Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The moon was nearly full, but the little bit still in the shadows didn't affect its brightness. It beamed on the land below, illuminating everything, so a lantern wasn't really needed to travel London's streets. Eleanor offered an appreciative glance at the star-studded sky, wishing she was at home rather than attending a social event. She could have been sipping lemonade, nibbling on biscuits and fruits, reading a book, or gazing at the stars on her balcony. Instead, she was primped and glowing from a day's pampering for the evening ahead.

The night of the ball had finally arrived, but Eleanor didn't feel prepared for it. Aunt Helen and Grant had spoken about nothing but potential suitors since the somewhat disastrous picnic day. They undoubtedly wanted to erase all thoughts about the duke from her mind, but it wasn't as simple as that. They were silly if they believed bombarding her with talk of other men would change her initial impression of him.

"Wait, wait, wait," Eleanor cried as she felt a tug on her gown. "Something has caught my dress." She looked down, inspecting the lower part of her dress. "It seems to be the rosette on my shoe."

"It's probably caught on the lace," said Aunt Helen. "Help her, Grant."

"At least stand to the side," Grant insisted. "We're in the way."

They had just alighted from their carriage and joined the throng of guests heading into the grand manor when her accident-prone self somehow hooked the rosettes on the top of her shoes to the lace part of her hem. Eleanor didn't even know how she managed it because the rosettes were silk, and the lace was soft, unlike the prickly material she had seen on many dresses.

They moved to a wall, but she was careful not to touch it with her gloves. They were stark white and contrasted nicely with the soft green of her gown. As usual, she was covered in diamonds because Aunt Helen believed they worked best with her bright complexion. Eleanor would never admit it because she thought she would jinx herself, but she looked surprisingly pretty that evening.

"Stand still," Grant insisted as he crouched before her.

"I'm as still as can be," Eleanor retorted. "You're the one moving."

"And the one helping you," he pointed out. "I would be more grateful if I were you."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "At what point did I say I wasn't grateful? And I'm quite sure it was Aunt Helen who asked you to help me. I could have done it myself."

Grant tilted his head back and glanced at his aunt as though to say, "Hold her tongue, or I'll do it."

"Your brother is helping you, dear," their aunt said soothingly. "Be patient and let him do whatever he needs to so we can continue. People are starting to look."

"Tell me something I do not know," Eleanor muttered.

People were always staring for some reason or other. Grant was handsome, so women tended to look his way, and they were never without male attention whenever Eleanor was with Julia. Those looking at them now were likely merely curious about what they were doing.

"There, all done," said Grant moments later. "Try not to let it happen again."

Eleanor nodded and fluffed her gown slightly. She would have to take smaller footsteps to avoid getting the rosettes caught again.

"I expect Miss Huxley is yet to arrive," Grant commented when they reached the foyer. "She never arrives on time for these events."

"Julia and her family were not invited," Eleanor told him.

"Not invited?" he repeated, sounding surprised. "Why? I didn't know she wouldn't be here this evening."

Eleanor raised her eyebrows at his tone. He made it seem as though she had not invited her best friend to the ball.

"The host must not know her family very well," she replied. "Why do you sound so disappointed? She's my friend, not yours."

"I didn't say she was my friend!" Grant snapped. "I'm merely surprised. Can a man not be surprised anymore?"

"Not if he questions his sister very demandingly," Eleanor said. "Frankly, I find your behavior strange.

"This is not the place to argue," their aunt chided. "People are looking."

"When are they not looking?" Eleanor asked. "People find any and every reason to stare. At least we're giving them a little entertainment."

"Eleanor!" their aunt cried. "Really, this is unlike you. Why are you snapping at us?"

Eleanor could list many reasons, starting from their behavior at the picnic, how they had dismissed her opinions, and how they sought to control the rest of her life with someone they deemed worthy of her. Never mind that every man they had ever thrown her way was a disappointment intellectually and in every other way possible. Good looks meant nothing if one didn't have a mind to support their appearance.

"Let it be, Aunt," said Grant. "I do not mind."

Eleanor wanted to yell, "You do not mind? What about me?" but wisely remained silent. She didn't want to have a silly fight when she had the evening to endure. With Julia not beside her, she could only hope she might see the duke again, if only for a moment. She didn't know him well, having only met him once, but she had enjoyed their brief conversation and liked that he listened when she talked.

"Would you look at that?" her aunt gushed as they entered the ballroom. "I knew our host would not disappoint his guests. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? The house is already so lovely, but the ballroom is something special."

Eleanor couldn't agree more. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. She counted an astounding eight in the grand room, but the room was so big that they didn't look crowded, only majestic as they glowed in the light cast by hundreds of candles. Eleanor couldn't begin to imagine how much the wax candles had cost their host. They were undoubtedly beeswax—one couldn't miss it as they didn't smell like rancid animal fat.

The chandeliers were not to be outdone by the artwork near the stairs leading to where the musicians played Cello Concerto No. Two in D Major. Greek gods and goddesses frolicked in a meadow in strips of linen concealing only their nether regions. It would have been indecent if not for it being a beautiful piece of artwork. The vividness, use of color, natural limb placement, and expressions provided ample appeasement for the exposed bare breasts, buttocks, and midriffs. Whoever painted the ceiling also created artwork between the wall panels. Their host evidently had a love for goddesses because each painting depicted a goddess in her natural element, be it Aphrodite in her shell or Diana in a forest. The only artwork that somewhat deviated from the rest was the small section of a rounded wall covered in water nymphs. A large potted plant partially covered the mural, but Eleanor had easily spotted it because it looked like a reasonable hiding place.

"I knew Lord Kinsley loved Greek Mythology, but I didn't expect an entire room to be dedicated to it," Aunt Helen remarked. "With all these potted plants and paintings, I feel that I've been thrust into wherever these gods and goddesses like to dwell."

"Given the suggestive nature of the artwork, I do not think thrust is a good word to use," Grant said.

Aunt Helen colored slightly. "You're quite right, dear." She looked around, observing the room for a moment before she gestured to the right. "That area looks like a good place to start. I see several women I know, all who have sons. However, with what seems to be most of the ton present, we will not have a difficult time finding gentlemen to fill Eleanor's dance card."

The blasted dance card. Aunt Helen had it in her possession because she was certain Eleanor would try to ‘lose' it. She wasn't wrong.

"I will follow your lead, Aunt, but I also have a few men in mind," Grant said. "They all come from good families and have good fortunes. Eleanor would be well looked after by any of them."

Eleanor drew a deep breath and readied herself for the onslaught of ‘eligible' men. She would have to smile, laugh at their silly attempts at humor, and pretend not to notice their shortcomings. While she didn't think she was perfect, she didn't go around making people feel terrible about themselves merely because she didn't fit the mold of a delicate English rose.

"Ladies," her aunt greeted the women. "How are you this evening? I must say you all look lovely."

The women turned and briefly observed them before addressing them. "Lady Brumley," one of them replied. "It is always a pleasure to see you. I know Lord Egerton, your grandson. This must be your granddaughter, Lady Eleanor. My, what a pretty girl she is. I almost didn't recognize her in this wonderful ensemble."

"She is," Aunt Helen replied with a satisfied smile. "You recently arrived in London, didn't you? I haven't noticed you at any parties."

"Yes, you're right," the woman replied. "My son arrived a month ahead of my husband and I. I dislike London during the colder seasons, so April is far more agreeable."

"The cold seems so much more unbearable as we get older, doesn't it?" said Aunt Helen. "It just sinks into your bones. It's nearing May, so the days are much warmer. Soon, it will be summer, and we'll be complaining about the heat!"

The women chuckled in agreement while Eleanor and Grant looked on with polite smiles.

"Tell me, dear," another woman said, addressing Eleanor. "Your dance card is still empty, isn't it? I know my son would love to dance with you. Put his name down, will you? Mr. Philip Mortimer."

"I have her dance card right here," Aunt Helen replied, fishing it out from her reticule. "Would the first dance be acceptable?"

"Perfect!" Mrs. Mortimer replied.

"Add my son next," the first woman insisted. "Lord Charles Hilton."

That began a tidal wave of mothers wanting their sons' names added to Eleanor's dance card. She grimaced as her aunt gleefully added each gentleman, some of whom Eleanor already knew and had already dismissed. The scene unfolding before her reminded her of Macbeth when the witches stood around the bubbling and smoking cauldron and sang their ominous song of woe.

"Double, double, toil and trouble," she muttered to herself.

The ballroom was too noisy for anyone to hear her, but her brother noticed her mouth moving and raised his eyebrows in question. Eleanor shrugged and looked away. He wouldn't understand because he was part of the cackling witches hell-bent on forcing their sons upon her. Well, perhaps cackling was too harsh a description, but goodness, she felt they deserved it.

Before she knew it, Eleanor's first partner led her to the dance floor for their first dance. Philip barely looked at her and didn't say a word, leading her to believe it was done begrudgingly. Eleanor wanted to tell him he didn't have to dance with her if he didn't want to, but he likely didn't have a choice if he didn't want to upset his mother. Fortunately, the set didn't require much contact, and she could get away with not looking him in the face. She curtsied as soon as the music ended and excused herself, only for her brother to appear before her.

"I have some people I'd like you to meet," he said.

"I'd much rather get some refreshment before the next set," she replied.

"In a moment," Grant insisted, taking her arm and all but dragging her to a mixed group of men and women.

Eleanor recognized most of them, save for three men and a woman. She briefly bowed her head in greeting and looked elsewhere. Experience had taught her that women tended to dislike her on sight, and men always appeared disinterested unless she was with Julia. She saw no reason to engage with them.

"Eleanor, this is Mr. Francis Mountjoy," her brother said, drawing her attention. "This is Lord Bentley and Lord Winterton. We attended university together, but they were behind me by a year or two."

"A pleasure to meet you," she greeted politely.

"And you, Lady Eleanor," Lord Bentley replied. "I didn't realize Egerton had such a lovely sister. I would have come to London sooner, but I've been away traveling the continent. I extended the Grand Tour for several more years. I felt there was much more for me to see. I have only just returned to England."

Lucky him. "Welcome home," she replied. "I imagine you have many experiences under your belt."

"Many," he agreed. "I intend to return in a few months, but I might be convinced to stay under the right circumstances."

Eleanor's brow wrinkled ever so slightly. Lord Bentley's words sounded suggestive, but she couldn't be certain. It didn't seem right that he would direct anything of the sort in her direction. She had to be reading into the situation.

"Egerton did not bring her here just so you can keep her to yourself," said Francis. "We all would like a moment with the lovely Lady Eleanor."

Eleanor couldn't decide if they were engaging in humor at her expense or if Francis meant what he had said. It was much easier when Julia was with her. She knew how to handle people.

Eleanor soon left the group when Lord Charles came to collect his dance. Five men and five sets followed, including Lord Langston, who tried to dance with her twice. Since he smelled like he had bathed at the distillery, his alcohol-influenced mind probably didn't remember he already danced with her. Eleanor did her best to refuse him as she didn't want to cause a scene. Moreover, dancing with him twice might give people the wrong impression. The last thing she needed was for people to assume that a courtship might follow. Lord Langston was not the kind of man she wanted to spend her time with, and in his right state of mind, he would realize he felt the same way.

When she could finally get away from him, she looked around for her brother and darted in the opposite direction. She spied a terrace just ahead and slipped past the partially open double doors into the cool night. Their hosts had not thought to put a lantern on the terrace, so it was darker than expected, but Eleanor didn't mind. She heard low murmurs from one corner but didn't bother to glance in their direction. If they didn't bother her, she wouldn't bother them.

Sighing, she sank onto a chair, hissing when the coldness from the seat went right through the layers of silk and touched the backs of her thighs and buttocks. Still, she would take the cold over several minutes with someone who didn't want to be around.

"Finally, some peace," she murmured as she tilted her head back for a spot of stargazing.

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't seen the duke yet. It probably meant he wasn't coming. Well, there went the rest of her evening.