Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

ignored Garrick’s glower and took his arm. ‘How dare you?’ she muttered.

      He glanced down at her. ‘I dare anything to get what I want, Lady Eleanor. As do you.’

      A rush of heat flared in her face. ‘You have no idea how much I regret what I did.’

      His breathing changed, a slight hitch, and she had the sense she’d touched a nerve, yet when she glanced up, his expression was one of utter boredom.

      ‘Promise me you will stay away from Sissy,’ she said.

      ‘Would you believe my promise?’ he asked with a cynical smile.

      She had no time to answer. They’d already entered the ballroom, where any chance word might be overheard. Whether he promised or not, she would make sure Sissy didn’t come within ten feet of the Marquess of Beauworth in future.

      A few heads turned in their direction as they traversed the room, but no buzz of conversation or sly whispers. Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. Lieutenant Smith saw Sissy to her seat and bowed very properly. Eleanor took the chair on the other side of her aunt. ‘Thank you, both,’ she said, intending it for a dismissal.

      ‘Do you not dance, Lieutenant?’ Sissy asked.

      Lieutenant Smith turned as red as a poppy. The Marquess, rot him, grinned wolfishly at his protégé’s obvious discomfort. Eleanor wanted to bash him over the head with her reticule. She pretended not to notice.

      ‘I do, my lady,’ Lieutenant Smith said. ‘I would be honoured if you would grant me a cotillion later this evening.’

      The little minx grinned. ‘I have one free after supper.’

      Serious and courteous, the young soldier bowed. ‘I will return then. Thank you.’ He took the Marquess by the arm and led him away.

      A considering expression on her face, Cecelia watched the angelic soldier and the dark rake depart, an odd combination to be sure. And the poor young lieutenant was no more suitable for Sissy than the Marquess of Beauworth.

      Eleanor sighed. ‘Really, Cecilia, what has got into you, going off alone with a well-known rake? You could be facing ruin right now. Not to mention it is shockingly rag-mannered to ask a man to dance.’

      ‘You are a jealous old maid.’

      It was unforgivably rude and hurtful, but Eleanor swallowed her pride. It was Garrick’s fault Sissy had drunk too much champagne and there was no point in getting into an argument with her in a crowded ballroom. And besides, after playing mother to Sissy for so many years, she felt like an old spinster.

      Her summer of madness with Garrick was the last time she’d felt truly young. It had been a wild and wonderful adventure and had led to nothing but pain. Not to mention the financial disaster she’d caused. No more adventures for her. She’d settled down. She was happy. Very happy. She sniffed into her handkerchief, blinked, then turned and entered a conversation between her aunt and the elderly widow beside her, just as she ought.

      ‘What are you about letting her make a fool of herself with a man who comes straight from the stews?’ William paced the floor in front of the table where she sat waiting to pour him a cup of tea.

      It had been too much to hope that he would not hear the gossip and the guilt written on her face wasn’t helping. She loved her twin dearly, but since inheriting the title he’d become one of the world’s most intolerant men.

      ‘William, dear, Lieutenant Smith is a brave and honourable young man. Everyone likes him, despite his lack of birth. He is but one man among many in Cecilia’s court and I promise you she does not favour any one of them. You should be proud of her success.’

      ‘I am proud of her,’ he said. ‘But, Eleanor, the man hangs on Beauworth’s lips.’ And that was the real reason for his anger. Dare she speak to him about Garrick? Her heart picked up speed.

      ‘About Beauworth…’

      His brow lowered.

      She gulped a breath. ‘I met him the other day.’

      ‘I told him I would kill him if he came near you.’

      ‘William, he has proof he was not the person who injured you.’

      ‘Are you really so gullible? Stay away from that man. I don’t want him near this house.’

      She was unable to control the pain in her expression.

      He sat down beside her. ‘I’m sorry, Len. But if anything were to happen to Cecilia, I would never forgive myself.’

      As he had never forgiven himself for what had happened to her. The reason she forgave him his ill humours.

      He grimaced. ‘Beauworth was seen in France, you know, but no one will come right out and accuse him to his face, even though he is half-French.’ His lip curled. ‘He curries favour with the Prince.’

      ‘Rumour, William. Not fact.’ She kept her face calm and her voice steady. ‘William, there are other rumours about Beauworth, involving me. You didn’t tell anyone, did you?’

      ‘What do you think I am?’

      He sounded defensive and he hadn’t answered the question. Her heart sank. What had he done?

      She handed him a white bone-china cup with a smile. ‘You know, I always wondered what was in that letter Le Clere asked you to bring that day. Did you read it?’

      He shifted in his seat, the cup rattling in the saucer. ‘Of course not. Do you think I would have risked your life?’

      Her heart softened at his obvious indignation and yet the way he sat sipping his tea, all stiff and uncomfortable, not meeting her gaze, stirred up a feeling that something wasn’t right. ‘And you didn’t pick it up afterwards?’

      ‘Eleanor, you are changing the subject. Make sure that young puppy Smith keeps within bounds and Beauworth does not enter this house and I’ll say no more.’

      It was he who had changed the subject, and he’d given in far too easily on the issue of Captain Smith. He was hiding something. Something to do with the letter? Surely not. What would it benefit him to keep Garrick’s guilt a secret? Dash it all, now she would have to look for the letter. If only for her own peace of mind. She would send word to Martin. Ask him to look for it. As steward, he had access to all of William’s papers. He wouldn’t like it, but somehow she’d convince him to help her one last time.

      She realised William was watching her, expecting some reaction to his generous surrender. She smiled. ‘Thank you. Besides, I think the question will soon be moot. Lieutenant Smith expects to be called back to his regiment any day now. He thinks we will go to war again.’

      His brow furrowed. ‘No doubt about it.’

      ‘Thank heavens you are out of it.’

      ‘Damn it, Eleanor. I wish I could go. See the end of the little Corsican once and for all.’ His expression betrayed an unusually boyish eagerness. A look she hadn’t seen for years. Her stomach dipped.

      ‘William, no! Think of me. Of Sissy. How would we go on if something happened to you? Your duty is here.’

      He huffed out a breath. ‘To be in at the end would be tremendous. If Michael hadn’t died, I would have been there.’

      ‘I wish he was still with us, too, but not if it meant you going to war again.’

      He smiled at that, but still, frustration showed in the set of his shoulders and his pursed lips. He’d given up his military ambitions for the sake of the title, for his family, a sacrifice she knew he regretted deeply.

      He set down his cup. ‘I must be off. I am meeting with the fellows from my old regiment at Whites’.’

      He rose awkwardly to his feet and kissed her cheek. ‘Promise you will keep a close eye on Sissy?’

      ‘Yes,