Chapter 15

“Wherein plans are made.”

“So, the prodigal returns.”

Ella looked up to find Ranleigh’s dark eyes watching her husband across the room.

“He does,” she said, wondering what that meant.

Mintie had said he wanted to try again, that he was sorry for leaving, but it explained nothing. Was he going to force himself to be a proper husband to her, against his own inclinations? Would it all be a charade, just to make her feel better and kill rumours about her and Ranleigh? The thought made her feel sick.

She wished she hadn’t agreed to come to the concert tonight. If only he’d sent word ahead to let her know he was coming, she would have made an excuse.

Ella glanced across the room to see him talking with an older gentleman, smiling and full of that easy charm he wielded so well. Good Lord, but he was handsome. His hair glinted gold in the candlelight and his black coat clung to broad, powerful shoulders. She was the envy of every woman here, and yet how they’d laugh if they knew he’d never even touched her.

Had he visited his mistresses when he was in town? She assumed he had. Why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t as if he’d been coy about explaining the kind of marriage they would have. He was free to take lovers… as was she. He didn’t care.

If only she knew how to be alluring. Pearl seemed to manage it with such ease, but then she had a great deal more to work with. Ella sighed, dejected, and then felt Ranleigh’s hand on her arm.

“What is it?” he asked, concern in his expression. “What is making you look so sad? Are you not pleased to have him home? I thought this was what you wanted.”

She smiled and nodded. “It is, but making him want to stay at home….”

She shrugged and felt a lump rise in her throat. It had been so much easier when they’d just been friends. How she regretted that day at the races. She’d ruined what little relationship she’d had with him. At least he’d taken pleasure in her company back then.

“He’s a bloody fool if he doesn’t want to stay,” Ranleigh muttered with heat, and Ella laughed. He always made her feel better.

A thought flickered to life as she stared up at his handsome face. Ranleigh had proven himself to be a friend to her, a man she could trust. He was also a man of the world. If anyone could teach her how to get Oscar to desire her… surely he could.

“Ranleigh,” she said, her voice low as he turned back to her. “I need your help.”

He frowned a little, staring down at her. “Anything, only name it.”

“I….” Ella flushed a little, wondering how she’d ever explain what she needed, but it certainly wasn’t something she could talk about here. “I need to speak to you in confidence, in private. Is there somewhere I can meet you where we can be alone?”

A rather startled expression crossed his face, but he nodded. “Of course. I have commitments tomorrow but… the day after?”

Ella nodded and let out a breath, relieved. “Yes. Thank you.”

He laughed, smiling down at her. “Don’t thank me yet, I have no idea what you want from me. Can you ride out in the morning? There’s a folly on the rise, north of the church at Brasted.”

“Yes, I know it. I’ll come at ten.”

He stared down at her, curiosity in his eyes. “I’ll be there, but… take care, Ella. You know what people are saying about us. It won’t take much to fan the flames.”

She could see he was concerned for her, and was no doubt perplexed by her demand to be alone with him when they’d been so careful not to be. Ranleigh had been set on provoking just enough gossip to reach Oscar’s ears whilst doing nothing to hurt her reputation. That he was surprised by her demand was obvious. Ella suspected that learning her reasons for asking him would surprise him even more.

***

It was late by the time the concert ended.

His mother chatted the whole way home, telling them all about the people she’d spoken to, giving her opinion on the music, telling rather scandalous stories about the famous soprano, Angelica Giodarmo. She seemed set on filling the rather unnerving silence they’d endured on the way there, and Oscar could only be grateful for that.

He felt a little as if the carpet had been tugged from under his feet. He’d only been gone weeks, not months, and yet everything had changed.

As he stared across the carriage at his wife, her sweet profile lit by the moonlight, he realised that wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t changed as much as he’d first believed. It was him who’d opened his eyes at last and only now was he seeing her for the first time.

Ella had been here all the time, always making him laugh, always ready to listen, yet he’d not allowed her to grow up. Oh, she’d been doing it all the same, yet in his mind he hadn’t seen her any differently than he had when she was twelve or thirteen. He hadn’t treated her any differently because Bertie hadn’t either. She was his friend’s strange and awkward little sister, funny little Bug who didn’t mind if they teased her and laughed at her, as long as they let her join in.

Their friendship had been so easy, so natural, that he hadn’t realised its value until he’d chased it away.

There was no laughter and hero worship in her eyes now. Though he’d hardly had a chance to speak with her yet, he’d seen that much. She’d been wary. It had been caution he’d seen when she’d looked at him. Any trust she’d put in him had been badly shaken, and he didn’t know how to mend it.

He would mend it, though. He had to. It wasn’t until now, in the darkness of a carriage, opposite a woman he’d known and cared for his whole life that he realised just how desperately he’d missed her.

***

The next morning dawned fair, and Oscar rose early to ensure Ella could not escape him. As it was, he had to kick his heels until well after nine.

“Good morning,” he said, wishing he sounded a little less like an eager puppy as he sprang to his feet when she entered the breakfast room.

She looked a little surprised to see him, no doubt as he’d taken such pains to avoid her in the weeks before he’d left.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, and then cursed himself as it sounded more as if he was speaking to a guest than his wife, but he had to start somewhere.

“I did, thank you,” she replied with a polite smile, though he thought she looked rather tired and suspected it was a lie.

He sat back down at the table as she accepted a cup of tea from the footman and reached for a freshly baked bread roll, tearing it into two halves.

“I wondered if… if you would care to go riding with me this morning? It’s a lovely day.”

He noted her hesitation at answering him as she buttered the roll. “I… was going to go over to Berry Street and see how things were coming along.”

“Of course,” Oscar said, annoyed at not having suggested it himself. “Why don’t we ride over that way? We could take a picnic and eat by the river afterwards.”

She glanced up at him, and he wished he could read the expression in her eyes.

“That would be nice.” He was gifted with a smile then and Oscar felt the strangest sensation flutter in his heart.

After breakfast, Oscar saw to it that her mare was saddled and ready and waited for her to come out. The sound of hooves on gravel caught his ears, and he turned to see Bertie riding up towards him.

“Morning, Bertie,” he said, as his friend dismounted. They shook hands and Bertie gave him a searching look.

“Well? How did it go? Is she speaking to you?”

Oscar shrugged, wishing he could be more positive with his answer but knowing he deserved everything he got.

“She’s speaking to me, but…. Oh, bloody hell, Bertie, I’ve made a blasted mess of everything. We went to this concert last night and Ranleigh was there, hanging around like a bad smell.”

He glowered and kicked at the gravel with his boot.

Bertie returned an I told you so look that Oscar could not avoid.

“I’m taking her out for the morning, having a picnic by the river.”

“Good,” Bertie replied, tapping his crop against his thigh, his expression thoughtful. “Though I wouldn’t expect her to throw herself into your arms. Stubborn little thing when she’s thwarted, you ought to remember that much.”

Oscar nodded. He did remember. She was stubborn and wilful and not past meting out her own form of vengeance if she felt it was deserved. He had no expectation of returning to her good books—let alone her affections—by the end of the day, but it was a start, surely?

“Bertie!”

They turned to see Ella beaming at her brother and running down the steps to give him a hug. Just as last night, Oscar caught his breath.

The Aldous family were far from penniless, but it had always been obvious that Pearl had won the lion’s share of any budget for clothing. Ella’s clothes were often Pearl’s garments made over, and the colouring didn’t always suit her.

Now, however, she was dressed in the height of fashion and the difference was breath-taking. Her riding habit was a dark charcoal grey, which might have been dull on a less vivacious creature. Yet her grey eyes sparkled, and the trim matching hat sat neatly against her dark curls, a jaunty white feather bobbing as she moved. The high waist showed off her figure, and an amount of braiding across the bust and around the cuffs made her cut quite a dash.

“I say, Ella, old girl, you do look in prime twig,” Bertie said, his tone approving as he looked his sister over. “Never would have believed you could look so natty, but that rig… that’s fine, very fine indeed.”

Ella practically glowed with pleasure at her brother’s praise, and Oscar cursed his friend for taking the wind out of his sails. He’d been just as ready to compliment her, but now it would seem as if he was only echoing her brother.

“Oh, Bertie, we’re going for a ride. Would you like to join us?” Ella asked, as Oscar’s plans to spend some time alone with his wife began to slip from his grasp.

Bertie glanced at Oscar, who glowered a little until Ella turned to look at him too.

“No, don’t think so, Ella,” Bertie said, correctly interpreting the look in Oscar’s eyes. “See you when you get back, though.”

Oscar nodded as Bertie took himself off, leaving them alone.

“Shall we go, then?” he asked, feeling strangely nervous.

Ella nodded and moved to the mounting block as the groom brought her mare up alongside. Once she was settled, Oscar mounted and led them away from the house.

It was a bright morning, with a fine mist wreathing the ground as the sun came up and sparkled on the dew.

“Bertie was right, you know,” Oscar said, looking over at her. “I hardly recognise you. You’ve become quite the beauty. I know you must have been beautiful before, but… how did I never see it, Ella?”

The words were full of confusion and frustration and Oscar didn’t try to hide the fact. He would be honest with her from now on.

A blush pinkened her cheeks and only added to the lovely picture she made.

“I think you flatter me, Oscar. I have finer clothes now, I suppose. Mintie’s modiste is quite a wonder, so that perhaps is the difference. Though I have also learnt a great many things about myself over the past weeks. About other people, too.”

She brought the mare to a trot, moving ahead of him as the lane narrowed and, for a moment, he could not speak to her again.

As soon as the road widened he moved to her side again, watching her and wishing he could read the look in her eyes, or interpret the edge to her words when she spoke to him.

“Are you terribly angry with me?”

She glanced at him and then looked away again before shaking her head. “Not angry, no. It was my fault after all. If I hadn’t been so stupid….”

He watched as she clamped her lips shut and said no more.

“It wasn’t stupid, Ella,” he said, his voice low. That she could believe that, when she’d been so courageous for him, made his chest ache. “I… I still can’t believe you did that for me. It was incredibly brave.”

She shook her head, and he got the impression she was holding back tears. “It was stupid, and now we all have to live with the consequences.”

Before he could reply, she’d urged her horse into a canter. She didn’t slow again until the cottages at Berry Street were before them.

Once away from him and in the company of his tenants and the workmen, she relaxed. Oscar could see the change in her. She laughed and smiled, and everyone seemed enthused and energised by her presence.

Oscar had stepped forward, hoping to have a word with Mr Burrows and ask if they had the supplies they needed to complete the work.

“Did the new delivery of thatch arrive?” Ella asked.

Burrows nodded. “It did, though I still reckon we’re short.”

“Well can you calculate by how much? If you would you make me a list of everything else that’s required, I have a meeting with the bailiff this afternoon. If we’re to have a chance of getting it in time, he’ll need the information right away.”

“Consider it done, your grace. I’ll bring the list up to the big house this afternoon, if that suits you?”

“As long as it’s before half past three,” she said, nodding. “Now, how is the decorating coming along?”

Oscar watched, bemused as Ella strode off with Mr Burrows, leaving him behind like a spare part. For just a moment, he felt a little miffed. He usually dealt with such matters as this and had done since he was a very young man. He took estate matters seriously, especially those pertaining to his tenants, and to be put aside with such speed was daunting. Yet the slight was forgotten as another sensation took its place.

He dawdled behind, watching Ella from a distance as everyone stopped what they were doing to greet her, eager to draw her attention to what had been accomplished since she was last here.

Pride swelled in his chest. She was carving a place for herself, and not only as the Duchess of Rothborn. Ella was wriggling into their hearts, the same as she’d done to him, and he doubted they would realise she’d done it, either.

As he entered the first cottage, which seemed well on its way to completion, he looked around with approval. The place was as neat as a new pin, and the decorating was well underway. The smell of fresh paint was heavy on the air, and he smiled at Ella as she turned to look at him.

“You’ve done wonders, Ella,” he said.

The pleasure in her eyes at his approval hit him square in the chest. Perhaps she cared what he thought still? A little, at least.

“I didn’t do it with my bare hands,” she said, shaking her head at him with amusement, deflecting his praise. “All I did was make sure the materials and workmen arrived. Anyone could have done that.”

They inspected the rest of the cottages, all of which were in various stages of completion.

“Was there much left after the fire, Mr Burrows? In the way of belongings, I mean? Furniture and the like.”

Burrows shrugged, his expression grim. “Some fared worse than others, your grace. The Smith family managed to get all their belongings out as theirs was the last house to catch. The Roberts, though, they barely escaped with the clothes on their backs. Most of the others salvaged bits and pieces.”

Oscar nodded. “Along with that list of materials, perhaps you could ask the families to make a list of the things they lost. We should see what can be done to help get them back on their feet. I also want to know how that fire started. If we’re going to rebuild Cripps Corner, I’d rather avoid a repeat performance.”

Burrows smiled at him. “Thank you, your grace, I’ll see to it at once.”

Oscar turned to see Ella watching him. She said nothing, but her expression was approving and, for the first time since he’d returned, Oscar felt a little more hopeful that all was not lost.