AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her withering look was marginally diminished by the darkening of her cheeks. He could not help but grin widely when she rolled her eyes at him and sank against the cushions once the door was shut. He tried not to ponder quite why he enjoyed teasing her so nor think on how her leg kept brushing his once the carriage moved off. After all, he was here as an escort and to help Blake and Demeter. Nothing more.
Chapter Five
The townhouse peered down at her, the windows to either side of the door eyeing Eleanor as though looking down on her with disdain. Lady Mary’s townhouse was not much different to those on the rest of the street—large rows of painted white stone scarcely marred by the smoke and dirt of London, each black front door carefully cleaned and polished, the windows gleaming in the afternoon sun.
It still made her pause, still made her heart give a little sickly beat.
“Ellie?”
She should scold him but that would mean talking and at present, the tightness in her chest would not make that easy.
“Shall we?”
A scan up and down the road told her they were just into visiting hour. Plenty of other well-dressed people were calling upon the rich residents of Warwick Square. There would be nothing strange about her visiting with Lady Mary, and she highly doubted anyone would think anything of her arriving with Oliver, even if they had seen them exit the same carriage just down the road. The supposition on Lady Mary’s behalf would be they had merely called on her at the same time. No one would think Lady Eleanor Fallon, the almost-spinster illegitimate daughter of the Duke of Daventry, would attract the attentions of Lord Ashford, no matter her rank. He was a family friend. A chaperone at best.
So why did she hesitate?
She caught a glimpse of a fair-haired woman in the window—Lady Mary. She smiled and laughed and sent her latest visitors on their way. Eleanor pressed her lips together. Lady Mary was not beyond saying something snide to Eleanor in front of Oliver and she did not think she could bear the humiliation. The daughter of the Marquess of Northumberland had a sharp tongue on her, and it had been unleashed most heartily when the scandal sheets had been using Eleanor for entertainment. No sheen of politeness could hide the lady’s painful barbs.
The door opened and two young ladies exited, offering a brief dip to her and Oliver, focusing their attention mostly upon Oliver and blushing deeply when he bid them a good day. The butler stood expectantly, and Oliver hastened up the three stone steps to offer his calling card.
Oliver jerked a head toward the open door. “Are you coming?”
Swallowing past the knot in her throat, Eleanor nodded and added her card to the silver platter, then concentrated on drawing in slow breaths.
“Ellie, is something the matter?”
“Lady Mary is cruel to me,” she muttered.
“Cruel to you?” he repeated.
“She’s a little...vicious,” she admitted, meeting a gaze that had turned decidedly dark.
“I see.” His jaw tightened. “And I imagine Lady Mary was not pleasant during a certain time.”
“No.”
The butler returned and gestured them into the drawing room. Lady Mary rose, revealing a long silhouette in a sheath of pink. A fair complexion complemented pale hair tinged with red that was coiled elegantly and held with a glimmering comb. Now Eleanor regretted not taking the time to tend to her own hair, though she knew no matter how hard her lady’s maid worked, she would never be able to recreate the fashionable hairstyles of theton.
Oliver stood slightly in front of her—tall, unwavering, like a mountain shielding her from the worst of the elements. For the first time, she was grateful to have him at her side.
“What a surprise. I did not expect such visitors today.” Lady Mary’s smile warmed toward Oliver. “You danced wonderfully at the ball last night, Oliver.”
“As did you, Mary,” he said as they sat. Eleanor found herself on a chaise that was too soft in the middle and she nearly spilled back into it before gripping the gilded wooden edge and inching forward.
“And you did...quite well, Eleanor,” Lady Mary murmured.
Eleanor took the offered tea, taking a long sip. If only her cheeks would cease to be so warm, if only she could think of something witty to say in response. There was something about women like Mary that made her usually quick brain turn into blancmange. She swore if she opened her mouth, nothing but a stream of soggy nonsense would pour forth.
“These dances all tend to seem the same after a while, but I shall never forget my dance with Eleanor.” Oliver winked at her, and Lady Mary’s expression faltered. “I would happily dance with her at every ball.”
“Indeed,” Mary said tightly and took a slow sip of tea whilst fixing Eleanor with a cool look.
Distracting herself by glancing about the drawing room, she thought of all the times her sisters had said such behavior was born of jealousy. Lady Mary was her inferior, they would remind her. It was true, too. Eleanor had more wealth and rank, but more than that, she had no desire to make someone feel as small as a mouse. Unfortunately, the knowledge did not lessen the impact of words chosen to wound.
Regardless, they were here for a reason. Demeter’s wedding day was more important than her pride. The conversation turned to some of the upcoming entertainments and Eleanor could not stop herself from huffing out an irritated breath.
Lady Mary arched a brow and Oliver pressed his lips together, his eyes crinkling.
