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The men laughed. It was true that every second debutante seemed to claim the activity as an accomplishment. Edwin was intrigued that Miss Chandler enjoyed the outdoors though, he had seen her the past few Seasons and she had always seemed to enjoy the balls and glitter of London Society. Then again perhaps such entertainments paled after a few years. A woman who enjoyed the country would be a boon to Hugh; while not quite as anti-social as Edwin's parents, he much preferred spending time in the country, especially if he was looking after his horses.
"Eleanor always enjoyed the country too, as I recall," said Edwin thoughtfully. "I shall have to ensure that we visit the estates after our honeymoon."
"Ah, but Eleanor had gotten tired of the country and wanted some town excitement," countered Hugh. "You hadn't seen as much of her the past few years. She can barely talk about anything but fashion and the latest dress she bought and which dress she's going to buy." He rolled his eyes.
Edwin frowned. Hmm. Had Eleanor talked to him about anything else? Of course, they did spend a fair amount of time engaged in things much more pleasurable than conversation. She did talk about those things of course. But most women did. It certainly didn't bother him the way it apparently bothered her brother.
"So where are you taking her?" asked Hugh.
"I was thinking the Manse first," said Edwin thoughtfully. The Manse was where he ran his own estates from, separate from those run by his father the Earl of Clarendon. Speaking of, he should really take Eleanor by to visit his mother and father. He'd already gotten a note from his mother scolding him for not giving them proper notice of his wedding. Not that they would have come into town anyway, his father never came to London if he could help it. Edwin had taken over responsibility for everything that needed to be handled in the city as soon as he’d turned eighteen, his father claiming that it was for his training to be the Earl. Which is partly why he had so much work to do if he was going to be able to get away with his bride in a few weeks.
"No, no, on your honeymoon," corrected Hugh with a laugh.
"Oh I was thinking she might enjoy France. The best fashions come from France, so she should like that," he said. Then his mood darkened a little as he remembered the ridiculous sum he'd paid for Eleanor's new wardrobe last week. Maybe not France. He certainly didn't feel like buying her anything more to add to the pile of new dresses. Not that he'd seen one yet, they were still being constructed he supposed.
His hand itched to spank her all over again.
******
Edwin's hand continued to itch the night of the dinner party. In fact it burned. His wife was wearing one of her new dresses and she'd been clever enough not to show herself until the first of the guests were arriving, at which point she came rushing in all apologetic. Of course he would not have minded her tardiness under normal circumstances, as this was her first time hostessing even a small dinner party, and she'd been very busy all day with the last minute preparations, but he could tell from the faint hint of defiance in her expression that she had done so on purpose so that he could not force her to go upstairs and change.
The dress was a rich ruby red that looked quite nice with her rosy complexion and honey blonde hair, even if it didn't do anything to bring out her eyes, and it was scandalously low-cut without even a lace fichu to provide some modestly. The dramatic lines of the dress made it cling to her curves, showing far more of her figure than any decent woman should, married or not. It was the kind of dress that he would love to see her wear in private, just for him, so that he could peel it off of her slowly, after kissing every inch of delicious skin that it revealed. Instead she was wearing it for her first evening as a hostess.
Not only was he furious at her indecency he felt rather humiliated as well. Fortunately the dinner party was so small that none of the biggest gossips were invited to see his bride's sartorial mistake. Tongues would still wag but the knowledge would be second or third hand for the most part. There was nothing he could do but smile grimly at his arriving guests and greet them, pretending that his wife didn't look more like a ladybird than a proper Countess. Lord Harrington gave him a sharp look, but the small nod that he gave to Edwin indicated that he understood the younger man's position. Indeed, there was almost a glint of relief in his eyes that Eleanor was now Edwin's problem to deal with and not his. The look that he gave his daughter still made her squirm however.
Her brother was not quite so circumspect.
"Good gads, Nell, what are you wearing?" he gasped. Fortunately there was a lull in arrivals and no one overheard his comment, he'd managed to force his voice down to a whisper despite his shock, his face heating with the same embarrassment and outrage that Edwin was feeling. "You look like a bleeding light skirt!"
Eleanor gasped in indignation, drawing herself upwards, which had the unfortunate effect of causing her breasts to swell upwards and Edwin had to restrain himself from whipping off his jacket and covering her right then and there.
"Don't do that," Hugh hissed at her, his eyes darting wildly around. "You're about to pop out of that dress. I can't believe you wore that."
"You sound like a nagging old prune," Eleanor hissed back at him. "I never took you for a prude."
"I never took you for a -"
"Hugh," Edwin's voice interrupted them
, calmly, firmly. The siblings both straightened, they hadn't even realized that they'd leaned forward for their hissing conversation. "My wife and I will be discussing it later."
The expression on Hugh's face said that he hadn't been expecting reproach from his friend. For a moment Eleanor almost felt something like triumph over her brother and gratitude at Edwin for stepping in, but then the import of his words struck her. He wasn't defending her right to wear whatever kind of dress she wanted, he was asserting his right to rebuke her for it! Clenching her tiny fists into her skirts she decided to ignore both of them, turning her head away and pasting a smile on her face as another pair of guests arrived - her friend Grace Greville on the arm of one of the ton's most notorious rakes, Lord Conyngham. Scandal itself, considering that so far Grace had not given her husband, Lord Brooke, an heir before taking a lover. He had lovers as well, but the ton whispered about Lady Grace because she had not done her duty.
Eleanor didn’t care. Grace’s mother was a good friend of Eleanor’s mother and so the two girls had often been thrown together when they were younger, resulting in a firm friendship. They had not been able to keep up the acquaintance as much after Grace had been married to Lord Brooke during her first Season but now that Eleanor was also married they would be able to spend more time together. It suddenly occurred to her that if she were to live apart from her husband without first providing him with an heir that she would garner much of the same reproach that Grace had. Because of her family she was still invited to all the events except by the highest steppers of the ton, and surely Eleanor would be as well. Especially since she had no intention of taking lovers.
As they approached Hugh nodded his head at Edwin and disappeared into the drawing room where the other guests were gathered. Soon she and Edwin would join them, Grace and Lord Conyngham were the last to arrive.
Because Grace was her friend, Eleanor made the introductions, trying to ignore the way Conyngham's eyes lingered over her bosom. Under his predatory gaze she felt distinctly undressed and not at all comfortable. No one else had eyed her in such a way, although she quite suddenly realized that no one else would have dared. They were all either close friends of Edwin’s or married to one of her close friends or one of their family members. If this had been a larger dinner party or a ball there would have been more than Conyngham's eyes roving over her assets. Beside her Edwin seemed to stiffen even more, if that was possible. Too much to hope that he hadn't noticed the way Conyngham was looking at her.
So had Grace unfortunately.
"My Eleanor... that is quite a dress," the other lady said. With her raven's wing hair and bright blue eyes, Grace had been considered a Diamond of the First Water upon her debut, and she looked quite splendid in blue silk with a silvery overlay. She also had a higher neckline than Eleanor did. Previously Eleanor had always envied those ladies with those necklines, thinking that they must be considered the most beautiful, the most desirable ladies. Now, seeing the way her husband was eying Grace with approval and feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the attention she seemed to have garnered from Conyngham, she was starting to think that perhaps her father had had a point about more demure necklines. Grace smiled brilliantly up at Edwin, making Eleanor bristle a little. "I'm sure that Lord Villiers quite appreciates its... charms."
The tone of her voice said what her words glossed over - in effect that she was dressed like a tart. Coming from Grace, who was currently one of the most scandalous ladies amongst the ton, Eleanor felt that was a little much. She had forgotten how sharp Grace could be. It's not as if Eleanor was trying to poach Conyngham after all, she certainly didn't appreciate him looking at her like she was a dessert that he would very much like to nibble.
"I appreciate all of Eleanor's charms," said Edwin, his voice quiet but entirely sincere. "And she has very many."
Grace blinked a little, sensing the light rebuke beneath his words, before putting on her most charming smile and commenting that she'd heard Lady Lucas, another of their friends, was also attending the dinner tonight. The conversation shifted as Eleanor and Edwin led the way to the drawing room, her hand securely on her husband's arm. Somehow the dress that she'd been so excited about purchasing and wearing felt like a dismal failure. Next to Grace's elegant beauty she felt tawdry and disenchanted. It was a disheartening experience to feel like a tart when standing next to a woman who was being so brazenly unfaithful to her husband. Not that there was anything unusual about that in their social class (other than Lord Brooke’s lack of heir), but Eleanor had also just come to the startling realization that she couldn't imagine sharing intimacies with anyone but Edwin.
