Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
“Let me see that,” her stepmother ordered.
The invitation to Lady Roland’s tea party arrived two mornings later, delivered on a silver platter at breakfast.
Elinor had lifted the letter opener already, but now lowered it, looking up. “But it is addressed to me.”
“Oh,” Belinda scoffed, “you are betrothed to a duke and now have a voice? I much preferred you when you were practically a mouse. Do not question my mother.”
“I am not,” Elinor answered, keeping her voice quiet. “I am merely stating a fact.”
“Facts are boring,” Belinda sighed, rolling her eyes.
“Give it to me, Elinor,” Elinor’s stepmother ordered once again. “You know that all invitations go through me first. That has been the rule in this house for four years, and it shall not change. Do not disobey me.”
Elinor bit back her sigh and finally handed over the invitation. Morland House’s butler, Mr. Penchase, bowed out of the breakfast hall. Joanna bit her lip, quietly chewing on her eggs that she had dusted with herbs, as always.
Her mother snatched the invitation out of Elinor’s hands, tearing the letter opener with lethal precision. Belinda peered over, trying to read it at the same time, but even she was forced back with a glare from her mother.
“Lady Roland is hosting the grandest tea party of the Season,” Elinor’s stepmother read aloud, and then chuckled.
“Well, that is a rather bold statement, for Lady Heatherby’s tea party last month was very notorious.
Regardless. Lady Elinor, the daughter of Marquess Morland, is cordially invited to attend, along with the Morland family. ”
At that, Elinor being the primary invitee, Lady Morland’s eyes narrowed even further. She flicked her gaze to Elinor, as if she herself had written the invitation.
“Recently betrothed to His Grace, the Duke of Fairmont, Lady Elinor is a highly valued guest, and I, Lady Roland, hope that she will return my invitation with acceptance. It is to my understanding that she does not attend many balls. However, I hope to see both His Grace and Lady Elinor in attendance.”
“Heavens,” Joanna whispered. “That is quite an invitation, Elinor.”
“Does it mention anything about me?” Belinda demanded, her mouth twisting. “Or even Joanna?”
“We are invited, as I read,” Lady Morland told her, “But that is the only mention we have. I am certain our own personal invitations shall not be far behind.”
Belinda’s head shot in Elinor’s direction, her scowl vicious.
“Do not get used to this privilege, Elinor.” She shoved her chair back, her fingernails all but digging into the dining table.
“The duke shall soon come to his senses about you and see what we see. The boring, dull wallflower that you are, a girl who cannot even read without her spectacles, squinting behind the glass. He will grow ashamed of you soon enough when you slip up like you did with Lord Thompson. Just keep us far, far away from your shameful behavior.”
“Belinda, sit down,” Lady Morland said, sighing.
“No,” she snapped. “No, I shall not! Not when the most eligible suitor has seen something in her.” She jabbed a finger in Elinor’s direction, accusing and angry. “I do not want to spend one more moment in a room with her.”
And with that, ignoring her own mother’s order, Belinda whirled on her heel and stormed out of the breakfast hall.
Elinor cringed at her stepmother’s second sigh. “Do you see what you are doing to this family, Elinor?”
“Would you have me refuse His Grace’s proposal?” She tried to keep her question as unimposing as possible, trying to word it as a suggestion rather than a challenge, to avoid infuriating her stepmother further.
“No, that would have been insulting to him, and humiliating for my family.”
“Then, I am wrong either way,” Elinor mumbled.
“No, Elinor, you are not wrong either way. You should have simply stayed out of his way. That day in Hyde Park, you should have kept your beastly cat in order, and you should have kept your head down and let Belinda step forward to capture the duke’s attention. That is what you ought to have done.”
“I—”
“The damage has already been done,” her stepmother snapped. “Do not bother defending yourself. We shall all attend Lady Roland’s tea party, and you will be the most exemplary version of yourself.”
With that, her stepmother stood up from the table, tossing the invitation onto the tablecloth, leaving it behind. Only when moments passed after her exit did Elinor hastily go over and pick it up. Idly, she traced over betrothed, feeling the embossed cursive.
“Elinor,” Joanna whispered, glancing toward the doorway, as if she thought her sister or mother might have lingered. “Are you truly happy?”
“I … am,” Elinor managed.
“And your engagement … it is worth their fury? You truly wish to wed His Grace?”
Elinor forced a smile, her heart aching for some reason when she thought about the wedding that would never happen. “I do. He makes me very happy.”
Joanna nodded, smiling. “Then I shall support you. I am only sorry I cannot always do so in front of them.”
“They are both quite a handful,” Elinor laughed helplessly. “I would not recommend it, either way.”
Joanna laughed along with her before she dug back into her breakfast.
Elinor found herself without an appetite, though, and quietly excused herself, tucking the invitation into her dress pocket.
“Lady Elinor,” Lucien greeted several days later, taking her hand to kiss. “It is good to see you again. I see our good news has spread well and truly through the ton.”
“I assume your invitation read similarly to mine, then,” she answered, smiling a little, too aware that her stepfamily stood around her.
“That you are now a highly ranked guest? Indeed, it did, and you deserve such praise.”
He stood up properly, eyeing her stepmother, who curtsied.
“Your Grace,” she greeted, but there was an edge to her voice that perhaps only Elinor might notice from being around her so much. Yet Lucien’s expression flickered, as if he found offense in her tone.
“Lady Morland,” he greeted in return. “Lady Belinda. Lady Joanna.” He nodded at them both. “I heard you were both rather successful at the most recent ball last week, that your dance cards practically ran out of room. You must both feel rather pleased with yourselves.”
Once again, he was delivering a slight laced with compliments, pointed at Belinda’s attention and that it ought to turn elsewhere.
“It was,” Belinda preened. “Unlike Lady Elinor’s, I must admit.”
“That was because I took over as her primary dance partner.” Lucien shot a persuasive grin, glancing at Elinor. “I couldn’t stand the thought of her attention being snagged by another suitor.”
“Surely a duke cannot be bested,” Elinor’s stepmother cut in curtly.
“Who knows? My betrothed may have found somebody else more suited to her, regardless of my title.”
He looked at her pointedly, and Elinor forced a soft laugh.
“You are the most suited to me, Your Grace,” she murmured, drawing closer to him, playing her part.
Nerves still stirred in her stomach at the act of it, of wondering if she was doing something wrong, or if her acting was clumsy.
Most of all, though, she felt slightly humiliated at the flirting, of having to fake that part, of pretending to have his affection.
“I am glad you think so. I feel the same.” He gave her a secretive smile, and she returned it, knowing it was because they were fooling everyone well.
“Like I said to my friend—who will be present here today, actually—when a man like myself knows, he knows.
Now, Lady Morland, if you do not mind, I must steal Lady Elinor from you so I may take her for a turn around the garden.
There are people I know who are rather eager to meet her.
“As you please, Your Grace.” Elinor’s stepmother’s thin smile said enough that she was grateful to have Elinor taken off her hands, but she was not pleased with the circumstance.
Lucien offered his arm to Elinor, who slipped her hand through it.
He tugged her close, and her breath caught at the sudden closeness.
“Do not stray from my side now, betrothed,” he whispered in her ear, his mouth curving upwards.
She could feel the movement of it against her temple. Elinor fought a shiver at the reminder of that mouth stealing her breath away.
She wanted to ask if they were going to discuss that moment in the office.
She wanted to ask why he had done it if nobody had been present, that there was no reason to pretend.
She wanted to ask why he had kissed her as a response to the questions she had asked, as if the kiss said enough. It had certainly said something.
“Elinor?” he prompted, drawing her attention.
“Sorry,” she laughed. “I was lost in thought.”
“Care to share?”
“Absolutely not.”
“A shame. I thought I had expressed my desire to know your mind.”
“These thoughts are not intelligent,” Elinor dismissed. “And if I recall correctly, you were interested in that, even though nobody else has been.”
“That is only because they are too small-minded to understand cleverness when it hits them square in the face,” Lucien chuckled. “So, if they were not intelligent thoughts, then what were they?”
Elinor hesitated before saying, “Foolish ones.”
“I like that kind.”
She pulled a face, waving him away with a soft laugh.
He leaned in close, his breath fanning over her jaw. “I shall not let it drop, dear Elinor. Let me explore your mind, just like I explored your—”
“Your Grace!”
Lucien straightened at once, clearing his throat, and Elinor both blushed and laughed at the interruption, wishing he had been able to say what he had intended and glad that he had not, for she had a good idea of what it would have been.
A young lord approached them, a wide smile on his face. “It has been a while, Your Grace.”
“Lord Hilton.” Lucien nodded a greeting him. “It is good to see you. How have you been?”