Chapter Three
From the periphery of the Houghtons’ ballroom, Eleanor hummed under her breath as dancers whirled before her.
Light from the chandeliers refracted over the crowd, the dangling crystals refracting the candles into a hundred different flames.
Jewels and precious metals glinted and flashed, beads and clever embroidery capturing and reflecting light with each move.
She could barely hear herself think above the noise, the chatter and the music and the laughter and the shouts. It was big and messy and glorious.
Eleanor adored it.
As she watched, Benedict’s niece Amanda whirled by, a glorious smile on her face.
The entire ball she had been on her feet, dancing with one young gentleman or another, while her mother watched on.
Lady C stood opposite Eleanor, beaming as her eldest daughter conquered society.
Eleanor had seen them both arrive escorted by the Earl, however he must have retreated to cards and brandy as he was now nowhere to be seen
Benedict had not been with them, but he did not always arrive with his family and on occasion did not attend a ball at all.
Unlike her, he found them somewhat tedious, though when he did attend he invariably stood with her, even leading her to dance when she had the urge.
To be fair, she had to badger him and he complained all the while, but his grip was gentle as he led her through the dance, his body brushing hers, and then his eyes would laugh down at her as they moved, and warmth would bubble in her like champagne as the world narrowed to her and him…
“You look very fierce. Are the dancers offending you?”
Eleanor startled. Beside her, Victoria, the Countess of Kiloughlan, gazed out on those dancing, a serene smile touching her porcelain features.
Her pale green gown was divine, hugging her slim, elegant form to perfection, while her blonde hair looped and dipped in exquisite curls.
“Not at this present moment, but you know one always be alert. I did not hear them announce you.”
Humour flirted with Victoria’s smile. “I would have been amazed if you had heard anything amongst this din.”
It was rather loud. “I was not certain if you would attend,” she said. “Were you not to return to Scotland?” Though she was a countess in her own right, Victoria was also a baroness through her marriage to a neighbouring lord. Lord Dunseith was unwell, however, and remained in Scotland.
Victoria’s features smoothed. “I was, but word has come I am no longer needed. You will have to endure me for at least another month.”
“Yes, such a hardship.”
Her friend’s faint smile returned. and Eleanor congratulated herself. Victoria was not often effusive, and any emotion Eleanor could tease out she counted as a win.
They had formed a friendship at Lady Burfield’s salon, which was truly remarkable considering how reserved Victoria was.
It was rare her friend displayed obvious emotion, her every move deliberate and controlled.
Victoria rarely spoke at the salon, but neither did she blush, and nothing that was discussed seemed to surprise her.
Her friend was sometimes an enigma to her, but once one was allowed past the facade she presented to the world, she was generous and warm and fiercely loyal.
Eleanor was proud and honoured she was one of the few Victoria allowed beyond the mask.
That small smile still playing about Victoria’s mouth intensified. “Lord Malvern is here.”
“Where?” Eleanor said, searching the crowded ballroom. Almost hidden by the crush, the Earl of Malvern stood against a wall, seeking no attention and conversing with no one. Others in the ballroom had noticed his presence, however he ignored the stares and whispers.
Frowning, Eleanor watched him as he surveyed the crowd, his gaze stopping now and then only to move on.
She had not noticed him and yet again Victoria had pointed him out, as she had the previous three occasions they had all attended the same even.
If she wished to take the man as a lover, shouldn’t she at least notice his presence?
He was a handsome man, with dark hair, ice-blue eyes, and a Corinthian build.
She could appreciate his appearance, but he did not cause butterflies in her stomach or make her wonder what the feel of his rather stern mouth would feel like against her own.
Perhaps that was something Mrs Morcom would teach her, although Mrs Morcom could teach her nothing if she never sent her query.
For reasons she could not explain, she had yet to send her missive to the madam, though the one thing that had stayed her hand previous had now been eliminated.
Benedict knew of her plans and supported her in her quest.
A strange ache started in her chest at the memory.
It was not that she wished him to disapprove, that was not it at all, but she had thought…
She did not know what she had thought and she had no cause to complain.
Benedict had always supported her in everything, and had more often than not enthusiastically joined her.
This…oddness she felt was just that. Tomorrow she would write Mrs Morcom, and nothing would dissuade her from doing so.
The earl’s gaze snagged on Lady Burfield, who stood with her widowed sister. Lady Burfield’s salon was not well-known, but perhaps the viscountess had invited him to attend a meeting.
The earl yet stared at Lady Burfield and his expression…
Though his expression was mostly unreadable, she was used to discerning past such impassiveness, as she often did with Victoria, and…
He looked at Lady Burfield with affection and longing and…
No. They could not be. There had been no whispers of Lady Burfield ever taking a lover, even as it had become obvious to Eleanor that she and Lord Burfield did not share a contented marriage.
Nothing in her demeanour or her words suggested she had ever considered betraying her marriage vows, but then why did Lord Malvern stare?
Lady Burfield said something to her sister, whose name escaped Eleanor. “Why do you think the earl is here?” she said to Victoria.
Victoria shrugged. “Uncertain. He has attended more balls and parties this season than anyone can recall. He was at the Morditches’ garden party last week.
” Her friend knew of Eleanor’s plan and, further, had been the one to suggest the earl.
Glancing her way, Victoria said, “I know you are set on your course, but I must again suggest you consider taking a husband.”
Ice sluiced through her. Screams and shouts echoing through halls. The strike of her father’s boots against stone. Huddling in her bed, her hands clasped over her ears. Her mother staring out her bedchamber window, her hair tangled down her back.
The ballroom returned with a sickening lurch. “I do not wish to marry, Victoria.”
Her friend’s brow creased. “It is only you risk much with this action. A reputation is a fragile thing, and once gone it is almost impossible to retrieve.”
“I do not wish to marry,” she said again. “Are you to dance tonight?”
Victoria regarded her unhappily. “I did not mean to cause you distress.”
“You did not,” she said. “Do you dance tonight?”
“I do not much enjoying dancing,” she finally said. “I much prefer standing on the sidelines and appreciating the sight of those that do.”
“I have been watching Amanda and her beaux. Her dance card is full this night.” Perhaps it was badly done of her, and perhaps she had upset her friend, but she did not wish to linger on why she did not want to marry. Especially not in the middle of a ballroom.
“Lady Amanda is very popular,” Victoria said noncommittally
“It bodes well for her prospects, do you not think? And the earl and countess will allow her to make a match that suits her well, rather than one that suits them.”
Victoria’s lips twisted. “That is generous of them.”
“They can afford to be. The earl has well secured their finances, and Amanda may marry where she chooses.” She caught Victoria looking her askance. “I have no objection to others marrying. It is only for myself that I abhor the institution.”
Before Victoria could respond, the major domo’s voice rang out. “Lord Benedict Stapleton.”
Her heart began a faster beat. Benedict stood at the entrance, his gaze sweeping the crowd.
A dark blue jacket hugged his shoulders and tapered to his narrow waist while black breeches hugged his thick thighs.
None of it was padding. She knew him to attend Mr White’s gymnasium at least twice a week, and to ride every morning.
Further, he swam whenever he was in the country, provided the lake had not frozen over.
She had seen him in his shirtsleeves often, and without his stockings on occasion, and she had somehow catalogued the exact breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his legs, and the flex of his muscles when he stretched and moved…
His brow creased as he did not find what he sought, his blue eyes stormy and his jaw setting, looking not like her friend Benedict but a dark stranger…
Suddenly, the air seemed thicker, her heart now pounding against her ribs. “I have told Benedict,” she blurted.
Victoria’s brows rose at her sudden pronouncement. “You have?”
“He was disconcerted a first, but he has committed to assisting me.” Her heart raced at the memory of his intensity as his gaze locked with hers. Ignoring it, she continued, “He says I only have to ask.”
“I did not know you had not yet told him. You have often said you tell him everything.”
“Yes. Well. I had not.”
“Hmm.” Victoria regarded her strangely, her expression considering.
Heat rose on her neck. “Why do you look at me so?”
“Perhaps there is a better option than the Earl of Malvern,” she said. “Instead of taking the earl as your lover, why do you not take Lord Benedict?”