"I cannot imagine him showing his face in society again, not after this," Lady Dobberham said with satisfaction.
"And I can?" Ellen looked around and saw some averted faces, some puzzled, some regretful.
"Of course you can." Lady Eleanor's osprey feather in her headwear bobbed up and down as she bit into a crumpet with gusto. "It's an old story, and I daresay everyone has forgotten it. And those who haven't, like me, for I remember the scandal sheets well, won't mind now that you're respectably married to Tewkbury."
Ellen swallowed painfully.
"But of course nothing is taken for granted in theton.One would have to still work at resuscitating your reputation officially. Rest assured that I shall speak only the best of Lady Tewkbury," Lady Gosford said graciously.
"Thank you," Ellen whispered.
"And it wouldn't hurt to be invited to a ball by the Duchess of Ashmore. Ashmore is the one you want on your side. Once Ashmore has smiled benignly at you, your social position is guaranteed for life."
"Then I am indeed fortunate, for the Duchess is a former pupil of mine,” Ellen said.
The table erupted in delighted chatter.
Lady Gosford beamed at Ellen and patted her hand. "Well then, what are you worried about? You will see, people high and low will scramble to meet you."
Ellen smiled weakly.
She'd never been so relieved to leave a house, even though she felt sorry for Louisa, who truly regretted their departure.
"I shall call on you in London, Ellen." Louisa looked determined. "We shall go shopping together and have ices at Gunter's."
Ellen felt she answered honestly when she said, "I look forward to that."
Ellen looked at Edmund,who sat across from her in the carriage, and saw that he was asleep already, although they'd barely left the estate. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed. Next to him sat Noni. The child had been listless the past few days; the nurse had said, and he'd been coughing, but surely it was a mere cold.
His little dark head leaned against his arm, his fingers intertwined with Edmund's. Her heart squeezed.
Two men, one small and one large. How could they crawl into her heart in such a short time?
Then it hit her like a thunderbolt.
She hadn't fallen in love, had she?
Not only with one, but with both?
Good heavens!
The thought disturbed her so much that it took her breath away.
Then a ray of sunlight shone through the carriage window, illuminating Noni's face, and she saw that his little face was sickly pale.
"Stop the carriage at once."
"What?" Edmund blinked at her sleepily.
"Noni." She pulled the child away from him and onto her lap, placing her hand on his forehead. It was dry but burning hot. "The child is burning up with fever."
She'd mistaken his listlessness for the usual tiredness that came with a carriage ride, coupled with the slight cold the nurse thought he might have. She'd been too busy with her own thoughts, her own worries and troubles, and here was the child, right in front of her, seriously ill, and she hadn't noticed.
Ellen cursed herself.
"We can't possibly travel with an ill child."
"We can't?" Edmund blinked at her, confused, then hastily changed his answer when she scowled at him. "So you say. We can't."
