Chapter Twenty
The days continued on as they had before, except Ellen saw more of Marcus than previously. He joined her for tea without being reminded, or he appeared at her elbow if she entered the library, and he came into the music room while she practiced the pianoforte. He remained attentive when in her company. Their dinners together continued as usual and his enjoyment of their time reading together lifted her heart.
They finished The Wild Irish Girl and turned to reading Shakespeare, taking turns with the parts of The Taming of the Shrew. But Marcus insisted on reading for Kate, making Ellen laugh heartily every time he pitched his voice as high as it would go. He asked her to read Petruchio with equally humorous results.
The roads eventually cleared, and the news came from London that passage would be safe, at least until the next storm. Their things were packed in a hurry. They must go to London for at least part of the Season to show support to his brother.
“And allow Mother to throw us a wedding ball. She enjoys her parties,” Marcus informed her.
Ellen winced at the thought of being the center of attention, but she knew it to be her duty to appear when the family desired. Besides, having never been to London for the Season, she thought standing up at a ball would be a small price to pay to enjoy the other spectacles of society.
“As long as I can also attend a few plays, maybe see the museums?” Though she meant to make it a condition of her attendance at their ball, it came out sounding a great deal like a request.
Marcus grinned at her over the portmanteau he held. He had brought it down from the attic for her use. “I would have thought you would be interested in the libraries and booksellers. I thought we could go together to find new volumes for our humble library.”
“Together?” Her excitement made her bounce on her toes. “Yes, please. I would like that very much.”
He bowed. “Make certain all is ready; we leave in the morning.” Without another word, he disappeared down the hall.
The journey would take four days, if they stopped when they had no sun to travel further.
“It would be wonderful,” she murmured when they were both in the carriage after several hours, “to make a journey of this distance in but a day.”
“Can you imagine the speed you would have to move at?” Marcus responded, humoring her as he normally did instead of dismissing her fanciful thoughts. “Or if we could make the journey continuous, not stopping to even change horses. This puts me in mind of the steam boat we were reading of the other day.”
“Oh, the American improvements on Lord Dundas’s invention, yes.” Ellen sat forward with interest. “Though water is most certainly more easily traversed than land, it is a marvel he could travel 150 miles in but thirty-two hours. What an incredible ride that would be.”
“If only we could find a way to use steam travel over land, instead of horses.” Marcus pursed his lips in thought. “But the engines required for such a thing would need a constant source of fuel.”
They postulated for a long stretch of time how such things could be done, even speaking of the iron rails used by coal mining companies to move large quantities of their product with pulling horses.
Marcus made such discussions lively. He always listened to what she shared with him, whether it had a practical application in the moment or not, and often shared his own thoughts on the subject at hand.
They arrived in London exhausted, but in good spirits. The roads remained traversable, with it staying cold enough to keep the dirt paths from turning into mud. When the carriage stopped for the last time, before the Earl of Annesbury’s townhouse, Ellen breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m grateful we will not be making the journey in the opposite direction for some time.”
Marcus put a hand to his heart, widening his eyes comically. “Madam, you wound me. I thought you enjoyed my company, my completely undivided attention, these four days past.” He stepped from the carriage and held his gloved hand out for hers. “Was I not entertaining enough?”
Ellen, amused by his teasing, stepped down and quickly tucked her hand back in her muff. “I liked our conversations, of course, but it will be nice to sit upon a seat that does not move, bounce, or jostle about.”
He chuckled and nodded. “I will confess, I look forward to that as well. Come, let’s get inside quickly, and we can get to our rooms before Mother discovers we are here.”
Ellen giggled and hurried with him, up the steps and into the house. She felt happier and lighter than she had in many years. She was less worried about her time in London. The carriage ride with Marcus, as exhausting as the travel had been, made her grateful for the time spent with him.
They avoided the earl and his mother and were shown to adjoining rooms in the family wing. The house was large, by town standards, but not near the size of the more prestigious ducal homes they’d passed in the neighborhood. Bidding each other a quick farewell, Ellen and Marcus parted in the hallway.
Ellen entered her room and found Sarah already there, hands folded primly before her and eyes as wide as saucers. “Sarah, how was your journey?” she asked brightly.
“Oh, lovely, ma’am. We had a grand time in the carriage.” The servants left earlier that morning, from the last inn, in order to prepare the way for their employers. “And I’ve unpacked and put some things in the clothes press for dinner tonight. I asked ‘round to see if it warranted anything special.” She began to help Ellen out of her traveling costume. “There’s to be a few guests to welcome Mr. Calvert and yourself to town.”
That gave Ellen pause. “Oh? Any idea who?”
“Friends of the earl and a few ladies.” Sarah shrugged, quickly wrapping a dressing gown around her mistress’s shoulders. “If you’ll sit, I’ll take out your hair so you can relax a bit before dinner.”
“Thank you. A nap might be just the thing.” Ellen allowed her maid’s ministrations and listened with half an ear as Sarah told her all about the household, the staff, and her impression of the city she had never thought she would visit.
Sarah had finished tying a ribbon at the end of Ellen’s braid when a soft rap came from the door separating her bedroom from her husband’s. Sarah and Ellen both turned to the door and stared at it in silence for a long moment.
“Ought I to get it, ma’am?” Sarah asked, eyebrows raised at the door. “I’m not sure what propriety dictates.”
“Take these things to be cleaned, Sarah, if you will.” Ellen waived vaguely at the clothing she had cast off and stood, tightening the sash around her wrap. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” She walked to the adjoining door but waited until Sarah had gone before she leaned close. “Who is it?”
What a ridiculous thing to say. As if anyone would knock at that door other than her husband.
A little thrill shot through her at the thought.
“Might I have a word, Ellen?”
Ellen took a deep breath before opening the door a crack. How silly, for a wife to hesitate in opening a door to her husband.
“Yes, Marcus?” She tried to look more at ease than she felt.
He stood on the other side of the door, head cocked to one side as he peered in at her. He appeared half-dressed, without a coat or neckcloth, and lacking shoes. When she noticed his stocking feet, Ellen quickly pulled her gaze back up to his face, hoping her blush was not overly visible.
Marcus half-grinned at her. “I’ve been informed there is to be a dinner party tonight. I think your abigail is aware. But I wondered if you are up to attending, given we have been on the road for several days. It would be an easy thing for you to be ill or exhausted from travel.”
“Only me? Do you plan to attend, either way?” she asked, curious.
“Yes. It would appease Mother if one of us is at dinner.”
“Then I will attend as well. I think after a short nap I will be equal to the task.”
“Excellent.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, seeming in no hurry to end their conversation, for all it resembled border guards discussing the weather. “Is your room to your liking?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the beautiful furnishings and the sumptuous bed. Her body positively ached. “Yes, very much. Especially that beautiful bed. I want nothing more than to crawl beneath its covers.”
She turned her attention back to him and his grin had returned, in a most crooked manner. When she realized what she said, and how it must sound, and how they both were lacking in proper attire, her face went up in a blaze of embarrassment.
“I must retire now. Excuse me. Good afternoon,” Ellen stammered before she shut the door abruptly, feeling it clip his shoulder as the handle snipped into place.
Standing perfectly still, Ellen heard him chuckle, and then his soft footfalls on the polished floors padded away. She turned and walked dazedly toward her bed and sank into the mattress, pulling the blankets over her head.
“He must think me a complete simpleton,” she muttered.
But he had been the one to break their unspoken arrangement, their adherence to complete privacy.
Of course, four days on the road together, in the same carriage, meant a great deal of that privacy from home had evaporated. But she assumed once their travels came to an end they would pick up their usual habits. For Marcus to so blatantly change the rules unnerved her.
Or, she thought with a frown, after those days together in the carriage, during which time he touched her to hand her in and out of the conveyance, he no longer thought they need worry over those barriers.
Rolling over, Ellen gave her pillow a harsh thump. “You knew what you were getting into, marrying him,” she muttered to herself.
Ellen forced herself to close her eyes, tried to make her body relax, and had achieved some measure of peace when her eyes flew open and she sat up, staring at the doorway between their rooms.
There was no lock on her side of the door. Nothing. No keyhole. No bolt. Just an intricately curved handle.
She fell back into the pillows and shook her head. While she doubted her husband would breach the doorway, the fact that he could, the fact that he was expected to by whoever arranged their rooms, made her stomach clench and her mind whirl.
Her plan for a nap before dinner was thoroughly ruined.
¤
Marcus made his way downstairs early, ready for dinner but searching out his brother. He had not had word from Lucas since the wedding and was curious what was happening in Parliament. He made his way to Lucas’s study, hardly noticing the familiar sights of the family townhome. The floors were tiled with black and white marble, paintings and family portraits hung along the walls, and vases of flowers were on every table.
He knocked on the dark oak paneled door.
“Enter,” his brother called and Marcus stepped inside. “Marcus, there you are. You avoided us rather neatly this afternoon.” Lucas came from around his desk, extending his hand to Marcus, who accepted the firm handshake. Lucas clapped him on the arm as he stepped away. “And how is Mrs. Calvert?”
“She is well, though perhaps uncertain about her first season in London.”
“Abigail was nervous the first year we married,” Lucas said with an understanding nod. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you.” Marcus followed his brother to the desk where they each took a chair on the same side. “Did you worry after Abigail that year?” He could not imagine his brother’s late wife had been too uncomfortable. Not like Ellen. Abigail had been the eldest daughter of an earl and had been born to the lifestyle of the ton’s elite.
“For a time, I didn’t leave her side,” Lucas admitted, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “There are a different set of rules for the married women of the ton. After a few weeks, she found her footing.”
Marcus tried to imagine what his brother’s life might be like. He knew Lucas and Abigail had a love match, adoring each other from nearly the first moment they met. What would it be like to find that connection to another person and then lose them?
“I hope Ellen can find her place. She’ll not have a title to lift her in society, only connections to you and the Falkhams.”
“And to you.” Lucas raised his blond eyebrows high. “You are her most important connection. I hope you’ll not forget that.”
Marcus nodded. “I will do all I can to see to her comfort.”
“You are getting on with her?” Lucas asked, tilting his head to one side. “I have wondered, given the nature of your marriage, if you’d find a practical wife suitable after the passage of some time.”
“More so than ever,” Marcus answered. “Ellen is a godsend. She took the reins of the household and everything runs smoothly. It’s a marvel, and all the servants respect her. She’s been helping me with my education in tree-farming as well. Truly, her advice and perspective have been invaluable to me.” The pride he felt in his wife and her abilities must’ve shown on his face, and he let slip more in his expression than he meant to.
“Marcus.” Lucas leaned forward and clasped his hands together beneath his chin, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Do you have feelings beyond your obvious gratitude for your wife?”
“I admire her a great deal,” Marcus said slowly.
“I see.” Lucas raised his eyebrows higher. “And?”
The two of them had always been close. Marcus trusted his brother with his life but trusting him with the secrets of his heart was more difficult. He wanted to run his hands through his hair, to tug at his too-stiff collar, to stand and pace like a caged lion at the Tower menagerie. But Lucas’s earnest expression, and Marcus’s uncertainty, finally won out.
“I think I’m falling in love with Ellen.”
Lucas sat back, his eyes going wide. “That’s wonderful news, isn’t it? You don’t look like you think it’s wonderful news.”
“I don’t know that it is.” Marcus stood, unsettled, and gave in to the desire to pace. If he touched his hair or collar, after all, both his mother and his valet would have his hide. “I have no knowledge of her feelings for me, and love has done neither you nor I any favors.”
“It has caused a great deal of pain,” Lucas said, his voice somber. Marcus paused, seeing the shadows from the fire deepening the lines of sorrow in his brother’s face. “But only because it was taken from me and not returned to you. I think you should tell Ellen.”
“I think I should wait.”
Lucas shook his head and leaned back. “You know best. But what have you to lose if she doesn’t return your feelings? You are still married. You have your whole life to woo her.”
“If she doesn’t return them, she could be disgusted completely by them.” Marcus dropped back into his chair with a grimace. “She could be put off by me. Become uncomfortable in my presence. Any number of awful things could happen should I speak before she is ready to hear.”
“Then you had better get her ready to hear.” Lucas shook his head and pointed at the glass cabinet on the wall. “Would you like that drink now? You look like you could use it.”
Marcus groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “I told her I didn’t hope for romance. Told her I couldn’t allow that into our relationship. Ever.”
“Then you lied, didn’t you?” Lucas asked, a faint trace of humor in his tone. “But she’ll likely forgive you, if you ask politely enough.”
Marcus shot an irritated look at this brother. “Don’t say anything about this, Luc.”
“Not a word, Marc.” He stood and bowed. “But you can’t blame me if I enjoy watching the dance between you.”
“I suppose not.”
Lucas went to the cabinet and began to prepare their drinks, his back to Marcus. “Did you hear that Selene is in London?”
Marcus’s shoulders dropped and he closed his eyes tightly. “Of course she is.” He would rather not think about her at all, especially given the situation he found himself in with his wife. Lady Castleton could take herself off back to the Continent, as far as he was concerned, as he had enough trouble at hand without whatever cloud of gossip trailed behind her. “I hope no one speaks of it to Ellen.”
“It’s the ton, Marcus. Everyone will positively rush to tell her.”
Marcus hated that his brother was right.