Chapter Fourteen
After surveying the cottage interior and getting rid of all traces of Hugh, Eleanor brewed herself a cup of tea and settled on the garden bench with an apple tart. Euphoria prevailed. Was this what heaven was like?
Sadly, Eleanor discovered euphoria was fleeting. She must face reality. She had a child with Hugh, and she’d kept that child from him. Lili’s foster father was primed to blackmail her, if her deductions were accurate. The man was already denying her access to Lili on occasion, or, at the very least, making her visits difficult and worrying. And she suspected one or both of her parents might be in collusion with Abbot.
Things were spinning out of control, and she’d no bloody idea how to fix them.
Her chest grew tight with gnawing dread. Drink your tea. Eat. She forced herself to swallow some of the strong brew and take a few bites of the tart, then she rose and paced around the garden. There had to be a way.
By the time Jane and Minnie had arrived, Eleanor had a plan. Was she brave enough to carry it out? Telling Hugh about Lili seemed the best course of action, despite the consequences for all of them. Hugh was the best of men. He might be angry at first, but when she explained her reasons for withholding the truth, perhaps he would forgive her.
Once Hugh knew the truth, Eleanor didn’t know what would come next. He may not wish to acknowledge a child born outside of marriage. He may be too angry to forgive her deception. She must steel herself to accept his decision, no matter what.
Perhaps he would insist on marrying her, after he’d had sufficient time to absorb everything. She’d thought she didn’t want to marry him, but now…well, now things were different. She liked him. Maybe even loved him. They were compatible physically, and they had always enjoyed each other’s company. They would be good parents to Lili.
What was the point of dwelling upon a serendipitous outcome? Certain as she was that Hugh cared for her, his feelings could be upended by her revealing Lili. Speaking of Lili, it was time for a visit. Eleanor hadn’t been back since her daughter’s illness, and given all she’d learned about Abbot, she was worried about Lili’s well-being. If she completed the vandyking and rouleau trim on the muslin dress before noon, she would borrow the gig and head for the Abbots’. She hoped Jacob Abbot would be at Longmere and not at his home.
A few hours later, Eleanor approached the Abbot home with fear knotting her stomach. How ironic, to experience such unpleasant feelings during what should be a happy occasion, both for herself and Lili. The door crashed open before she’d even stepped down from the gig, and Jacob Abbot strode toward her with a look meant to intimidate.
He stopped, standing so close to her she could see the tiny red blood vessels in the whites of his eyes. Eleanor stood her ground. “Step back, Mr. Abbot.”
He didn’t move. “What did you tell Grey about me?”
“I won’t answer until you step back.”
Grudgingly, he moved a few feet away from her. “Go on, then. Out with it.”
“He asked me what you’d said to upset me. He wanted to sack you immediately, but I told him to give you another chance.”
“I don’t believe you. If that’s true, why did the steward tell me to take the day off today?”
“I have no way of knowing what passes between you and your employers, Mr. Abbot.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m here to see Lili.”
When she tried to sidestep around him and walk toward the house, he said, “Not so fast. The little girl’s not available.”
Eleanor wanted to scream her frustration, but she knew that would make matters worse. She kept walking until Abbot grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop.
“Let go of me! You cannot stop me from seeing Lili.”
“You and me have matters to talk over.”
So here it was. Though she’d feared his intentions, she’d been able—temporarily—to consign her worries to the back of her mind. “What can we possibly have to talk over?”
“Looks like you and Sir Hugh are good friends. I’d wager he might like to know he’s got a little girl.”
The words hit her like a blow. Reeling with shock, Eleanor grappled for words. This could be no more than a wild guess. “That is a ridiculous statement, as you well know. Now, get out of my way.”
But he blocked her once again. “A friend of mine saw you sneak into the stables with Hugh Grey one night a few years back. And lo and behold, nine months later, you’ve got yourself a child. That’s no coincidence.”
Could her heart be thumping any louder? Had Abbot known this for years, saving it up to use in some perverse way? And just who was this other person? “Your friend needs spectacles, Mr. Abbot.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Me and my wife have a lot of expenses, what with a baby coming soon. Seeing as you make a lot of blunt with that fancy dress business of yours, I thought you might want to help us out. What do you say?”
“I say that smacks of blackmail. My father and I pay you generously, more than generously, to care for Lili. And you have employment with Sir Hugh. So, no, I’m afraid there’s no more money from me in the offing.”
A sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. “You’ll be sorry about that decision when I tell Grey the truth.”
Would Abbot sense the underlying fear in her words? “You don’t know the truth, Mr. Abbot. Speculation and lies have nothing to do with fact. Your threats are meaningless. And don’t forget, one word from me to Sir Hugh and you’ll be dismissed. He won’t hesitate for an instant.”
Arms flailing, he said, “Get out of here. Now.”
Any further arguing with him would not get her anywhere. Eleanor spun around and climbed onto the gig.
All the way home, she thought of nothing besides telling Hugh about Lili. How she would do it, and when. She couldn’t put it off it any longer. Eleanor could no longer risk letting her child stay with the Abbots.
…
The following week
Hugh hadn’t been in the Haslemere assembly rooms since the night of his unforgettable liaison with Eleanor more than two years ago. Tonight’s ball, in his honor, was a private one, by invitation only. Hugh arrived in his carriage, ahead of the guests. He’d been given a schedule of sorts. People would be presenting themselves at nine o’clock, and he must be ready to greet them.
He strolled into the main room and surveyed the splendor. The scene couldn’t have been more different from his last visit. The organizers had gone out of their way to beautify the main room. The two enormous chandeliers were lit, and a fire blazed in the massive hearth. The musicians had already taken their places in the gallery at the far end. Violins, violas, horns, flutes. Garlands of greenery festooned the gallery up and down the room, and large urns of fresh flowers stood on high stands in niches, flanked by candelabra on either side. Perhaps the good citizens of Haslemere were finally prepared to acknowledge that he was his own man, not a copy of his father. Maybe some of them even liked him. He derived some satisfaction in that.
Mr. Beckwith, the magistrate, bustled over to him. “Sir Hugh, welcome. Very festive in here, eh?”
“My thanks for all you’ve done, Mr. Beckwith. I’ve never seen these rooms looking so grand.”
Apparently, he’d said the right thing, because the other man beamed at him. “I’m glad you approve.” His gaze flickered away from Hugh. “Ah, here are the first guests. I believe it is your family, Sir Hugh.”
Hugh’s back was to them. Unease pressed inside his chest, but he was determined to be every bit the gentleman tonight. To make up for the last time he’d seen his mother and brother. He turned slowly, and there they were, looking a bit guarded. Not that he could blame them. And, would miracles never cease, Hugh was damned glad to see them. He hastened to greet them.
“Deborah.” Leaning in, he kissed her cheek. “You’re looking lovely tonight.” And here was his mother’s beau, Freddie Cochran. “Mr. Cochran, welcome.”
His brother and Cass stood by, waiting. “Cass, you are a vision, as usual. You’re a lucky devil, brother.” That broke the ice. They all laughed, and Hugh shook hands with Adam.
“How are you, Hugh?” he asked, looking his brother in the eye. “How does the home building progress?”
“I’m well enough. The reconstruction is coming along nicely. Why don’t you see for yourself before you leave Town?” Then, looking from one to the other, Hugh said, “Won’t you join me in the receiving line?”
He’d shocked them. Obviously, they hadn’t expected the courtesy. But in his heart, Hugh knew it was the proper course of action. The kindest one. And truth be told, he wanted them there. He’d rather not do this alone.
Soon after they took their places, the guests began arriving. Hugh was first in the line, with his mother standing next to him. Adam might have been of more help in identifying people, but it would have seemed ill-mannered to place him before Deborah. Hugh shook so many hands, he lost count. But he was gratified to realize that he remembered many of the friends of his youth, as well as their siblings and parents. The women congratulated him on his honor; the men clapped him on the shoulder.
Ned Martin stepped up, tugging at his neck cloth and appearing altogether self-conscious in his ball attire. Hugh had to hold back a smile. “Ned, welcome. You look grand, my friend. May I introduce you to my mother?”
Eleanor was the one person Hugh gave a damn about greeting, and she hadn’t come through the line yet. Since they’d made love, she’d been in his thoughts every moment. He was beginning to worry that the Broxtons had prevented Eleanor from attending, when at last he looked up and glimpsed them a little back in the line. Her parents were blocking his view of her.
Sir William, wearing a powdered wig, approached him and shook his hand warmly. “Well done, my boy. Sir Hugh now, eh? One day you must tell me what you did to earn the honor.”
Hugh smiled and thanked him for coming. He was shocked—and gratified—that the older man was so cordial to him. Maybe it was due to Adam. Or maybe Sir William had finally concluded that Hugh was all right. His wife, however, was less sure. Having Eleanor so close, while forced to keep his eyes fixed on her mother, was painful. “Lady Broxton, welcome. Thank you for coming. I’m honored.”
“Sir Hugh,” she managed to choke out.
Deborah seemed to sense the awkwardness and took charge. “Lady Broxton! How lovely to see you again. The house party, wasn’t it, when we last met?”
And then Hugh quit paying any attention, because Eleanor stood before him. Oh God, she was so lovely. Her hair was swept up, but loose strands lay curling at her cheeks and brushed her nape. She wore a lemon colored gown with quite a daring décolletage, making it difficult not to stare at her breasts. If he had his way, he would rush her out to his carriage and back to Longmere. He would have her over and over in the massive bed he’d bought with her in mind.
“Hugh?”
Holy God, he had been staring—and daydreaming. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “Eleanor. I’m overwhelmed. You are so beautiful.”
Her smile melted him, sent heat straight to parts that didn’t need it right now. Her eyes were lit by the branches of candles in the entrance hall, and he fancied they gleamed with warmth. For him. He didn’t want to let her go. “Hugh,” she said. “I’m so happy to be here, but I should move on.”
He laughed, like a schoolboy in the throes of first love. “Yes, but not before you’ve promised me the opening set.”
“Of course.” And then she was gone, shaking hands with all his family, and finally disappearing into the main room. What if he couldn’t find her again? Ridiculous thought. He turned to the next guest. The musicians were already playing, and before too much longer, the formalities were at an end.
After they’d greeted all the stragglers, Hugh said, “My thanks to all of you. I must find my partner, as we’re to lead the dance.”
His family were all gazing at him with peculiar expressions. Adam was scrunching his face up painfully, as though to beat back a grin, while Cass beamed openly. His mother smiled. “She’s lovely, Hugh.”
Good God, is it that obvious? He supposed it was, so he took it in stride and smiled. “Enjoy yourselves.” And then he went in search of Eleanor.
He found her near the entry, speaking to friends. Conversation came to a halt when he approached. He crooked an arm at her. “Miss Broxton? My dance, I believe.”
…
Eleanor had been debating with herself whether she should tell Hugh about Lili tonight, or wait until they were completely alone. Of late, her sleep had been restless rather than restful, and she was shocked when Hugh had said she looked beautiful. Obviously, he hadn’t looked closely enough. When she’d glanced in the Cheval glass before leaving her chamber, a gaunt face with dark circles under the eyes stared back at her. She felt as if she’d been sucked into a bog, unable to claw her way out.
They took their places at the top of the line, nearest the musicians. Someone gave the signal, and the dance began. It was one she knew well. She could dance her way through the steps and patterns without paying too much attention. When she glanced at Hugh, though, he was staring at her with worried eyes.
She mustered a smile and kept it in place. It wasn’t hard. Hugh was magnificently, starkly handsome. His body was made for evening dress. A black coat fit snug across his shoulders—with his Knight Grand Cross badge pinned to it. Pale gray waistcoat with gold thread embroidery, and a perfectly arranged neckcloth. His pantaloons clung to his thighs like a second skin. To her amusement—or perhaps chagrin—she noticed more than a few young ladies who had their eyes on him. She had one thing to say to them.
He’s mine, ladies. Hugh Grey is mine.
She corrected her posture, arranged her arms in an elegant curve, and smiled at Hugh whenever the steps brought them in physical contact. When at last they were back at the top of the line, and the dance had ended, Hugh offered his arm. “Would you care for some lemonade, Eleanor? I’m parched. All that talking in the receiving line.”
She nodded, and he led her toward the refreshment table. Instead of ending up there, however, Hugh changed course, veering toward a corner partially concealed by two large potted palms. He snatched a glass of lemonade from a tray held by a footman. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into the corner.
“Hugh,” Eleanor protested. “Someone might see us.”
“I very much doubt it. Look how dark it is. And nobody’s paying us any mind.” He gulped the lemonade until it was almost gone, then handed the glass to Eleanor. “My apologies. I should have offered it to you first.”
She swallowed the rest and set the glass down. Hugh immediately caught her up in his arms and kissed her, a sweet, tender offering. He ended the kiss, and she cradled his face in her hands. “Congratulations, Sir Hugh. This has turned out to be quite a crush. You must be pleased.”
He turned his head and planted a kiss on her palm before letting her go. “It appears I am not so disliked as I feared. I’m finally more than just Benjamin Grey’s son.”
And then Eleanor could have kicked herself. How could she have contemplated for one moment giving him the news on this night? His night? The secret she was guarding was impairing her ability to think straight.
“Your family is here,” she said.
“Their names were on the guest list I was sent. I couldn’t very well ask that they be removed.”
“They helped receive the guests right alongside you. You must have invited them to do so.”
To her surprise, he said, “I’ve made up my mind to try for a reconciliation. The last time I saw my mother, at the dinner Adam hosted in London, I said some things I regretted. I made her cry, in fact. Afterward, I felt ashamed and disgusted with myself. And shortly thereafter, I did the same thing to you at the garden party.”
She smiled. “And I forgave you.”
“Yes. Thank you for that. With my family, it will be one step at a time. Perhaps tonight represents the first step.”
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy for you, Hugh. Now, hadn’t we better get back to the festivities?”
…
Hugh danced with several different partners, some amusing, some witty, some smart. And several who boasted a conventional sort of beauty. The sort that did not particularly appeal to him. Eleanor’s beauty was unique. Fragile, complex, rare. Not easily defined. Even the sadness he often perceived in her eyes added to her mystique and the allure she held for him.
He glimpsed her off and on, dancing with Adam, Ned, and other young men in attendance. She was probably acquainted with many of them. And once he caught her standing alone, looking out at the dancers, a lost look on her face. Why hadn’t somebody engaged her for this dance? Men were such asses. He had the mad urge to beg the pardon of his current partner and hasten to Eleanor’s rescue. After this dance, he would seek her out and ask her to stand up with him again.
To his disappointment, another gentleman, curse him, claimed Eleanor for the next set before Hugh could even make his way toward her. He snatched a glass of wine from a footman and retreated to the sidelines. In a moment, Adam strolled over and stood next to him.
“The evening seems a great success,” he said.
Hugh snorted. “So far. One never knows with these occasions.”
“I’m glad, Hugh, very glad you allowed this. They asked me about it first, you know. If I thought you would agree. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“You know me too well. But I decided it would seem crass not to.” He glanced around the room. “These people seem to like me, Adam. Of course, it may be that they enjoy balls and socializing more.”
“Of course they do. And there’s nothing the good citizens love more than a war hero.” He looked askance at Hugh. “Someday I hope you’ll tell me something of your exploits in North America.”
“And I’ve never heard exactly what happened to you at Walcheren. If I were a betting man, I’d wager it’s you who deserves the knighthood, not me.”
“Every chap who’s suffered the horrors of this never-ending war with Bonaparte probably deserves one, but that’s as may be.”
“You know, Adam, I’d grown tired of being thought of as nothing more than Benjamin Grey’s son. The one who is just like him.”
Adam seemed shocked. “Do you think that’s how people view you?”
Hugh shrugged. “Broxton certainly did. He glared at me every time I so much as glanced at Eleanor. And her mother still barely tolerates me. But overall, I believe most people hold me in higher regard than they once did.” He watched as Eleanor floated by in the arms of an older man. His hackles rose when he recognized the fellow as a widower from Haslemere. One who needed a mother for his brood. He’d better not be considering Eleanor for the position.
“You have an interest there,” Adam said, amusement in his voice.
Hugh looked at him squarely. “Very much so.” He paused a moment, considering. “Step outside with me a moment?”
Adam nodded, and the two made their way toward the doors. His brother fished a cheroot from his pocket and lit it from a candle on his way outside. Hugh walked a short distance down the sidewalk before he stopped and said to Adam, “This is strictly between us. Agreed?”
“Of course. Always.”
Hugh swallowed the remainder of his wine before speaking and set the glass on a ledge. “Did anything happen to Eleanor while I was in Canada? Something that hurt her, wounded her in some way?”
Adam puffed on the cigar before answering. “We didn’t see her for a long time, even though we dined with the Broxtons fairly often after the election. Other times I was there by myself. Eleanor was never present. I recall remarking to Cass once that it seemed odd she never made an appearance. Then, suddenly, we began to see her occasionally, although not at private dinners.”
“Did they make excuses for her absence?”
“Let me think. Cass would remember better than I. Once, they said she was ill, or indisposed, or some such. I honestly can’t recall beyond that.”
Damn. “I see.”
“What’s this about, Hugh?”
He debated how much to reveal, then decided if he’d gone this far, he might as well tell all. “I’m in love with her, Adam. I want to marry her.” Christ, Hugh couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Something he hadn’t even admitted to himself yet.
“But that’s wonderful news, Brother.”
“Too soon to celebrate. I haven’t asked her yet.” He spun around and walked a few paces away. “She’s keeping something from me, I know it. Have you ever noticed the sadness in her eyes? Something terribly painful is buried deep inside her, and I don’t have a clue as to what it might be or why she’s keeping it hidden.”
“Have you asked her about it?”
“Not directly. Doesn’t it seem odd to you that she works so hard? That she doesn’t live in her family home, with her parents?”
“I thought she did.”
Hugh raked a hand through his hair. “Nominally. In truth, she spends most of her nights at that cottage where she runs her business. There’s a bed in the back room.”
Adam cocked his head and lifted a brow at his brother. “And you know about the bed because?”
“None of your damn business. That’s beside the point, anyway. Sometimes Eleanor looks so drained, I can’t bear it. I’ve asked her why she drives herself to such an extent. Her justification is that she wants to be independent, wants her life to have a purpose. But she doesn’t have to work herself into a state of exhaustion to achieve that.”
“I’ve never paid much attention to the situation, but I’ll ask Cass what she knows. With your permission, of course.”
“You’re sure she can be discreet?”
“Absolutely. I’ll let you know if she can shed any light on this. I’m optimistic she may remember something, or have sensed something, I did not. Women are better at these sorts of delicate matters than we are.”
“You’re right about that,” Hugh said ruefully. “We’d better go back in. And thanks for listening.”
When they reentered the assembly rooms, the guests were streaming into supper. Adam went off to find Cass. Hugh looked around for Eleanor and glimpsed her with Ned, of all people. Well, better she eat supper with his friend than with the widower.