arrived for you,
my lord,” Fairfax told him as he held out a silver platter. “From Broadstone
Hall.”
Those three words made him
stiffen. He felt like a rabbit about to be hunted down. Muscles tense, senses
alert. He took the letter off the platter and tore it open. Grimacing, he flung
the letter onto the console table.
A ball. She was holding a
bloody ball. Dancing, music... people. He snorted. His worst nightmare.
The last thing he would do is go to Broadstone and take part in a ball .
He would rather gouge out his eyes with spoons.
Drawing off his jacket and
hat, and handing it to Fairfax, he requested some tea and strode in the
direction of the study. First, he would turn his attention to some
correspondence he needed to catch up on and then he would send his humblest
apologies to Ellie. A damn ball. Not even the hounds of hell could drag him to
a ball, regardless of how enticing the hostess’s lips were, or how he could not
seem to stop thinking of her.
***
The air in the double room was stifling. Eleanor
struggled to catch her breath as she finished up her dance with a gentleman
whose name she could not remember. She had not been lacking for dance partners
for the first time in her life, but she knew her wealth and status was the only
thing attracting the multitude of partners.
Thankfully, she had danced
well, though dancing had never been much of a problem for her. She’d always
enjoyed it. It was things like walking and eating and drinking that posed a
problem. Even now, as she walked off the dance floor on her partner’s arm, she
had to concentrate on not catching the hem of her gown.
She did a quick sweep of the
room with her gaze and failed to find Lucian again. He had confirmed the
invitation yet he had not been there when she had been greeting her guests. He
could have been late, she supposed, many people were. Bodies filled the room,
their elegant dresses and dark evening suits complimenting the gilded
furniture. The mirrors on all walls created the effect of there being even more
people in attendance.
Eleanor thanked her nameless
partner and muttered something about needing to speak with the butler, though
her words were lost to the orchestra anyway. He nodded as if he had understood
her but she doubted he had. She watched him walk away and slip into a crowd of
other gentleman. Well-dressed, and cutting a fine figure, she had to wonder why
he did not interest her one bit. In fact, why had none of the men that night
appealed?
Was it simply a need to be
alone or was it something else?
A scowling vision of a man with
a scar on his cheek and an insolent expression flashed in front of her.
Whatever it was, it was not Lucian she needed, she told herself. Certainly not
Lucian.
Eleanor pressed a hand to
her waist and tried to draw a breath past her corset, but it was no good. She
would have to get some air. Escaping from her own ball was perhaps not the
proper thing to do but the crowd was growing thicker, with elegant ladies and
gentleman jostling against each other. Conversation was difficult and Eleanor
had found it hard enough to think of topics to talk of with the other ladies.
How many had shared her experiences of life?
With the exception of aged
husbands that was. There were a few young ladies with ancient men in tow
tonight and from what she could tell, none of those matches were happy. And
there she differed too. Theirs might not have been much of a traditional
marriage—one in which husband and wife shared their bodies as well as their
lives—but they had been well matched in many respects and she could never claim
to be miserable. So, even on the matter of old, crotchety husbands she had
little to say.
Eleanor released a long
breath and began to make her way through the crowd. She smiled and paused to
speak with a few people who spoke of the grandeur and how successful the ball
was. She had little idea. Most of the balls she’d attended had been small
country ones. Being married
my lord,” Fairfax told him as he held out a silver platter. “From Broadstone
Hall.”
Those three words made him
stiffen. He felt like a rabbit about to be hunted down. Muscles tense, senses
alert. He took the letter off the platter and tore it open. Grimacing, he flung
the letter onto the console table.
A ball. She was holding a
bloody ball. Dancing, music... people. He snorted. His worst nightmare.
The last thing he would do is go to Broadstone and take part in a ball .
He would rather gouge out his eyes with spoons.
Drawing off his jacket and
hat, and handing it to Fairfax, he requested some tea and strode in the
direction of the study. First, he would turn his attention to some
correspondence he needed to catch up on and then he would send his humblest
apologies to Ellie. A damn ball. Not even the hounds of hell could drag him to
a ball, regardless of how enticing the hostess’s lips were, or how he could not
seem to stop thinking of her.
***
The air in the double room was stifling. Eleanor
struggled to catch her breath as she finished up her dance with a gentleman
whose name she could not remember. She had not been lacking for dance partners
for the first time in her life, but she knew her wealth and status was the only
thing attracting the multitude of partners.
Thankfully, she had danced
well, though dancing had never been much of a problem for her. She’d always
enjoyed it. It was things like walking and eating and drinking that posed a
problem. Even now, as she walked off the dance floor on her partner’s arm, she
had to concentrate on not catching the hem of her gown.
She did a quick sweep of the
room with her gaze and failed to find Lucian again. He had confirmed the
invitation yet he had not been there when she had been greeting her guests. He
could have been late, she supposed, many people were. Bodies filled the room,
their elegant dresses and dark evening suits complimenting the gilded
furniture. The mirrors on all walls created the effect of there being even more
people in attendance.
Eleanor thanked her nameless
partner and muttered something about needing to speak with the butler, though
her words were lost to the orchestra anyway. He nodded as if he had understood
her but she doubted he had. She watched him walk away and slip into a crowd of
other gentleman. Well-dressed, and cutting a fine figure, she had to wonder why
he did not interest her one bit. In fact, why had none of the men that night
appealed?
Was it simply a need to be
alone or was it something else?
A scowling vision of a man with
a scar on his cheek and an insolent expression flashed in front of her.
Whatever it was, it was not Lucian she needed, she told herself. Certainly not
Lucian.
Eleanor pressed a hand to
her waist and tried to draw a breath past her corset, but it was no good. She
would have to get some air. Escaping from her own ball was perhaps not the
proper thing to do but the crowd was growing thicker, with elegant ladies and
gentleman jostling against each other. Conversation was difficult and Eleanor
had found it hard enough to think of topics to talk of with the other ladies.
How many had shared her experiences of life?
With the exception of aged
husbands that was. There were a few young ladies with ancient men in tow
tonight and from what she could tell, none of those matches were happy. And
there she differed too. Theirs might not have been much of a traditional
marriage—one in which husband and wife shared their bodies as well as their
lives—but they had been well matched in many respects and she could never claim
to be miserable. So, even on the matter of old, crotchety husbands she had
little to say.
Eleanor released a long
breath and began to make her way through the crowd. She smiled and paused to
speak with a few people who spoke of the grandeur and how successful the ball
was. She had little idea. Most of the balls she’d attended had been small
country ones. Being married
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