Page 20 of A Marriage of Convenience with a Rake
Eleanor rushed to her wardrobe, shutting the bedroom door briskly behind her as she went inside. She let her eye move over the contents swiftly. Her clothing had all been unpacked from the suitcase that she’d brought with her, but only a quarter of her clothes were here—she couldn’t fit most of them into the one suitcase, and she’d chosen a selection of things she had thought she might need. A handful of day-dresses, two that might be suitable for high tea, and two evening gowns. The dress she was wearing—the old linen dress—was one she’d had for a few years, and she used for working clothes. She grabbed one of the tea-dresses at random.
“It willhave to be this one.”
Hastily she unbuttoned the plain linen dress behind her back and dove into the one she’d chosen, which was a muslin gown in white, decorated with a design of little leaves. It was one of the most modish of her gowns and she buttoned it hastily behind her back and rushed to the mirror, swiftly trying to arrange her hair. There was no time to wait for Miss Whitford to come and fix it—she was needed in the drawing room to entertain their guests at any moment. She grabbed a hairbrush and brushed it back from her face, rolling it into a bun and securing it with some pins the way she and her friend Amelia used to if they’d come back indoors from an afternoon stroll and needed to clean up swiftly for dinner. She sent silent thanks to her friend for the times they’d practiced it.
“Not bad,” she told herself, glancing in the mirror. The style framed her face flatteringly. It actually looked quite good.
She grabbed a handkerchief, wiping her face to get rid ofthe stains, and slipped her feet into indoor shoes, rushing to the door.
As she ran, she thought about Lady Waddingham. She had never received such a strange greeting in all her one-and-twenty years, she was quite sure of it. What did the woman mean? The one, she had called her.
I need to ask Lord Glenfield about that. No—Sebastian.
She blushed as she ran. It was entirely inappropriate to call him “Lord Glenfield” now, but she still couldn’t stop thinking of him in a formal way.
She pushed the thought hastily away as she headed up the hallway swiftly to the drawing room. Lady Waddingham had said she’d deal with the guests.
“Ah! Lady Glenfield!” A voice greeted her as she paused in the drawing room doorway. Eleanor swallowed hard. It was a sweet voice, but she had heard such voices before in her encounters with the Ton and she knew it was not sincere. She turned to look at the people who spoke.
“Good morning,” she greeted the two women who stood a few paces away inside the drawing-room. They had been sitting on the chaise-longue while Lady Waddingham, who stood just beside them, poured tea. Now they were all standing. Her eyes moved across the guests. One was a woman of around her mother’s age, she guessed, with thick brown hair streaked with gray and a thin, heart-shaped face. The other was a woman of around her own age with curly auburn hair. Both of them curtseyed.
“These are Lady Aldford and her daughter, the Honorable Miss Hatfield.”
“Good morning,” the two women greeted her as Lady Waddingham gave the introductions.
“Yes. Yes,” Lady Aldford murmured. “This is the new Lady Glenfield. We came to pay our regards, Lady Glenfield. Youare so new in these parts, and we thought we would come to welcome you.”
“Yes. Thank you,” Eleanor murmured. She felt tense, looking around the room. Sebastian’s auntwas beside her and she found her presence oddly reassuring. Eccentric the older woman undoubtedly was, but Eleanor had no sense of any ill will towards herself coming from Lady Waddingham. These women, on the other hand, were watching her curiously.
They probably came to see me because they have been gossiping for days, she thought crossly.
She drew a breath.
“It must be strange here, after living in London,” Lady Aldford continued. “You are from London, yes?” she asked, those dark eyes fixed with interest on her.
“No,” Eleanor said honestly. “No, I’m not. My father came from Yorkshire originally. We moved to London when I was a baby. And we don’t really live in London, but a mile or two outside it, in Woodford House.”
“Ah! Ah, I see,” the woman murmured. She looked entirely confused.
“You must have been often in the same circles as the earl,” the young woman stated. Eleanor grinned, nervous and nauseous and trying not to let them see either.
“No,” she answered again, deciding to tell the truth. “That is to say, I never met him at Almack’s, or any of the balls there.”
“But you were in London for the Season?” the woman asked insistently, staring at her in a kind of horrified disbelief, as if nobody could possibly miss a London Season.
“Yes,” Eleanor agreed. “Yes, I was in London for the Season.”
“Oh. Oh.” Lady Aldford smiled at her. Both of them seemed relieved. The terror that she may have moved in different social circles to any of them seemed relieved somewhat. “That is good.”
“Yes,” Eleanor said mildly. “I suppose it is.”
She fixed them both with a hard stare. The baroness seemed to take her meaning—that Eleanor knew perfectly well that they had been judging her—because she looked down for a moment as if she felt ashamed. Eleanor looked sideways and she thought she saw a glimmer of delight in Lady Waddingham's gaze, but it must have been her imagination, because it was gone almost as quickly as she saw it.
“May I invite you to sit down to tea?” Eleanor asked, giving the women another hard look. Lady Aldford nodded.
Her daughter, Miss Hatfield, frowned at her mother. “Mama?” she murmured, as if she was unsure and trying to communicate with her mother without Eleanor overhearing.
“What is it, Addie?” her mother asked with exaggerated patience.
