Chapter 8
That afternoon, as Nicholas was once more engaged on business—Eleanor refused to believe the business could be Madame Bellaire after that morning—Eleanor was delighted to accept an invitation to drive with the marquess. She eyed his extremely high-perch phaeton with some misgiving, however.
“Is that vehicle safe?” she asked. “It looks as if a breeze would blow it over.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. Not only is it an excellent design, I am an excellent driver.”
It took all Eleanor’s nerve to climb the ladder up to the seat, but she managed it, and then they were off, looking down on most lesser equipages like lords of creation.
“I suppose,” she said, “the heir to a dukedom expects to roll through life at an elevation.”
He laughed and flashed her one of his twinkling, seductive looks. “I occasionally find mere mortals worth the trouble of descent.”
A part of Eleanor reacted to him. What woman could not? And yet she knew he did not have the power over her that Nicholas had, and she could dismiss the marquess of Arden from her life without a second thought.
Thought of life without Nicholas was utterly unbearable, and she missed a whole stream of Lord Arden’s witty conversation dreaming about the delights of the coming night.
Still, Lucien de Vaux could not help but charm, and Eleanor entered her house later that afternoon humming a tune and swinging her straw villager bonnet by its ribbons. She saw her husband just descending the stairs.
“Nicholas!” She knew she had no chance of concealing the joy she felt, and so let it shine forth. Surely it could do no harm for him to know she delighted in his company.
Perhaps she was mistaken in that.
He spoke pleasantly enough, but the shadows were back in his eyes. If anything, they intensified at her greeting. “Eleanor. You seem to be in spirits. Arden been turning you up sweet?”
She could not see her way, and so she kept her voice cheerful as she spoke. “Of course, and I have had a delightful time. I can only hope your day passed as pleasantly as mine.”
“I am afraid not,” he said as they moved into the library.
She noticed uneasily that he did not meet her eyes but turned instead to study one of a pile of letters awaiting him.
“This tangled business is still going to take quite a bit of my time, I’m afraid.” He turned the letter as if reading it, but clearly he was not. “A friend wishes me to acquire a property for him,” he said, and suddenly he was facing her honestly again. Was this then true?
“When I agreed to the task,” he continued, “it seemed a simple business, but the vendor is now being very demanding. I am having to pay almost constant attention to the matter. I feel committed, however. It is a matter of considerable importance to my friend.”
“How tiresome it must be for you,” she said lightly, wondering how this connected with Madame Bellaire. Perhaps he had not, in fact, spent all his time away with the woman. Perhaps he was using her place for the negotiations.
“Would it help your efforts,” she asked, “if we were to invite the gentleman here and woo him with good food and company?”
His eyes sparkled with humor, but there was a twist in it. “A kind notion, but I’m afraid not. I have to go to the mountain, if you see what I mean, and my powers of persuasion seem to be the only key. But thank you for the offer.”
He turned back to the pile of papers. “There are already a number of invitations for you, my dear.”
“Yes,” she said as she took the pile of cards he held out. “The aunts are being most assiduous in bringing me into fashion, and the Rogues assist when they are able.”
“Good God. I can think of nothing worse.”
She laughed and he smiled back more freely now they were on a safer subject. “It is a little nerve-racking at times,” she admitted, “but I’m beginning to be able to pick and choose my friends. I am promised to the Lady Bretton’s soiree this evening. Francis offered to escort me, but…”
“I have to go out tonight,” he said quickly, “but I’m free tomorrow. I’ll escort you where you will, or we could have a quiet evening by the fireside. Do you dine at home this evening?”
“Yes, but Francis is to join me.”
As she went up to her dressing room she cursed that circumstance.
After this morning she would delight in being alone with her husband.
But now he was home, she assured herself, she would see a great deal of him even if he would be engaged about this business so much. She could endure his involvement.
As long as he was not with the Frenchwoman, she admitted wryly, he could spend his time in whatever way he wished.
Eleanor was in high spirits at dinner, and Nicholas seemed to take pleasure from that.
They discussed the interesting Grand Duchess Catherine of Oldenburg, who had refused to stay at Carlton House in favor of Pulteney’s Hotel; and the plans for festivities when the czar of Russia and the king of Prussia arrived to celebrate the victory against Napoleon.
On their way to Lady Bretton’s they were to drive by Carlton House to see the wonderful victory illuminations there.
Lord Middlethorpe watched Nicholas and Eleanor, enjoying the way their minds seemed at times to mesh as they shared a joke and noting with sadness the occasions when Nicholas recollected himself and drew back from a topic that could approach the personal. He could see no way to help matters.
As he and Eleanor drove off to Lady Bretton’s he said, “I would not have minded if you had canceled this evening, Eleanor. I’m sure you would rather have the spent the time with Nicholas.”
“Yes, I would,” she said honestly, “but he expected that I would be engaged and so had already made a commitment of his own. A card party at Miles’s, I believe.”
“Of course,” said Lord Middlethorpe, who knew no such party had been arranged.
Eleanor noted a trace of reserve in him, but then he started to talk of other matters.
She hoped he was not going to start to fret over Nicholas’s “neglect” of her as Lord Stainbridge did whenever they chanced to meet.
Well, they would all soon see there was no cause for concern.
She was sure she and Nicholas would be much closer from now on.
That was not the way it was to be.
To Eleanor’s astonishment and hurt, that one brief time of pleasure might never have been.
Nicholas began to treat her as an amiable stranger and to avoid being alone with her whenever he could.
Even when they shared a bed he was distant, and Eleanor had no idea how to approach him.
Once she asked him to hold her and he complied, very kindly.
It led nowhere. Occasionally she sought him out for a quiet tete-a-tete, which he broke off as soon as courtesy would allow.
She had to finally conclude, with a breaking heart, that her scheme to detach him from the Frenchwoman had backfired.
He had discovered he could not cope with the two of them, but it was his wife he had rejected, not his mistress.
When her bedroom was completed and she moved out of his, it was a bitter relief.
Now she no longer need harbor hope that some night he might find her desirable once more.
Lord Middlethorpe, often her companion, saw how hurt she was. He raised the problem with his friend when Nicholas dined one night at his rooms.
“If you have the leisure, Nick, don’t you think you would do better to dine at home?”
“No,” was the uncompromising reply.
“Eleanor would enjoy your company,” Lord Middlethorpe persisted.
Nicholas sighed as he recognized his friend’s determination. “I can’t, Francis. I do spend time with her in public. I don’t want to start talk. But I can’t spend time at home.”
“Why? I can understand a little why you don’t wish to make love to her just now, but surely you can give her your company.”
His friend’s smile was sad. “If I see her I want to touch her, and if I touch her I want to kiss her, and if I kiss her…” His hand tightened into a fist and then relaxed.
“She’s in danger of falling in love with me and I can’t do that to her.
It’s only luck that this whole thing hasn’t become public knowledge.
That luck won’t last unless I can bring the mess to a conclusion soon.
As things are now, if it becomes known, Eleanor will be made uncomfortable, but at least it won’t break her heart. ”
Francis wondered whether it wasn’t too late, but he held his tongue. “How much longer, do you think?”
“God only knows. I can still hardly believe that the plot is real, and that Therese is involved. I could wring her neck, the way she shilly-shallies. I’ve promised her money, immunity from prosecution, and a speedy passage to safety in the Americas.
Now she wants me to go with her. I’ll promise her that, too, though I’ll break my word.
I don’t understand why she’s delaying. She appears to be afraid of someone. ”
Lord Middlethorpe pushed some fish around his plate, appetite lost in concern for his friend. He had to speak. “Be careful, Nick. Eleanor is being hurt, despite your care. You may move so far apart that there is no return.”
Nicholas simply said, “I know.”
Lord Middlethorpe looked up suddenly. “Would it help, do you think, if there was a third person in your house?”
“Are you planning to move in?” asked Nicholas with a slight smile.
“No, I was thinking of Amy.”
Nicholas was surprised. “Why would she move in with us? She’s at your house having a wonderful season.”
“Not exactly,” said Lord Middlethorpe, and began to explain his idea.
Eleanor could at least console herself that there was no public shame, though she worried sometimes about how many of the men, like Mr. Yates and Mr. Massey, knew of her husband’s infatuation. Did the Rogues? She supposed their code of honor kept such matters among themselves.