A Lady's Deception Page 10

  “Eleanor!” Her dearest friend, past and present, Alice Porter, greeted her first.

  They embraced and kissed each other’s cheeks. Alice was with child, and her growing middle made it difficult to get very close to her. “How I’ve missed you, Allie,” Eleanor said. “Pregnancy suits you. You are glowing.” In Eleanor’s opinion, Alice always looked like a true English rose, with her ash blond hair and flawless skin.

  “Ha! I feel rather like a sow at present. Did you make your dress, Eleanor?”

  She nodded. It was a sprigged muslin, a primrose color, and Eleanor loved it. She’d spent hours embroidering the tiny flowers and leaves. She, who hated embroidery.

  Eleanor greeted the others, sorry to discover a woman whom she roundly disliked was part of the group. Naturally, she was the one who spoke first. Eleanor was expecting a snide comment, and Marianne Haines did not disappoint.

  “So good to see you, dear. How is the dressmaking business faring?” Smirking, she glanced at her friends to gauge their reaction.

  Maud Hensley and Roberta Fairchild, the other women in the group, snickered. Alice said, “You are making quite a name for yourself, Eleanor. Everyone wants one of your creations.”

  “You exaggerate, Alice,” Eleanor said, smiling. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t have been able to come today.”

  “Such a pity you haven’t married,” Marianne said. “Then you would not need to, to…have employment.”

  Eleanor sucked in a breath. Lord, give me strength. “I enjoy my work, Marianne. As you well know, it’s not a necessity. I do it by choice.” She paused briefly, then said, “What is it you do all day, Marianne?”

  Maud and Roberta chortled, but ceased when Marianne glared at them. Eleanor was surprised when Marianne answered, as the question had been rhetorical.

  “I see to the day’s menus, play with the children, make calls. Spend time with my husband. If you accepted the proper duties of a lady in Society, you would be doing likewise.”

  Eleanor spied Marianne’s boorish husband holding forth in a cluster of his cronies and shuddered. “Thank heaven, then, that you are the one called upon for such duties and not me.”

  Alice had pressed her lips together so hard they’d turned white. “So nice to see you all,” Eleanor said, “pray excuse me.” Then sotto voce to Alice, “Let’s talk later.”

  As Eleanor slipped away from the group, Marianne shouted, “And I attend monthly meetings of the Haslemere Ladies Benevolent Society for Aid to the Poor and the Needy.” One of Kitty Broxton’s favorite charities. People standing nearby were staring, including Marianne’s unpleasant spouse, with a disapproving look on his puffy face.

  Alongside her, a voice said, “Tormenting your friends, Eleanor? And at a social event, too. For shame.”

  “Listening to my conversations, Sir Hugh?” He’d suddenly appeared beside her, and she was so rattled, she hadn’t even noticed. But now, because he was dressed in a cobalt blue swallowtail coat that hugged his shoulders and chest, she couldn’t help but do so. She didn’t dare let her gaze roam downward.

  “Your voices carried, especially Marianne’s. What was it—The Ladies Benevolent…what?”

  “The Haslemere Ladies Benevolent Society to Aid the Poor and the Needy. One of my mother’s most passionate causes, provided she isn’t required to be anywhere near said needy and poor. Or poor and needy.”

  “My, my. The cat has claws.”

  She had been moving fast, the better to put distance between herself and her so-called friends, and now they’d arrived at the banks of one of the lily ponds. Eleanor lurched to a halt, turned to Hugh, and said, “I beg your pardon. That was not well done of me. To say that about my mother.”

  He shrugged. “Mothers can be difficult.”

  She wanted to ask him about his mother. Would it offend him? Perhaps if she went about it indirectly. “Did your mother belong? To the Haslemere Society?”

  There was a bench, and Hugh gestured to it. After they were seated, he said, “Not that I recall. She didn’t socialize much.”

  “I don’t remember seeing you and your family around Town. Perhaps I was too young.”

  “Probably. I was what, already nine or ten when you came into the world?”

  He wasn’t making this easy. Eleanor was about to conclude that a conversation about his mother was simply off-limits when he said, “She left when I was fifteen. Took Adam with her and moved to London.” His eyes held a world of hurt, and she was shocked to her core. Never had she seen him so vulnerable.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been terribly difficult for you.” How she longed to hold his hand or take him into her arms, but both were out of the question.

  And then it was gone, the brief flash of pain that had been there, and the Hugh she was more accustomed to returned. “Don’t be sorry. Deborah made her choice. My father and I managed.”

  Not well. According to the little Eleanor knew, Benjamin Grey hadn’t been much of a father to the son who had remained behind. It had been more the other way around.

  “Do you get on with your mother now, Hugh?”

  From the look of him, she’d gone too far. She’d hoped after last night, after what they’d each shared regarding their families, he might be willing to speak to her about the difficulties with his mother, but she’d been wrong. His body stiffened, and his face signaled a storm approaching. She did not expect him to answer and was grasping for something to say when he spoke.

  “Deborah would like me to forgive and forget, but I can’t.”

  …

  How in the hell had he let this conversation go so far? He should have nipped it in its cankerous bud. Now he had Eleanor looking at him with pity in her eyes. The one thing he could not abide.

  “I don’t want your pity, Eleanor, so you can stop staring at me with those mournful eyes.” The words were harsh, a contradiction to this beautiful woman before him, but so be it.

  “What makes you think I pity you?” Damn her, she was edging closer to him, pressing her thigh against his. “I empathize with you, Hugh, one human to another.”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “Empathy, sympathy, pity—they all amount to the same thing, and I don’t want it, from you or anybody.”

  She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Do you feel the same about Adam?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I do. Let them be a family. Mother, son, grandson. I neither need nor want them in my life.” His words were cold and unforgiving, but he couldn’t seem to control his trembling hands or the hard clenching of his jaw.

  Her voice was soft and gentle. “Are you certain of that? Your brother is a decent man, Hugh. And your nephew…”

  His temper flared. Adam again. Was he doomed to be compared to his younger brother—and come out looking like the lesser man every time? And her manner implied, no matter how steadfastly she denied it, that she was sorry for him. “What do you truly know about any of this, Eleanor?” He sprang to his feet, needing to loom over her and assert his power. “We were intimate once, but that doesn’t give you the right to question me and judge my decisions regarding Adam and my mother.”

  “N-no, of course not. I beg your pardon if I offended you.” Her eyes were cast down, but he could see tears threatening to spill out.

  Well, he’d gone and done it now. Making women cry seemed to be his forte. He needed to escape. Now, before he did any further damage. He nodded in her direction. “Good day, Eleanor.” And then he left her sitting there on the bench by herself, a rude and unfeeling act that made him ashamed.

  …

  A weight pressed on Eleanor’s chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she could only be grateful Hugh had stormed off. Although she resented him for it, too. Leaving her there alone was unforgivable. There was something more profound than she’d imagined in Hugh’s feelings toward his family. A hurt that ran so deep, he was drowning in it.

  He’d mentioned their liaison so carelessly, as though it had
been an everyday occurrence for him. She could hardly blame him, when she’d referred to it as “sexual congress.” Perhaps making love with her had been nothing extraordinary. Maybe it was so to her because of Lili. Lili, who could bring Hugh so much joy. She must tell him. She would tell him, no matter what the cost to herself. He needed Lili to make his own family.

  No. Don’t be a fool, Eleanor.

  She was fishing in her reticule for a handkerchief when Alice Porter slid onto the bench beside her. “Here,” she said, handing Eleanor the very item she’d been looking for. She blotted her tears and tried to compose herself.

  “Did you tell him?”

  Alice knew about Lili. In a moment of weakness, when Eleanor had been feeling alone and isolated after Lili’s birth, she’d confessed all to her friend, including the father’s identity. Alice, true and loyal, had never betrayed her confidence, not even to her husband. Sniffling, Eleanor shook her head. “No.”

  “My dear—”

  “Do not say it. I know I must. It has all become so complicated.”

  “Maybe you should bring me up to date.”

  Perhaps it would be beneficial to confide in Alice. Doing so might relieve some of Eleanor’s guilt and worry. With a sigh, she began to speak. “Telling him he has a child would spell disaster. For Hugh, it could mean scandal, and for Lili and me—well, that’s unknown, isn’t it?”

  “Scandal if he acknowledges he has a child out of wedlock. Is that what you’re referring to?”

  “Exactly. My mother reminded me that while such a thing would not be shocking in Town, here in Haslemere, attitudes are different.” Eleanor twisted the handkerchief into knots as she spoke. “More provincial. And Hugh has just begun to rebuild his reputation and his standing in the community. He arrived home with a knighthood, for pity’s sake! He is a good man, Alice. I don’t want to be the instrument of his ruin.”

  “It would be your ruin, too, Eleanor. But are you sure you’re not exaggerating the risk?”

  “That is not the only issue. There is also the matter of Hugh’s tangled relationship with his mother. I’ve just learned he bears a deep resentment toward her for leaving him with his father. I fear his judgment of me will be no less harsh.”

  “Because Lili is with foster parents? Your choices were so limited, dear. You’re doing the best you can.”

  “I am afraid he will not see it that way. He may believe I gave up Lili to protect my own reputation, and in a way, that’s true, even if my parents demanded it of me.”

  Alice patted Eleanor’s hand. “He has a right to know about his own child. Give him a chance. If he is a good man, as you say, he will understand in time.”

  Eleanor looked up and saw Alice’s handsome husband, George, strolling toward them. The two beamed at each other, and Eleanor couldn’t help smiling. Rising, she said, “George, I apologize for monopolizing your wife.”

  “Hello, Eleanor. Lovely to see you. Alice has been looking forward to learning all your news.” He turned to his wife. “Are you ready, darling?” Extending a hand, he helped her to her feet.

  The two women embraced, and Alice whispered, “Be brave, dearest. You can do it.”

  Eleanor nodded. “You will let us know when the baby arrives?”

  “Of course,” George said.

  After they left, Eleanor resumed her seat on the bench. How she envied Alice’s happy life with her husband, something that seemed vastly out of reach for her. Despite feeling hurt by Hugh’s curt dismissal of her, she recognized that it was for the best. The mutual attraction they felt could never be acknowledged. She wasn’t prepared to reveal her most closely guarded secret to him, and he refused to expose his deepest self to her.

  Eleanor glanced up and saw her mother waving at her. Oh, how she wished she could hide behind one of the hedges. Wasn’t there a maze somewhere? No doubt she was now to be subjected to a series of tedious introductions, although she did not believe there were that many eligible men about. As she walked toward her mother, she noticed that Hugh had been waylaid by a few matrons with virginal-looking daughters by their sides. Hugh courting one of them would be ideal in terms of getting him out of her life for good.

  She allowed her mother and Mrs. Carrington to introduce her to several gentlemen, not one of whom she was remotely interested in. Every so often, she glanced about to see where Hugh was.

  The thought of him kissing another woman, holding her, touching her, etched a wound onto Eleanor’s soul.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning

  Hugh stood, arms akimbo, surveying the building site. The masonry workers had arrived and brickmaking was under way. Some of the internal walls and the entirety of the rear wall would be brick, but the facade would be of stone. Ridley had frowned on the extravagance, but it was what Hugh wanted.

  Ned had been helping with the bricks, but now strode over and stood beside Hugh. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “That we’ve made more progress than I could have hoped for in such a short time. I’ll be sleeping in an actual bedchamber in my own home before too long.”

  Ned laughed. “You will. Have you thought about furniture for this dwelling, Sir Hugh? Maybe a trip to Town is in order.”

  “You’re right. I ordered a few pieces from a local furniture maker, but I’ll need to get the rest in London. I want to check into Argand lamps, too. For my friend.”

  “Ah, yes, your seamstress friend. The one without a name.” Ned wiggled his eyebrows, earning a scowl from Hugh.

  Hugh turned and began to walk toward his cottage. “I’ve some correspondence to take care of.” Ned followed, but Hugh barely noticed. When they reached the door, he seemed surprised Ned was still with him.

  “You’re thinking about the lady, then?” Ned asked.

  “What lady?” And then he laughed. Hugh was sick of subterfuge. Perhaps Ned was someone he could confide in. The man would be discreet, Hugh had no doubt.

  “I said, you’re—”

  “I heard you. Come in. You might as well make yourself useful. Sit.” After Hugh had poured them each a cup of tea, he said, “I’m afraid I’ve upset her. Something I said to her yesterday at the garden party. Any ideas for a gift that might assuage hurt feelings?”

  Ned scratched his head. “It can’t be too personal.”

  “I know that much. I took her a basket of food a while back for a similar reason, so that’s out.”

  Ned chuckled. “So you’ve made a habit of offending this lady, have you?”

  “You might say that, although never intentionally.”

  “Flowers?”

  Hugh shook his head. “No. She has a profusion of them in her garden.”

  Ned tipped his cup and swallowed the remainder of his tea. “One of the barn cats has a new litter of kittens. Would she like one?”

  “That’s a thought, although she’s got a puppy. Are the kittens old enough to be separated from their mother?”

  “They’re getting underfoot quite regularly, so I’d say so. Probably about six or seven weeks old.”

  “That’s it, then. A kitten. Although I suppose she could refuse it.”

  “She could, especially if her dog takes it in dislike. May I assume the lady is Miss Broxton?”

  Hugh laughed. “I trust you to keep my confidence.”

  Ned got to his feet. “Certainly. I’ll leave you to your correspondence and get back to work.”

  Before Ned left, Hugh said, “How are the new hires?”

  “Good workers. There’s one who’s got a bit of a chip on his shoulder. It may be his way of adjusting to a new job and his fellow workers, but we should keep an eye on him.”

  “Possibly, but we don’t want a troublemaker about. Let me know if we need to speak to him.”

  Ned nodded and left.

  Hugh remained, gazing out the window and musing. A kitten. Would the gift of a kitten make up for what he’d said to Eleanor at the garden party? She’d gently urged him toward reconciling w
ith Deborah and Adam, and that had set him off. A mere week after he’d vowed to let go of the past and the pain it had caused him. He was a damned fool.

  Perhaps, instead of vowing to renounce the past, he should take some actual steps toward doing so.

  …

  Eleanor was working on a gathered bodice when her father knocked at the cottage door. “Papa!” she said, genuinely happy to see him. She’d been making little progress with her sewing, since with every poke of her needle she pictured Hugh Grey’s face. Both his vulnerable look and the furious one that had replaced it.

  Sir William bowed. “Good morning, Norrie. Jane.” Her father had an old-fashioned courtesy about him that Eleanor found endearing.

  She rose from her work and kissed his cheek. “What brings you here?”

  “May we sit outside, my dear?” he said, tilting his head toward the door. “You will pardon us, Jane.”

  When they were settled on the bench, he spoke. “If you can spare the time, I thought we could ride out to the Abbots’ together. We can see Lili, and I will talk to Abbot and set him straight on a few things. What do you think?”

  Eleanor could hardly spare the time, but she would never turn down a chance to see Lili. And it was especially important for her father to speak to Jacob Abbot. “Give me a half hour. I’ll finish up and meet you at the stables.” A thought occurred to her. “Is Mama joining us?”

  Sir William’s face drooped, indicating to his daughter that there had been a row about it. “No.”

  Of course not. What had she been thinking? A short time later, Eleanor set out on the path leading to her family home. Her two assistants didn’t know about Lili, and Eleanor never explained her occasional absences. As their employer, she was not obliged to do so. Nor did they have the right to question her—and they never had. They were good girls, Jane and Minnie. Eleanor considered herself lucky to have such talented seamstresses, and worthy friends, working for her.

  They rode in the carriage, a venerable old conveyance that had seen more elegant days. The squabs were cracked, the seat covers worn, and it could no longer be described as well-sprung. But Eleanor’s father had an attachment to it and insisted he would use it as long as the wheels continued turning. It got them to the Abbots’ in good time, which was all Eleanor cared about. She’d brought Bobby along, since Lili loved to play with him.