No, it wouldn’t do. She’d have to leave Charlotte here, alone in the dark garden while she went to call for their carriage, and then they’d have to find a way to slip from the garden to the carriage without going through the ballroom.
“Shall I fetch your carriage, Lady Eleanor?”
Camden West again, all smooth solicitousness now. The perfect gentleman. Eleanor, provoked to the last degree, opened her mouth to tell him to go to the devil, but she didn’t get a chance.
“There’s a gate at the far end of the garden that leads directly into the mews behind the house,” he added. “Your driver can meet you there. There’s no need for you to return to the ballroom.”
Eleanor swept her gaze over one West, then the other, and prayed her scornful look conveyed how contemptible she found them both. Oh, to be a gentleman, skilled at the sword, or accurate with a pistol! But no, a stony expression and a few tepid curses was the best a lady could do.
Julian West avoided her eyes, but oddly, despite his actions tonight, it wasn’tthatMr. West who’d earned all of Eleanor’s animosity.
Camden West merely looked at her, waiting, one eyebrow raised in polite enquiry.
It was that one.
She dropped into an extravagant curtsey. “Howexcessivelyhelpful of you, Mr. West. How can we ever thank you for your kind assistance?”
“It’s my pleasure, my lady.” He bowed again, all polite attention, as if he’d just put his name on her dance card, and Eleanor clenched her teeth against what she suspected was intentional mockery.
As it turned out, neither Eleanor nor Charlotte thanked either of the Wests. Julian West waited in the garden with the ladies in some twisted parody of a polite escort while his cousin went off to call the Sutherland carriage. Not a word passed between the three of them while they waited, and neither lady deigned to speak to Camden West when he returned to direct them to the carriage.
The sound of the horses’ hooves ringing against the cobblestones had faded away before either gentleman spoke, but at last Julian stirred. “That was badly done, Cam.”
Cam didn’t argue, but the hard expression on his face didn’t soften. “Badly or not, it’s done.”
Julian shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
Cam smiled without humor. “You looked as though you liked it well enough. Christ, Jules, I never asked you to tear the chit’s clothes off.”
Julian winced and ran a hand through his hair, then turned away without answering.
Cam relented and put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “There’s no other way. Think of Amelia.” His voice gentled as he said the name.
Julian sighed and turned back to face his cousin. “I always do, cuz. I always do.”
Chapter Three
“What a shame you had to leave the ball early last night.” Lady Catherine shook out the wool blanket at the end of the chaise and draped it across her knees. “I do hope Charlotte hasn’t caught my cold. She hasn’t been downstairs at all today.”
No, she hadn’t, but she couldn’t hide forever. One way or another, Eleanor would have the explanation Charlotte refused to give her last night, even if she had to scale the roof and go through Charlotte’s bedroom window to get it.
She rose and crossed the room to tuck the blanket around her mother’s legs. “Are you chilled, mama?”
“No, no, I’m well enough, only tired of being cooped up with this cold, and so sorry to miss the Foster’s ball last night.”
Eleanor stifled a sigh. Her mother couldn’t be as sorry as she was, and that was to say nothing of Charlotte, who’d looked sorry indeed on the carriage ride home from the ball. Her sister would never have escaped to the garden at all last night under their mother’s watchful eye, but as it was, Lady Catherine felt too ill to attend the ball, and their brothers Alec and Robyn had gone to Kent this week to see to some flooding at Bellwood, the family’s country estate.
Eleanor and Charlotte had been obliged to content themselves with Lady Archer’s chaperone. Poor Lady Archer had a fondness for wagering, however, and she’d disappeared into the card room the minute they arrived.
A wretched thing, wagering. No good ever comes of it.
“Did Charlotte dance with Lord Hadley last night?”
“Yes. Twice.” Such a perfect gentleman, Hadley. If only Charlotte would marry him.
“And you, dear? Did Lord Tidmarsh ask you to dance?”
Ask? It wasn’tquitethe right word. Begged? Yes. Pouted like a child who’d been denied a sweet when she refused? Yes. Stormed off in a temper when he lost his wager? Yes, that too. “He did. We danced twice together.”
