Joseph didn’t stop or turn back. It broke his heart that Francis was so set in his ways and so determined to see him as a child. It reminded him too much of the way their father had dismissed him for so long. He did not and could not see himself as a child anymore, though. He had more important things to concern himself with now. He had power in his hands of a sort he’d never had before, he saw a way forward in defeating Montrose, and if Francis wouldn’t help him, he would have to take responsibility for his family himself.
Chapter Twelve
After the initial embarrassment of being caught by Joseph’s brother at the most inopportune moment possible wore off, Ellen found herself floating on a cloud of joy and victory. She had everything she wanted right within her grasp. She and Joseph were officially engaged, and she had received an invitation to the Duchess of Westminster’s ball. What more could a young woman attempting to make a place for herself in society possibly want?
“Being engaged makes everything seem so much brighter and more alive,” Ellen commented to Lenore as the two of them sat side-by-side, watching a series of young women wearing all the latest styles parade through the exhibition room of one of Oxford Street’s finest retail establishments.
Lenore sent her a surprisingly wicked sideways look and murmured, “Is it the engagement that is bringing you so much joy or the circumstances of said engagement?”
Ellen turned a shade of red that matched the ballgown of the woman crossing in front of her. She pretended to be fascinated by the daring new style—like so many of the other young women of society who were also in attendance at the fashion parade were—but really, her thoughts flew straight back to the parlor at Rathborne House.
She had told Lenore everything, of course. What was the point of having an older sister if one could not share everything with her, even the most scandalous and private details of life? She’d been unable to hold back her enthusiasm in relating how Joseph had found passion and power within him, and how he’d taken what he wanted from her in a way that Ellen had highly approved of.
She’d also consulted with her sister about possible ways to avoid the consequences that Lord Cathraiche had callously mentioned. After a few questions about Ellen’s monthly cycle, Lenore had determined the likelihood of consequences was minimal, but she’d presented Ellen with a foul-tasting herbal tincture, just in case.
It was a bit dangerous to know that enjoying such intimacies while avoiding the consequences was entirely possible, if a lady was careful. She’d whispered to Joseph of next time before leaving him to deal with his brother, and now she was most certainly plotting ways that there could be a next time. Her thoughts were far more engaged in that than they were in observing the ballgowns on display.
But her thoughts emerged from their lusty haze when she realized that the two ladies sitting across the aisle from her were not, in fact, examining the gowns as they paraded from one end of the room to the other, they were looking straight at her and whispering behind their hands.
Ellen’s pulse pounded anxiously. She smiled at the ladies, but for whatever reason, that only made them laugh.
Did they know? Was there some sort of a mark that appeared on a woman when she’d done something wicked with a man?
No, of course there wasn’t. If there were, she would have already had one on her when she arrived in London.
Of course, that could explain why none of the ladies of London society had ever truly warmed to her to begin with.
“Elle, is something wrong?” Lenore whispered as the last of the women in ball gowns began their journey from one end of the room to the other.
“No, not at all,” Ellen answered too quickly, pulling her eyes away from the pair of ladies across from her.
Her gaze traveled farther down the line of the audience watching the fashion show, however, and she noted that the two ladies across from her were not the only ones looking at her and whispering.
“Do you think they know something?” Ellen whispered, leaning closer to Lenore, both to keep quiet and for the sisterly support.
“They know that you and Mr. Rathborne-Paxton have become engaged,” Lenore said, taking Ellen’s hand and holding it for comfort.
Ellen turned to her, surprised. “But it only happened three days ago. I’ve only just telegraphed Mama and Papa. There hasn’t even been an announcement in the papers yet.”
Lenore laughed softly and shook her head. “There is no need for an announcement in the papers when London gossips get ahold of the news. I was questioned by Lady Campbell yesterday when I called for tea at Lady Marlowe’s house.”
“Oh.” Ellen let out a breath, then joined in the applause when the last of the women on parade disappeared around the corner at the end of the room. She supposed the gossip chain was far more effective at spreading news than any newspaper or ladies’ journal.
“Thank you, ladies,” the owner of the house, who had organized the fashion show, said from the end where the models had first appeared. “And now, there will be a brief intermission. Then I have many more gowns to show you, including a presentation from the House of Wirth. I am quite certain you will find them irresistible for the Duchess of Westminster’s ball next week.”
He gestured to the Duchess of Westminster—who sat with Lady Margaret and several of Westminster’s older daughters from his first marriage near the center of the room—and there was another smattering of applause.
As soon as the ladies who had been watching the parade stood, Ellen and Lenore stood with them. Ellen squared her shoulders, assumed the stiff, regal posture Joseph had taught her, and put on her haughtiest look.
“I suppose it is an advantageous thing that all of London knows of my engagement to Mr. Rathborne-Paxton now,” she said, secretly hoping that anyone who hadn’t already heard could overhear her now. “We will be quite happy together.”
She glanced across the aisle to the two ladies who had been whispering about her, hoping they would approach her with congratulations. Instead, they laughed, then moved away.
Ellen’s smile dropped slightly, but she would not be deterred. “Perhaps we should take a turn around the room,” she suggested to Lenore.
“Oh, Elle, I’m not certain that’s a good idea,” Lenore said, resting a hand on Ellen’s arm.
Ellen blinked at her in surprise. “Why not? People might want to congratulate me.”