Page 25 of The Ruin of a Rake
The butler was setting and resetting the dining table. “Oh, Mr. Medlock,” he intoned. “What is to be done?”
Julian resented the old man’s air of grief. To bemoan Standish’s arrival seemed to assume so much about Eleanor that it was very nearly a violation of Eleanor’s privacy. Had the entire household speculated about their mistress’s situation? The entireton, perhaps? Were Julian and Eleanor the only people who hadn’t discussed the topic? Julian was ashamed for not having spoken to Eleanor months or years ago, to ask her if she was all right. He only hadn’t because he feared what the answer would be, and that it was his fault, and that there was nothing to be done for it now.
“Put an extra plate out for me, if you please. How long is Sir Edward staying?”
“Nobody knows.” Tilbury had the air of a man who was barely holding back a wail. “I didn’t realize he was a foreigner. Somebody might have told me so I could have prepared the staff.”
Julian bristled. “He isn’t a foreigner. His father’s family has been in England since the Conquest.” His mother’s family was also perfectly respectable, but Julian didn’t think Tilbury was interested in that aspect of Standish’s parentage. “If any of the servants take issue with their master’s lineage, they’re quite free to seek other positions.”
“Indeed, sir,” Tilbury murmured, sounding unconvinced.
“Lord Courtenay will be staying here for the next fortnight, so if you’ll please ready one of the spare rooms I’d most appreciate it.” Julian had come up with this plan on his way from the fencing studio. If Courtenay stayed with Eleanor and Standish, it would look like Standish was unconcerned about any rumors regarding his wife’s relations with Courtenay. He probably ought to have asked Eleanor’s leave before informing Tilbury, but the staff here had gotten used to taking orders from Julian. He probably ought to have asked Courtenay as well, but he’d sort that out later.
Tilbury looked as if he’d dearly like to scream, but he confined himself to a dour, “If that’s what the mistress wishes.” He fiddled with a place setting. “If I may make a suggestion, sir, does Lady Standish have a female relation she could perhaps invite for a few weeks?”
Julian had had the same thought. “I’m afraid not, Tilbury.” It had always been only him and Eleanor, with nobody to turn to but each other.
Eleanor appeared in the doorway. “Quite a pleasant surprise we had this afternoon, Julian!” she cried. Really, she was not any good at false merriment. Any hope Julian had that Eleanor had enjoyed a happy reconciliation with her spouse went straight out the window when he saw his sister’s rictus of a smile.
“In your parlor, Eleanor.” Not in front of the servants, was what he meant. Once the door was shut safely behind them, he asked, “How long does he plan to stay?”
“I can’t imagine how you expect me to know.” An irritated furrow appeared on her forehead. “He hasn’t said more than ten words to me since arriving. First I thought he wanted to hit Courtenay, but of course he’s too well bred for that, even if he did mind how I amused myself.” The furrow disappeared and was replaced with a look of resignation. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Are you all right, Nora?” he asked hesitantly, six years too late.
Her lips trembled a bit. “Not really, no.”
He took a step towards her and then stopped. He knew he ought to do something, but what? Pat her hand? Embrace her? He had spent so long trying to avoid his own less presentable emotions that he didn’t know what to do with another person’s. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked feebly.
Eleanor looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead she gave her head a small shake.
There had to be, and he’d figure it out, but first he’d attend to a problem he could actually solve. “Courtenay needs to stay here.”
“Here?” Eleanor looked bewildered. “Why on earth?”
“It’ll put any rumors to rest that Standish came back because of your misbehavior.”
“Do you think that’s why he came back?” She looked slightly less bleak, which made no sense.
“I suppose it depends on how fast gossip travels. Where was he most recently?”
“His valet told my maid they had been in Vienna.”
Vienna? He had always thought Standish farther away than that. “I dare say it’s possible. What was Courtenay doing here this afternoon? He said you were comforting him.”
“He got a nasty letter from Radnor’s secretary and was cut up about it.”
“Did he, now? Well, I think I have a plan to settle that business.”
“I’m so glad.” She gave him a bleak smile. “Will you stay for dinner?”
He did, and a wretchedly awkward meal it was. Julian couldn’t speak freely to Eleanor with Standish sitting there stone-faced. And, oddly, Julian had the sense that Standish and Eleanor couldn’t speak freely with him there either. They were studiously avoiding the issue of whether they used first names or titles, which seemed unnecessarily exhausting for two people who had climbed trees together as children and who were presently man and wife.
“Lord Courtenay is to make a visit with us,” Eleanor said to her husband. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. Why ever would I?” said Standish in frigid tones.
“Oh. Good,” Eleanor replied tepidly, and from that point on didn’t even try to make conversation with either Julian and Standish, and instead fed morsels of fish to the cats who congregated around her feet.
