Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“Look who’s arrived. The bespectacled shrublet.”
After not having been to a ball for quite some time, Elinor felt overwhelmed as she stepped into Lord and Lady Hale’s ballroom, finding herself face-to-face with a sea of witnesses and whispers she ought to have expected but had not.
She was so used to being called a wallflower, unimportant, inconspicuous, that she did not expect the curious glances in her direction.
For once, she was not wearing a simple day gown. Her stepmother had actually endowed her with a beautiful new one, likely because the duke himself had asked for Elinor’s presence. The fear over shame was greater than her disliking of Elinor, so she had equipped her sufficiently.
Yet, as grateful as Elinor was, she could not help but think of the duke’s comment about disliking all the gaudily-dressed ladies who preened themselves as though it made up for a lack of personality.
He is getting to know me better than that, she assured herself as she descended the main staircase into the ballroom alongside her stepmother and stepsisters. He knows me beyond a frilly, fancy gown. He will understand.
And then she had to question herself as to why she even cared.
Her arm was suddenly grasped, and she looked at Lady Morland, who regarded her with the particular pity that Elinor disliked being in receipt of.
“Elinor, I will be honest with you, I do not know how you have managed to captivate His Grace’s attention, when it ought to have been Belinda who did, but it seems His Grace is not currently present. I cannot help wondering if he has come to his senses.”
“He simply is late,” Elinor said.
“Regardless.” her stepmother’s grip tightened. “I would like you to give Belinda more room to speak if he does arrive. Either of my daughters are worthy of the Duke of Fairmont.”
Of course, Elinor already knew that, and her cheeks flushed in humiliation.
“Certainly,” she answered.
“Mama, you are not being very nice to Elinor,” Joanna said quietly. “She has every right to be in this ballroom, too.”
Up ahead, Belinda had already delved into the crowd, slotting herself between a group of ladies. She leaned in to whisper to one of them, and a moment later, four pairs of eyes lifted to Elinor, giggles too far away to hear, but easy to read.
Elinor turned her face away, searching the crowd.
He would not do this to her, surely. He would not invite her to a ball, only to not turn up himself, when she had told him well enough how her stepfamily felt about her being present.
Her stepmother steered her forward. “If you are to be here then you will make an effort. You will not shame me by remaining a wallflower. Not tonight.”
Yet curiously, around her, suitors did not see through her as usual. For once, their gazes lingered in a way Elinor was not accustomed to, in a way that made her feel as though the world was hanging upside down.
Before her stepmother could select a target, two lords approached, their attention flickering between Elinor and Joanna.
“Lady Elinor,” one of them said, and she recognized him as Lord Callum. “Lady Joanna. I was hoping to put myself on both of your dance cards, if that is all right. My father is the Earl of Tellingham, and we own a great deal of land.”
The message was not subtle: I would make you a wealthy countess.
“Of course,” Joanna spoke up first, much more used to this sort of thing. “Thank you, Lord Callum.”
“And yourself, Lady Elinor? I fear I have overlooked you in the past, but I do not intend to do so tonight.”
Her thoughts drifted to a certain duke, and she smiled, pretending it was for Lord Callum as she offered him her dance card. Hand trembling, she watched his signature swirl across the paper before he returned it with an inclination of his head.
It was strange: the duke had been right.
His public interest in her was enhancing others’ interest. She tried not to care if their curiosity came only because of him, but that foundation remained.
He had chosen her. He could have dismissed her, reported her to her family, but he had seen something in her worth risking his public reputation for.
For now, he had associated himself with her. Her. The strange wallflower who had shouted at Lord Thompson, who had not had one suitor visit after a ball. Until now.
Lord Callum took his leave, and Elinor and Joanna drifted to the refreshment table. Joanna’s cheeks were flushed. “Is this not exciting? You have been missing out by lingering on the edges.”
“I believe I have,” Elinor admitted, still reeling.
Joanna leaned closer, her voice dropping. “I am slightly concerned about Belinda, though. She can be wrathful even without instigation. Do tread carefully, Elinor.”
“I will,” she assured her stepsister, but it was a lie. In truth, she had dived into dangerous waters, and she did not know how to swim through them.
But before she could say more, a hush fell over the ballroom.
Her eyes went in the same direction that everybody else’s did: to the main entrance of the ballroom, where the Duke of Fairmont had just entered, that winning smile already fixed on his face as he buttoned up his tailcoat.
The motion had the air of I am late because I did not want to be here, but I suppose I could fit it into my schedule, and Elinor found herself following his hands’ movement.
“Heavens,” Joanna whispered. “I have not seen a man command a room so absurdly.”
Elinor’s brows rose in silent curiosity. She couldn’t help wondering if he liked so much attention. Did it please him, or did he loathe it? Was the charming personality really a mask, or was he truly the man who cared about orphaned children and rickety, dangerous staircases? Could he be both?
“He appears to be looking for someone,” Joanna commented.
His eyes found Elinor, and his smile brightened. Through the crowd, the duke strode toward her, already holding his hand out. Elinor extended hers, and he kissed the back of it, his mouth a brief brush on her skin.
“Lady Elinor.” He straightened, nodding to her stepsister. “Lady Joanna.”
His focus returned to Elinor. “Let me see your dance card.”
She stiffened. “Why?”
He did not answer. He only made an impatient tap on his palm with his fingers. She pulled the card out but held it back.
“Most gentlemen would ask how I am before making demands,” she continued, the boldness of the night making her too confident.
Joanna laughed, a nervous edge to the sound.
“I am not most gentlemen,” he said in a low, even voice, his eyes piercing into hers so fiercely she lost her breath for a second. Then, the corner of his lips curved. “How are you, Lady Elinor?”
“I am well, thank—”
“Good, now let me see your dance card.”
Elinor surrendered it with a helpless sigh. His eyes darkened as he took in the names.
“You will not dance with anybody tonight but me.”
“That is a very bold move, Your Grace,” Joanna commented, giving Elinor a knowing look.
The duke shot Joanna a smooth, pleasant smile. “You see that I am a bold man, Lady Joanna.”
Joanna murmured something about finding a dance partner of her own, and Elinor was grateful. For when they were alone, the duke leaned closer, pretending to look at the refreshments table. His mouth came near her ear, and she fought back a shiver.
“I have plans for tonight,” he told her. “Just know that I am putting our ruse into further action.”
That terrified Elinor more than anything. Still, she nodded.
“Then when shall we have our first dance?” she asked.
“I am a man who believes there’s no better time than the present.”
He took hold of her hand, and in the movement of leading her to the dance floor, the duke slid her dance card into the pocket of her reticule. The briefest feel of his hand near her hip sent color flooding to her cheeks. He spun her into position, his palm settling on her waist.
“I do not want to sound offensive,” he said, laughing lightly, “but you do know how to dance, do you not?”
“Of course I do. I took lessons, like every young lady. I just did not know that they would go to waste.”
“Oh, Lady Elinor,” he purred, “tonight, they shall not.”
He whirled her into the first steps. Around them the ballroom watched. Elinor could not entirely block out the stares, curiosity from the men, and jealousy from ladies. Each time her shoulders began to pull inward, the duke found a way to turn her, loosening them.
“For a lady who has not danced with anybody for a while, you are very adept,” he complimented. “I am honored to have such a partner.”
“Partners in more ways than one,” she laughed.
“Partners in ruse,” he mused. “Partners in dancing, and … well …” He grinned at her. “Another kind, perhaps.”
Elinor’s heart pounded, and she swallowed, not knowing how to answer.
“You look beautiful,” he told her, his voice pitched beneath the music.
“There is nobody to hear us,” she reminded him. “The music drowns us out. You do not need to speak falsely.”
“I am speaking honestly.”
His eyes held hers, far too intimate for pretense. Elinor misstepped, and the duke braced her tighter, pulling her closer than the dance required. His hand drifted low on her waist.
“Your hand,” she managed, “is rather low.”
“And? We must give the ton a show. We have the attention of everyone here. Especially a very jealous Lady Belinda. Perhaps I will smile at her just to be spiteful.”
“Do not,” Elinor said quickly, but she found herself laughing. “She will be awful to me.”
“And I will protect you, and be ten times as awful back, as much as I can get away with.”
“You are rather wicked, are you not, Your Grace?”
“I have knowledge that my tongue is, particularly. Would you like to find out?”
Elinor stumbled, her eyes widening, and the duke laughed.
“I am quite the insulter,” he said smoothly. “My tongue is rather wicked with words. But do tell me what assumption had your face going pinker than a decadent raspberry.”
“I was thinking nothing,” she rushed to say. “Nothing beyond what you clearly meant.”
His eyes flashed. “I do rather like raspberries, you know. They are delicious to taste.”
Elinor thought she might not survive the night.
“May I ask why you were late?” She needed anything to nudge the conversation away from his flirtation.
The duke paused, then answered in a lower voice, “I was at Fielding House, overseeing one of the bedroom renovations. Some materials arrived in a less than adequate condition.”
She nodded, thinking again of that question she kept returning to. Perhaps he could be both the charming rake and the man who fixed staircases for orphaned children, but the quick shifts between his personalities made him hard to predict.
“I still wish to know more about these passions of yours,” he told her. “People are baffled by you, Lady Elinor.”
“I am aware,” she admitted. “I am the spectacled lady who knows too much about topics designed for men, yet I love them and wish to speak openly. People do not seem to like that.”
“Because it intimidates them.”
“But not you.”
“Not me.”
The song drew to a close, and Elinor found that her heart rate had still not calmed. She curtsied as he bowed, half expecting him to excuse himself. Instead, the Duke kept hold of her hand and guided her through the ballroom.
“I must speak with your stepmother,” he said, and Elinor’s heart dropped, for there was only one reason a suitor asked to directly approach the parents of a lady he was already courting.
This is part of the plan, she reminded herself. You knew this would happen. Just not so quickly.
They reached Lady Morland, whose smile was thin but polite enough not to betray her displeasure. The duke smiled warmly.
“Lady Morland, it is wonderful to see you again.”
“Likewise, Your Grace. I had rather worried Lady Elinor had scared you off.”
The duke laughed, shaking his head. “A bold statement, Lady Morland.” A subtle reminder of his authority, and that he would not stand for the slights against Elinor.
“In fact, it is quite the opposite. I have found myself head over heels for your stepdaughter. It is not something I have ever felt before.”
Something heavier lived in that confession, something more honest than his usual tone, and Elinor did not know what to do with it.
“Oh?” Lady Morland blinked. “Oh, well, that is … good news.” Her eyes cut to Elinor with a displeased narrowing.
“It is,” the duke affirmed. “And because it is not something I have ever felt before, I know when something is right. I am a man who knows what I want in life, and I do not intend to waste Lady Elinor’s time. I wish to marry her.”
Elinor’s heart slammed down to her feet. Her stepmother’s face paled.
“I can only profusely apologize that I cannot ask Lord Morland, as it proper,” the duke continued, “but I know I cannot disturb his rest and healing, yet I also cannot wait a moment longer. I will send a letter to him, of course, but I wish to make my intentions known tonight.”
The sound of something shattering reached Elinor’s ears. Too faint, yet too loud, somehow both at once. A sting hit her foot beneath her gown.
Her stepmother had dropped her glass.