“No, I was thinking of Amy.”
Nicholas was surprised.“Why would she move in with us?She’s at your house having a wonderful season.”
“Not exactly,” said Lord Middlethorpe, and began to explain his idea.
Eleanor could at leastconsole herself that there was no public shame, though she worried sometimes about how many of the men, like Mr.Yates and Mr.Massey, knew of her husband’s infatuation.Did the Rogues?She supposed their code of honor kept such matters among themselves.
It was not a season anyway in which people were searching for scandal; each day was a new excitement to do with the end of the war.The Season involved endless royal receptions, balls, and progresses.Public buildings were illuminated and banners hung from windows.
There was plenty of fuel for gossip.The Grand Duchess Catherine didn’t only reject Carlton House but clearly viewed the regent with scant regard.Her brother the czar, himself the most absolute ruler in Europe, exhibited a distinct taste for the company of radicals.Then there was the taciturn king of Prussia throwing out the grand bed provided for his use and demanding a military camp cot.
In all this excitement Eleanor could easily hide her domestic concerns from public view, even if they were foremost in her mind.
Nicholas was careful to attend her enough to escape comment.They were together—along with all the world—at the gala night at the opera held especially for the royal visitors.They were in the duke of Belcraven’s box with the marquess, his mother the duchess, his sister and her husband, and Lord Middlethorpe with his mother and sister, Amelia.No one minded the crush and everyone joined in the singing of “God Save the King.”
Just as everyone settled for the performance, there was a new stir and new cheering.Eleanor looked over to see the regent’s estranged wife, Princess Caroline, entering her box, stealing her husband’s glory.Eleanor shared a look with Nicholas and bit her lip to prevent the giggles.
“What wonderful timing!”he whispered as the czar and the king of Prussia rose and bowed and everyone rose again to applaud.Reluctantly, and looking as if he would burst his straining buttons with rage, the regent rose and bowed too.
There was another movement, unnoticed by most.Another woman had entered a box along with an entourage of handsome males.
Eleanor stared at Madame Therese Bellaire.
She had not seen her since Newhaven and had hoped that the impression of beauty and allure had been false.Now, however, it seemed greater than before.The woman’s black dress was encrusted with silver and cut low across her full breasts.It seemed in fascinating danger of sliding off at any moment.A heavy choker of diamonds emphasized a long, slender neck.Her movements were languorously seductive, and all the men with her hovered like moths, seeming in danger of instant immolation.
The woman looked up and saw Eleanor.She smiled, not sneeringly, but as if in acknowledgement of something shared.The Frenchwoman made a small gesture with her feather fan that could have been greeting or challenge.
Eleanor looked quickly at Nicholas.He too was staring at his mistress, but his face was completely unreadable.
The play began and Eleanor turned her eyes, at least, toward it.
Most of the events she shared with Nicholas went somewhat better, for they did not again encounter Madame Bellaire and he was skillful at giving a public performance of the fond husband.Eleanor hoarded the laughter and the flirtation he produced for these times like a beggar gathering crumbs from the table, in hunger and shame.
They were together at Almack’s on June 22nd when the czar insisted on a waltz.Under such pressure, the poor patronesses could no longer hold out against the scandalous dance, and soon all who knew how were twirling.
It was the marquess who held out his hand to Eleanor and said, “Shall we be scandalous?”
“Ridiculous, you mean,” she retorted.“I don’t know how.”
Then Nicholas stepped between them.“Scandal or ridicule, I’m sure that’s my place in your life.Dance with me, Eleanor.”
She placed her hand in his.“I don’t know how,” she repeated.
“Trust me.”
It was as if the chattering, busy world faded and there was only Nicholas.Eleanor let him lead her out.“On your head be it,” she said softly.
“I accept all responsibility for everything.Step so and relax.”
Eleanor did as he said and floated.If only, she thought, turning in his arms, life was as simple as the waltz.
He acted the loving husband even before the servants, though she suspected the formal marital fondness he exhibited would not be his behavior if the marriage were a true one.He even went so far as to shower her with little gifts, but he never gave them in person.He left them on her dressing table.Whether this was because he wished to avoid her thanks or so that Jenny would see and note them she did not know.
She had been tempted at one time to reject them, but forced herself to react as if she were pleased.She still held to her resolution to make the marriage of convenience as easy for him as possible.He, after all, was breaking no commitment made between them.She often wished, however, that he had not drawn the relationship out of the placid waters in which she had been comfortable if he was then going to abandon her.
At least she had the support and escort of the Rogues.Sometimes she collected a positive entourage of handsome young men.This raised some eyebrows, but she was careful to counteract this by impeccable behavior and, as Nicholas had suggested, by judicious introductions.
Lord Middlethorpe and the marquess of Arden were her most frequent companions.Lord Middlethorpe was fast becoming a friend but the marquess, she had to admit, was her flirt.He was so good at it and so handsome a woman would have to be stone cold to resist.
