Eliza nodded, taking a handkerchief from her reticule, and blowing her nose. “He admitted it when I asked him. Said it was what men did, and it meant nothing. He only loves me.” Her large eyes filled with tears. “That was supposed to comfort me. But it doesn’t.” A sob escaped her throat. “How could it? I love him and could never betray him. How can he do this and say he loves me?”
“I believe he does love you. But it does not excuse him for hurting you.” Anger coiled in her chest as she placed an arm around her slim shoulders. “What will you do?”
“I shall take Julia home to the country. I am sorry, it appears I will miss your wedding. It’s inexcusable, I know, but I cannot stay here another day. If this woman knows, then half the ton does. It’s mortifying.”
“The ton thrives on gossip. But their attention soon turns to the next scandal. This will be forgotten in less than a week. I do hope you can come to our wedding. As it’s some time away, I shall not give up hope. But if you cannot, then you must not let it concern you. Charles will also understand.” Nellie wished Eliza would stay and fight it out with Nat and ignore the gossips, but that wasn’t in her nature.
“I can’t bear telling your mother. I’m such a coward, Nellie.” Eliza sniffed and dabbed her eyes. “Your parents will be angry.”
“Leave that to Marian and me.”
Eliza stood quickly, bringing Nellie to her feet. “I must go. I have a carriage waiting. Thank you for being so understanding.”
Nellie kissed her cheek. “Nonsense. I am very sorry, Eliza.”
When the door closed, Nellie stalked the room while Peter watched her. “Nat is a brute! Why are men like this?” Peter yawned. Nellie sat down and stroked the dog’s back. “Oh, poor Eliza!” Should she have it out with Nat? Somehow, she doubted it would make a scrap of difference. He already knew her feelings on the subject. If only Marian were here.
Nellie left the bed and tidied her hair before the mirror. She must tell her mother why Eliza left.
That evening, as the Dountry coach pulled up on the gravel before the front portico of Shewsbury Court, her mother turned to her. “Don’t forget to smile, Nellie,” she said as the door was opened and the steps put down.
“Yes, Mama.”
She’d been in low spirits all day. Her mother had refused to talk about the situation between Eliza and Nat. She merely said to leave them to sort it out. Such things were so neatly brushed under the carpet! It left Nellie deeply sympathetic and apprehensive about her own future. Would Charles’s mistress or another lady feature in it?
Eliza had left a note for Nathaniel. Not long afterward, he’d come to see Nellie, angry. And when he’d got no sympathy from her, he’d flung out of the room. An hour later, she heard he’d left the city.
In the lofty, black and white marble-tiled hall, they were greeted by the Shewsbury butler, Grove, who Nellie considered far less starchy than most. He ushered them upstairs and into a drawing room of breathtaking grandeur. Paintings and mirrors decorated the eggshell-blue walls, with chairs and sofas of gold damask. Swaths of the same gold fabric hung at the windows. High above them, the magnificent, coffered ceiling was painted with figures in gilt frames.
Charles and his brother rose from a matched pair of blue chairs near the Adams fireplace. Jason’s wife, a petite brunette, smiled at them from the sofa.
In this sumptuous setting, it struck Nellie that Charles looked very much at ease and somehow unattainable. As he walked the length of the carpet to welcome them, his gaze caught and held Nellie’s. She brought their kiss to mind, hugging it to her for reassurance, but then recalled Drusilla’s malevolent presence. Nellie’s face heated, and she ducked Charles’s gaze as the worry hit her full force. Would he be unfaithful like her brother? He would only have to reach out his hand, and any number of women besides Drusilla would eagerly take it.
“We need to talk,” he murmured as he escorted them over to Lord Jason and his wife.
Startled, Nellie tensed and glanced at him.
Charles’s brother greeted her with a warm smile. He was a younger, lankier version of Charles, his coloring similar. She knew there was seven years difference between them. His wife, Lady Beverly, had a sweet face and beautiful brown eyes.
“I’m delighted to meet you,” Nellie said. “Charles has told me so much about you both.”
“Not all good concerning me, I fear,” Lord Jason said with a rueful laugh. He took her hand, leaned forward, and kissed her cheek. “And it’s Jason and Beverly, we stand on no ceremony here.”
“Nellie, please.” She smiled. “When we have a moment alone, Beverly, you must tell me who made that lovely lace gown.”
Beverly placed a hand on the blue bodice. “It is pretty, isn’t it? We shall have a nice coze when the men are drinking their port.”
Jason’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Men believe their time spent alone after dinner is to their advantage. But I believe it is an opportunity for the ladies to discuss intriguing matters they deem unfit for our ears.”
They all laughed.
After they were seated and served wine, the conversation turned to the war and the hope that good news would soon reach them.
“Wellington has it well in hand,” her father said. “I predict the end of war between England and France within the month.”
Jason disagreed and offered him a wager.
Charles frowned at his brother. “I believe you may be close to the mark, Dountry.” He turned to Nellie. “I should like to show you the house before dinner. Would you care to come, Lady Dountry?”
Nellie’s mother began to rise, but her father stayed her with a hand on her arm and a subtle shake of
