Page List


Font:  

Alarm bells sounded in Ellen’s head, but her heart was too bruised by the treatment she’d received that morning to listen to them.

“But I’m happy to see you,” she protested, trying very hard not to whine. “It’s been such a miserable morning, Joseph. Ladies have been whispering about me and pointing—”

“You should address me as Mr. Rathborne-Paxton when we’re in public,” he said, though he did offer his arm as he spoke. Perhaps a little too stiffly, though. As if he were trying to imitate the behavior of a group of old, stuffy men standing in the corner with their equally fussy wives. “Given names should be for when we are in private only.”

“Then I wish to be in private with you, Joseph,” she said, deliberately using his given name in a fit of pique. “I wish to be as far away from these dreadful people as possible.”

Joseph pulled his gaze away from surveying the high and mighty around them to stare at her. “I thought you wanted to be part of society, to have the ladies of London accept you.”

“I do,” Ellen said, feeling more peevish about it by the moment. “But they have not accepted me. In fact, their utter lack of acceptance seems to be getting worse.”

She opened her mouth to explain further, but Joseph cut her off with, “Perhaps you aren’t trying hard enough.”

Ellen froze, fury pulsing through her. Not trying hard enough? What did Joseph think she was doing, dressing, speaking, and even moving like someone she was not?

“I have been trying with everything I have to impress these horrible people,” she hissed, glaring at him. “I have bent over backwards trying to—”

“Not here,” Joseph muttered, standing even stiffer—so much that he looked as though someone had shoved a fireiron up his backside. “Over there.”

Ellen practically vibrated with anger as Joseph escorted her as sedately as possible, nodding to several of the older and loftier gentleman in the room as though he were one of them, to the door at the far side of the room. As soon as he had her in the hallway, within sight of the tall windows that lined the front of the building, he let go of her and whipped to face her.

“What has gotten into you today?” he whispered, glancing up and down the hall to make certain they weren’t being observed. “You are not generally this overly emotional. At least, you’ve been making an effort not to be. What has happened?”

Ellen gawped at him. “What has happened is nothing. I have been ignored for the greater part of the morning, as though I am inconsequential. Lenore thinks that because of our engagement, many titled mothers who had hoped I would marry their sons and hand over my dowry are no longer interested in befriending me at all.”

Joseph breathed out through his nose and pursed his lips. “At least you are not being treated like an incompetent child who cannot even wipe his own nose by a brother who is five steps behind everything of any importance.”

Ellen sucked in a breath and leaned back slightly. Lord Cathraiche had been harsh to Joseph when he’d found the two of them together. That must have continued. Ellen knew that Joseph chafed at being treated as though he were still in the nursery, but he’d been so magnificent and confident of late. Until his brother showed up.

“You should ignore your brother,” she said with a frown. “If he cannot see the man you have become, then he does not deserve your notice.”

“He is my eldest brother, Ellen,” Joseph said, as if scolding her for missing something obvious. “He is the one who will be the marquess someday.”

“Ah, yes,” Ellen took a step back and made a wild gesture. “One of the high and mighty of English society. And I suppose, like his peers, he will find ways to ignore me and treat me as nothing more than a jar of money if given half a chance as well.”

“No wonder you’re having such difficulty charming London society,” Joseph snapped. “Why do you even want their attention if you hate them so much?”

“How dare you question my motivations?” Ellen gasped at him in return.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Joseph hissed, seeming to feed off her irritation, and she off his. He gasped suddenly, then leaned back, as if in horror. “You’re not pregnant already, are you? Is that why you’ve turned so disagreeable?”

“How dare you?” Ellen growled, narrowing her eyes. She was severely tempted to raise a hand and slap the arrogance and condescension right off his face. “I have been throwing everything I have into being exactly the woman that you told me to be, the sort of woman you told me society would accept. How dare you turn around and tell me—”

“Shh!”

Joseph cut her off so quickly, and his eyes went so wide as he did, that Ellen’s tirade was completely thrown off track. Not only that, Joseph grabbed her and pulled her close as he stared out the windows to the street. He held her tightly, unmoving, and keeping her from moving a muscle as well.

“Stay perfectly still,” he whispered against her ear as he stared out the window.

Between the heat of emotion that raced through Ellen and their sudden proximity, a mad feeling of arousal left Ellen shivering. She should not feel so aroused when the two of them had been fighting. But that wasn’t the only thing that made it suddenly difficult to breathe. She saw exactly what had alarmed Joseph so much standing in the bright light just outside on the streetcorner. The hallway where she and Joseph stood was relatively dim, which would make it difficult for them to be seen by someone outside. But there was no mistaking the man who had stopped to have a word with another, shady-looking man.

“Montrose.”

Chapter Thirteen

It was bad enough that Joseph had spent the better part of his morning thus far being lectured to by Francis and told how he should proceed with his engagement to Ellen. He’d hoped to continue with his investigation of Montrose that morning and had been reading through various newspapers, looking for mention of Westminster’s land development deal while sipping coffee in the brothers’ parlor when Francis had found him. The only reason he’d fled Rathborne House to attend the fashion show was to get away from Francis’s constant, condescending prattle.

And then he’d found Ellen in a horrible temper as well. He should not have taken his frustrations out on her, but it was disheartening to find the one person he’d hoped he could rely on to make everything feel better in just as foul a mood. Why could things not simply be easy for the two of them? Why did they have to battle so hard for something as commonplace as respect?


Tags: Merry Farmer Historical