“She was looking quite cheerful this morning,” the earl said. “It is to be hoped that she is recovering, my love.”
“Do you think Dominic just imagined that she returned his feelings for a while?” she asked. “I still find it hard to believe, Edmund. She was so devoted to Captain Simpson, and he had been dead for only a month when you arrived there. Surely she could not have fancied herself in love with Dominic or anyone else, could she?”
“I really don’t know,” he said. “I know only what Dominic went through.”
“I would be so prostrate with grief if anything happened to you,” she said, “that I don’t think I would even know that anyone else existed in the world.”
He took her hand in a warm clasp. “It is impossible to know how one would act in a situation of such extreme catastrophe,” he said. “Impossible, Alex.”
“You are telling me that I am judging her too harshly if it all turns out to be true, then,” she said. “And you are right, of course. I am afraid my upbringing still clouds my vision at times, Edmund. I still tend to see things in very black-and-white terms, as Papa always does.”
“Mama and Madeline are entertaining the Simpson ladies this afternoon,” he said. “Did I tell you that?”
“No,” she said. “I didn’t know. Dominic is in communication with her, then? Or with Miss Simpson, perhaps. He seemed very fond of her when we were still in Brussels. This is all very intriguing, Edmund.”
“Perhaps we should take up matchmaking,” he said, easing the kid glove from her hand and laying his own fingers the length of hers on the seat between them. “With whom shall we match Dominic, Alex? With Miss Simpson, Mrs. Simpson, Anna, or Susan Jennings? We have quite a choice, don’t we?”
“I wouldn’t dream of even trying to interfere,” she said. “What a dreadful idea, Edmund. He will never marry Anna, though. He has never had any sort of
He made a kissing gesture with his mouth. “You fall into a trap so easily, Alex,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers and carrying her hand to his lips. “I love you.”
“Horrid man!” she said, maintaining her dignity and turning to look out the window.
ONE FACT WAS CLEAR to Lord Eden. He was still in love with Ellen Simpson. He wished it were not so. And he had really convinced himself that his infatuation with her had been a purely temporary thing brought on by the stress of circumstances. Until he saw her again, that was.
But it was not so. He loved her and had not slept at all during the night following their walk in Kensington Gardens. He had scarcely slept the night before, either, and even when he had, he had woken several times, his mind grappling each time with the question of whether he should be in his mother’s drawing room when she came to tea with her stepdaughter.
Something else was clear to him too. If he saw much more of Miss Simpson, there would be people to think that he owed the girl something. Like an offer of marriage. He had come perilously close in Brussels to committing himself. He did not want to put himself into the embarrassing predicament of feeling honor-bound to offer for the stepdaughter when he loved the stepmother. And had been her lover.
Then, of course, there was Anna. She had never made any secret of the fact that she intended to marry him when she grew up. But what had always amused him when she was a girl was somewhat more serious now that she was a lovely young lady who had made her come-out and who was definitely on the market for a husband. One of these days he was going to have to have a good talk with Anna. And she was coming to tea as well, with Aunt Viola.
And when he had escorted Susan to the library, he had somehow found himself also inviting her to join him and Edmund and Alexandra at the theater one evening. He did not quite know how he had come to do such a thing, since Susan had spent almost the whole of their outing worrying about how she was imposing upon his time.
He had almost married Susan once upon a time. And now she was a widow and in a delicate emotional state. He really did not harbor any leftover feelings for her, beyond the fondness he had always felt for her, even when she was a child. He did not want to marry her.
Ellen was the only woman he wanted to marry, and that was out of the question.
Somehow, he thought, life had been far less complicated when he had first bought his commission and gone off to Spain and there were only the French and the mud and the heat and death to worry about.
He did attend his mother’s tea, even though he knew he would be the only man present. And he very deliberately seated himself beside Ellen when she arrived, and conversed with his aunt, who sat on his other side. Anna and Miss Simpson had their heads together and looked quite pleased with themselves.
“William has decided that we are going home soon,” Mrs. Carrington said, “and I can’t say I am sorry. Two months were all we expected to be away. But thanks to you, my dear”-she patted Lord Eden’s hand-“we extended our stay. And here we still are. Anna and Walter don’t want to go home, of course. But when Papa speaks, they have no choice.”
“In my experience,” Lord Eden said, grinning, “when Uncle William speaks, Anna starts to twist him about her finger.”
“Gracious, Dominic!” she said as Madeline laughed, and tapped him sharply on the hand. “You must not say so, especially when she is like to hear.” She glanced at her oblivious daughter. “Poor William is too indulgent by half.”
“So you are going home,” he said. “Edmund and Alexandra too, I believe. And I plan to take myself off into Wiltshire within the next week or so. I have a home and an estate to make my own.”
“You have decided, then, Dominic?” his mother asked. “I had hoped that you would wait until after Christmas, dear. But I daresay you will come to Amberley for the festivities, anyway.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “But I have a life to get on with. And I feel quite fit again and eager for something definite to do.”
“I was very pleased to see the progress Lieutenant Penworth has made,” the dowager said to Mrs. Carrington. “There has been a marked improvement since I saw him last in Brussels.”
Madeline focused her attention on that line of conversation.
“I will be taking myself out of your life soon, you see,” Lord Eden said quietly to Ellen, smiling down at her.
“Yes,” she said.
“You will be glad of that.”
Her cup rattled ever so slightly in its saucer as she set it down. “Yes,” she said.
“I think it very likely that I will not see you again after today,” he said. He looked at her for a silent moment. “Ellen, are you quite sure that you are not in need at all? I suppose you would not allow me to help you anyway. But I am worried about you.”
“You need not be.” She looked up at him, her jaw very firm. “Do you think it possible that Charlie, who knew for years that he might die at a moment’s notice, would not have made adequate provision for his daughter and me? We are not in any kind of need, my lord.”
“I am glad, then,” he said.
She moved her eyes to Madeline, who was talking to her aunt and her mother, but he could tell that she was not listening. His own eyes moved over her profile, over her hair, as if to commit all the details to memory.
How could he have known her all those years, been frequently in company with her, and not known? It seemed incredible now that he could ever have looked at her and not known.
Her head moved jerkily and her eyes met his, wavered for a moment, and held. She swallowed and licked her lips. His eyes dropped to follow the movement.
“I met my father this morning,” she said hastily.
His eyebrows rose. “The Earl of Harrowby?”
“The earl, yes.” She flushed.
“Did you, Ellen?” he said. “I am glad for you. Should I be glad?”
Her gray eyes were wide and fully focused on him. “I have not seen him since I was fifteen,” she said. “I told you about that last meeting, didn’t I? He hasn’t really changed. He looked very familiar. I am going to visit him tomorrow.”
