Ruined by a Rake (2 page)

“I’m certain he is a fine politician. I am less certain, however, as to his suitability as a husband.” The very thought made her stomach ache.

“He’s a suitable husband
because
of his politics,” he snapped, coming to stand directly in front of her. “This isn’t some fairytale, Eleanor. Marriage is a vehicle for strengthening bonds between allies, as you well know.”

How could she forget?
In the three months since she had come out of half-mourning, he had spoken of little else. Eleanor drew a calming breath, trying to sound rational. “I can appreciate that. However, I am not prepared to sacrifice my entire life so that Lord Kensington feels obligated to vote more favorably. The politics should stand on their own merits, should they not?”

His nostrils flared, though the rest of him remained unnervingly still. “You have no idea of what you speak, and quite frankly, you are far too old for this sort of selfish childishness.
Thank God my sister is not around to see the sort of ungrateful person you have become.”

His words pierced her armor like a well-placed blade. He knew exactly how to flay her, leaving her breathless.
“I will not believe Mama would have wanted me to suffer the same fate as she.” Her words were raspy, filled with barely leashed emotion.

The muscles of his jaw hardened, same as his eyes. “And what fate was that? To become a respected member of society? To have children and be the mistress of a great house? To attend the most exclusive balls and dine at the Prince Regent’s own table? You should be so lucky to ‘suffer’ a fate such as hers.”

She swallowed hard against the need to lash out. To baldly state the truth they all knew but no one ever said. Antagonizing her uncle at this point would only make things worse. Straightening her spine, she nodded. “I am sorry I have failed your expectations, Uncle. It was never my intention to disappoint you or this family.”

He shook his head, regarding her as one might a convicted horse thief. “You’ve gone too far this time, Eleanor. Your streak of independence must be nipped in the bud. You have a duty to this family, as do I.”

She bit her tongue, literally, and nodded. When he set his teeth like that, she knew from past experience it was best simply to agree—no matter how idiotic the statement. So long as she didn’t anger him before she left, she could stay out of sight until he cooled down, and he’d likely forget it.

Maybe.

He did look particularly agitated this time.

Linking his hands behind his back he circled her, his pace slow and deliberate. “As the head of this family, I am responsible for the wellbeing and future of each and every one of us. And it’s a good thing, since you have so clearly demonstrated you haven’t the sense God gave you.”

Her head stilled, unable to bob in agreement to this particular statement. How dare he say such a thing to her? A dozen arguments sprang to mind, but she steadfastly clamped her mouth shut. She mustn’t fight with him. He was puffing up like a riled cat, and she didn’t want to feel the sting of drawn claws.

“Whether you like it or not, Eleanor, it is past time for you to apply yourself to finding a husband.
We should have done so the moment you were out of half-mourning. We are fast approaching the time you will be viewed as unsuitable for marriage, rendering yourself useless to this family.

“You’ve ruined our chances with Kensington. He has already announced his intention to leave.” He made no effort to hide his resentment, pinning her with his furious gaze. “Fortunately, there are three other suitable candidates for marriage who shall be attending the party. Therefore, I have a proposal for you.”

He turned to her, waiting for her to acknowledge the statement. He loved to do this—forcing her to bow to his will. Lifting her chin, she said, “Oh?”

“I had thought to announce your betrothal at the welcome dinner tomorrow night, but obviously that
won’t be the case. However, a betrothal announcement
will
be made by the end of the party. The choice is yours: Lord Henry, Lord Netherby, or Lord Shevington.”

Anger coursed through her, turning her blood cold. He couldn’t demand such a thing—it was absurd! “Surely you can’t be serious. Please, be reasonable, Uncle.” Her tone was remarkably composed, thank goodness
, despite the fury that had her digging her fingernails into her palms.

“You dare speak of being reasonable to me? After denying Kensington’s suit?” Indignation stiffened his shoulders. “I’ll have no more of your stubbornness. You will choose a husband who will strengthen this family’s future, or I will do it for you.”

Her lungs couldn’t seem to remember how to function. Her breath came in short, inadequate bursts, starving her of the air she so desperately needed to clear her mind. “And if I refuse?”

He smiled for the first time since entering the room. “Then I suppose I’ll have to summon your sister home from Hollingsworth. She’s always been so delightfully biddable.”

Eleanor’s breath left her body in a whoosh. He wouldn’t. Libby was barely seventeen—months still from her first Season! Surely he wouldn’t force her into marriage with some dry, aged member of parliament who was more than twice her age merely to secure a favorable vote for his proposed bill.

Surely nothing. The icy blue steel of his gaze plainly told her the truth of his warning. He was dead serious.

Her first instinct was to lash out, to tell him exactly what he could do with his threats. But she couldn’t. To do so would only make things worse. She needed time to think, and that meant she had to have him think she would bow to him and his dreadful demand. “I see.” Her throat was tight, her words strained. She swallowed and tried again. “If you’ll excuse me, it would seem I have much to prepare for in the coming days.”

Smug satisfaction lifted the corners of Uncle Robert’s full lips. “Excellent.”

She couldn’t escape the room fast enough. Holding her expression neutral until she made it out of his sight, she dashed down the corridor, heading for the massive staircase that led to her bedchamber. Tears of frustration burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them spill over. She would
not
fall to pieces at another of Uncle Robert’s demands.

She finally made it to the entrance hall and was only steps away from escape when the front door opened.
Please, please don’t let it be Kensington!
She was not in the state of mind to greet anyone, but most especially not him.

Tolbert, uncle’s butler, stepped inside, and her shoulders wilted with relief. But of course she couldn’t be that lucky. As the servant stepped aside, the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man came into view.

She blinked.
Definitely
not Lord Kensington. The bright sunshine behind the man hid his face, but she could make out close-cropped hair and an exceedingly fine figure. His upper body, encased in a tightly fitting jacket, narrowed from those wide shoulders down to a lean waist.

For half a second, her distress eased as curiosity flared. Who was this ma—

Oh Lord. It couldn’t be.

“Well, well,
look who’s come to greet this weary soldier. Your dedication truly warms the heart, coz.”

“Nicolas?” She gasped. He
looked so different—if it weren’t for the insolence of his tone, she wouldn’t have recognized him at all.

He had always been such a scrawny boy, and had never really changed much as an adolescent, save for his growing taller. He’d only been gone two years. Was it possible to double one’s weight in that amount of time? His arms, once thin and lanky, were now padded with muscle, visible even through the fabric of his crimson coat, while his ivory breeches
did little to hide his long and powerful legs.

She gave her head a little shake. None of that mattered, for heaven’s sake. This was Nick, and as was his talent, he had shown up at the worst possible time. “What are
you
doing here?”

He
set his satchel on the tiled floor and handed over his gloves and hat before offering a careless little grin. “I knew how much you must miss me, so when I had the opportunity to come home three weeks early, I jumped at the chance. Oh, I know Mama will be thrilled, but I’m sure that’s nothing compared to the delight wending its way through your pitter-pattering little heart at the very sight of me.”

“That’s
dread
, Nick. I know they start with the same letter, but I’m certain you can tell the difference if you apply yourself.”

“No, no—your face says it all. You’re beside yourself with joy.” He stepped toward her, spreading his arms wide. “Come now, give us a kiss.” He puckered his lips like a particularly surprised fish and leaned toward her. It was the same
annoying greeting he always gave her, loving as he did to remind her of their first meeting. Having this small bit of normalcy after such a terrible day was oddly comforting.

Rolling her eyes, s
he put a hand against his chest, blocking his advance. Good heavens, was he hiding a metal breastplate beneath his shirt? She gritted her teeth and blew out a breath. Surely she only noticed these things about him because she was so frazzled from her encounter with her uncle. “I am
not
in the mood, Nicolas.”

He angled his head, his gaze far too observant for her peace of mind.
“Shall we proceed directly to the joyful weeping, then? I do believe your eyes are dewy already. Yes, I know, two years is simply too long to do without my company.”

Eleanor stiffened under his scrutiny. Yes, her eyes were
a little teary, but it had absolutely nothing to do with him. She yanked her hand away and backed up a few steps. “I’m very happy you are alive, intact, and returned to the bosom of your family. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Before she could flee up the stairs, he reached out and snagged her arm. “Elle, is everything . . . all right?”
His ever-present grin slipped and for the first time, she could see him for the officer he was.

Blast it, now the tears were threatening all over again. This was Nick; he hadn’t a compassionate bone in his body. They teased, mocked, and riled each other, but they didn’t do…
this
, whatever this was. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded briskly. “Yes, of course. I’ll see you at supper, I’m sure.”

He didn’t try to stop her when she pulled away, and she dashed up the stairs, not daring to look back. With the mess Uncle Robert had just dumped in her lap, dealing with her annoying cousin was the last thing she needed to worry about.

No matter what strange feelings the sight of him had roused.

Chapter Two

Fisting his hand at his side, Nick watched as Eleanor fled up the stairs, clutching handfuls of her skirts as she rushed to escape him. His heart pounded like a battle drum despite the brevity of the encounter.

He’d waited so long to see her, and even in her plain white gown and simple coiled braid holding her straight dark hair in check, she still looked better than he remembered.

And he remembered her looking pretty damn good.

He took a long, deep breath. No
t exactly the best homecoming in the world. He had always been a burr beneath her saddle, but she’d been particularly agitated, especially considering how long he’d been gone. Something was definitely bothering her, and for once, it wasn’t him.

Yes, they rarely shared a civil word, but it was never with any real heat. It was a challenge of sorts to see who could trump the other’s barbs most effectively.
He learned early on it was the most effective way to engage her, and over the years it had become the norm.

Her scent still lingered in the air, a delicate mix of lavender and honey, the same blend that haunted his dreams. He
certainly couldn’t do anything now, but perhaps he could wheedle the problem out of her at dinner. Besides, it was a long ride here, and he very much needed a change of clothes and a hearty drink.

He had made the trip from London in record time, pushing Caesar, and later a rented mount, much harder than he should have, but unable to force himself to pull back on the reins. It had been too long, and he had seen too much, to want to delay his homecoming even another minute.

Footsteps in the corridor leading to the west wing jarred him from his woolgathering, and he unfurled his hand and straightened his spine. His stepfather emerged, his gaze already assessing as he approached.

Exactly the person he didn’t wish to see.

“Malcolm,” Nick said in neutral greeting, offering a slight nod. “I hope you are well.” Or not. Either would be fine with him.

“More or less. You’re early.” It was more accusation than observation.

“Indeed. My plans changed, so I thought I would surprise my mother with my illustrious presence.” He heartily wished she was here now, but Tolbert had informed him Mother was visiting the village for the rest of the afternoon.

“Yes, well, try to make yourself presentable before she returns. You could pass for a highwayman in those filthy clothes.”