Tenacious Trents 01 - A Misguided Lord (2 page)

His father pushed back, stood and
glared down at Clay. “She had a poor influence on you, which I
regret most.”

Clay swallowed as his father lifted
the willow switch.

“
I know you saw her last
night and asked her not to leave.”

He wanted to run from the room. How
had his father found out?

“
I don’t blame you for
wanting her to stay. She coddled you when she should have treated
you like a young man, the heir that you are. It is good she is gone
before she ruined you.” His voice was cold, lifeless as he walked
around to the front of the desk. “I do blame you for not alerting
me.”

“
I am sorry, Father. I
thought she would be back.”

“
Sorry is not good enough.”
He tapped the switch against his leg. “Let loose your breeches and
bend over.”

London, April,
1813

I am a fraud.
Miss Eleanor Westin took another step back. The
ballroom of the Duke and Duchess of Pranth became more crowded and
noisier with each passing moment. It was a wonder anyone could even
breathe.
I do not belong here.
Nor did she have any business dressing in this
manner, wearing a frothy yellow ball gown that cost a small
fortune. While Eleanor had every right to be included in polite
society, her mind and soul were more comfortable amongst the
servant class. Still, she must do what she must and in as short a
time as possible. She needed a husband: a wealthy, kind and
understanding husband. Was there such a gentleman in London? At
least her grandfather’s sudden interest came at the perfect
time.

Her sister Leigh had encouraged this
endeavor, yet Leigh had no idea just how desperate their financial
situation was at the moment. Her grandfather understood, yet he
would not lift a finger to help anyone but Eleanor

Soon, if all went well, she would be
out from under his roof and in the home of another, her family safe
and protected.

The crowd thickened and Eleanor found
herself stepping back further. She glanced down at her gown. The
cost of this garment alone could have fed them for weeks. Oh, how
she prayed this wasn’t a waste. Then again, her grandfather had
provided the wardrobe so Eleanor hadn’t actually spent any of her
limited funds.

Soon, she found herself
pressed against the wall.
This will not do
at all
. If she were to find a husband, she
shouldn’t be standing in the corner. After she pasted a smile on
her lips, Eleanor began to work her way through the crowd and to
her grandmother’s side where she could be introduced to those who
could help her.

To secure funds, food and shelter.
Actually, the shelter wasn’t a problem. The food and funds however,
were. In return, she would be a wife none could ever
fault.

Eleanor tried to squeeze
between two separate groups of people speaking. If the music would
just start than maybe some of these bodies would take to the dance
floor. She managed through the small gap without an elbow to her
ribs and turned toward her grandparents and right into the hard
wall of a gentleman.
Goodness, was he made
of stone?
Eleanor stumbled and his hands
grasped her elbows to steady her. Eleanor tilted her head back to
look at the gentleman who saved her from a spill on the parquet
floor, her skin tingling from his touch.

He was frowning and his deep green
eyes narrowed on her.

Oh dear!

“
Excuse me.” She muttered,
fighting for breath. Why was her chest so tight and her pulse
racing? It must be from the heat in the room. Perhaps she needed to
step outside and cool off, and take a deep breath.

The gentleman may be
scowling at her but he was the most handsome man she had ever
encountered. Aquiline noise, high cheek bones, dark hair, the
purest green eyes, and firm,
frowning
lips. Heat radiated from
his body, warming her through their clothing.

“
Do watch where you are
going.”

Eleanor stiffened and pulled back,
affronted. How dare he? He was not there a moment ago. “You are the
one who stepped into my path.”

He arched a dark eyebrow. “I was
calming strolling. You are the one who careened through the crowd
without looking where you were going.”

Eleanor gasped. Of all the nerve. “As
I do not have your height, I can’t see nearly as well as you. I do
apologize.” She jerked her elbows from his hands and grasped her
skirt. “If you will excuse me, I promise to watch my step and stay
out of your way.” With a huff, she lifted her chin and marched to
her grandparents. If this is what she expected from the gentlemen
in London, Eleanor wasn’t sure she wanted to marry.

“
Where have you been?” Her
grandfather, Earl Stanhope, hissed in her ear from behind. “You are
here to meet a proper gentleman so you can marry and be
settled.”

If her grandfather had actually been
concerned with her future, he would not have waited until she was
four and twenty to bring her in from the country. Eleanor still
didn’t understand his sudden desire to see her wed. In the past she
had gone months with no word from him, even an entire year when she
was eighteen. Why the sudden interest now? She’d asked when she
first arrived but he had only grunted.

“
You look lovely, Eleanor,”
her grandmother assured her. “I am sure you will attract any number
of gentlemen.”

Eleanor glanced around the room and
found the likelihood to be very doubtful. She was past the fresh
bloom of youth and closer to the shelf, whereas a number of young
ladies, dressed in the white or pastel gowns, were radiant by
comparison. Those were the ones the eligible gentlemen were paying
attention too, not her.

*

Clayton Trent tossed back a
glass of champagne and looked for a footman so he could replace the
empty crystal for a full one.
You know
your duty.
His father’s deathbed orders
whispered through his mind. Clay would reach three and thirty in a
month and couldn’t put off taking a wife any longer. At least his
step-mother, and his father’s third wife, Rose, was not here to
help. Rose’s idea of the perfect mate and his were completely
different. With his father’s passing in January, she and his
younger sister, Madeline, needed to refrain from public outings
whereas he was forgiven. He was now the Earl of Bentley and of an
age when a man should take a wife, with the duty of producing an
heir and a spare hanging over his head.

Well, if one was to find a bride, this
was the perfect place. Dozens of young ladies danced below. He
focused on the debutants dressed in the palest of colors from a
balcony overlooking the ballroom as society carried on as it had
done for years. He’d had his fill of batting eyelashes, pouty lips
and giggles and wondered if there was a lady in the bunch who could
carry on a simple conversation without flirting.

The newest lady caught his attention
once again. His eyes kept returning to her since their earlier
encounter, and she had rarely left the side of Lord and Lady
Stanhope. Was she a relation or was Lady Stanhope simply sponsoring
her? Not that Clay could guess her age, but the woman was a few
years past what should have been her first season so where had she
come from?

Even from this distance he could see
her brown eyes spark with humor and an easy smile came to her full
lips. Why had he been so rude to her? He was the one who had
stepped into her path. He should have seen her. The top of the
young woman’s head barely came to his chin and no doubt she was
lucky not to have been trampled before their encounter. The
ballroom was a crush and there would certainly be a number of
bruised toes before the night ended. As it was, Clay decided to
remain on the balcony, away from the throng of people
below.

Who was she and should he apologize?
Of course he should, but Clay knew nothing about the woman, except
that his eyes were drawn to her every five minutes. Perhaps it was
the simple contact of their bodies. He hadn’t held a woman in
months and her soft breasts pressed against his chest was an almost
foreign feeling. His body had heated immediately and it took all
his energy to keep his hands at her elbows when he wanted to slide
them up her arms and draw her close.

What had gotten into him? He had never
reacted so quickly to a woman before and he didn’t even know the
lady, yet her warm breath and sweet scent reminded him of
springtime. It had lingered about them and stirred something
within. Almost a longing, and completely unexplainable. Clay
couldn’t even think of a flower the perfume reminded him of, just
that it brought forth fond memories from long ago.

Adele! She smelled like Adele. Clay’s
eyes narrowed on the young woman. In fact, much of her reminded him
of Adele, his father’s second wife. Though he was only a boy of ten
when the woman left, only to be killed, he recalled her as if they
had spoken yesterday.

Not only was the scent the same, but
her easy mannerisms as she spoke, gesturing to make a point or
explain. Gentlemen had surrounded her like moths to a flame. It
wasn’t that she was a beauty, though the young woman was pretty
enough. It was something she projected. Her laugh was quick and
easy and her movements more free than others. The tinkle of her
laughter drifted up toward him and Clay was forced to block out the
memory of the woman who had abandoned four small boys.

Despite his sudden attraction, it was
best to put her from his mind. He knew the heartache his family had
suffered because of a woman like her and he would not repeat past
mistakes.

Clay forced his eyes away and studied
each lady in the room. There had to be someone here he could
consider for his wife. The quicker he was done with his business
the sooner he could get back to running the family estates and
managing their business ventures and investments. It was simply a
matter of priorities and responsibility and as soon as the goal of
finding a wife was accomplished he could focus on the duties that
came with his title.

In the far corner was a
young woman, blond hair piled upon her head, ringlets falling to
her shoulders. Her eyes remained downcast, a slight smile on her
lips. A blush stained her cheeks when Lord Averton said something
to her. Clay racked his brain for a name. Oh yes, Lady Anne
Houghton. This was her second season. She was a young woman who
rarely left the side of one of her parents. Yes, she was the one.
That was the woman he would marry
.

Eleanor settled into the carriage
beside her grandmother. As they moved into traffic Eleanor stifled
a yawn behind her gloved hand. Goodness, she couldn’t continue to
keep these hours. When would she see the children? As it was, she
had to be awake, dressed and on her way to the little house they
rented in five hours.

“
You will get used to it,”
her grandmother assured. “I don’t rise before noon during the
Season. It is the only way one can go on.”

Noon?
She hadn’t slept that late in years, if ever. Half the day
was gone by that time.

“
Listen to your
grandmother. She knows how to go about.”

“
Yes, sir,” Eleanor replied
dutifully. Either they forgot, or simply ignored the fact that she
was responsible for her siblings, the very siblings not allowed to
stay in the town home because they weren’t blood relation and were
beneath the earl’s notice.

Anger bubbled up in her and Eleanor
squelched it. Time. All she needed was time. Then she could marry
and be away from this horrible city, and never have to speak with
her grandfather again.

“
Tomorrow we have a musical
and another ball,” her grandmother reminded.

Eleanor nodded and tried not to yawn
again. If they were in the carriage much longer she would fall
asleep.

“
We have at least two
events every night this week so make sure you don’t overtax
yourself with other, well, um, other matters.”

“
You mean my brothers and
sisters,” Eleanor bit out.

“
You really should have
left them at home for someone else to watch over,” her grandfather
insisted.

“
There is no one else, as
you well know, and they are too young to remain alone.”

“
Well, don’t waste all of
your time with them. You need a husband.”

He needn’t remind her. But, was there
a man who would take on four siblings as well as a wife?

*

Clayton handed his overcoat, beaver
hat and cane to the butler.

“
You have guests, Lord
Bentley.”

At this hour? “Who would
call at midnight?” Clay had left the Pranth’s ball after gaining an
introduction to Lady Anne and sharing a dance. Now all he wanted to
do was crawl in bed to sleep. He spent most of the night watching
Lady Anne and trying
not
to watch the young woman beside
Stanhope.

“
Your brother.” The butler
frowned.

It must be Jordan.

“
And his wife. They have
been here for two hours.”