Page 34 of His Bluestocking Bride

He moved to whisper into her ear, causing a shiver of delight to run down her spine. “It was my wicked plan all along. I have deprived you of your window-peering.”

A footman opened the door and Marcus stepped out before offering his hand to assist her. Once her slippered foot touched the gravel, he tucked her hand through his arm. “Step carefully. There is ice enough in hidden places.”

Once inside, he removed her wrap and handed it to a waiting servant. They were shown to a conservatory, where other guests mingled. It was not an overly large party, but they did not immediately see the hosts. Marcus took it upon himself to begin making introductions.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Yardly, allow me to present my wife to you. Mrs. Calvert, Mr. and Mrs. Yardly reside on the west side of our village, with their children.”

The older couple bowed and nodded. Ellen offered them a friendly smile. She noticed that while Mr. Yardly seemed all politeness, his wife’s expression was less than welcoming.

“Is your charming daughter present tonight?” Marcus asked, his tone cheerful. “I should like to introduce Miss Yardly to my wife. They are near in age.”

“Are they?” Mrs. Yardly asked, raising two gray eyebrows. “Dear me. I had not realized. I thought you were closer in age to your husband, Mrs. Calvert.” Now her smile appeared, all coldness.

Ellen, surprised by the slight, recovered quickly. “Not quite, though I was in danger of spinsterhood when Mr. Calvert showed such generosity in saving me from that fate. Is your daughter very young?”

Marcus did not seem engaged in the conversation, peering around the room. Perhaps he had missed the veiled insult all together.

Mr. Yardly, after looking askance at his wife, answered her question. “She is about twenty-four.”

“Then younger, but not by a great deal. I look forward to meeting her, since my husband finds her to be charming.” She dipped a slight curtsy and gently pulled Marcus to the side. “We must first meet the hosts, I think.”

“Quite right,” Mr. Yardly answered.

“Ah, I see them.” Marcus led her across the room. “Or Mrs. Harrison, anyway.” He brought her straight to a woman dressed in green, with golden hair piled atop her head and a peacock fan in her hand. She looked a few years older than Ellen, which gave her reason to hope this woman would be friendlier than the last.

Marcus made the introductions to the hostess, who smiled politely. “We were all aflutter when we learned of your marriage, Mr. Calvert.” She closed her fan and gave him a playful tap on the arm, her bright blue eyes alight with humor. “We have been waiting so long for you to take possession of Orchard Hill, but we hardly expected a wife to come with you. I think you have disappointed a great many of our young ladies.”

Ellen’s surprise at being so cut from the comments must have shown, for the lady of the house turned toward her. “I mean no offense, of course. I am sure you are lovely. But we have several young ladies who had anticipated Mr. Calvert’s company. He is quite the favorite among them, you know.”

“They will find new favorites soon enough,” Marcus said, his usual amiable smile in place.

“Of course,” Mrs. Harrison murmured, then glanced to one side. “Ah, here is Miss Emma Patterson. You must meet her, Mrs. Calvert.” She beckoned to a doe-eyed young woman with raven black hair. “Miss Emma is a delightful musician. Maybe she will favor us with a piece later this evening.”

“If the company wishes it,” the young woman answered, then turned her attention to Ellen. “Do you play, Mrs. Calvert?”

“A little,” she answered, her stomach tightening uneasily. She wouldn’t be expected to play before so many strangers, surely. The program for the evening was likely set. “Mostly for my own amusement. Who is your favorite composer?”

The young lady waved her hand. “Oh, I haven’t one really. So long as the music is lovely I am happy to play. But let us discuss something more interesting. How did you and our dear Mr. Calvert meet? I do not think I have seen you in London before, and my family attempts to go every year.”

Marcus had turned aside to speak to a gentleman, Mr. Harrison, who had come to stand near them. They never discussed how to answer questions of this nature, but Ellen assumed the truth would not harm anything.

“We have known each other since childhood,” she answered. “We met again but recently.”

“I see.” Miss Emma stepped nearer and lowered her voice. “Frankly, those of us who were in London two years ago were all surprised he married at all. It was no secret how much he cared for Lady Selene, or Lady Castleton is what we ought to call her now, I suppose. What a disappointed love affair that was.” She sighed, lowering her eyelashes a touch. “But it is good to see he is healed from that. Especially given the rumors about Lady Castleton.”

Ellen glanced aside to her husband, but he had stepped away several paces and appeared to be deep in conversation with several gentlemen. Putting her attention back on the young woman before her, Ellen forced a smile and shook her head. “I am afraid I am unfamiliar with any rumors you may speak of. Is the lady in good health?”

“Perfectly well in body.” The younger woman hid a smile behind her fan, though she raised her eyebrows. “But not so well in marriage. Rumor has it her husband remains in the country while she resides in London, doing whatever it is she pleases, escorted about by any number of gentlemen. My mama says I should not worry my head over it, but I am rather anxious to get to town and find out for myself what is going on.”

“Indeed.” Ellen felt the bottom drop from her stomach and her shoulders tensed. “I am afraid, having never met her, I will not be a source of any interesting information.”

A giggle made her turn to see a young woman standing near Marcus, gloved hand on his arm and a blush on her cheeks as she spoke to him. Ellen strained to hear, but Miss Emma was talking again.

“I am certain you will learn more as people discover your marriage. Any woman would want to be kept abreast of such things.”

Ellen nodded absently. “Excuse me, won’t you, Miss Emma?” She stepped away, toward her husband.

Marcus saw her coming and smiled warmly. “Ah, allow me to make the introductions. Miss Yardly, this is my wife, Mrs. Calvert.” They made their curtsies. “Miss Yardly has been kind to me in London and allowed me to dance with her in many a crowded ballroom.”