Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“ M ust we attend, Mama?” Eloise pleaded as she found herself whisked off to yet another ball the following evening.
She was unsure whether her mother had simply forgotten that the family’s reputation was hanging in the balance or that she simply did not care. Either way, it was too late now. They were already ascending the grand staircase of the sprawling manor that was hosting the event.
“We must show our faces, Eloise, otherwise the Ton will begin to gossip,” Lady Danridge insisted, her chin held high with the stubborn pride of a woman who refused to let misfortune define her.
I imagine they are already doing that.
As they entered the ballroom, glittering chandeliers cast their light upon the wealthiest and most privileged members of the Ton.
Eloise found it difficult to concentrate on the festivities. Her mind kept drifting to the weight of their debts, the looming threat of Mr. Carlisle, and the lie she had told her mother. But tonight, appearances were everything. Tonight, she would find a way to solve their woes.
“Eloise! You look stunning this evening.”
“Hannah! You cannot know how good it is to see you,” Eloise said as she gave her dear friend a quick heartfelt embrace.
Hannah Bryton, the youngest daughter of the Earl of Frinton, was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Though she could outshine even the prettiest girls in the Ton, she had never shown much desire to do so, and that was one of the many reasons Eloise loved her so much. She was shy, grounded, and cautious, but she was also the most caring person Eloise had ever met.
“I have hardly seen you at any of the recent events,” she said. “I thought you might have fallen ill.”
Eloise returned her smile though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Nothing that dramatic, I assure you. I have simply been busy.”
Hannah linked her arm with Eloise’s, guiding her towards a quieter corner of the room away from the thickest throngs of guests. “Well, it is good to see you. You have been missed although I daresay you have not missed much.”
Eloise chuckled softly. “I can imagine.”
“Are you quite sure everything is all right?” Hannah asked.
“I am certain,” Eloise said firmly. “I promise. You know I would never hide anything from you.”
If only that were true.
“I know,” Hannah said. “There was?—”
Her words were cut short by a commotion ahead as a flock of fawning ladies fluttered their fans around a newcomer. Eloise raised herself up onto her tiptoes to get a better look.
“Good evening, one and all,” the newcomer called, his voice booming across the ballroom.
If she did not know any better, Eloise would have thought him the host, but he was merely another guest.
Hannah leaned in with a mischievous smile. “Look who is gracing us with his presence this evening. I do believe he is only here to remind us all how terribly charming he is.”
Lord Gideon Larson, Earl of Mortcombe, was a bombastic man. He always wanted everyone to know that he had arrived, and he would also make a fuss every time he departed.
He was attractive, Eloise supposed, but in a superficial, false sort of way, his nose perpetually tilted slightly upward as though the world existed solely to admire him. He was vain and arrogant in a way that only the wealthiest of men were, and he had somehow become the most eligible bachelor of the Ton.
Eloise could not see what all the fuss was about.
Eloise groaned and lowered herself from her toes. “If charm could be measured by vanity, he would have an endless supply.”
“Careful,” Hannah teased. “He is heading this way. Are you quite sure that you do not wish to join the gaggle of gigglers?”
Lord Mortcombe sauntered over to them, his posture the very picture of smugness. “Ah, Lady Eloise,” he drawled, his voice as slick as oil. “You look positively radiant tonight. I do believe you have immeasurably surpassed the beauty of this wondrous evening.”
Eloise curtsied politely but could not suppress a small, wry smile. “How very kind of you to notice, My Lord, though I fear it might be the chandeliers that deserve the credit for my radiance this evening.”
He chuckled, clearly believing his wit had elicited hers. “Indeed, you may be correct. They are such stunning chandeliers, are they not? I have considered adding some to my own home.”
Eloise raised an eyebrow, her tone dry as she replied, “Yes, perhaps they would brighten up your world a bit.”
Lord Mortcombe blinked, not quite catching her barb. He continued undeterred, stepping closer and lowering his voice as though sharing some great secret. “I must say, I have been watching you for some time, Lady Eloise. You have an air about you, a grace that is hard to find. Surely, you have noticed the attention that you have garnered?”
Eloise tilted her head, pretending to ponder. “Indeed, My Lord, I have taken notice. Though, I must admit, I have found that many gentlemen are drawn to appearances rather than substance.”
Lord Mortcombe beamed, assuming her comment was an acknowledgment of his own interest. “Exactly, my dear! You understand the importance of appearances. After all, that is how we get to know each other, is it not?”
Eloise exchanged a glance with Hannah, who was doing her best not to laugh outright. Had the man listened to a word she had said, or was he really that obtuse?
“Oh, indeed,” Eloise replied, her words coated in amusement. “But I also place so much value on conversations of real depth and meaning. I do find them so refreshing.”
Lord Mortcombe straightened his cravat, puffing out his chest. “Well, I like to think of myself as a man of intellect, Lady Eloise. I have read quite a few books, you know.”
“How fascinating,” Eloise said sweetly. “Pray tell, what are you reading at the moment?”
“I… er…” Lord Mortcombe floundered, his cheeks reddening. “Actually, I am between books at the moment.”
“Really? But a prolific reader such as yourself must have recently finished one, did you not?”
“Y-yes,” he stammered, clearly on unstable ground. He cleared his throat and straightened himself.
Eloise pressed her lips together to prevent herself from laughing openly at the poor man, yet she could not stop herself from teasing him. “Have you read Lord Byron’s latest?”
“Ah yes,” Lord Mortcombe replied proudly. “A man of great political values. His treatise on government was quite compelling.”
“Government?” Eloise raised her eyebrows while Hannah hid behind her back, stifling her giggles. “I would say it is almost as if the man is in love with the government. One day I would like to hear some of your thoughts on his… er… treatise. ”
His face faltered for the briefest of moments before he recovered and flashed her a winning smile. “Yes… perhaps.”
“Lord Mortcombe, if you have a moment,” someone called from behind them.
Another tittering lady was vying for his attention. Lord Mortcombe glanced at her then turned back to Eloise, winked, and disappeared into his crowd of adoring fans.
Hannah snorted with mirth as soon as the Earl had left. “You are terrible! Now that poor man will regale everyone with tales of Byron’s supposed political theories!”
“Serves him right,” Eloise said. She flicked open her fan and watched him leave. “Even my aunt’s poodle knows Byron is a poet. It is not my fault Mortcombe failed to pay attention to his lessons at that fancy school he attended.”
“How often do you think he spends practicing that smirk in the mirror?” Hannah asked.
Eloise laughed quietly, shaking her head then returning her gaze to her friend. “Far too long, I suspect. He is dreadfully pleased with himself, is he not? He is as vain as ever.”
There is no amount of charm or money that could make me endure a man like that.
The two girls continued to exchange pleasantries after which Hannah was asked to dance. Eloise gracefully withdrew to one corner of the ballroom in search of a solitary moment.
Teasing Lord Mortcombe had been a welcome distraction, but now that she was alone, she could not stop thinking about Jeremy, her mother, and their dire family situation. There was nowhere on earth she could hide, nowhere she could be unburdened from the weight of that knowledge.
As the evening continued, the lively atmosphere of the ball was suddenly shattered by a stirring near the edge of the dancing area.
The music faltered briefly as whispers began to ripple throughout the guests and spread like wildfire. Eloise’s curiosity piqued when she saw a group of guests gathering, their eyes wide at the news of the scandal.
“Did you hear?” Hannah whispered, suddenly appearing next to Eloise and leaning close to her. “Lady Charlotte and Lord Marbury… caught in the garden!”
Eloise’s eyes widened. “Caught? You mean?—?”
“Yes, in a very compromising position,” Hannah confirmed, her voice hushed with the thrill of gossip. “But Lord Marbury has already announced their engagement. They were forced to act quickly, of course.”
“Goodness.”
A woman nearby, well-known for her loose tongue, loudly commented, “Well, is that not convenient for Lady Charlotte? She is penniless, after all. An engagement is just the thing to save her from ruin.”
The words rang through Eloise’s ears, resonating with more than just idle gossip. She watched as Lady Charlotte and Lord Marbury accepted the congratulations of their fellow guests, the expressions on their faces carefully composed, though Charlotte’s eyes betrayed a hint of relief behind her forced smile.
The engagement had not just saved her reputation—it had secured her future.
Eloise felt her stomach clench.
A quick engagement.
Secured her future.
A way out.
She glanced at her mother standing across the room, the light from the chandelier’s candles making her appear regal as she watched over the crowd. But beneath that poised exterior was a woman in despair, drowning under the weight of her late husband’s debts. And Jeremy, far away, would not be able to save them in time.
The image of Mr. Carlisle’s leering face flashed through Eloise’s mind, along with the sound of his threats. Her heart raced as everything suddenly fell into place.
That is what I need to do.
Creating a scandal was not necessary, but she urgently needed to become engaged to a wealthy gentleman from the Ton.
Her eyes drifted through the ballroom, searching, assessing. She needed someone of means, a gentleman who would not ask too many questions; someone who would not care about the intricacies of her family’s finances and perhaps lacked a degree of intelligence.
Her gaze landed on the very last person she wanted to consider, but he fit the bill perfectly.
Lord Mortcombe.
He stood across the room, surrounded by his usual flock of admirers, his vanity as nauseatingly palpable as ever. Eloise had always dismissed him as a self-centered, vapid man, completely absorbed in his own reflection. But now, as she watched him preen under the attention of his flock of ladies, a plan clicked into place.
Mortcombe is perfect.
Wealthy, vain, and, most importantly, easily managed. He would not dig too deeply into her family’s affairs. He was exactly the kind of suitor who could solve her problems without asking questions or complicating matters. Moreover, his overinflated ego might actually work in her favor. He did not even know who Lord Byron was, for goodness’ sake!
“Eloise?” Hannah’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Are you all right? You seem distracted. I know it is all extremely exciting, but…”
Eloise blinked, turning back to her friend.
“I am fine,” she murmured as her mind continued to sift through the steps of her strategy.
A husband could save us from ruin. And Mortcombe, with his wealth and arrogance, is the key to that salvation.
She felt a rush of determination. If Lady Charlotte could secure her future with a swift engagement, so could she. Eloise just had to convince Lord Mortcombe that her hand in marriage was worth pursuing and that she was a prize to be won—and quickly.
Her heart pounded, but she lifted her chin. If this was the game she had to play to save her family, then so be it.