The Elusive Miss Ellison Read online

  “She holds no interest for me.” He had none whatsoever in a girl who continually rebuffed him. Lovely and innocent she might be, but apart from that one cool nod she had resolutely fixed her attention elsewhere—although she’d been quick to dimple a smile to welcome his guest. “None whatsoever.”

  “Yes. I’m sure she doesn’t.” Thornton’s dry tone belied his words.

  Nicholas snapped the reins. “She dislikes me.”

  “Methinks thou doth protest too much.”

  “Seeing as you have such an interest in the young miss, perhaps we should invite her to dinner,” he drawled.

  Thornton grinned. “I’d like that very much, indeed!”

  And Nicholas plunged his heels into Midnight’s flanks, leaving Thornton and his disconcerting amusement behind.

  CHAPTER NINE

  FIVE DAYS LATER, Nicholas was playing reluctant host to an innumerable number of awed guests. His elderly cousin Maria Pettigrew was staying from Bath, to play equally awed hostess—her presence necessary, because otherwise he suspected Lady Milton would take it upon herself to assume that role. The Miltons, the Winthrops, the Ellisons, Dr. Hanbury, along with several other gentry and notable families from surrounding districts had somehow all managed to cancel whatever other engagements they might have had in order to attend his first dinner party.

  While the room’s gilt-edged moldings were not exactly his taste, being a relic from before Uncle Robert’s time, the reception rooms were somewhat spectacular, well worthy of the hush of appreciation as his guests stepped inside. His housekeeper, Mrs. Florrick, had completed a remarkable transformation, employing a veritable army to remove dustcovers, polish brass and mirrors, and iron a multitude of linen. He and Thornton had dodged so many maids and footmen these past few days, he was thankful no house parties would ever be held here. He grimaced. A house party? Perish the thought.

  He moved closer to Mr. Ellison, who was studying the highly decorated ceiling.

  The reverend smiled genially. “Ah, our host. I visited your uncle many times in this room. I do not recall seeing it quite so beautiful.”

  “Uncle Robert preferred this drawing room and the library above all.”

  “Yes, I remember.” The gray eyes studied him. “We are glad you have chosen to return, my lord.”

  We? His heart lifted. Did he mean—? No. He battled the agitation provoked by one word as the reverend continued his steady perusal. How much did the man see? He swallowed. “I hope you will avail yourself of the library should you desire. Nothing has changed since my uncle’s time.”

  “Thank you, my lord. That is very kind.”

  “You are most welcome. Uncle Robert had so many treasures, and I am continually finding more. I don’t believe he ever rid himself of anything.”

  “When we get older, we cling to the memories of our youth.”

  He fought the curling lip that would reveal too much of his thoughts on that subject. Men clung to memories only when they were good.

  The reverend offered another searching look before inclining his head. “I seem to remember he had some rather interesting maps of the Antipodes?”

  “I’m afraid I will need to hunt for them. I have not had time—”

  “I understand. You have been busy with other matters.”

  “Excuse me. Lord Hawkesbury?” Lady Winthrop beamed up at him, next to her slightly horsey-faced daughter.

  Nicholas bit back a sigh, bowed to an amused Mr. Ellison, and braced himself to engage in light banalities with the other guests.

  In between ensuring the good graces of Lady Milton—assuring her that yes, Sophia was as pretty as a daffodil—and Lady Winthrop—from the Avebury Winthrops, he’d been made to understand—he’d barely had a moment to appreciate his other, younger guests. Apart from a cool greeting at the door, where Miss Ellison’s eyes met his for the briefest moment, she had certainly stayed away, hugging the room’s boundary as she talked with Sophia and Catherine, her aunt, Sir Anthony, and Thornton.

  Envy spiked his chest. Any doubt about her preference had been shot to smithereens the moment she was introduced to his guest, Thornton, the recipient of the warmest smile he had yet seen her give. Since then, they’d been almost inseparable, laughing and chatting like long-lost friends. Every time Nicholas ventured near she seemed to find reason to move away. Elusive as always.

  At the dinner table, he had occasion to study her as Lady Winthrop engaged in a limp battle of wits with Lady Milton. If Sophia Milton was a daffodil, all showy gold in her yellow gown, Miss Ellison was like an apricot rose, dew-frosted in the dawn. Her dress was old-fashioned, creamy ruffles encasing glowing skin. She laughed at something Thornton said, that dimple peeping once more as she smiled a brilliant smile she’d never offered him. His heart dipped.

  He picked up his wine glass, swallowed the remaining claret, and continued his surreptitious perusal. The single strand of pearls gleamed at her throat as her head tilted once more. She shifted slightly, her smile fading as she caught his gaze. He lifted his glass.

  A faint rose stained her cheeks before she dipped her chin and glanced away.

  His chest tightened. He remembered her as being too independent, too untidy, too perceptive. But tonight the hair that usually ran rampant was neatly tied, and so far she’d curbed her wild opinions and was playing the part of a proper young lady surprisingly well. If he thought he caught the glimmer of a smile or the flash in her eyes at some particularly prosy conversation from the witless Miltons and Winthrops, it was gone so suddenly he was unsure if it was just his imagination.

  The mild behavior continued after dinner when they joined the ladies in the great saloon. After mediocre performances from Miss Milton and Miss Winthrop, Miss Ellison was persuaded to play, and once more he was entranced by her lovely voice.

  Casting a sideways glance at Thornton, he was perturbed at his expression. Good God, the man looked like he’d seen an angel! He stifled a groan. He didn’t need his best friend besotted with a woman who would only bring trouble.

  Thornton leaned over and whispered, “She is astounding!”

  “So it would appear.”

  “Come on, man. You must admit she has prodigious talent!”

  He shrugged. “She has talent, I admit, but one need not gape like a fishwife.”

  The captain snorted and pushed back his chair. “Miss Ellison, may I assist you?”

  “Why, thank you, kind sir.”

  The reverend’s daughter smiled prettily at his friend, who grinned in return.

  And Nicholas was left with a disquieting sense of loss.

  The viridian leaves of high summer had faded to a softer hue. Lavinia stretched out beneath the oak tree’s branches, studied the cloud wisps above, and smiled.

  Now there was a man. The captain might be the earl’s friend, but he held true goodness, whereas the other man held it only in his appearance. Last night had proved it all the more. One man had been open and easy, warm in his interest; the other cool and inscrutable, more interested in talking with the titled guests than those without. Not that she minded, of course.

  A wet nose and rough red tongue pushed into her face. “Mickey!”

  Her laughter caught as she rubbed the faithful dog’s head. He was growing old, nearly fifteen years, and didn’t move as he once had. She could not bear to think what life would be like when the dog finally no longer trotted beside her. But the trusting eyes still beseeched, and she pulled him close and hugged him tight.

  “I think you’d like Captain Thornton, sweet boy.”

  His ears pricked.

  “He wouldn’t call you a thing.” She rubbed his belly, and he slowly wriggled in low ecstatic moans. “He’s kind and personable, happy to talk with everyone, not just those who appear socially expedient. And he told such interesting stories of life in London and abroad.”

  She rubbed the top of his head, a circular movement a local midwife had taught her, that induced sleep in babies—and canines. “I
think he might be a believer, too.”

  She’d noticed him that first Sunday. It had been hard not to, when he’d accompanied the earl on his surprise return to St. Hampton Heath. Two tall, lean men, whose erect carriage marked their previous military occupations. And while he might not have the chiseled features of his friend, his open countenance and ready laugh appealed far more. As had his willingness to sing the hymns, a clear baritone she appreciated for its tone as well as for its sure melody. And his rapt attention as her father preached contrasted mightily with the man beside him, whose bored expression had only changed when she’d mistakenly caught his eye and been forced to nod from sheer politeness. No. The captain was far more appealing.

  She pulled out her sketchbook and tried to capture his likeness.

  Half an hour later, still unable to remember whether his eyes were Prussian blue or something less bold, she packed away her sketchbook, woke a snoring Mickey, and made her way through the hedge back onto the road. She had only taken a few steps when the pounding of hooves rumbled up the hill.

  She pressed against the hedge, basket in one hand, Mickey in the other, as she fought to stifle the old fear. Two horsemen appeared around the corner, and Mickey broke from her grasp, barking.

  The horses shied, their whinnies mingling with their riders’ mutters—and the earl’s soft curse—to create a cacophony of confusion. Mickey continued barking as the horses, now under control, moved nervously.

  “Mickey!” Heedless of the horses she moved forward to drag her dog away.

  “Miss Ellison.”

  She glanced up at the drawling voice. “Lord Hawkesbury.”

  “I trust you will keep that pesky thing under better control next time.”

  Heat filled her cheeks. “And I trust you will get these hedges trimmed, so innocent pedestrians will not be run down!”

  His face blanched, and he offered a slight nod and moved his black horse away.

  She pushed wisps of hair from her forehead. Did he think she referred to the incident of fourteen years ago? Remorse twisted her insides.

  “Good day, Miss Ellison.” Captain Thornton dismounted and smiled. “I am very happy to see you.”

  “And I you.” Her heart lifted at the regard in his eyes.

  He bent to rub Mickey’s head, which put an end to the barking. “I had a beagle when I was a boy. Beautiful dogs, with a lovely nature.”

  “Mickey has been a very faithful friend these many years.”

  “Animals can be, can’t they? Kinder than us humans.”

  She resisted glancing at the earl. “We underestimate their loyalty.”

  “Miss Ellison, you surprise me.”

  She did look up at him then, still sitting high and mighty on his horse. “Pardon?”

  “You once gave the impression you value humans of infinite significance over mere animals.”

  Her fingers clenched. She battled for moderation in her voice. “I believe humans are of greater significance. After all, the Bible talks of God desiring relationship with people, not animals.” She turned from his cold eyes and smiled warmly at the captain. “I do hope you will come for a visit soon.”

  “Nothing would please me more.”

  He walked her to the drive and then insisted on accompanying her to the house, ensuring she was safe—like a true gentleman ought.

  It was only much later—as she recalled every word of his conversation, remembered the timbre of his laughter, and decided his eyes were most definitely Prussian blue—that she realized: she hadn’t missed his friend at all.

  With the evening reception out of the way, Nicholas’s responsibilities concerning the estate once again grew heavy around his neck. Johnson remained as smooth as ever, presenting figures that suggested all was well, but still something did not sit well. Coupled with this was the uncomfortable feeling that he was growing old, hinted at with the cooler nights that caused the bullet wound in his thigh to ache, but perhaps suggested more in the way Thornton and Lavinia spent so much time together.

  He fingered his water glass at the Ellisons’ dinner table. No doubt his invitation for dinner tonight had been a mere politeness, extended because of his relationship with his far more favored guest. The meal had been tasty, and the lively discussion about books Nicholas had never read but Thornton had was swiftly followed by Thornton’s exchange of favorite biblical texts with Lavinia while her aunt and father looked on fondly. As the witticisms had flown across the table, he had started to feel almost as aged as Mr. Ellison, watching mildly from the side, nodding occasionally to seem interested.

  Which was preposterous. Thornton was only two years his junior, and Lavinia’s aunt must be at least a good five years his senior. But the smiles and laughter and sparkle the others shared made him feel very old indeed.

  While Lavinia’s words were all that was polite, her refusal to look him in the eyes only seemed to enlarge the hollow spaces of his heart. Too much time had passed since that encounter by his stables. He wished mightily that he had apologized for his high-handedness before he had left for London. Her fixed aversion seemed an insurmountable barrier.

  “Nick? What say you?”

  He looked up. The entire table faced him enquiringly.

  “Lord Hawkesbury, do we bore you?” Miss Ellison’s brows arched. “You have been very quiet.”

  Thornton smiled. “Perhaps he is thinking on his new stables.”

  “Oh. Of course.” The light in her eyes drained away, replaced with something like disappointment before she averted her face. Again.

  His cheeks grew hot as Thornton expounded on the plans they’d discussed yesterday.

  “You will have to come riding with us! Nick was considered the finest seat in the regiment, and nothing is better than exploring the countryside on horseback. He has a lovely mare that would suit you admirably. What do you say, Miss Ellison?”

  Nicholas watched her, sure of her answer.

  “Thank you, but I do not care for horses.”

  “Ah. Then perhaps we could explore the countryside another way.”

  “There are several good walks and vantage points not too far away.”

  “Marvelous! We should make a party of it. Invite your friend, Miss Milton, along. And Miss West, of course.”

  “Of course.” Miss West spoke drily, but her eyes were full of approval as she gazed at the two fair heads discussing their picnic plans.

  He wondered what Thornton’s intentions were. The second son of a viscount who was widely known to have mortgaged his estates up to the hilt, Thornton was expected to have to marry extremely well in order to live in the manner to which he had been accustomed as a child.

  But then, material possessions and matters of estates had never mattered terribly significantly to him. Thornton was like Miss Ellison in that regard. People, ideas, and God seemed to weigh far more with the pair of them.

  The pair of them.

  His heart plunged deeper.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE PICNIC DAY dawned bright and sunny. Nicholas was tempted to leave Thornton to the fair charms of the young ladies but his friend would hear none of it.

  “You are becoming dull, Stamford.”

  “But the estate—”

  “Will still be here tomorrow. Come, man. I must insist you come.”

  So with great reluctance Nicholas joined the excursion, meeting the others at the lane behind the Miltons’. Peregrine and Sophia Milton stood chatting with Lavinia and Miss West. When they arrived, he couldn’t help but notice he received only the most cursory of greetings compared to the fawning welcome Thornton received.

  “Captain Thornton! We are ever so glad you are here.” Sophia glanced his direction. “Oh, and you too, my lord.”

  “Thank you,” he said wryly, catching the glimmer of a smile on Miss Ellison’s lips before Perry Milton reclaimed her attention. He returned his focus to Thornton’s conversation with Sophia.

  “Miss Milton, how lovely you look.”

&
nbsp; Sophia blushed. “Thank you, sir.”

  Nicholas raised an eyebrow at Thornton, who after his usual warm greeting had barely given Lavinia a second glance. Strange behavior from their previous meeting—and, judging from the pucker in her brow, Lavinia didn’t understand it either.

  “Sophy, are you quite finished?” Perry said. “Come on! Let’s not waste the entire day.”

  A short walk up the lane led to a stile through which a tract of birch and elm nestled thickly on the hillside. After refusing assistance from Perry to cross the stile, Lavinia kept an energetic pace that soon left Sophia struggling behind, with Thornton and Miss West.

  Nicholas trudged up the hill, trailing Perry Milton, who followed Lavinia like a lost pup.

  “I say, Livvie, must you keep up such a cracking pace? The others are far behind.”

  She shot a scornful glance at Perry. “I cannot help it if the others are slow.”

  A few minutes later, it was, “Livvie, allow me.”

  “Perry, I do not require your assistance. I am quite capable of doing it myself.”

  Nicholas smiled. Apparently the tramp in the woods wasn’t living up to everyone’s expectations.

  He trudged on, careful not to get too close to Miss Ellison’s line of fire. His thigh protested the climb as he mounted the roughly hewn stone steps to the rocky peak.

  There was another low murmur, then, “Perry, please don’t carry on. This is growing extremely tiresome.”

  “You let Thornton say such things.”

  “Captain Thornton is a gentleman and treats a lady with the greatest of civility.”

  “But Livvie—”

  “Mr. Milton.” Nicholas rounded a tall rock to make his appearance. “Miss Ellison.”

  “Lord Hawkesbury.” Her tone was icy, as was the look in her eyes before she turned to observe the view.

  He faced the flushed boy. “I trust you are aware your conversation can be overheard.”

  “I trust, my lord, that you are aware it is impolite to listen to such conversations!”

  “If you must insist on paying tiresome compliments to a lady who has no wish to hear them, then may I suggest you do so more privately.”