Chapter Twelve
J ack closed the drawing room door behind them with a satisfying click. If his mother couldn’t be kind to Elenora then he would have to have words with her. However, the object of his pity didn’t seem to be too indisposed by the catechism she’d been subjected to.
“I would love to see your library first,” she said, steering clear of having to put her hand on his arm.
He didn’t pressure her but led the way across the hallway to the double oak doors on the far side. He pushed open one of the doors. “It’s one of my favorite rooms in this house.”
“Libraries are always my favorite rooms, too.” Following him in, Elenora halted and inhaled deeply. “I do think books, and particularly libraries full of them, possess the most delightful smell. They make me want to surround myself with them in big piles and just gloat over them. Magical. Yes, that’s it. Books are magical.”
An admirable sentiment. This was a girl who showed remarkable good sense. Not one of the vapid ninnies his mother had been accustomed to dangle, she thought seductively, under his nose from time to time. In all probability none of them had ever read anything other than the court social.
He stood back to allow her to look around, rightly proud of the size and content of his library. He’d spent the last twenty years compiling it. He would have to get his father to let him have the other two books in the series Elenora had borrowed. They were his books, anyway, as his father had bought them for him as a boy, so why they’d still been in his father’s library he had no idea. A fortuitous circumstance, perhaps. And if they were here, she’d have reason to come back to read them.
This thought startled him. Why would he want her to come here any more than was necessary? After all, theirs was a sham engagement, and after the end of the season he need never see her again. And yet… this thought troubled him more than he’d expected. He must be getting soft in his old age. His friends would probably agree. But she was, as he’d already said, very much an original.
Elenora, still standing just inside the threshold, gave a suitably impressed gasp. “And you have so many books.”
He nodded. “I’m proud to inform you that they’re not just for show. I’ve read a great many of them.” Most of the books, bar the ones he’d inherited when he took over the house, were ones he’d personally chosen for their content, and not just books bought by the linear foot to make their owner look intellectual.
“I should hope so too,” Elenora said, but not in the tone of someone wishing to insult him. “I could never have engaged myself, even in deception, to someone who doesn’t appreciate learning for the sake of learning.”
He smiled. “You are an odd girl, Elenora. And you are quite right.” She looked up at him. “But in the most enchanting way.” What was he saying? That she had enchanted him by her honesty? He most definitely was going soft in the head.
She studied him for a long moment with a serious look in her blue eyes. “No one has ever called me enchanting before, not even because they thought I was pretty.”
Rather a hole to dig himself out of. In a hurry. “Well you are, and if you can ever bring yourself to marry in the future, you will make some lucky gentleman very happy. I trust that if you do, you’ll have the sense to choose someone who appreciates your quirks.” My God, he was gabbling. What a fool he sounded.
“My quirks?”
He just might have dug himself in deeper. “The little things that make you into the girl you are. The things you think make you odd.”
She frowned. “And it is those things you think are enchanting?”
How puzzled she sounded. Had no one ever told her that her frank honesty was endearing? Far better than the dissembling of a girl coached in the ways of flattery and flirting. Best to reward her by being honest himself. “Well… yes, they are. It’s refreshing to talk to you.” He felt heat rise unexpectedly from his neck up to his cheeks, and turned away. “Please, peruse my book collection to your heart’s content.”
She didn’t appear to have noticed his discomfort, but took him at his word and hastened further into his library, running her slender fingers over the spines of the books as she studied their titles. What would it be like to have those slender fingers running over his arm? Or maybe over some other part of his body. He pulled himself up sharply. No. He was not going down that road with his thoughts. She was not the sort of girl to make a mistress out of, no matter how much he might be tempted by her looks and her charm. Even though he’d paid off her father’s debts, he couldn’t see the man tolerating it if he set Elenora up in her own establishment and made her his kept woman. And she had two older brothers, as well, who might not be happy about such treatment of their sister. Not to mention the fact that if she didn’t want to be a wife, she would definitely not want to be a mistress.
He pushed these thoughts out of his head with deliberation, and turned his head away from the spectacle of such a pretty girl exploring the room he held most dear in the house and finding pleasure in it.
Footsteps sounded behind him on the stairs. Light, pattering footsteps. He spun on his heel. Edward reached the bottom three steps and jumped, landing with a thud on the rug, which slid forward, depositing him hard on his bottom. An annoyed cry shot out of him. Inside the library, Elenora’s head turned.
Edward scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off. “Ouch. That hurt.”
“What are you doing downstairs?” Jack asked, hurrying over to him. “And where is Miss Douglas?”
Elenora emerged from the library, a book in her hand, a questioning expression on her face.
“She’s marking my Latin translation,” Edward said, his eyes going to Elenora. “If she doesn’t find any mistakes, she’s going to take me to see the cows in Marylebone Park.”
“Hello,” Elenora said, smiling at Edward.
Edward performed a smart bow. “Good afternoon.”
A silence fell. The need to fill it overcame Jack. “This is my ward, Edward Warren. Edward, this is Miss Wetherby.”
Edward’s eyes widened. “Is this the lady you’re going to marry?”
Damn it. How had the child obtained this information. It couldn’t have been via Miss Douglas, who was the soul of discretion. It had to be from Meg, his nursery nurse, a very chatty girl when she wanted to be. She’d probably gleaned this news in the servants’ hall. She would need reprimanding, even though it was now too late. It would have been better had Edward never known about Elenora’s existence. Unfair to get his hopes up of having a stepmother in his life. And the suspicion that Elenora might make a good one was strong.
“Yes, Miss Wetherby is the lady to whom I am engaged. I’m just showing her around the house,” Jack said, not wanting to lie, and hoping Edward wouldn’t slip and call him papa. He didn’t want Elenora knowing his secrets, and Edward was one of them, and he also didn’t want to lie to his son.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, then, Miss Wetherby,” Edward said. “Would you like to come upstairs and see the nursery? I have a lot of really nice toys.” His gaze went to the library. “And books. I spend a lot of time in the library.” He held out a small hand to Elenora. “Do you like books?”
Jack shifted in discomfort. How unfortunate that for once Edward had ventured downstairs in the afternoon when usually he was engaged with his studies in the schoolroom. He should have spoken to Miss Douglas and impressed on her the importance of keeping the child out of the way on this particular afternoon. Too late now. Things could only get more complicated if he insisted on Edward leaving.
Elenora took away his opportunity to do that though. Smiling, she took Edward’s proffered hand. “I should love that, Master Warren. Lord Broxbourne and I are avoiding having to sit in the drawing room with his mother and my aunt, so seeing the nursery would get us well out of their way. Lead on.”
Jack cleared his throat and made a feeble attempt. “I’m sure, Edward, that Miss Wetherby isn’t interested in seeing the nursery. She’s just being polite.”
She shot him an ingenuous smile, which, with what he knew of her, probably was exactly that. “Oh, I’m not. I would love to see Master Warren’s nursery—and his Latin translation.” She regarded Edward. “I had to teach myself Latin, I’m afraid, as my papa wouldn’t allow me to learn it with my brothers. He doesn’t think girls should learn the Classics. But I very much enjoyed the challenge.”
“I’m not very good at it yet,” Edward said, fidgeting a little in embarrassment. “I’ve only been learning it for a year. Just in case you’re expecting my translation to be good.”
The child seemed to have taken to Elenora straightaway, which was only going to make things worse when Jack had to tell him the engagement was over. But there was little he could do to prevent this now. Resigned to his fate, he followed Elenora and Edward up two flights of stairs and into the day nursery.
“These are my soldiers,” Edward announced, indicating two rows lined up facing one another. “Yesterday, they were fighting at Marathon, and before that, Bosworth Field. Today, I think I’d like them to fight the Battle of Hastings.” He picked one up, resplendent in the red coat of a modern warrior. “I just have to imagine them looking like Normans, I suppose. Miss Douglas drew a Norman soldier for me today so I know what to picture inside my head. I’m quite good at that. I’m not so silly as to think soldiers have always looked like they do nowadays.”
Elenora dropped to her knees on the rug like a natural. “How splendid your imagination must be. I love history myself, and have always fancied performing a reenactment, only my brothers, who are older than me, were sadly lacking in any inclination to comply. All they liked to do with their soldiers was use their catapults on them, and see how many they could knock down.”
Edward beamed. “Well, that sounds like fun too. But I love to have battles with mine, and I don’t have a catapult. Miss Douglas says only naughty boys have them.” He paused, as though a thought had struck him. “Were your brothers naughty boys?”
With a delighted laugh, she picked up a soldier. “Quite naughty, I have to admit, and still quite naughty now they’re grown up.” She held out the soldier. “This one could be William. He can’t be called William the Conqueror until he’s beaten the English under Harold, though.”
Edward nodded. “Harold gets shot in the eye with an arrow. I’m afraid my soldiers have muskets so I have to imagine they’re archers. Miss Douglas says imagination is very important.” He paused. “Do you want to help me fight the battle?” A little blush colored his cheeks. “I was thinking that rug over there could be Senlac Hill. So I’m trying hard to be accurate. Papa says accuracy is of the most important with all things historical.”
And there it was. Betrayed out of the mouth of a child.
Elenora looked up at Jack from her position on the floor, a puzzled frown for a moment marring her looks, then she turned back to Edward, no doubt weighing up how closely they resembled one another. She gave a shrug, as though it didn’t matter. “I should love to help you fight a battle. Which side would you like to be?”
Jack leaned against the door. What was she thinking now Edward had given him away? Had that shrug been her dismissing the import of his son’s words? Did she not care? Was she now wondering if he’d been married before? For a girl normally so outspoken, she remained surprisingly silent. Although not with Edward. Shortly the two of them were carrying on a noisy battle on the nursery rug, with soldiers falling like ninepins and loud noises of somewhat inaccurate explosions. “No cannon in 1066,” Elenora shouted above Edward’s battle noises.
“What noise do arrows make then?” Edward asked, as his one mounted soldier took out a row of foot soldiers. “King Harold is going to win this time.”
The battle was nearly over when the door opened and Miss Douglas, a woman of dour middle-age, whose severe visage concealed a far gentler heart than could have been expected, came in. “My lord.” She bobbed a curtsy. “Ma’am.”
Elenora got to her feet and held out her hand, as though playing with Edward had loosened her tongue entirely. “Elenora Wetherby. You must be the famous Miss Douglas, and I see you have Edward’s translation. Did he do well enough to merit his trip to see the cows?”
Miss Douglas’s stern expression softened. “He did indeed. And if we are to get there and back before dark, we need to go now. If that is convenient, my lord?”
Edward scrambled to his feet, the battle forgotten. “Please say I can go, please, Papa.” He swung round to Elenora. “I love cows and pigs and chickens and horses. When I’m older, I’m going to be papa’s land agent at Broxbourne Park. So I have to learn lots about how to run an estate. Marylebone Park isn’t like that. It’s lots of farms. But it’s got the nearest cows to us and it’s only at the top of the road, so not far. And I love cows. They have such beautiful eyes.”
Miss Douglas’s eyes widened, no doubt surprised that Jack had allowed Elenora to learn his secret. Well, to discover it. Or was there a part of him that had all along wanted her to know? He nodded. “I’m sure the cows would miss your daily visit if you didn’t go. Ask Cook for some apples to take for them. And put on your coat, Edward, lest you catch cold. And don’t forget to hold Miss Douglas’s hand at all times. The road is busy.”
Edward hopped up and down with excitement. “Thank you, thank you.” And he ran off with Miss Douglas.
Jack stood listening to his noisy departure for a few seconds before returning his gaze to Elenora, waiting for her to come out with her thoughts. Waiting, perhaps, for her disapproval of his secret. Although, probably that wasn’t coming.
She was gazing into his eyes this time, as though all reticence about eye contact had vanished with her curiosity and with her game with Edward. “What a lovely son you have, Jack.” She sounded as though she meant it.
“Thank you. He is a constant joy to me.” How stiff his words sounded. How defensive.
She frowned. “But where did you get him from?” And how literal her question. Her bluntness could be disconcerting.
“You make it sound as though I went to a shop that sells children and chose him there.”
She dimpled. “I didn’t mean to. What I meant was, you haven’t been married. I know that because Aunt Penelope told me. She knows everything about everyone in the Ton. She told Mama you are a confirmed bachelor, much as I plan to be a confirmed spinster. So where does a confirmed bachelor acquire a little boy? And I should say, that even before he called you papa, I could see he was yours as he looks so like you.”
Jack sat down on one of the small table’s two chairs. “If you sit down, I’ll tell you. My mother advised me to be honest and tell you everything, as she thinks our engagement a reality, but I refused, mainly because I didn’t think you needed to know. It seems Edward himself has forced my hand.” But had he? Again, the thought that he’d wanted Elenora to discover his secret, or rather one of his secrets, arose.
Without a word, she sat down, still regarding him intensely as though it took a great effort to do so.
He cleared his throat, awkward as a schoolboy. “You will know that I have had… mistresses. That is common knowledge amongst the Haut Ton. Lady Raby was my latest.” He heaved a breath. “I should tell you at this point that my connection with her has been severed, in order to retain the impression of devotion to you that I would like others to see.”
“You didn’t need to do that on my account.”
Did she mean that? Was there nothing about him that promoted any feeling in her against someone he might have a relationship with? And why was it he wanted her to feel that way? He’d think about that later. “Suffice it to say, that my connection with her is over. It is something I wanted, although it seems she did not. And before her, there have been other women. Not all of them in her situation. Not all of them ladies.”
She was watching him now out of her candid blue eyes as though he was telling her the most fascinating story. She really did have the most beautiful eyes… the blue of bluebells in spring. He’d always liked bluebell time when he’d been a boy at Amberley Castle…
“Go on,” she said. She possessed extraordinarily long, dark eyelashes as well. Unusual in one so fair.
“When I was younger I met an… actress. I thought her quite beautiful. We fell in love. It was not a mere dalliance on my part, nor on hers, or so I thought. But she was far beneath my station and when I raised the question of marriage with my parents, they forbade me from doing so.”
“Why did you have to do what they said?”
An obvious question, but only when it came from her. Why indeed? “Now I look back on it, I don’t know why I did. We have obedience to our parents ingrained into us from the very start, do we not? I wanted my father’s approval, not his approbation. My mother was beside herself with shock that her only son should choose an actress as his bride. I swore I’d do it anyway, without their blessing. But my actress, Mary Warren was her name, refused to marry me. She vowed she could never come between me and my parents, and that she’d rather live as my mistress and have me on speaking terms with my parents.”
“She sounds very selfless.”
“She was.”
“Was?”
He nodded. “Was. She died when Edward was born.”
Tears glimmered in her eyes. “That is so sad.”
He dropped his gaze to his hands where they lay on the table. “Yes.”
Her hand moved across the table toward his, tentative and wary. “I am so sorry you lost Edward’s mother.” Her hand slid over his, small and warm.
Jack heaved a sigh. “It was a long time ago. Edward is seven now. I took charge of him after her death, as she had no immediate family, and found him a wetnurse, then a nurse, and now a governess. My mother was against it at first. She wanted me to put him in someone else’s household to be brought up. She suggested he should grow up as the adopted son of one of our tenant farmers. But I’d given in to her once and was not to be bullied into it a second time.” He looked up. “And in time, she’s come to see him as her grandchild. I’m pretty sure she loves him.”
“Well,” Elenora said, “he is her grandchild. So I suppose if she didn’t feel like that I might not be able to like her. She seems more than a little formidable. But if she loves Edward, then I am determined to like her, despite her questions.”
“I suppose you see yourself as lucky that you won’t have to deal with her beyond this season.”
She frowned. “I suppose so.”
An awkward silence fell between them. If only he hadn’t spoken those final thoughts. If he could have taken them back, he would have. If they were going to make this sham engagement work, he needed to behave as if it was undertaken for real. “Perhaps we’d better go downstairs to the drawing room. We are, after all, alone together, and I’m not sure either my mother or your aunt would completely approve.”
A smile lit her face, banishing the serious expression. “We are engaged, so I think every engaged couple is allowed a small amount of time alone.” She glanced across at the fallen soldiers. “And we have two armies to chaperone us.”
Jack stood up and held out his hand. “Most of whom are dead, don’t forget. Let us go downstairs. Perhaps I could prevail upon you not to reveal what you know about Edward to your aunt? Or to your mother when you see her? I like to keep his presence not so much a secret, but more as quiet and unobtrusive. I don’t want to give the gossipmongers more to gossip about me than they already have.”
This time with less hesitation, she took his offered hand. “Your secret is safe with me. Although, if someone were to come out with the direct question ‘does Lord Broxbourne have any children’ I don’t think I could lie for you. But I doubt anyone will ask such a question, so you may consider yourself safe.”
And that would have to do.