Chapter 4 #2
“I would give you more time,” he offered in a quiet but steely tone. “It’s becoming clear to me that you are far from ‘no one.’ You have connections to some very influential people.”
“I don’t want more time. I want to work. Please stop prying into my personal life. None of this is your business.” Ellis turned her head away and even angled her body toward the window. She fixed her gaze outside but didn’t really see anything.
She could feel him looking at her, probably judging her and thinking she was silly to be hiding herself away from such “influential” people.
But he didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know that she’d been lied to her entire life and that she’d been subjected to the cruelty of her own mother, who felt nothing but contempt for Ellis.
Someday, she would accept that and be able to move on.
At least, she hoped so. She still had so much anger.
And hurt. She truly did just want to focus on her work.
It was challenging and kept her mind occupied.
That was far preferable to what she was doing now—thinking too much about things she couldn’t control.
Except she could try to regain some happiness or release some of her fury. She could do that by seeing and spending time with people who cared for her. Min. Pandora. Their other friends.
Keele.
Ellis blinked. He was not one of those people. He scarcely knew her. He didn’t even know her full name. And yet, he’d demonstrated his support for her disguise and had pledged to keep her secret. He’d also offered to help her see her friends. If that wasn’t someone who cared for her, what was it?
Had she been too hurt that she could no longer see the goodness in people? She hoped that wasn’t the case. Her mother had done enough damage. Perhaps Ellis shouldn’t allow her to inflict any more.
She glanced toward Keele. He’d leaned his head back against the squab and closed his eyes.
She doubted he was sleeping, but he appeared relaxed.
He seemed far less intense without the steel gray of his eyes flashing with intensity.
Part of the reason she enjoyed her work so much was his passion for it.
She’d never met anyone who worked as hard or as diligently as he did.
He’d made astonishing progress in improving his family’s fortunes in a relatively short time.
But she could see he was driven to keep pushing for more.
She recalled what he’d said about being closer to Bane before he’d become marquess and decided she could ask him questions since he’d poked his nose into her business.
She knew he’d inherited the marquessate about five years ago.
“You said you knew Bane before. Were you part of that group of rogues?”
Keele’s lids parted and revealed his storm-gray eyes. They pierced into Ellis with an intensity that sent another shiver up her spine. It was still pleasant. Perhaps even exciting.
“Rogues?” he asked.
“Bane’s reputation is that of a scoundrel, as were those of his friends.”
“You’re referring to Shefford, Wellesbourne, and Somerton,” he said flatly. “They were the core members of that group, but I, along with a few others, joined in their debauchery more than I care to admit in retrospect.”
“So you were a rogue, but you’re not anymore?”
“I gained a need to be serious when my father died.” He arched a dark brow at her. “You’re aware of the state my finances were in at that time.”
“I am. I’m also aware of how you’ve improved them. It’s admirable. Was your marriage part of your financial strategy?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he didn’t seem angry.
“Now you’re being intrusive. I suppose I deserve that.
Yes, I married Clarissa Lacey because she had a massive dowry, and her father was keen to let me invest in his company—with my time and status instead of with money since I had precious little of that. ”
“You’ve been a great asset to Lacey and Company,” she said. “And you have a decent fortune now.” He wasn’t as wealthy as the Duke of Henlow or even Wellesbourne or Somerton, but he certainly wasn’t “poor.”
“We have different opinions of decent,” he replied blandly. “I’ve plenty more work to do in order to achieve what I would like.”
Ellis was thoroughly interested. She sat slightly forward, caught up in his fierce commitment to restoring his family. “And what’s that?”
“To never be at risk of bankruptcy again.” His eyes glittered with promise. “Not in this generation or any other.”
“Well, I shall do what I can to help you,” Ellis said.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs. His body overwhelmed the interior of the coach. Ellis was increasingly aware of him as a man and not just her employer.
His gaze locked with hers. “I continue to be thrilled that I hired you. I hope that never stops.”
Thrilled.
Yes, that was an excellent word to describe how Ellis felt at the current moment as she shared this small space with him. Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t ride anywhere with him again.
As the final course was laid at dinner on Sunday evening at the Laceys’ home in the new and very fashionable Bryanston Square, Roman marveled at how his father-in-law’s house and household was much closer to what one might expect from a marquess than Roman’s own house and household.
The Laceys had moved into this five-bayed house a year ago.
It was both large and most elegantly furnished.
Though there were only four of them this evening, they ate in the grand dining room that would easily seat probably eight times their number if the mahogany table was at its full extension.
They were clustered at one end with Josiah at the head, Harriet to his right, and Margot on his left. Roman sat beside her.
Roman’s dining room did not have an Axminster carpet nor Sevres china, but he supposed it did have the Keele crest embellishing the silver that had, thankfully, not been sold.
Margot was particularly animated this evening, but then she often was due to her overtly charming and convivial personality.
She was so unlike her sister, whose demeanor had been more enigmatic, as if she were a puzzle that needed solving.
Roman had been intrigued by her. He thought they might have shared something in common with regard to buried emotions or inner secrets. He’d been terribly wrong.
Harriet smiled at him and Margot from across the table, the diamonds at her throat and dangling from her ears sparkling in the candlelight from the John Blades cut-glass chandelier that was also reflected in the massive gilt mirror hanging above the hearth.
“We did say we would discuss your engagement this evening,” she said, finally bringing up the topic that Roman had been expecting.
Margot’s enthusiasm immediately dimmed.
Josiah inclined his head in agreement before he took a bite of apple tart. “Yes, we should discuss it.”
“Am I allowed to say that I’m not quite ready for courtship?” Margot asked. She sent Roman an apologetic glance.
He was not upset by her comment. In fact, he was relieved whilst still torn. Though he didn’t particularly wish to marry her, he loved her parents and very much enjoyed evenings like this, where he felt part of a family. It was a sensation he hadn’t known until he’d married Clarissa.
Harriet’s brows gathered as she regarded her daughter with concern. “You are of a marriageable age, dear.”
Margot frowned slightly. “Why is there a predetermined age when women are required to wed? Men don’t seem to be held to the same standard.”
Josiah chuckled. “They are not. If you need a little more time, we understand. But Keele may wish to wed sooner than later. He does need an heir.” He ate another mouthful of tart.
“I am not in a rush,” Roman said. Though Josiah was right. He did need to wed and do his duty by providing an heir, and Margot would not be a poor choice. Marrying her would ensure he remained a part of this family in the same way he was now.
He tried to imagine Margot as his wife. She was pretty and far more interested in Lacey and Company than Clarissa had ever been, so they would have that in common. But Roman didn’t love Margot, nor would he ever. He wouldn’t love anyone after what Clarissa had done to him.
She’d pretended to be eager to wed, all whilst already being in love with another man.
Roman hadn’t known that until much later, of course.
The early days of their marriage had been pleasant and even sweet.
Clarissa had behaved somewhat shyly and had asked for time to become acclimated to marriage before they became intimate.
Roman had understood her reticence and had worked to gain her trust and her affection.
Though, when she’d finally shared his bed, she hadn’t seemed to enjoy it despite Roman’s best efforts.
He’d bloody well tried to make a good marriage with her, but she’d always had a reason for remaining remote.
She was shy. She was nervous. She suffered pain.
Roman had felt awful. Until he’d learned that she’d not only been unfaithful to him but had been in love with this other man since before they’d even wed.
She’d fabricated all the tender feelings she’d shown toward him, both before and after the wedding, and she’d made it clear that she’d never tried or even wanted to love Roman.
She’d left him hurt and angry. In some ways, she’d ruined him.
Margot deserved better than someone like him and the marriage of convenience he now sought.
Unless of course, she didn’t care about love and just wanted to be a marchioness and gain status in society.
He knew her parents hoped for that—it was the entire reason Josiah had originally approached Roman with an offer to wed Clarissa.
He’d known that Roman was in need of funds, and he’d wanted to have friends—or family—in lofty places.