The Bridal Contract (Darrington family Book 3) Page 9

  “Oh, Gracie Carruthers was so upset at you both,” Charlotte interjected with her own smile. “She vowed she’d always get back at you, told me she’d never talk to you again, but she never did have the gumption to carry out the threat.” She shook her head and the sapphires in her ears sparkled. Really, Charlotte Darrington was a handsome woman.

  Eloisa wanted to crawl under the table. She didn’t belong to this group. Everyone at the table, including Felix’s pretty wife with the French coloring, had big personalities and the confidence needed to chase their dreams. Who was she but a short, blonde woman who’d never done a thing to be ashamed over or laugh about and couldn’t cause a sensation if she tried? Well, that wasn’t true. Her cheeks warmed. What a sensation she could have caused had she shared her ruined state. But that was no one’s business and the only treasured memory she had that was hers and Peter’s combined.

  The Darringtons were loud and boisterous, and part of her thrilled to hear their stories. All of her life she’d had to look after her siblings and keep them out of trouble. She’d had to be quiet, partially due to her position in the silent lending library and partially because living with Charles’ wife and their doddering aunt meant tiptoeing around lest she upset their delicate natures. What she wouldn’t give to let loose and make noise of her own.

  “I think you men should consider watching your words in front of our guest,” Clarice reminded them. The faint French accent in her voice danced through the words. “She will think we have no manners.”

  Felix nodded. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Yes, forgive Oliver and me. We’re not usually this uncouth. Tell us how you’re enjoying Brighton.”

  “Well…” Her pulse accelerated as all eyes turned to stare at her. They were rather an intense bunch.

  “More specifically,” Charlotte interrupted. “Tell us how you managed to snare Oliver and what do you think of his daughter.”

  Heat spread through Eloisa’s cheeks. “I like Brighton much better than London. It’s quite noisy here with too many rules and frowning countenances. As for Oliver,” she darted a glance at the man in question, who looked back at her with an unreadable expression, “we, uh, came together as a matter of mutual interest.” Oh, dear heavens, would they know it was a sham? “And I think Daniela is sweet. She’s smart and polite, but I doubt heavily she’s his blood. Beyond that, they’ve been having a go of getting on together quite nicely.” The flush deepened. Why had she said that? It was none of her business. “She doesn’t resemble him in the least.”

  Roberta harrumphed. “Whether that child is his by rights or not, it isn’t proper she’s beneath his roof at all. Something must be done, and I’ll speak to him about it—alone.” Her piercing gaze landed first on Oliver then on Eloisa.

  “Unfair, Mother. You complain you want grandchildren, but now they must also be legitimate?” Oliver’s outburst earned him a glance that could have ushered in a return to winter.

  “That is almost not up for urgent discussion,” his mother replied.

  “Perhaps you’ll be the reason Oliver stays in England,” Charlotte said as she laid her silverware across her empty plate in a clear attempt to divert the conversation. “It would be nice to have him here and near Town.”

  “Oh, I’m not sure about that,” Eloisa hedged. “Oliver seems a free spirit. I’d hate to be the one to tether him if he doesn’t wish it.” No way would she commit to something she had no idea about. She really needed to talk with Oliver more in-depth. Even if she were to be linked with his name for the contract length, she should find out what he wanted from life.

  “No, she won’t, because Oliver will not be marrying her,” Roberta inserted as the dessert course was delivered to the diners. Portions of trifle were doled out and placed in front of everyone.

  Though she already knew the engagement was a farce, the knowledge that Oliver’s mother didn’t think Eloisa was good enough for her son rankled. What is wrong with me that I cannot win him? She dropped her gaze to her plate. Was it her family’s reduced circumstances or was it just that Mrs. Darrington didn’t like her looks?

  “Now, Mother—” Oliver began, but Felix interrupted him.

  “Mother, remember you weren’t very fond of Clarice or Nathan either. How do you know you won’t like Eloisa?”

  Roberta stared at Felix, a spoonful of trifle halfway to her lips. “Miss Hawthorne is not titled and from all accounts, her brother is a near reprobate and halfway to debtor’s prison.” She glanced at Eloisa. “No offense, dear. It’s hardly your fault. And I do want my offspring to make advantageous matches.”

  “No, I completely understand,” she murmured and felt even smaller and more insignificant than ever. What she wouldn’t give to be back in the lending library, buried within the stacks and shelves of books. Volumes and tomes didn’t judge her or find her lacking the way Roberta obviously did.

  “That’s enough, Mother,” Oliver stated. A deadly tone had crept into his voice and didn’t brook argument. “Eloisa is everything kind and good in this world. I won’t have you disparaging her.” He rose then took his wine glass in hand while his warm gaze lingered on her. “Perhaps we should toast Felix and Clarice instead. There’s much going on in their lives that should herald happiness and joy.”

  “Hear, hear!” Felix cheered. The tense mood around the table lifted.

  “I wish you both nothing but success and bliss in the coming days.” Oliver took a deep drink of his wine.

  “Best wishes,” Eloisa murmured then sipped her drink. Over the rim of her glass, she caught Oliver’s intense blue gaze. When he flashed her a genuine smile that lit his eyes, her insides fluttered. With haste, she focused her attention on Felix and Clarice as he whispered something into his wife’s ear.

  How could she have such a reaction to Oliver? She couldn’t feel anything for him. They’d barely met. Plus, she was supposed to still be in love with her dear Peter, wasn’t she? Confusion set in and did nothing to settle her stomach or her nerves. After one bite of trifle, she pushed her bowl away. She needed to be home, tucked in her own bedroom in order to analyze this troubling turn of events.

  Once dinner had concluded ninety minutes later—Oliver had refused to linger longer—Eloisa was back in the carriage with Oliver seated across from her. Darkness shrouded the interior as no one had lit the lamp and she didn’t want to ask for it to be done though the curtains hadn’t been drawn, which allowed a bit of moonlight to shine through. The shadows were reassuring and she wouldn’t have to work at hiding her emotions. Pleasant tiredness weighed her limbs and she rested her head against the squabs as she closed her eyes.

  One niggle of curiosity wouldn’t leave her in peace. Finally, she popped open her eyes and looked across at Oliver. “What did your mother say to you regarding me, our engagement, and Daniela?” Not long after dinner had ended, Roberta made a point of securing Oliver’s attention and pulling him into the study before firmly closing the door behind them.

  A soft guffaw escaped him. “Oh, I’m sure she had every intention of expounding the many reasons why this engagement is a bad idea, but I didn’t give her the option. I kissed her cheek, told her I’d see her again soon then escaped her clutches for another day.”

  “I’ll wager she won’t give up that easily.” The tension in her back eased. At least he hadn’t been browbeaten. She didn’t know if she had the wherewithal to continue the farce if it meant he’d be pitted against his family. Not even for the money could she plunge him into that.

  “Oh, I doubt she’s done with her campaign.” He rested an ankle on his knee. “I did tell her I’d be more of a mind to listen if she visited me in Brighton. After all, she thinks it the height of bad manners that I might bring Daniela to the London address.”

  “Good heavens. Is your mother that unbending?” Yes, it was scandalous to even have the child in his household and more scandalous yet to announce that news in lieu of dinner party conversation, but what would they have the po
or man to do?

  “She has her prejudices, the same as everyone else, and she likes things a certain way. When it comes to her family, I honestly believe she’d kill to protect us from what she considers unsavory people or situations.”

  “Well, at least she cares. That’s something.”

  “Does your mother not behave the same?”

  Eloisa heaved a sigh. “I lost my parents to a fever that went through our village some years ago.” She turned to glance out the window then frowned. “Charles, Helen, and I had been visiting Mother’s family in Italy that winter just before travel was more or less suspended. Charles had bragged he could handle his sisters alone while touring. He wanted to shoulder more responsibility. No doubt he’d been promised something for the act.” She chuckled at the memory of her brother’s bravado. “Even back then his gambles didn’t pay. Helen and I were not exactly on our best behavior and eventually our aunts had to take us in hand.”

  “You were a bit of a hoyden? I find that impossible to believe,” he teased, humor thick in his voice.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” She smiled into the darkness as she faced him. “Helen was wilder. I simply followed after her to keep her out of trouble, which meant some interesting scrapes.”

  “Enjoyed Italy?”

  “Yes. Each part of it is wonderful and so diverse. And the food is delectable. I don’t look it, but I can certainly eat my fair share. I wouldn’t mind returning someday.” Part of her good humor fled. “Although, now that Charles has effectively gone through his wife’s fortune, I rather doubt I’ll ever go anywhere again.”

  “It is beautiful.” He rubbed a hand along his cheek and the scrape of fingers against stubble filled the silence. “Don’t despair. Perhaps the man you eventually marry will have the means enough to take you anywhere in the world you’d like to go.”

  The rest of her jovial mood evaporated. Her stomach clenched. “I’m sure marriage isn’t in my future. Barring our engagement in name only, I was proposed to only once before, but he died before anything could come of it.” And I’m soiled goods besides. Perhaps Oliver’s mother was correct. Given her brother’s behavior, what respectable family would want to align themselves with hers?

  “This would be the Peter you’ve spoken about before?” Interest hung on the words.

  “Yes.” How curious the piercing sadness that usually accompanied talk of Peter came but wasn’t as acute. “He asked me to marry him the day before he followed his regiment away from me and England. He ended up dying in the first conflict he saw.”

  “Where did he serve?”

  “Eventually, somewhere in Spain. I was never completely sure. His family hadn’t been apprised of our engagement since he’d not had a chance to talk with them and he wished for it to be kept a secret until he announced it.” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “He was spontaneous, Peter was. I wasn’t that close to his family. Our people didn’t travel in the same circles, as his family was laborers. I never did receive all the details.” To this day, it pained her that she couldn’t break his promise and tell them they’d been intended.

  “I see.” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “What was Peter’s surname?”

  “Sedon.” The old thrill of saying that name aloud didn’t come.

  “That sounds familiar. There was a fellow in my regiment with that name except his name was Jonathan.”

  Eloisa sat up straighter. “That was him! Peter was his middle name and the one he wished to be called by, as there were entirely too many Jonathans in the family.” She peered through the gloom, but couldn’t read Oliver’s expression. “Did you know him?”

  “I did. He had a way of making everyone around him laugh. Real genuine fellow.” Oliver nodded. “I liked him.” He leaned across the aisle, took her hand, and squeezed. “He was a fine young man and you should be proud of him. He died instantly if that’s any consolation.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice caught and tears welled in her eyes. “At least he didn’t suffer much.”

  “He must still be special if he continues to hold your heart so long after he died.” Was that a wistful note in his voice?

  “Yes,” she whispered. The need to purge her secret grew overwhelming. “He made me promise I’d never be with another if he should fall.”

  Was that a low-pitched growl that issued from Oliver?

  “That’s a rather selfish thing to make any woman promise in those circumstances. You’re obviously still a vital woman, and though you’re not in the first blush of youth any longer, you still have much to offer an interested gentleman.” A rumble of anger threaded through the words.

  “Yes, well, be that as it may, I’ve honored his wishes so far, though I’ve led more than a few men on a merry chase, if you believe the rumors.” Eloisa sighed, suddenly exhausted. No use wishing for different circumstances. “I’ve grown weary of talking about my prospects or lack thereof. Now that you’ve properly shocked your family regarding Daniela, what do you plan to do with her?”

  “I haven’t decided. There are many options to consider.” He sounded guarded.

  “Will you give her to an orphanage then?” Please say no. Surely he couldn’t be so cruel, not after coming to know the girl for the last week.

  “Like I said, I’m still considering.”

  “Oh, Oliver.” She settled against the squabs and closed her eyes, too tired to carry through with the exasperation in her voice. “Don’t be an arse like my brother.”

  Two engagements to two completely different men. Neither of them ideal. Could she really compare Peter to Oliver? Yes, she’d kept Peter’s memory alive in her heart, but did he really hold the pieces of her soul together anymore? Even now, as she attempted to call forth his image in her mind’s eye, he appeared faded around the edges.

  “Eloisa?” Someone shook her shoulder with a gentle touch. “Eloisa, wake up. We’re home.” Just before she opened her eyes, the touch drifted to the curls at one side of her face, brushed them back then retreated.

  She blinked up at Oliver in the darkness. When had she come to be stretched out on her bench, sleeping, she had no idea, but he knelt in the aisle. “When did I fall asleep?” How embarrassing. She squirmed into a sitting position, and when she swung her legs to the floor, she brushed against Oliver’s side. Warmth and awareness swept through her limbs.

  “Not long ago. One minute you were upright; the next, you’d slumped into an odd lump.” He climbed from the carriage then extended a hand to help her. “I moved you into a more comfortable position.”

  Heat jumped into her cheeks. He’d had his hands on her body when she’d been dead to the world? The heat slid between her thighs and something deep inside awakened. “Thank you for not letting me tumble to the floor,” she murmured as she accepted his assistance outside the conveyance.

  Confusion further complicated her already tumultuous emotions while she opened the gate and stepped into the garden. Oliver kept pace with a hand on the small of her back. Why did he feel the need to touch her, and why did she suddenly enjoy the comfort he gave? The sound of a window casement creaking open jerked her attention to a window on an upper level of Oliver’s house.

  Golden illumination gleamed in the rectangular space and a woman’s silhouette appeared. Eloisa’s heartbeat raced. Did he have a mistress? “Who is that?” She hated how accusatory her question sounded.

  Oliver followed her gaze. A chuckle escaped him. “That would be Susan, my housekeeper and cook. You met her that first day.”

  “Ah.” Seconds later, a child’s form appeared at the window. It leaned outward and the moonlight showed Daniela, clad in a voluminous, white nightdress. Susan hovered close behind. “Why is your child not in bed?”

  “I wouldn’t know as I’ve spent my last hours in your company.” But his voice had softened as he gazed at the girl.

  As soon as Daniela spied him, a smile broke out over her face. She stuck a hand out the window, but Susan prevented her from going any furt
her. “Papa! I missed you!”

  “Oh, how sweet,” Eloisa murmured while her heart squeezed. She glanced at Oliver. His expression changed and brightened. His grin was wide and genuine, but it also held a note she’d never seen before, and it brought a whole new facet out to his personality. His eyes twinkled. Nay. They glowed with pride and familial love, and it tugged at her heart.

  Good heavens, he’d finally fallen in love with his daughter and it was marvelous. Her heart labored as it worked despite the tight squeeze. She shoved at his shoulder. “Go home and tuck her in. She needs you, and if I’m not mistaken, you need her too.”

  “I didn’t realize I did until this exact moment. It might be the height of foolishness, but I think I’m going to keep her regardless of whether she’s legitimately mine or not.” He laid a hand over his heart. “Thank you for consenting to dinner with me and the judgmental lot I’m connected to.” He leaned closed then planted a kiss on her cheek. “I knew I made a good choice in choosing you for this bridal contract. You’re a gem, Eloisa. Goodnight.”

  The trouble was, she didn’t want to be a gem or a good chum or the responsible one. She held a hand to the cheek his kiss lingered on while he exited her garden then entered his own. As if she’d been turned to stone, she followed his progress up to his front door with her gaze then slumped once he’d disappeared behind it. Need prickled the hair at her nape and tightened her nipples beneath her bodice. A shiver rippled down her spine.

  No, no, no! This can’t be allowed to happen. How can I betray Peter’s memory this way?

  Slowly, as if she walked in a daze, Eloisa stumbled up her walk to her door. The contracted time couldn’t go by fast enough, yet neither did she want it to end. At least for now, she had Oliver’s ear and attention until the horrible day funds were transferred. Oh, what a cruel trick fate had played and continued to play.

  But for the love of Helen, she’d suffer through and deny every bit of the budding feelings for Oliver. The alternative, betraying Peter’s memory or defying Oliver’s mother’s wishes, couldn’t be contemplated. Neither was conducive to the peace she craved, and Oliver was correct when he’d said she couldn’t fix everyone.