Burning Bright (5 page)

The music came to an end, but when Lord Huxley had made his bow, he offered Elinor his arm. “It is my good fortune to be your partner when supper is announced,” he said. “May I escort you? I should enjoy continuing our conversation.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Elinor said, blushing again. She felt as foolish as a girl just out of the schoolroom, blushing at any provocation, but despite his age—he was probably in his late thirties—he had a charming smile and seemed genuinely interested in conversing with her.

She still did not see Selina when they sat down to table, and this distracted her sufficiently that her dining partner drew her attention to it. “Has my company palled so quickly?” he asked with that lopsided smile.

“I had hoped to see my sister here,” she admitted. “It is not like her to be so late.”

“Your sister is Lady Wrathingham, is she not? I am afraid I haven’t made her acquaintance, but she is well spoken of in all the best circles.”

“She is a dear, and I hope it is nothing serious that has delayed her.”

“Surely not. Will you make me known to her, when she arrives?”

“I will, if you wish it.”

“I do. I find I am interested in meeting the relations of someone as remarkable as you, Miss Pembroke.”

“Now you are flirting with me, my lord. That cannot be proper.”

“Since you are the only one of your kind in all of England, I think referring to you as remarkable can hardly constitute flirting.”

This time, Elinor controlled her blush before it spread. “My father said the same, about me being the only one of my kind. Is that true?”

“He is the one from whom I heard it, and everyone knows Josiah Pembroke is the authority on the history of talent in England.”

“I see.” She applied herself to her food to cover her confusion. Lord Huxley had spoken to her father—but that did not necessarily mean he—on the other hand, he was exactly the sort of man her father intended for her—and he
had
escorted her in to supper—

“You are unexpectedly silent. May I ask what thoughts occupy your mind?” Lord Huxley said.

“I was thinking about dancing again,” she lied. “I do enjoy it, and it is pleasant to stand up with people one has
not
known all one’s life.”

“I regret only that your great popularity militates against my dancing again with you, Miss Pembroke,” Lord Huxley said with a smile.

Elinor returned his smile, but automatically. He was
too
smooth,
too
well-mannered. Elinor did not think herself repulsive, but neither did she believe a man like Lord Huxley would be interested in someone like her unless she came with a sizable dowry. Or, in her case, an Extraordinary one. The warm feeling his attention had generated inside her chest died to nothing. She wished desperately that Selina would appear and they might find a quiet place where Elinor could pour out her misery.

She managed to endure the rest of the supper, and Lord Huxley’s now obviously insincere compliments, without bursting into tears or setting the table aflame. When the assembled company rose from the table, he offered her his hand once again, but instead of leading her back to the ballroom, he took her through another room and opened a door at its far end. “I am persuaded you are over warm, and some cool air will do you good,” he said.

Elinor, confused, passed through the door and found herself in a small garden behind the house, and was struck once more by the unfamiliar smell of London, the acrid scent of the fog mixed with the more distant sour-sweet odor of the Thames. The night air was chilly, and although it did clear her head, it was not entirely pleasant; her thin gown was little protection, and goose pimples rose up on her arms and prickled her cheeks. She shivered.

“My lord, I am grateful for your concern, but—” she began.

“No need,” he said, and put his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers.

She was so startled that at first all she could do was stand motionless and allow herself to be kissed. The sleeves of his coat rubbed her bare arms with a roughness that against her chilled skin felt harsh; his mouth tasted of beef and wine gone vinegary in combination with it. Then she came to her senses, and tried to push him away to no effect. His grip around her shoulders tightened, and his lips grew hard and insistent against hers. Furious, she beat at his chest until he finally released her, smiling that crooked smile. She took several steps backward and wiped her mouth with the back of one hand.

“My lord, I do not know what I have done to make you believe I would welcome such attentions,” she said, her voice trembling with fury, “but I assure you I am not the sort of woman who appreciates them.”

“It is to your credit that you shy away from me,” Lord Huxley said. “It is obvious from your reaction you are unfamiliar with the ways of men, and I find that most attractive.” He reached out and stroked her cheek; she jerked away. “You need not fear me, Miss Pembroke. I shall teach you to enjoy my embrace.”

“My lord, I sincerely believe that to be impossible. Pray allow me to return to the ball.”

He chuckled. “Truly remarkable.” He opened the door for her and took her hand when she tried to pass through it. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

“I anticipate you will wait long before that happens,” she retorted, pulling her hand free and making her escape. No one seemed to have noticed her absence. She scanned the crowd for Lady Ormerod’s blonde head and, having found it, moved rapidly in the other direction. She left the ballroom and began opening doors at random, knowing only that she needed to find a place where she could be completely alone, not caring that it was both improper and rude for her to be wandering through her host’s home uninvited and unsupervised.

Is this what I am to be subjected to?
she thought.
Will everyone believe I am so desperate to be wed that I will accept any impertinence?
She rubbed her lips again, harshly, trying to forget the feel of Lord Huxley’s mouth on hers.

She opened yet another door and stepped into a dimly lit room that smelled of dust and disuse, moonlight filtering through tall windows whose heavy blue or black drapes were tied back with finger-thick ropes, their tassels brushing the floor. A pianoforte shrouded in white sheets stood in one corner; the angular shape of a harp similarly covered stood in another. A long, darkly upholstered sofa with a high back faced the pianoforte at an angle, while pale chairs with narrow legs and cushions matching the curtains stood here and there throughout the room.

Elinor closed the door behind her and went to sit on one of the chairs, covering her face with her gloved hands. She might be entitled to cry, to feel sorrow for herself, but that would do nothing except ruin her complexion and make her a figure of pity when she eventually returned to the ball.
And I suppose I do have to return sometime. It’s a pity there’s no way for me to summon our carriage and make my escape out the back door.

A discreet cough sent her leaping from her chair, clasping her hands in front of her as if she were a child caught stealing lumps of sugar from the bowl. “You probably shouldn’t be here,” said the man now sitting up from where he had been reclining on the sofa.

“Well, neither should you,” she retorted, embarrassment giving an edge to her tongue.

“I live here. You don’t.”

“If you live here, you ought to be with your guests, not… not
skulking
in dark rooms.”

“Where I can startle innocent young ladies, you mean?” The man was tall, with light-colored hair that seemed grey in the dim light of the music room, and he wore a dark suit of an unusual cut. He came around to the back of the sofa and leaned against it, as relaxed as if startling innocent young ladies was something that came naturally to him. “And they’re not my guests, they’re my cousin Harry’s.”

“Is Lord Ormerod your cousin, then?”

“Distant. Third cousin, or some such. And I was at the ball until fifteen minutes ago. I
thought
this was a room where a man might have some quiet, away from all that din.”

“I didn’t realize I was a
din
, all by myself,” Elinor said.

“You’re quiet enough, but I thought if you were here for an assignation, I should make myself known before the situation became awkward.”

“
Assignation?
”

“It’s not uncommon, at these doings. You didn’t come here to meet your beau?”

“How
dare
you insult me like that? I am a
gentlewoman!
” Was it something in her appearance, that made men assume she was open to any amorous advances?

“It’s the gentlewomen who are most often the ones sneaking off to quiet rooms like this—”

“Do not say another word, you…
Captain
,” Elinor sputtered, realizing his strange dark suit with the white facings and the braid along the cuffs was actually a naval uniform. “I came here because I—actually, I think it is none of your concern why I came here, but I assure you it was not for some clandestine meeting. Or are you so quick to accuse me because
you
are waiting here for some…
doxy
?”

“I assure you, I don’t need to make assignations in dark, uncomfortable rooms,” the captain said, his light eyes as colorless as his hair in the dim light. He sounded amused, which infuriated Elinor. She cast about for something cutting to say, but he continued, “And I do apologize, miss, if I offended you. It was an honest mistake.”

“I wonder you do not have to apologize constantly, if your assumptions are all ‘honest mistakes’ like that one,” she said.

“I won’t apologize for saying what I think, and that’s true.” He crossed his arms over his chest; she thought he might be examining her, and she blushed with more anger.

“If you are quite finished staring at me, I’ll leave you to your quiet,” she said.

She had her hand on the doorknob when he said, “Wait.”

“Have you thought of some other insult to share with me, Captain?” she said.

There was a long silence. “No,” he said finally. “It was nothing. A pleasure meeting you, miss.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she said, and regretted her hasty words the moment they left her lips. She wrenched at the door knob and let the door shut loudly behind her. Why had she said that? He hadn’t intended to insult her, and she’d been so rude…but she couldn’t go back and apologize, she would sound so foolish, and he probably hadn’t been insulted anyway. Her face flamed with embarrassment. With luck, she would never see him again, and eventually she would forget how awful she’d been to a perfect stranger.

It took her some time to retrace her route, since she had not been paying it much attention when she passed through the house the first time, but again no one seemed to have noticed her absence. Selina still wasn’t there. Lady Ormerod’s blonde head bobbed at the far end of the ballroom. Elinor resolutely didn’t catch the eye of anyone who might feel obligated to ask her to dance and went in search of her mother.

She found her in one of the salons off the ballroom, playing whist and laughing like mad at something her partner had just said. “What is it, Elinor dear?” she asked.

“I have the head-ache, mama,” Elinor said, pressing the back of one gloved hand to her forehead in what she hoped was not too theatrical a way. “Do you suppose we might leave soon?”

“My dear, it is only now gone one o’clock! But if you are ill… Theodosia, do take my cards, and Elinor, you sit here and sip this punch, and I will find your papa.”

It felt like an age before Mrs. Pembroke reappeared, saying, “Mr. Pembroke has gone to summon the carriage, and I’m sure I don’t need to warn you not to tease him, because he was not happy at having to leave so soon. He becomes so
intense
when he discusses politics, you know!”

But Mr. Pembroke did not seem angry. In fact, he looked almost smug when she sat down in the chaise across from him. “I think we may call tonight a success, Elinor,” he said.

“May we, papa? I am so glad.”

“Indeed. You comported yourself very well. I cannot tell you how many compliments I received on your behalf. I hope you found the evening enjoyable?”

Right up until I was assaulted, and then was horribly rude to someone who didn’t deserve it
. “Yes, papa. It was gratifying to receive so much attention.”

“Particularly from certain quarters, eh, daughter?” Mr. Pembroke chuckled.

“I… don’t understand, papa.”

“You made at least two conquests tonight—surely you cannot be unaware of this? Of course we cannot consider Mr. St. George’s offer, he is far too old and has no title, but Lord Huxley—”

Elinor gasped. “Papa, you cannot mean to say Lord Huxley has made me an offer?”

“And why should he not? You are precisely what he is looking for in a wife. Granted, he is as yet merely his father’s heir, but eventually he will be Earl of Lymington, and the Huxleys have some of the strongest Bounder talent in the country.”

“But…but he hardly knows me!”

“Which is why I told him I was unwilling to entertain the notion of your becoming engaged so soon after arriving in London. You will meet him again in company, several times, and I assure you he is committed to fixing your interest with him. He has good manners, he is not too old—”

“Nearly twice my age, or I miss my guess!”

“Oh, Elinor, you are being foolish!” Mrs. Pembroke exclaimed. “Handsome, talented, wealthy, titled—you cannot expect to do better. I am so
happy
for you I could cry!”

A knot of acid began forming in her stomach again. “Papa, you said it would not do for me to make an attachment on my first appearance.”

“And you will not. I expect Lord Huxley will not formally make you an offer until you have met some four or five times more.”

“But what of…did you not say you wished me to have many offers, that you could consider them?” Her head began aching in earnest, as if the jaws of an invisible trap were closing over it.

“I did not anticipate you drawing the notice of someone as eligible as Lord Huxley. We will be joining him at the theater in three nights’ time; he said you expressed an interest. Do you not see how he cares what will please you?”