyes and the defiant tilt to her chin, that she intended for that punishment to begin this very evening...

At first glance Justin had wondered at his grandmother’s choice of attire for her young protégée. But the longer he gazed upon Eleanor’s appearance, the more he realised how astutely clever the old lady had been; brightly coloured silks were now the preferred fashion for the ladies of the
ton,
as were the garishly matching feathers and silks worn in their hair.

In contrast, Eleanor’s gown was the palest shade of green silk Justin had ever seen, as were the delicate above-elbow-length lace gloves that covered her hands and arms. Her hair, those glorious red curls, had been swept back and up and secured at her crown, before being allowed to cascade gently down to brush lightly against the slenderness of her nape. Her bare nape. For, unlike the other women of society, of any age, who often chose to wear their wealth, quite literally, upon their sleeves and about their throats, Eleanor was not wearing a single piece of jewellery. Her wrists, her hair, the lobes of her ears, the creamy expanse of her throat and breasts, were all completely unadorned.

As a consequence, Justin realised that Eleanor Rosewood’s understated elegance gave her the appearance of a dove amongst garishly adorned peacocks. A pure, unblemished, perfectly cut diamond set amongst roughly hewn and gaudy-coloured sapphires, emeralds and rubies.

As predicted, the crowded ballroom had fallen deathly silent the moment Stanhope had announced their entrance. But Justin was fully aware the speculative attention was not directed solely towards him this evening, but included the young lady standing so coolly self-contained at his side—admittedly, it was a façade of calm only, as hinted at by the slight trembling of her gloved hand as it rested lightly upon his arm, but to all outward appearances Eleanor was a picture of composure and elegance. She was also, as his grandmother had intended, instantly recognised as the same young woman who had been seen riding in the park with him this afternoon.

The ladies, as Eleanor had previously suggested might be the case, had gazed openly and critically at her from behind fluttering fans—with not a single sign of recognition, Justin noted ruefully, that the elegant Miss Eleanor Rosewood was also Ellie, the previously nondescript companion of the dowager duchess. The gentlemen, Justin had noted with more annoyance, had been much more open in their admiration.

An admiration confirmed by the fact that at least a dozen of those same gentlemen had crowded around begging to be introduced the moment Justin had finished presenting Eleanor to his grandmother and her two close friends, the Dowager Countess of Chambourne and Lady Cicely Hawthorne, all of them expressing a wish to claim a dance with her before the evening should come to an end.

As her guardian and protector, it had been Justin’s duty to claim Eleanor for the first dance, of course, and he had politely done so—much to the increasing interest of his grandmother’s other guests; the Duke of Royston never stood up to dance on these occasions. Indeed, Justin had always made a point of not doing so, making his attentions to Eleanor all the more noticeable. It would, as his grandmother had always intended it should, secure her place in society.

The two of them had not exchanged so much as a word as they danced that first set together, Eleanor’s expression one of cool detachment as Justin studied her beneath hooded lids, finding himself pleasantly surprised by her grace and elegance on the dance floor; proving that she had indeed been shown how to ‘behave in the company of ladies and gentlemen’.

Justin had not been quite so pleased by those same gentlemen who had rushed to fill Eleanor’s dance card the moment he escorted her back to his grandmother’s side. Or the fact that Eleanor appeared to blossom under their avid attentions.

His mouth thinned anew as he continued to gaze across to where Eleanor was now laughing merrily at something amusing her current dance partner had said to her. ‘Lord Braxton can hardly be considered young or entirely eligible,’ he remarked curtly to his grandmother.

‘Nonsense!’ Edith dismissed as she continued to smile benevolently at her young protégée. ‘Jeremy Caulfield is a widower as well as being an earl.’

Justin grimaced. ‘He is also twice Eleanor’s age and in need of a stepmother for all of those children he keeps hidden away in the nursery at Caulfield Park!’

His grandmother raised iron-grey brows. ‘There are but three children, Justin, the heir, the spare and a girl. And anyone with eyes in their head can see that Braxton is smitten with Ellie herself, rather than having any thoughts of providing his children with another mother.’

Justin was only too well aware that Jeremy Caulfield’s admiration of Eleanor was personal; that was made more than obvious by the warm way the other man gazed upon her so intently, and the way in which Caulfield’s hand had lingered upon hers as they’d danced together. That Eleanor returned his liking was obvious in the relaxed and natural way in which she returned the earl’s smiles and conversation. Nor could Justin deny, inwardly at least, that it would be a very good match for Eleanor if Caulfield were to become seriously enamoured of her, enough so that he made her an offer of marriage.

It would, Justin also acknowledged, bring a quick end to his reluctant role as Eleanor’s guardian.

An occurrence which, surprisingly, he found far less pleasing than he had thought he might.

* * *

‘—am afraid that I have already promised to eat supper with the dowager duchess, Lady Hawthorne and the Countess of Ambridge, my lord,’ Ellie shyly refused the invitation of the handsome and attentive Lord Jeremy Caulfield, Earl of Braxton, placing her hand upon his arm as they left the dance floor together.

After the disastrous end to her ride in the park with Justin earlier, Ellie had been in a turmoil of trepidation about attending the Royston Ball with him this evening, only to find, once the tension of dancing the first set with Justin had been dealt with, that she was actually enjoying herself. Mainly due, she admitted, to the genuinely warm regard of such gentlemen as the attentive earl.

Her smile faded somewhat as she looked up and saw the imposing Duke of Royston standing so disapprovingly beside his smiling grandmother; he had certainly made no effort to put Ellie at her ease this evening. How could he, when he had barely spoken two words to her since his arrival some hours ago, causing her to give a sigh of relief when their dancing together finally came to an end?

Surely it only confirmed how deeply Justin disapproved of his grandmother’s determined interest in settling Ellie’s future, and his own reluctant involvement in it? He had made it more than obvious he would never have contemplated agreeing to it if not for his deep regard for Edith and that lady’s recent bout of ill health.

Thankfully, the dowager duchess really had seemed to improve a little over the last few days, and although she was still pale, she gave every appearance of enjoying the evening; Ellie knew that dear lady well enough by now to know that Edith St Just would never admit to it if she were not!

The Earl of Braxton looked genuinely disappointed by Ellie’s refusal to sit with him at supper. ‘Perhaps if I were to ask the dowager duchess’s permission—’

‘As Miss Rosewood is my own ward, it is my permission you would need to receive, Braxton,’ the cold voice of Justin St Just cut in.

The older man turned, a pleasant smile curving his lips. ‘Then perhaps you might consent to allowing me to escort Miss Rosewood into supper, Royston?’

‘I am afraid that would not do at all, Braxton.’ The duke looked down the length of his nose at the other man.

‘Oh, but—’

‘It will not do, Eleanor,’ Justin repeated firmly as she started to protest. ‘Forgive my ward, Braxton.’ He turned back to the earl. ‘I am afraid Eleanor is new to society. As such she is unaware of the attention she has already drawn to herself by her naivety and flirtatiousness.’

Ellie’s eyes widened at the unfairness of the accusation. Admittedly she had not sat down for a single dance since that first one with Justin, but she believed that her popularity was only because she was considered something of a curiosity, an oddity, if you will. Certainly she had not sought out any of the attentions that had been shown to her, nor did she consider she had been in the least flirtatious!

‘If you will excuse us, Braxton?’ Justin did not wait for the earl’s response as he took a firm grasp of Ellie’s arm before turning away.

‘Justin—’

‘We will await you in the supper room, Grandmother,’ he said to the old lady who had come up behind them, his expression grimly unapproachable as he strode rapidly towards the room in which supper was now being served, practically dragging Ellie along beside him.

‘Now who is the one responsible for drawing attention? To us both?’ Ellie’s cheeks burned with humiliation as she stumbled to keep up with the duke’s much longer strides, at the same time as she kept a smile fixed upon her lips for those watching them.

Justin’s jaw clenched and he ground his back teeth together as he glared at the members of the
ton
who dared to so much as glance in their direction. Glances which were hastily averted under the fierceness of his chilling blue gaze.

‘Your Grace—’

‘Do not “your Grace” me in what can only be described as a feeble attempt to mimic my grandmother’s disapproving tones!’ Justin rounded on Eleanor sharply, only for his breath to catch in his throat as he saw how pale her cheeks had now become, those freckles more evident on her nose and cheeks, and that there were tears glistening in those deep-green eyes as she looked up at him reproachfully.

Damn it to hell!

He forced himself to slow his angry strides and loosen his tight grip upon her arm before speaking again. ‘It may not appear so, Eleanor,’ he explained, also attempting to soften the harshness of his tone, ‘but I assure you I am only acting in your best interests. For you to have singled Braxton out so soon, by eating supper alone with him, would have been as good as a declaration on your part.’

A puzzled frown marred her creamy brow as she blinked back the tears. ‘A declaration? Of what, exactly?’

‘Of your willingness to accept a marriage proposal from him should one be forthcoming.’

‘That is utterly ridiculous...’ she recoiled with a horrified gasp ‘...when I have only just been introduced to him!’ If anything her face had grown even paler.

Justin nodded grimly. ‘And being new to society, you are as yet unaware of the subtle nuances of courtship.’

She shook her head, red curls bouncing against the slenderness of her creamy nape. ‘But I am sure the earl meant no such familiarity by his supper invitation. He merely wished to continue our discussion, to learn my views, on the merits or otherwise, of engaging a companion or governess for his five-year-old daughter.’

Justin’s breath caught in his throat. ‘He discussed the future care of his young daughter with you?’

‘Well, yes...’ Ellie could see by the grim expression in his hard blue eyes that she had obviously done something else unacceptable. ‘It was a harmless enough conversation, surely?’

He gave her a pitying glance. ‘It is the sort of conversation that a gentleman has with the lady who might perhaps become the new mother of that child.’

Ellie eyes widened. ‘Surely you cannot be serious? I hardly know the man!’

Justin gave a derisive snort. ‘Can it be that you are really as naïve as you appear to be, Eleanor? Because if that is so, then I believe my grandmother should have waited a while longer before introducing you into society.’

‘I do not—’

‘This afternoon you were all but propositioned by one of the biggest blaggards in London,’ Justin continued remorselessly. ‘And this evening you have committed the
faux pas
of discussing a man’s nursery with him!’

Ellie’s cheeks now burned with humiliated colour, but she was determined not to give in without a fight. ‘Must I remind you that I would not have so much as spoken to that “blaggard” this afternoon, if not for your own acquaintance with the man? And I truly believe the earl was merely making polite conversation just now—’

The duke cut her off with an incredulous look. ‘By consulting with you on what is best for the future education of his young, motherless daughter?’

Ellie gave a pained frown. ‘Well...yes.’

Had she been naïve in taking Lord Caulfield’s conversation at face value? She had not thought so at the time, but Justin knew the ways of society far better than she, after all. Yet it had seemed such a harmless conversation, Jeremy Caulfield so terribly bewildered and at a loss as to how best to bring up a little girl on his own—