Chapter Thirteen

M

iles manfully repressed the absurd grin that fought to emerge in response to her wide-eyed look of utter consternation. Oh, he meant to have her, and if she thought she’d be unwilling, then she very much mistook her man. He hadn’t realized until that precise moment, but he wanted her—permanently. If he were going to reside at Rutledge for the indefinite future, he had the luxury of time at his disposal and the rudiments of a plan to win Eleanor began to take shape.

Between them, the silence deepened and lengthened; Eleanor still had not uttered a sound, just stood there and stared at him with wide eyes. As the well-bred gentleman that he was—most of the time—he rescued her.

“I would like to change out of these wet things and take a hot bath. I am free to use your apartments?”

She nodded.

“Still second floor, end of the hall?”

She nodded.

“Right. If you could have someone take the portmanteau I left in the entry hall up to your suite, I’d be appreciative. Do you keep country hours for dining?”

She nodded and worked her mouth around a preoccupied response. “The small dining room.”

“Will we have the pleasure of your parents’ company?”

“No…”

“Pity. I would enjoy seeing them again.”

“I’ll ask if they will join us.”

He bowed.  “I’ll take my leave of you, Eleanor. Until dinner.”

He was to see her much sooner.

“You have hair on your chest.” Eleanor’s matter-of-fact voice roused him.

He blinked his eyes open and with a swoosh of water, sat up in the amazing tub—amazing because it fit his length and submerged him to midway up his chest when he reclined. A moment’s reflection reminded him that Eleanor was also tall. Perhaps she’d had it custom made for her. The hot water had been such bliss after the wet, frigid ride to Rutledge that he’d nodded off.

She stood half in and half out of the door to the ensuite bath chamber—an elegant room done in Carrara marble. Her gaze dropped to the floor, only to slowly regain his as if she were helpless to look anywhere else but at him. A slight pink colored her cheeks.

“I meant to wash my face and change for dinner. I’d forgotten you’d be here.” She ran her index finger up and down her forehead and gave a snort of helpless bewilderment. “Your presence has put me at sixes and sevens. I’m completely disordered in my mind. Please forgive my intrusion.” She shook her head and laughed, her chagrin apparent. Turning, she made to leave.

“Yes, most men have hair on their chests.”

She paused in the doorway, her back to him.

“Have you ever seen a nude male, Eleanor?”

Still facing away from him, she shook her head.

“Turn around.”

Her spine stiffened.

“Coward. Aren’t you at all curious?”

She gasped audibly, released her breath in a huff and with painstaking slowness turned to face him, her hand resting on the door handle. Her gaze found his with unmistakable challenge.

Holding her in an unblinking stare, he rose slowly from the water, took as wide a stance as the tub would allow, and put his hands on his hips. From mid-calf to the top of his head, there was nothing to obscure her vision. 

Her gaze dropped to his groin and then flew back up to his eyes. He fought not to grin. She cleared her throat and proceeded to assess him for an appreciable length of time with eyes that he suspected cataloged every detail. The rosy tint that had appeared on her cheeks migrated down her neck and into her décolleté. She cleared her throat again. “Ummm, turn around, please.”

He did as she requested and only then, with his back to her, did he allow a half-smile to emerge. A long sigh met his ears and then her murmur.

“You are as beautiful out of your clothes as you are in them, though all the hair comes as something of a shock.”

She thought him beautiful? He snorted softly and turned back around, but the door was closing. Eleanor had fled. He would give a goodly sum of money to have her return. He’d only just begun with Lady Eleanor. 

He was in the process of toweling off when, with a rap, the door opened an inch or two. “My lord?”

“Yes?”

A middle-aged male dressed in garments that indicated he occupied the top rungs of the hierarchy of hired staff pushed the door fully open and bowed. “I’m Elmer Hopwood, my lord, first under-butler to Mr. Walters. He has instructed me to serve as your valet until such time as your man can come from Fairwood. I’ve taken the liberty of cleaning and pressing some of the Earl’s dinner attire. You are both of a size. Shall I assist you in dressing, my lord?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Hopwood.”

“Might I suggest we begin with a shave, my lord?”

“Excellent idea. You have some skill with a straight razor?” Miles said lightly. “I need to live long enough to speak with the agent of His Royal Highness.”

The under-butler-turned-valet looked at the marble floor before raising a face where amusement flirted with solemnity. “Yes, my lord. I was gentleman’s gentleman to The Lord Henry Devaunt of Hob Oaks in York for ten years prior to taking service here. He provided me a fulsome recommendation. I can assure you of my personal loyalty to the Russell family, of which you are now one.” He inclined his head. “Does that explanation suffice, my lord?”

“Why did you leave Lord Devaunt’s employ?”

“Through personal choice, my lord. Lord Devaunt had a yearning to see the untamed ‘Wild West’ of America. I far preferred to stay in a more civilized clime.”

“Understood.” Miles grinned. “Where would you like me, Mr. Hopwood?”

Once shaved by Hopwood, expertly Miles was glad to observe, the valet dressed him in pantaloons of white silk over white silk stockings tied at the knee with white satin ribbons. He added black pumps and a finely pleated white muslin shirt with long ruffled cuffs and an attached collar of moderate height. The pumps fit snugly but would do for short periods of time. Over the immaculate white shirt, Hopwood buttoned him into a gold, figured-silk waistcoat with flat buttons of mother of pearl.

“Do you have a preference as to the knot on your cravat, my lord?”

“I have always favored the Mathematical, but I’m not particular. Something simple and not too high, please. I would like to be able to freely turn my head.”

“Of course, my lord.” The valet proceeded to tie a moderately high, starched, pristine white cravat in an excellent example of the Mathematical. “And now, sir, if I may help you into your coat?” He held up a double-breasted, cut-away, tail coat of deep blue with gilt buttons, easing it over Miles’ shoulders and doing up the gold buttons on the front. He then reached into the sleeves, pulled free the cuffs of Miles’ shirt and arranged them in a froth of white ruffles that fell to Miles’ knuckles. 

“You are going to make me into quite the peacock, Mr. Hopwood.”

His new valet eyed the result of his work with a gleam of satisfaction. “If I might be so free, my lord, you will be a pleasure to dress.”  

Miles entered the family dining room to find Eleanor standing by a massive oak sideboard looking pensive and sipping a small glass of red wine. She was beautifully attired in a three-quarter sleeved, empire gown of sheer ecru silk heavily embroidered with curlicues and floral figures in shimmery golden thread. The gold embroidery on the gown matched that of a sleeveless over-robe of a more substantial, deep lavender silk. The toes of crème-colored slippers peeked from the gold-encrusted hem. Her ash blonde hair was swept up into a simple chignon with soft tendrils left down to curl around the nape of her slender neck. Amethysts set in gold filigree dangled from her earlobes, but she wore no other jewelry. He found her immensely attractive.

“Lady Miles.” He bowed. 

Her large hazel eyes evaluated him over the rim of her goblet. “Lord Miles. I’m sure Father never wore those clothes half so well.” Eleanor gave him a tentative smile then looked away. “Please help yourself to whatever appeals. There is wine, both red and white, and gin or ale if you prefer.”

Miles walked to the sideboard, inches from Eleanor, and poured himself a half glass of ale. “I do hope we won’t always be awkward with each other.”

Eleanor turned on him with a snort, which she quickly muffled. “How awful of you to use my own words against me. I should very much like to be easy with you. I suppose I will have to stop surprising you in the bath.”

He grinned and raised his glass to her. “Yes. Some things once seen cannot be unseen.”

Mid-sip, she swallowed wrong and started coughing. He set his beer down and pulled a serviette from the sideboard, silently handing it to her in exchange for her wine glass. He casually sipped at his beer, and when she had composed herself to the point where a breath did not set her off into another paroxysm of coughing, she glared at him, half in accusation and half in amusement.

“Wretched man. I believe you timed your comment purposefully.”

He chuckled and held up a palm. “Absolve me of any ill intent. I should hate for you to ruin that lovely gown for you look all the crack, and I would enjoy seeing you in it again.”

She dipped into a small curtsy. “Thank you.” Her eyes avoided his direct gaze, but a tiny smile tipped one corner of her mouth.

Miles felt a pang that she should take such obvious pleasure from a simple compliment and vowed, wherever possible, to sincerely compliment her again. If he did nothing else during his sojourn to Rutledge, he would restore her previous ease of interaction with him; although he hoped for much, much more.

“My lord…” Eleanor began.

“Miles.”

She inclined her head. “Miles. I want to thank you…” Her head turned, and her eyebrows rose in surprise; she smiled brilliantly. “Father. Mamma. You are joining us.”

Two sturdy footmen wheeled chairs occupied by the Earl of Rutledge and his countess into the dining room. Miles crossed immediately to Lady Rutledge, acknowledged the Earl of Rutledge with a nod, “Lord Rutledge,” and offered Eleanor’s mother his arm. “Good evening, Lady Rutledge. I’m pleased you and Lord Rutledge will be joining us. I was disappointed not to be able to stay previously but…business called. May I help you to a chair at the table?”

She offered him the sweetest of smiles. “Good evening, Lord Miles. Rutledge and I are delighted you are back in residence.” She patted his forearm and confided, “We have decided to take dinner with you and Eleanor as often as our health allows.” She indicated an armchair at the end of the cozy dining table set for four persons. “Just there, please.” Miles helped her into the chair while a footman assisted the Earl into his place at the opposing end.

“Eleanor?” He offered her an arm and seated her before a footman pulled out the remaining chair for him.

As the dinner courses were served and removed, the Earl directed the conversation to Fairwood with an initial inquiry. “Eleanor tells us that you have been attending to a recently purchased property in Newmarket.”

“Yes, I acquired the old Woodward farm from Lord Marlburl. Perhaps you know of it? Lord Marlburl is one of your contemporaries, I believe.”

The Earl harrumphed. “Know the property and him well. The old fox got the better of me…” and marched off into a humorous complaint about how Marlburl had refused to sell Day Dreamer back to Rutledge. Miles looked across the table at a stricken Eleanor.

When the Earl ended his story, before Miles could draw a breath, she blurted, “I don’t suppose you ever got my letter thanking you for your exceedingly thoughtful and much-appreciated bride gift.”

He shook his head with a slight smile.

“I wrote to you immediately, but…” Her face transformed with demonstrable joy. “I adore her. I don’t know how you could have given her up. Would you like to join me for the morning workouts? Watch her and the rest of the mob train?”

“It would please me greatly.”

“We keep very early hours. We try to have the horses out by 6:00 a.m.”

“I will require coffee. Large amounts of strong, black coffee.”

Eleanor’s eyes lit with humor. “I’ll tell Cook.”

The Earl regained Miles attention by asking, “Is it your intent to stay permanently at Rutledge? Or will you take up residence at the Woodward farm? I should call it Fairwood, I suppose. Eleanor says you have renamed it.”

Miles glanced at Eleanor, but her intense engagement in tearing an innocent dinner roll into dozens of pieces of a size to feed a love bird gave him no indication as to how she wished him to answer. “My intention is to reside at Rutledge Manor for the foreseeable future.”

“Excellent. I would like to share some of my thoughts on the operation of the estate and prospective changes I had wanted to implement going forward.”

“I will welcome any insight you can provide, Lord Rutledge,” Miles said. Lady Rutledge sat quietly and beamed—as she had done from the beginning of their meal.

Eleanor considered him from across the table, the beginnings of apprehension in her gaze.

“Eleanor has done a capital job of administering Rutledge, but now that she is married, it is natural and appropriate that, you, as her husband, should assume the administration of the estate. That said, you will need assistance conducting the affairs of a property this large. As you take on the burden of the day-to-day operations of Rutledge, don’t hesitate to lean on Eleanor. She will be of the greatest help to you. Won’t you, m’dear?”

“Ummm… yes, of course, Father.” Eleanor shot Miles a wary glance and then dropped her gaze to her plate, stabbing fitfully at a Brussels sprout.

“I suggest you and I meet several times a week in my study to review existing practices and potential areas for improvement. We can begin tomorrow at 2:00.”

“I will place myself at your service, Lord Rutledge,” Miles said. 

After the Earl’s announcement, Lady Rutledge directed the conversation to a multitude of innocent topics. They chatted politely until the dessert course was finished and both the earl and his countess pled fatigue and retired to bed. Miles had risen out of politeness as Lady Rutledge left the dining room. Afterward, he rounded the table to help Eleanor from her chair, and as she stood, she addressed him from over her shoulder.

“My mother is high in alt because you are here. Does every woman who crosses your path fall in love with you on the instant?”

With a crooked smile, Miles returned Eleanor’s sharp question with an equally direct response. “No. Present company a case in point.” He pushed her chair back to the table as she turned to face him.

Eleanor visibly wilted. “I’m sorry. I deserved that set down. I didn’t mean to sound so… snappish.” She sighed. “It must be nice to woo total strangers to your side so effortlessly. It’s not an ability I’ve ever had.” Her expression softened. “I envy you. You’ve not been here twelve hours, and you’ve already won over my both my parents.”

Both his eyebrows rose. “I’ve won over your father?”

“Oh, yes. He grumps and huffs, but he respects you. As you heard, you will have the management of Rutledge.” She appeared stricken.

“Eleanor,” he paused thoughtfully. “I win people over because I must. Until your unexpected offer, my continuing welfare depended upon my being universally agreeable. It was an attribute I took pains to cultivate, but it is not easy to hold onto one’s self when you must always contort your speech and behavior to what is most pleasing to those around you. You say you envy me? Well, I envy you.” At her surprised expression, he smiled wryly. “When was the last time you withheld your opinion because speaking would offend those in your company? When was the last time you had to give any thought whatsoever to your speech? You say you are blunt to a fault as if that were always a bad thing. I should rather say that you lack pretense, and you don’t dissemble. You are honest and genuine. In my eyes, those are admirable qualities.”

She frowned as though the concept was foreign to her. “But your circumstances have changed dramatically, and you are still…” Her arms made vague gestures in the air as she searched for words.

“I have fallen into the habit of being congenial. Civility does smooth one’s way.”

“Then I am doomed to a rocky path.” She sighed. “Would you like to adjourn to the library? I can offer you ink and paper to write to the Prince Regent’s agent and also give whatever directions you think necessary to your steward at Fairwood. I’m certain you will want your man here with the rest of your things.”

His lips canted in a crooked smile. “I am practicing certain economies and have not engaged a valet at Fairwood. I would like to continue with Mr. Hopwood if it does not create inconvenience.”

“Of course, if he suits.”

“I will need my clothes, and I suppose I should tell Maman to run the house as she wills and to send me the accounts. My steward, Mr. Weldon, is wholly competent to carry on without me and if truth be known, would prefer not to see me at present.” Miles answered Eleanor’s look of inquiry with a wrinkled brow and a twist of his mouth. “He took the loss of Day Dreamer rather hard.”

“The poor man. I sympathize completely, but you cannot have her back.”

“I’m glad you like her, and thank you for keeping Jemmy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I kept him, as you well knew I would. I should have felt as if I’d devastated his young life for all time had I separated the two.”

Miles threw his head back and laughed. “Heinous indeed… and Eleanor… I agreed to meet with your father as it was the respectful thing to do. It is not my intention to supplant you or interfere in your management of Rutledge.”

She looked vastly relieved. 

He offered his arm. “Shall we go compose letters?”

“It seems your schemes and machinations might come to fruition, Rutledge.” The Countess lifted her eyes from the letter she read and gazed at her adored husband across the width of both their beds. “Julia writes that Eleanor’s affections are decidedly engaged, and she is quite certain, as evidenced by the gift of the three-year-old filly, that Miles is far from indifferent.” She turned to face him fully. “Now we must make them see it.” Her aged face saddened and her eyes welled with unshed tears. “I absolutely forbid you to die before we see Eleanor and Miles settled happily. I forbid it. Do you hear me, Rutledge?”

“Yes, Lady Rutledge, I hear you.” Her husband closed his eyes and released a long sigh. “I shall speak with the Almighty about accommodating you.”

She settled back with a shaky breath and a small sniffle. “I can’t think why He wouldn’t. It’s a small thing to ask.”