Janice Preston - Regency Surrender - Scandalous Return - Return of Scandal's Son / Saved by Scandal's Heir

‘Aunt! I don’t think... I beg your pardon, Mr Thomas, but—’

‘I should be honoured,’ Matthew said. ‘Are you planning to walk?’

‘Yes,’ Aunt Lucy said. ‘It is not very far, but it will be pleasant to have a gentleman’s arm to lean on. Come, Ellie. Peter and William can still accompany us.’

Eleanor straightened her bonnet and sailed past Matthew on to the pavement. She could think of nothing worse than Matthew being present when she and James had their first meeting. Her irritation that James had not even had the courtesy to call on her in the three days since her arrival was bound to reveal itself and she was loath to give Matthew another reason to think ill of her cousin.

Eleanor winced inwardly at the spectacle they must present: it was bad enough having two burly footmen dogging her footsteps wherever they went but, now, to be seen in the company of... Eleanor looked beyond Aunt Lucy to Mr Thomas, strolling nonchalantly along the pavement, cane swinging. A cane? His blue superfine coat was well tailored, his tall hat set at a jaunty angle and—although he still presented a rugged and slightly dangerous appearance—no one would doubt him a gentleman. Mayhap he was wealthier than she had assumed. But he was still a merchant.

‘...and we have spent much of our time shopping and with dressmakers,’ Aunt Lucy was saying. ‘The fire at Ashby destroyed much of Eleanor’s clothing, of course, and it is a long time since I came to London. My dresses are sadly outmoded, I fear.’

Eleanor smiled to herself, recalling their argument over Aunt Lucy’s need for some new gowns. Suspecting her aunt’s funds were limited, Eleanor had refused to give way and eventually Aunt Lucy had conceded that Eleanor might treat her to a couple of new evening gowns. After all , Eleanor had argued, you are only in London on my behalf. It is right and fair that I should bear your expenses. Pride satisfied, Aunt Lucy had then thrown herself with enthusiasm into their shopping expeditions.

‘What had your cousin to say about the carriage accident and the attack on that girl?’ Matthew asked as they turned into Hill Street, where James and Ruth lived.

Trust him to settle upon the one topic she had hoped would not arise. Anger at James for not visiting her battled against her anxiety at seeing him again.

‘We have not yet spoken,’ she replied.

‘Very discourteous of him,’ Aunt Lucy said. ‘Both Eleanor and I are disappointed by his neglect of his familial duty. It’s been three days since our arrival and not even a note from him to enquire if the house is satisfactory.’

‘I am sure he has good reason, Aunt.’ Why she felt obliged to defend James, she did not know, when in reality she thought his conduct indefensible. She glanced behind, reassured by the stoical presence of William and one of the new footmen, Peter.

‘No doubt his guilty conscience,’ Matthew said.

Eleanor glared at him. ‘Mayhap you should not come inside with us, if you are determined to stir the coals. James is hardly likely to attack me in his own house. Even if he is guilty.’

‘Please do not desert us now, Mr Thomas. I feel so much safer with you here. I begged Ellie not to call upon James unannounced like this, but she would not listen to me.’

‘Why did you not just send him a note and ask him to call on you?’ Matthew said. ‘Then you would meet him on your territory.’

‘I cannot sit at home on tenterhooks waiting and wondering when he might appear. Surely that is understandable?’

‘I understand you are impatient, Eleanor. Just like your mama.’

Eleanor stiffened. Just like her mama. That was exactly what no one must think any more. Apprehension had churned her stomach on and off all day, for tonight marked the beginning of her assault on society, at the Barringtons’ ball. Aunt Lucy had been busy leaving cards with her old acquaintances and the invitations had started to trickle in.

Their new gowns had been delivered that morning and Eleanor was both looking forward to and dreading the moment she must enter the Barringtons’ house and find all those eyes upon her. This time, however, she would not allow the whispers and innuendoes to overset her. She would hold her head high and prove she was not like her mother. At least visiting James gave her something else to worry about.

Aunt Lucy grabbed Eleanor’s hand. ‘I am sorry, Ellie. I don’t know why I said that. I dare say I am nervous at the thought of facing James and what to say to him. I know you are nothing like my silly, selfish sister.’ She halted outside a tall, narrow house. ‘Look, isn’t this James’s house?’

‘Yes,’ Eleanor said, her stomach beginning to churn. ‘This is it.’

She inhaled deeply to settle her nerves as Matthew rapped on the door.

‘Mr Thomas, I know I do not have to say this, but please do not say anything to provoke James.’

‘Me? Provoke?’ Matthew’s brows shot up.

Eleanor laughed. ‘Of course, you would never dream of such behaviour, would you?’

For a long time there was no sound from within but, just as Matthew lifted the brass knocker to rap again, the door opened.

Eleanor stepped forward. ‘Be so good as to inform Mr Weare that his cousin, Lady Ashby, is here and begs a few moments of his time.’

The footman stared at her with a doubtful expression and then stood aside. ‘Good afternoon, Lady Ashby. I shall inform the master you are here. If you would care to follow me?’

They entered a dim hallway that, despite the good address and smart external appearance of the house, showed signs of wear and neglect. The house smelled in need of a good dose of fresh air, to blast away the stale cooking odours. The footman led them into a small reception room—equally musty and shabby, with heavy, dusty-looking dark green curtains framing the dirty glass of the window. Eleanor stripped off her gloves to await her cousin, trying to conceal her increasing unease.

Within a few short minutes, the door flew open and James appeared. Eleanor went to him, her hands held out in greeting, smiling, genuinely pleased to see him again. One look into those clear grey eyes banished many of her doubts. This was James—her beloved cousin, her childhood playmate.

‘James, my dearest cousin, it has been much, much too long. Do please forgive us for calling unannounced, but I could not wait to see you. I do hope we are not putting you out?’ She looked him up and down, then added, teasingly, ‘You look very well, Cousin, but it seems you might have gained one or two pounds since last I saw you. You remember my aunt, Lady Rothley, do you not?’

‘Indeed I do,’ James responded, with a brief bow in Aunt Lucy’s direction. ‘How do you do, Lady Rothley?’

‘And this is Mr Thomas.’ Eleanor sent Matthew a warning look, which he returned with an innocent lift of his brows. How should she explain his presence? ‘He kindly escorted us here.’

‘In addition to the two footmen loitering in my hall?’ James asked, but nevertheless shook Matthew’s hand. ‘You are looking very well, Eleanor,’ he continued, ‘but you should have informed me of your arrival. I would have called upon you .’

Eleanor frowned, puzzled by his manner. As James entered the room his surprise had been palpable, but there had been no sign of pleasure, and his greeting—although polite—held no warmth. Neither had he reassured her that they were welcome. Indeed, his words held more of a scold than a greeting. There was something about his manner—an edginess—she could not understand. Her doubts began to stir again.

Surely Matthew can’t be right about James? No! I will not believe it .

Her stomach started to churn and she clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms. ‘You must have been aware we were to arrive on Saturday.’ She squared her shoulders, steeling herself to keep her voice steady. ‘It was you, after all, who made the arrangements for the journey. For which, by the by, I thank you.’