Not Just a Wallflower (A Season Of Secrets #2)(12)
Author: Carole Mortimer

They all fell silent, however, the moment they were treated to a single infamously reproving lift of one of the Duke of Royston’s eyebrows. ‘Perhaps you are right, Richmond, and we should discuss this some other time?’ Justin turned back to the earl. ‘I am, however, presently on my way to a…private engagement, so perhaps we can make an appointment for some time tomorrow? In the afternoon would be best for me,’ he added, thinking about spending a night of unbridled passion in some willing woman’s bed, before making his leisurely way back to his own apartments in the late hours of the morning, and spending several hours sleeping off those excesses in his own bed.

The other man drew in a sharp breath. ‘I suppose it could wait until tomorrow…’

‘Best to do so, then.’ Justin said. ‘Perhaps we might have a late lunch together at White’s?’

‘As I said, I would rather we spoke on this matter in private,’ Richmond insisted. ‘Three o’clock suit? At your rooms?’

Justin looked taken aback. ‘Now see here, Richmond, I do not—’

‘Tell me, have you seen or heard any more of Litchfield?’

Justin’s patience, never his strongest quality at the best of times—and this evening could certainly not be called that!—was almost non-existent as Richmond’s conversation became even more obscure. ‘As it happens we met him quite by accident whilst we were out riding in the park earlier today.’

‘We? Miss Rosewood was with you?’ the earl asked anxiously.

‘What on earth does it matter whether Eleanor was with me or not?’ Justin snapped.

‘Everything! Or perhaps nothing,’ the earl said vaguely. ‘Did—is Litchfield now acquainted with Miss Rosewood?’

‘I did not feel inclined to introduce the two of them, if that is what you are asking!’

Richmond sighed his relief. ‘That is something, at least.’

‘What does Eleanor riding with me earlier today have to do with the unpleasantness which exists between myself and Litchfield?’

‘I shall not know the answer to that until we have spoken together tomorrow.’

Justin’s previous interest in spending a passion-filled night with a willing woman was now fading as quickly as his patience. ‘You are being very mysterious, Richmond.’

‘I do not mean to be.’ The earl sighed heavily, his face unnaturally pale. ‘It is just, having now seen Miss Rosewood, and realising that she is your ward, I feel I must—’ He stopped and ran an agitated hand through his hair. ‘Do not underestimate Litchfield, Royston.’ His eyes glittered with intensity. ‘I know him to be both a dangerous and vicious man and—we really must talk very soon!’

‘Very well.’ Justin acquiesced slowly. ‘My rooms in Curzon Street at three o’clock tomorrow.’

‘Thank you.’ Richmond looked relieved.

Justin raised that infamous brow once again. ‘And do I have your word that you will not attempt to approach my ward about this matter—whatever it might be—before the two of us have had chance to talk together tomorrow?’

‘Good God, of course you have it!’ The earl looked shocked at the suggestion. ‘I would never discuss this with her—God, no.’

‘I believed you the first time, Richmond,’ Justin smiled wryly as he turned to finally allow Stanhope to place his evening cloak about his shoulders before donning his hat. ‘Until tomorrow, then.’

‘Tomorrow.’

Justin’s mood was darker than ever as he walked rapidly down the steps to his carriage. What on earth could the other man want to discuss with him, about Eleanor of all people, that was so urgent and mysterious that Richmond had got himself into such a froth of emotion about it? And what did it have to do with Litchfield? Whatever it was Justin now felt almost as unsettled as Richmond so obviously was.

Perhaps he should not have delayed the conversation until tomorrow, after all? It had been sheer bloody-mindedness on his part that he had done so in the first place; being guardian to Eleanor had already caused enough chaos in his life for one week—good God, had it really only been four days since his grandmother had made that ridiculous request of him?—and, as such, Justin had been unwilling to allow her to disrupt the rest of his plans for this evening.

‘Where to, your Grace?’ his groom prompted as he stepped forwards to open the door of the ducal carriage.

Justin ducked his head as he stepped up and inside. ‘Curzon Street,’ he said wearily as he sank back into the plush upholstered seat. ‘You may take me home to Curzon Street, Bilsbury.’

Justin could see little point now in going on somewhere, or even in attempting to rouse his enthusiasm for any other woman, when his conversation with Richmond just now had succeeded in deflating any last vestiges of interest his libido might have had in partaking in such an exercise.

Damn his grandmother and her infernal interference.

Damn Richmond.

But, most of all, damn the irritating thorn Eleanor Rosewood had become in his side.

* * *

‘It is such a beautiful day, ideal for a drive in the park!’ Ellie smiled her pleasure at the outing as she sat in the open carriage beside Edith St Just during the fashionable hour of five and six. ‘So kind, too, that so many of your guests from the ball yesterday evening have stopped to pay their respects and comment on their appreciation of the evening.’

‘I would have been surprised if they had not.’ The dowager nodded gracious acknowledgement of yet another group of ladies as they travelled past in their own carriage. ‘Lord Endicott seems to have especially enjoyed the evening, if his enthusiasm today is an indication,’ she added with a knowing smile.

Ellie felt the warmth enter her cheeks, only to chuckle as she saw the mischievous twinkle in the dowager’s eyes. ‘He was very appreciative of your hospitality, yes.’ Charles Endicott, having stopped to speak with them just a few minutes ago, had also been most complimentary to her.

‘He is very appreciative of your own charms, child!’ Edith insisted. ‘As were many other gentlemen, if the florist’s shop of flowers that has been delivered to you today is any indication.’

The blush deepened in Ellie’s cheeks beneath her bonnet of pale lemon, a ribbon of deeper yellow secured beneath her chin, wearing a high-waisted gown of the same pale lemon, with another deeper yellow ribbon beneath her br**sts. ‘I have never seen so many flowers all together, have you, your Grace?’

Edith’s eyes now warmed with humour. ‘I do believe I may have seen almost as many at least once or twice in my own youth.’

Ellie smiled as she realised she was being teased. ‘I am sure that you did. It is only—I have never received so much as a single bunch of freshly picked spring flowers from a gentleman before, let alone so many beautiful displays.’ The dowager duchess’s private parlour was awash with the vases of flowers that had been delivered throughout the day, following the Royston Ball the evening before. Half a dozen of them were for the dowager duchess herself, of course, sent by other society matrons, as acknowledgement of the success of the ball, but the other dozen or so were for Ellie alone.

Notably, she had not received so much as a single blossom from the Duke of Royston. Oh, no, that top-lofty gentleman would never deign to send a woman flowers, not even to his ward as a mark of the success of her introduction into society.

‘I was only teasing, child.’ Edith smiled across at her encouragingly. ‘I could not be more pleased at your obvious success.’

Ellie forced the smile back to her lips. ‘And you are not too tired from the ball and your late night?’ Doctor Franklyn had been called to attend the dowager duchess this morning, but once again Ellie had been excluded from the bedchamber. Although she had not seemed to be too fatigued when she had joined Ellie for lunch in the small, family dining room earlier—it had been Edith’s suggestion that the two of them go out for a carriage ride this afternoon.

Nevertheless, keeping true to her promise to Justin, Ellie had sent a short, formal note round to his rooms earlier today informing him of Dr Franklyn’s visit this morning.

‘Not too much, no,’ Edith claimed.

‘And will your grandson be calling upon you today, do you think?’ Ellie posed the question as casually as she was able, in view of the unpleasant circumstances in which she and the duke had parted the evening before.

Not that she regretted slapping his arrogant face, for he had surely deserved it. The confusion of her own feelings for him aside, Justin St Just was, without doubt, the most infuriating gentleman she had ever known. Nothing at all like those charming young bucks who had clamoured to talk to her once it became known that her watchful guardian had departed the ball.

Ellie’s own reaction to that abrupt departure was less straightforward. To the point that she could not completely explain her feelings, even to herself…

A part of her had been so relieved not to have him scowling at her so darkly every time she so much as glanced across at him. But another part of her had known that the thrill of excitement had gone out of the evening for her and that she had merely played the role expected of her for the remainder of the evening, the charming and smiling Miss Eleanor Rosewood, ward of the Duke of Royston and protégée of the Dowager Duchess of Royston.

It…concerned Ellie, that she should feel this conflict of emotions. She had been so angry with Justin for the things he had said to her after he had kissed her. Furious at his mockery. And yet… To know that the duke was no longer even in the house, let alone the ballroom, had seemed to turn the evening flat, without purpose. Although what purpose a ball was supposed to have, other than dancing and flirtation, in which Ellie had engaged fully after Justin’s departure, she had no idea!

She had fared no better, once the last guest had departed from Royston House and she was at last able to escape up the stairs to her bedchamber, her pillow seeming too lumpy for her to find any comfort, the covers either too hot or too cold. Unable to sleep, Ellie had not been able to prevent her thoughts from drifting to the time she had spent in the library with Justin.

Privately she could admit that it had been the most thrilling, the most physically sensuous, experience of her life. Of course, that might be because the only sensuous experiences of her life had been with Justin, rather than a confirmation of any softer emotions she might feel towards him.

There was some comfort to be found in that, she supposed. She had nothing, no other gentleman, with whom to compare her responses to Justin St Just. Perhaps any man turned a lady’s legs to water when he kissed her and made her heart beat faster, caused her br**sts to tingle and between her thighs to dampen? Ellie could only hope that might be the case.

‘I doubt Royston will stir himself,’ the dowager duchess answered Ellie’s query dismissively. ‘No doubt he will have gone on somewhere after he left us last night and will not have seen his bed until the early hours of this morning!’

Considering that Justin had not wished to attend the Royston Ball at all, he would most certainly have gone in search of more scintillating entertainment for his jaded senses after departing it. Indeed, Ellie had overheard the gossips fervently speculating as much the previous evening once he had left…

‘Knowing my grandson—’

‘Good afternoon, ladies.’

Ellie knew, just from looking at Edith’s sudden and stiffly offended demeanour, that the gentleman who had now approached them on horseback was not someone the dowager considered as being an acceptable part of society, let alone of her social equal. One glance at that gentleman was enough for Ellie to know the reason for that.

Lord Dryden Litchfield appeared immune to both the dowager duchess’s disapproval, and Ellie’s unsmiling face, as he raised his hat to them both politely. ‘Your Grace. And Miss Rosewood, too,’ he added silkily. ‘How gratified I am to have the pleasure of seeing you again so soon.’

Ellie had no idea what to do or to say in the face of such boldness as this. She had not liked this man when she met him yesterday and she knew from the duke that neither he or the dowager duchess approved of Lord Litchfield, either, but to cut the man direct, and a lord at that, was surely beyond Ellie’s own low social standing?

‘I was not aware that you were acquainted with my grandson’s ward, Lord Litchfield?’ Edith St Just was the one to answer coldly as she eyed him with chilling frost.

Dryden Litchfield bared those brown-stained teeth in a smile. ‘Royston introduced us yesterday.’

Ellie gasped softly at the blatant lie; the duke had not even attempted to introduce the two of them—indeed, Ellie believed Justin had gone out of his way not to do so. For just such a reason as this, no doubt; without the benefit of a formal introduction, Lord Litchfield should not have approached or spoken to her at all.

‘Indeed?’ The dowager gave Ellie a long and considering glance before that gaze became icier still as she turned back to Dryden Litchfield. ‘You must excuse us, Lord Litchfield, I am afraid Miss Rosewood and I have another engagement which we must attend.’ She nodded to him dismissively.

‘But of course,’ he drawled with feigned graciousness. ‘Perhaps I might be allowed to call upon Miss Rosewood at Royston House…?’

Ellie gave another soft gasp, this time clearly of dismay, and Edith’s mouth thinned disapprovingly at the man’s bad manners. ‘I do not think—’

‘Miss Rosewood’s time is fully engaged for the next week, at least.’ A steely cold voice, easily recognisable to them all as Justin’s, cut firmly across his grandmother’s reply.

Ellie looked at him, only to shrink back against the carriage seat as those icily contemptuous blue eyes glanced briefly in her direction before returning to Litchfield.

‘Then perhaps the week following that?’ the other man persisted challengingly.