To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) (21 page)

“Makes a woman feel all warm merely by glancing at him,” Mrs. Kaul explained. This prompted the women to giggle once
more. Considering Mrs. Kaul was some fifty years of age, it was rather shocking.

Eleanor avoided their gazes, lowering her attention to her teacup. She knew only too well about the warmth that a man could produce within a woman. She lifted her tea, her hand trembling while the memory of her and James in the garden took center stage. No longer was the idea of intimacy a fantastical myth, but a marvelous reality. The memories would not leave her be. The feelings came back at night when she closed her eyes, almost driving her mad with an aching need. Oh, she’d heard the whispers and giggles of satisfied women, but always thought they must be exaggerating.

Obviously they hadn’t been. For years she’d assumed there was something wrong with her. But no, perhaps, just perhaps, there was something incredibly wrong with her husband. How Lord Beckett would enjoy hearing that theory. She set her teacup down and picked up her knitting. The soft clack of needles combined with the murmur of conversation and provided a pleasant background to her troubled mind.

“Good day, my dears.”

Eleanor stiffened at the sound of her husband’s familiar voice. The women giggled, their lashes fluttering flirtatiously. Disgusted, Eleanor forced herself to glance at the man and smile, continuing the façade. All the while she wondered how the
ton
did not see her husband as he truly was… a demon in a fine suit. Or perhaps they did, but as he had money and a title, they ignored the truth.

He strolled toward her, and even though she knew he would never harm her in front of so many, she still stiffened. Always that pretense of a loving couple. Early in their marriage she had actually heard debutantes gossiping about their romantic marriage as if their relationship was something to aspire to.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head. His familiar musky scent swirled around her, making her ill. It wasn’t that his sandalwood scent was noxious; quite the opposite. But his cologne reminded her of the times when he’d force himself
upon her. She would bathe after, scrubbing until her skin was raw and pink, scrubbing until she could no longer smell his scent on her body. But the memory was still there, always.

“I don’t quite know how you ladies do all you do, and look so lovely at the same time,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the room, taking in each woman, as if they were all so very special.

There was a twitter of laughter like merry little birds. Eleanor’s hands curled into her knitting. She had to force herself not to rip the scarf apart and stab her husband with a knitting needle. If she had to listen to any of them wax on about how lovely her husband was when he left, she just might scream. They hadn’t a clue what he was really like. But they must have heard the rumors, at least of his affairs.

“I shall leave you to your charity.” Although he strolled through the room, leaving them, she felt his presence all the same. She always felt him, as if he’d buried his claws deep within her and would never let go. But there had been one time when she’d forgotten her husband, if only for a few moments… when she had hidden within the lilacs with James.

“Such a gentleman,” someone muttered.

Eleanor continued to stare at the door, lost, alone although she was surrounded by people.

“Lucky to have,” someone else whispered.

When a man strayed, it was the woman’s fault. They would not question him, but instead they would wonder what the wife had done wrong. Just as they would all assume it was the wife’s fault if there were no children.

Yes, they all knew he’d been unfaithful. She’d caught more than one person whispering when she’d entered a ballroom, more than one lady glancing her way and smirking. How they would love to see the elegant Lady Beckett fall. Even though her husband ruled her, she had ruled the
ton
, but even now that was crumbling between her fingertips. The cold, reserved Lady Beckett was slowly becoming a laughingstock, an amusement for gossipmongers.

Fanny suddenly appeared in the doorway. Catching Eleanor’s gaze, she gave a quick nod. A thrill of anticipation raced over her body. Her husband forgotten, Eleanor stood and set aside her knitting. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She did not wait for their approval, for the information Fanny had uncovered was too important for her to worry about manners. She stepped into the foyer and shuffled behind the open door where the others could not see them. Fanny followed, twisting her hands together with impatience and worry.

“You’ve found something?”

She nodded but glanced around first, making sure they would not be overheard. She’d been hesitant to help Eleanor, worried if Lord Beckett found out, he’d kill her. If the woman didn’t speak soon, Eleanor was determined to shake the answers from her lips. “St. Anne’s.”

Eleanor’s heart leapt into her throat, her mind spinning. The woman was still alive. Still in London. Hope blossomed within, a stirring of warmth in her chest. “You’re sure?”

“Rather. They are known for taking in orphans.”

“Servant or nun?”

“Nun, apparently.”

Eleanor had the sudden urge to laugh. To throw her head back and cackle like a witch from a children’s novel. James… a whore, his sister a nun. What would he think? It was too ridiculous, too much, as if the world was playing a jest upon them all.

“Or at least she will be soon,” Fanny whispered. “Hasn’t taken vows quite yet.”

“Thank you, my dearest,” Eleanor whispered, not daring to hug her friend in case a servant, or Graham, who was now lurking near the dining room doors, should see.

When Eleanor started to leave, Fanny reached out, resting her hand on Ellie’s sleeve. “Will you tell me now why you are looking for this woman?”

“Not now.” She looked pointedly toward Graham. Fanny glanced back at him and glared. Eleanor wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman had stuck out her tongue. Her reaction was most amusing. She realized with some bewilderment that she was no longer afraid. Graham and his unsettling presence, the fear of her husband’s return home… at some point in time it had lessened.

“Is it a man you’re after?” Fanny whispered, frowning. “Is that why you’re acting so strangely?”

Eleanor froze.

Fanny waved her hand through the air, dismissing the comment. “Never mind, don’t answer that. But remember, if your husband finds out, he will…”

She didn’t need to finish; they both knew… he would kill her. Ellie sighed, resting her hands on her hips. “You know, when one continually threatens death, it sort of loses its meaning.”

“Yes, well, I’d like to keep my position, if you don’t mind. So please don’t do anything stupid.”

Eleanor grinned. “Of course not.”

Fanny cursed under her breath as she dropped into a curtsey, then stomped up the stairs. Eleanor was left in the foyer with Graham watching from the shadows. She didn’t even bother to glance at the butler as she reentered the parlor. The man would say what he wanted to her husband, but surely there was nothing suspicious in a woman speaking with her lady’s maid.

“Is all well?” Lady Rafferty asked as Eleanor settled beside her.

“Yes, very.”

“Hmm.” The older woman picked up her teacup and sipped. “Your lady’s maid seemed quite frantic.”

“Frantic?” Eleanor laughed. The old bat, fishing for gossip. “Hardly. She was merely upset because my new wardrobe was late in arriving from the seamstress. Silly nonsense, really.”

“Well, that is good then.”

The room lapsed back into gossip, and she was left in peace. Left to turn over and over in her mind the information she had received. Dare she send James a letter? Last time he hadn’t in the least been appreciative when she’d stuck her nose in his business. In fact, he’d been downright irate when he’d found her at the tea shop. But damn it all… she had to know the truth. She had to know if James was being played the fool by Lady Lavender; she owed him that much.

“St. Anne’s.” She turned toward Lady Rafferty. “Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, I suppose.” She watched her curiously. “Why do you ask?”

“Merely thought we might choose to sponsor them next.”

She shook her head, frowning. “Dreary. Utterly wretched. The nuns are terribly harsh. If you insist on choosing them, I’m afraid you will be the one who must deal with the mother superior. And be forewarned, they don’t take kindly to those who are not Catholic.”

“Well one can hardly blame them with how they’re treated nowadays,” Mrs. Kaul exclaimed loudly, always one to have an opinion and not afraid to shout it.

Eleanor nodded, smiling lightly. “Never mind then. ’Twas merely a thought.”

The room erupted into an argument as to whether Catholics were being treated fairly, and Eleanor was left to mull over her options. She might not be welcome at St. Anne’s, but she would be welcome at Lady Lavender’s. She sipped her tea, contemplating her options. Blast it all, she would tell him the truth, no matter what it took. Eleanor picked up her knitting and feigned interest in the women around her. It was settled, she was going to do something stupid after all… she was going to visit Lady Lavender’s one last time.

Chapter 11

Eleanor waited impatiently in James’s chamber. She knew very well it was ridiculous to visit when she could have well sent him a note. But how could she know that he would truly receive that missive? Yes, she was merely being safe. Besides, she could admit, at least to herself, that she wanted to see him again… and again… and again. Yes, she could admit it, after three days, she missed him. So much so that she’d even paid double Ophelia’s usual asking price merely to see James without an appointment.

Yet when the doorknob turned, she wondered what in the bloody world she’d been thinking. She spun around to face him. James stepped inside wearing his shirtsleeves, tie, brown waistcoat, and black trousers. The sight of the man made her pulse flare, her body responding instantly to his presence. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms around his neck. Wanted to press her body to his, feel his heart beat against her chest. His gaze swung around the room until he found her there… near the windows. The look upon his face was most amusing. He was shocked, to say the least.

“Hello,” she said, such a silly greeting. But she was nervous and excited, and… and he looked anything but happy to see her.

He shut the door slowly. “How are you?”

She smoothed her hands down her blue-and-ivory skirts. “Well. I’m well.” Silly, really, that she’d worn a good walking dress here where anyone might recognize it, but she had wanted to look her best.

It was inane, polite conversation better left for the ballrooms and parlors than in a brothel. A variety of emotions clawed their way to the surface. She hadn’t seen him in days, her body ached for his touch, and her soul ached for him and the freedom he represented. James was like no man she had ever met. He did not judge her, and he seemed to have no desire to control her. No, he was completely sure of himself and completely sure of her.

He moved closer, slowly and temptingly, as if he worried about frightening her away. As her gaze scanned his fine features, from the day’s growth of beard that made him seem much older, to those firm lips, up to his brilliant green eyes, she had to remind herself that she was not here to kiss and caress but to give him information.

“Patience visited you?” she asked.

He nodded, pausing near the fireplace, too far away for her to touch him. She felt his absence as if they were in two different rooms entirely. “You’re sure you’re well?” he asked, returning to the subject. This was true concern, not the manipulated empathy her husband gave her during their courtship. The realization warmed her.

“Patience noticed my bruising?”

He nodded again, moving closer to her, so close she could smell the starch and lemon soap on his clean shirt, so close she could see the concern in his green eyes. His attention traveled her face, pausing on her upper right cheek. Slowly, he reached out, brushing his thumb over the barely noticeable bruise. She wavered,
her body drawn to him like a flower to sunlight. She wanted to sink into the man, wanted to press her lips to that pulse beating at the side of his throat and forget.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, swallowing hard.

His arm dropped to his side, the concern in his gaze turning to anger. “What happened?”

She shrugged, clasping her hands together in front of her to keep from reaching out to him. Anxiety, pleasure, desire… she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. “Someone saw us.”

When his face paled, she waved her hand through the air, dismissing his worry. “Nothing that could be proven. Still, he didn’t like that I had tarnished his reputation.”

“Bastard,” James seethed.

She blinked, surprised by the emotion upon his face. Only Fanny had dared to say the truth about her husband, only Fanny had dared to care. No one else took her side, not even her own family. The sudden burn of tears had her looking away.

“What are you doing to provoke him, my dear?”
Her mother had asked in a whisper, as if Eleanor’s complaint would bring shame to the family. Her mother had actually put the blame on her, telling Ellie to calm her wild, wicked ways. She’d known then that she could tell no one the truth.

“Your husband is a demon,” he seethed.

Husband.
She shivered at the sound of the word. She would no longer call the man her husband. She couldn’t without feeling ill. In her eyes they were no longer married. He had betrayed her one too many times.

James rested the sides of his hands on her face and kissed her, softly, gently. “I’d kill him, if I could.”

“Don’t say that.” Her voice quivered with pent-up desire and fear. “You’d only end up in prison when you don’t belong there.”

“What can I do?” he whispered, resting his forehead to hers. “Tell me.”

You can tell me this is not the ruse of a whore
, she wanted to say.
You can tell me you truly do care about me, only me.
“You can make love to me.”

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, searching for the truth. “Are you sure?”