Shermont gave a slight bow. “One can never be too well-versed in the pleasures of the dance.”
Though his answer was noncommittal, Deirdre smiled and preened under his direct attention. Eleanor easily decided Deirdre must be the sister who was seduced.
When the gentlemen were gone, Deirdre turned to Eleanor. “Dear Cousin Ellen,” she said. “We are so pleased you have arrived safely. I can hardly believe it’s been eleven years since your father took you off to the Colonies.”
“You look just the same,” Mina said. “Well, maybe a little older, but your teeth are still good. That’s an advantage in the marriage mart, believe me.”
“I’m not—”
“We won’t talk about marriage just yet,” Deirdre said. “Ellen just arrived.”
“Such a long time-consuming journey,” Mina said.
She didn’t know how right she was. “Actually, my name is Eleanor Pottinger, and I must tell you—”
“And we want to hear everything, absolutely everything. You’ve had such a terrible time these past three years, losing your father, your house, your fortune, and your husband to the war. May God rest Captain … what was his name again? Oh, yes, I remember. May God rest Captain Pottinger’s soul.”
Eleanor blinked at the list of woes. Poor Ellen.
“But you must consider this your home now and stay as long as you want.” Deirdre hooked her arm through Eleanor’s. “You’ll share our suite until after the ball because we have so many houseguests expected. We will have a long cozy chat later. Just now I am parched and cannot bear another moment without a cup of tea.”
Mina took Eleanor’s other arm. “Dear Cousin Eleanor, you are not to worry. Deirdre and I will take care of everything.”
Her words had a familiar echo. Inside the parlor, Eleanor was presented to their aunt, Patience Aubin, whom she was supposed to recognize, but, of course, didn’t.
Patience was in her mid-forties, at least, and dressed in the fashion of a woman half her age. Her neckline was cut too low and her corset laced too tight, resulting in the danger of her ample breasts popping out of her bodice. A few stray wisps of unnaturally orange hair escaped her old-fashioned turban headdress.
The older woman gave her an assessing glance. “Welcome back to Twixton,” she said.
Although the words were correct and polite, Eleanor detected no warmth or sincerity in her tone.
Deirdre introduced Eleanor to the other guests present, starting with Mrs. Holcum and her daughter Beatrix. The mother was elegantly attired with not a hair out of place. She gave Eleanor a condescending nod and immediately turned back to her previous conversation. The daughter was a walking advertisement for aristocratic breeding: flawless complexion, small straight nose, rosebud lips, flaxen hair, and an attitude of entitlement.
“Always a pleasure to meet Teddy’s, I mean Lord Digby’s, relatives,” Beatrix said, although the sentiment didn’t reach her icy blue eyes. “I’ve heard so much about you from his dear sisters.”
“All good, I’m sure,” Eleanor said with a smile.
Beatrix blinked, apparently unable to think of an appropriate put down. She turned and flounced away.
Deirdre pulled on Eleanor’s elbow, directed her to the woman sitting on the sofa next to Aunt Patience, and introduced her to Mrs. Maxwell, who was in attendance with two daughters. Fiona and Hazel, still in their teens, stood by the large bay window. Both willowy girls had dark hair, lively brown eyes, delicate features, and sweet smiles, obviously taking after their paternal lineage. After curtseying gracefully, they returned their attention to whatever was outside the window.
Deirdre took an empty seat next to the table with the tea service. Mina dodged a pacing Beatrix and joined the others by the window.
Eleanor grabbed the arm of a chair in the corner and eased herself down. As chitchat regarding various journeys and the weather swirled past her, she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened. Even though she knew time travel was impossible, she now had no choice but to believe. If the ghosts brought her here, could they send her back? She intended to ask them—no, demand that they …
Suddenly she realized someone stood directly in front of her, blocking her view of the rest of the room.
“I know why your cousins invited you to live with them,” Beatrix Holcum said softly, her voice a sneer. “You can forget any notion of marrying Teddy, because he and I have an understanding.”
“I hadn’t—”
“Shhh. Don’t play the innocent with me,” she whispered, crossing her arms. “I know your sad little story, but I am not responsible for your troubles. You and your cousins may expect their brother to marry you, but Teddy is already promised to me. You will have to look further afield for the rich husband you so desperately need.”
Even though Eleanor didn’t have any designs on Teddy, she didn’t particularly like the way Beatrix was attacking her. “An understanding? What exactly does that mean?” she whispered back. Tipping her head to one side and putting her finger on her chin, she added, “Oh, yes. That’s the same as not engaged, isn’t it?”
Beatrix dropped her arms to her sides and curled her hands into fists. “We are engaged. We are only waiting to make the formal announcement until after his sisters are presented this fall during the Little Season. We will be married in January.”
“Really?” Teddy hadn’t told his supposed fiancée that he wasn’t going to take his sisters to London until spring. Not only did the beloved Teddy sink in her estimation, she suddenly felt a kinship to poor Beatrix, another woman who would get cruelly jilted. Of course, even if she told Beatrix, she probably wouldn’t believe her. “My grandmother always said, don’t give the milk away for free if you want to sell the cow.”
Beatrix looked confused. “Your grandmother was a dairymaid?”
“Of course not.” Before Eleanor could explain her advice, they were distracted by the commotion near the window.
“It’s him. It’s him,” Fiona cried out. She leaned forward, nearly knocking the vase of flowers off the table. “They’re coming back from the stable.”
“Let me see,” Hazel said, squeezing in next to her sister to get a better viewing angle. “He’s so handsome.”
The girls reacted as if a rock star was walking up the drive. Their whispering and sighing prompted their mother to ask, “Whom are you talking about?”
“Lord Shermont, of course,” Fiona said. After a lingering look out the window, she turned and flounced across the room to join the other women. “I do hope he asks me to dance.”
“I think I’d faint if he asked me,” Hazel said, arriving on her sister’s heels.
“I’m disappointed we didn’t get a look at Huxley’s filly,” Shermont said as they reentered the manor.
“Believe you me, you’re not missing much,” Digby responded, again handing his hat to the footman. “She’s not much to look at.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” Shermont considered himself a good judge of horseflesh and knew from experience speed and stamina did not always come in a pretty package.
Digby waved off the words of wisdom. “Bit rude of Huxley to put the exercise of his mount over greeting his host, don’t you think?”
“Not necessarily. Owning an animal carries responsibilities as well as joys.” If the horse had been kept tied to the back of the carriage the whole way over, the animal probably needed and deserved a good run.
“That’s why we have grooms,” Digby said.
Shermont understood not wanting a stranger on his favorite horse. “I don’t allow anyone else to ride my stallion. A heavy-handed groom would ruin his sensitive mouth.”
Digby could not deny that, so he changed the subject. “I’d much rather spend time with the ladies. I intend to change and join them.” He started up the stairs.
Shermont followed with a similar plan. He entered his room and threw off his coat. “Carl?”
His valet appeared with a basin of hot water and fresh towels. “Yes, milord,” he answered in his somber tone. Dressed in his usual black, his demeanor was funereal except for his one vanity: an elaborate and ugly wig to hide his baldness and protruding ears.
Born in the mews of London to an abusive father, Carl had left home at the age of eight after his mother died of consumption. Admitting only to being fifty years old, he’d had various careers: pickpocket, sailor, acrobat, jockey, cat burglar, to name a few. The previous Lord Shermont had recruited him straight out of Newgate to steal an incriminating document from a third-story bedroom. A patriot despite all, Carl had stayed on to help find and
