Gray was goading his brother. From the corner of her eye, she could see his jaw was clenched like he would rather be anywhere but here.
The woman at Lord Howe’s side whispered something to him. Ellen knew who she was. Lady Mary Smythe, and once they’d been acquaintances. Not friends, as she’d not had any of those until she’d met Samantha and the twins. But they’d been in the same social circles and had looked down their noses at those that hadn’t.
“Miss Nightingale, this is a surprise. I have not seen you since…” Lady Mary Smythe let her words fall away as she appeared to look contrite and failed. “Your father,” the woman added. “Well, you know what I mean, I’m sure.”
Until she’d seen the twins, Ellen had avoided anyone from her days in society. If she saw someone she recognized, she hid or fled. She did not go places they were, like her family did. The choice had been hers, and they’d respected that even while they’d tried to get her to join them when they went to the theatre or anywhere she’d once frequented.
“It really is sad what happened,” Lady Mary added, not looking sad at all. She was excited to have a wonderful tidbit of gossip to share with her friends.
And this was the reason. She did not want people looking down their noses at her. Did not want to be ridiculed by those who had once been her equals. The wonderful burn of anger gave Ellen the strength she needed to speak.
“That my father killed himself, do you mean? Or that because he took his life, his children were cast from society and shunned, through no fault of their own?”
Lady Mary Smythe pressed a hand to her mouth in shock at her words. Ellen felt her anger drain away as swiftly as it had arrived. She could feel her hands starting to shake and hated herself for the weakness. She thought seriously about fleeing. The hand on her back moved in small circles, sliding warmth through her.
Ellen focused on it and the reassurance it was giving her and not the people from her past standing before her.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Gray had learned to show no expression very early in his life. It stood him in good stead with his job, and now, when he wanted to punch the smug look from his brother’s face.
Christopher’s shock had soon vanished to return to the supercilious expression he often wore after seeing Gray. The eldest of three, their father had doted on him and ensured he’d turned out exactly like the tyrant who had sired him.
“Oh, surely that is unjust, Miss Nightingale,” Lady Mary mewed. “It is not the fault of society that your father—”
“I’ll stop you there, Lady Mary,” Gray said, feeling the shivers start in Ellen’s body. Her body was so rigid he was sure she’d shatter into pieces at his feet if he didn’t get her away from here. Panic, he was sure, was telling her to run. “Some in society are a group of elitist vultures who prey on those they see as beneath them. They also like nothing more than for one of their own to fall from grace so they can turn on them.”
He felt Ellen suck in a deep breath and release it slowly at his words. Gray moved slightly, just a shift of his feet, and his body was now close to hers. He could feel her tremors. Ellen was fighting to hold back the panic. The brave, strong woman wasn’t brave when faced with her past. Glancing at her briefly, he noted her pallor, but she was not looking down or away. Her eyes were facing forward, chin raised slightly.
Good girl.
“How dare you suggest we are elitist vultures!” Christopher thundered, now red in the face.
“I said some, Christopher. If you fall into the category, I did not put you there, but you did.”
He hadn’t seen his father or brothers for two years. Gray had attended a funeral. They had not spoken to him. Only his mother made the effort. He had to say, looking at the man before him, he didn’t miss him.
There was a small pang for what they’d once shared many years ago. He saw the boy was long gone from the man before him. Had Gray ever been so pompous? Possibly, but his aunt and uncle and lack of a title coming his way had changed that.
Christopher had not been that lucky and was a product of their father.
“I don’t believe we have anything further to say to each other, brother. I’ll look forward to receiving my wedding invitation. Good day.” He bowed. “I wish you every happiness for your life together.”
“Oh, but I had wanted to speak with dear Miss Nightingale,” Lady Mary tittered. “After all, I am not a vulture and wish only to chat, as it has been so long,” she said with total insincerity.
In fact, what she wanted was to get information so she could share it with her friends. The thought of anyone gossiping about Ellen did not sit well with Gray.
“Good day.” He walked, taking Ellen with him by pushing her in the back. Gray kept moving along the row and toward the flower entrance. Once they were through the gate, he said, “Where is your carriage, Ellen?”
She pointed down the road but did not speak. He saw Mungo sitting on a driver’s seat. He nudged her on. They walked the short distance in silence.
“What’s happened?” Mungo said when they arrived. He was frowning, eyes on Ellen. “Miss Ellen?”
“’Tis nothing.” Her words had a tremor in them.
Gray opened the carriage and lifted Ellen inside. He then spoke to the driver.
“Take us to a tea shop, Mungo, please,” he added. “Miss Ellen met some people she used to know, and it upset her.”
