Ellis caught sight of his treacherous mother from across the room, plump form garbed in her usual canary yellow, a color only appropriate for a woman at least twenty years her junior. Floating about, Mother greeted the throng of guests in his drawing room with a smile and a well-placed compliment. She looked quite hearty for a woman who, only days ago, had been at death’s door.
Aruse. One concocted by his conniving mother to force Ellis’s return to London.
He’d arrived at his hunting lodge just after leaving Beatrice, already having decided he would appear at her breakfast table the following morning and demand she listen to him, only to be greeted by Sykes and a messenger from London. Ellis’s presence was required immediately. Lady Blythe had fallen ill. Ellis had immediately packed a valise and sent the messenger ahead. He’d scribbled a note to Beatrice and instructed Sykes to have it delivered as soon as the stable boy could be found.
After traveling all night, arriving exhausted and hungry, Ellis hadn’t even paused to change his clothing before going upstairs to check on his mother.
Lady Blythe had been sitting up in bed, reading the Times and delicately poking at a poached egg. She’d fallen back against the pillows at the sight of Ellis, claiming great fatigue though she was feeling much better. Ellis had sent for the physician and sought out his two younger sisters who had accompanied Mother to London. Their acute lack of concern over Lady Blythe was his first clue that all was not as it seemed.
If one fakes an illness, all parties should be on board.
Lady Blythe’s recovery was miraculous, declared the physician.
Mother had claimed the remedy had been Ellis’s presence. The following day, she’d informed Ellis she was well enough to continue with the small gathering planned weeks ago. Barely a party. Certainly not a ball. No more than a hundred or so guests. Invitations had gone out some time ago and, thankfully, did not need to be rescinded.
Splendid.
After tonight’s party, Ellis was sending Mother and the girls to Larchmont, season be damned. He wanted to be in Chiddon, though he had no idea what sort of welcome would await him. There had been no response from the letter he’d left for Beatrice, and Ellis worried for her. Which was ridiculous since she’d existed just fine without him for several years.
It washisexistence that was called into question.
Ellis wasn’t fine without Beatrice.
Only the presence of Granby and his duchess in London had made things the least tolerable. He’d dined with them the other night, had far too much wine, and might have spouted some poetry. Granby had claimed disgust. Blythe had called him a philistine who didn’t appreciate the art of words.
“Lord Blythe.”
He cast a dispassionate glance at the approach of Lady Pierce and her daughter, Lady Anabeth. Mother watched from across the room, round face beaming, breathless with anticipation that herlittle exaggeration, as she’d called scaring Ellis half out of his wits, would somehow compel Ellis to offer for Lady Anabeth. No such proposal for the girl before him would be forthcoming. Lady Anabeth was a slim-waisted brunette who barely spoke above a whisper. There was nothing of a vile harpy about her at all.
She bored Ellis to tears.
“Lady Pierce, Lady Anabeth. How lovely you both look this evening.” The usual polite, charming words fell from his lips.
Lady Anabeth blushed furiously, regarding Ellis as if he were a large tart meant just for her.
Sorry, a more dangerous creature has already had a bite.
“My lord, we grew concerned at your continued absence from London,” Lady Pierce twittered. “I was so pleased to learn you’d be here this evening.”
Mother had probably sent a special messenger to Lady Pierce the moment he’d set foot in London.
“Oh, Lady Pierce.” Mother appeared in her swirl of yellow silk and took her friend’s hand. “There you are. And Lady Anabeth, you resemble a rosebud about to unfurl, my dear. I see you’ve found Lord Blythe.”
Anabeth blushed a deeper red and giggled softly.
Ellis wanted to hang himself with his cravat.
“The musicians are about to start,” Mother said in a meaningful tone. “Perhaps Lady Anabeth would care for a dance.”
Maybe Granby would be a good sport for once and push Ellis down the stairs. Anything to stop this torture. Not enough to break Ellis’s neck, only injure him enough so he couldn’t dance. Or speak. “With your permission, Lady Pierce.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Ellis took Lady Anabeth’s hand and led her into the other colorful bits of silk twirling across the floor. Blythe’s home didn’t have a proper ballroom, but the furniture and rugs had all been thrown back to make room for the dancing. He considered hurling himself into a marble bust in the corner, but at this angle, he would probably only stub his toe.
Certain to keep Lady Anabeth at a proper distance, Ellis made polite conversation about the weather and ignored her blatant attempts to induce him to call upon her for a carriage ride.
“I’ll be indisposed,” he finally informed her. “Due to the enormous amount of wine I plan to imbibe this evening.”
