The Fox: in his Henhouse (The Dubious Mates #1)

Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“ A re you sure she read my letter, John?” Eleanor made his heart twist.

“She did, love.” John stroked her hair while she sat snug upon his lap. “Gave it her meself. I’ve no doubt she did.”

“Then why has she not come to see us?” Ellie looked aggrieved. “Or at least written to tell me why? Papa grows worse, and it is not like Charles to ignore him. I know she is angry with me still, but for her to eschew even Father is most unlike her, John. I am worried something is wrong.”

“Oi, sweet,” he tried to reassure her, “the whole Abbey’s a right mess these days, what with the Duchess and Miss Mowry visitin’ Lord Wells. He’s in a foul mood, and the extra work of guests has yer sister runnin’ ragged. I shouldn’t even be here meself for all there is t’ do.”

“And who is this Miss Mowry, John? Is she her grace’s companion?”

“Companion?” John laughed. “Lord no, love! She’s his lordship’s intended.” He wrapped his arms about her more tightly. “The Duchess brought ’im a bride, see, so y’ can imagine his wrath. And the Abbey’s not fit for guests neither, barely enough rooms for us what live there. Wells is sleepin’ with his men, if y’ can believe it. Forced t’ give his mother his own bed.”

She was not amused by his news, however; instead, Eleanor looked only more distressed.

“John.” She stared straight at him. “Tell me honestly now, does my sister have feelings for Lord Wellesley?”

She nearly knocked him flat with her question—good thing he was sitting down. “Well now,” John fumbled, “I can’t speak t’ her feelings, Ellie. I wouldn’t know what yer sister thinks of his lordship.”

She would not relent. “I do not ask what she has told you, John. I ask your opinion, your honest opinion as both her friend and his lordship’s, and the fact you reside in that Abbey with the two of them.” She repeated her question. “Does she harbor feelings for him?”

And there it was, that same stubborn streak she shared with her sister. John knew that if he married this woman he’d have to be honest with her, or she’d forever hate him for lying to her.

“I believe she does, Ellie, yes.”

“And he for her? Does Lord Wellesley care for her too?” she insisted.

“In his own way, I think, mayhap yes.”

“I see.” She stewed.

“Ellie . . .”

“How long have you known this, John?”

“I don’t . . . That is, I weren’t at liberty to?—”

“And how long have we been courting, John?” Her voice rose.

“Ellie . . .” he tried again.

“Don’t you Ellie me, sir.” She got up off his lap. “You tell me everything you know, right this instant, or so help me God I’ll . . . !”

She was positively glowering at him, making him feel such love and fear and pain and desire for her all at once he thought he might burst.

“Christ woman, you’ll be the death o’ me,” John finally got out.

“I’ll be the death of you all right if you don’t tell me this instant what the devil my sister and Lord Wellesley have been up to at the Abbey!”

And John knew he’d no choice anymore but to tell her the whole damn sordid truth. So he did.

Dearest Charles,

John has told me all and spared no detail. I am shocked and furious, but not at you, no, at Wellesley, that villainous, dastardly man whom I defended in my letters. Do not be angry at John. He spoke only grudgingly, loyal to that vainglorious, evil lord, and to you, whom he considers already his sister. I am so sorry, Charles. So deeply, deeply sorry! That Wellesley should have duped me into believing him a gentleman when all the while he’d forced you into ruin, and over two measly chickens! I was so horrified by all John divulged, I nearly ran outside to slaughter the birds. How can we eat their eggs, knowing their cost? It fills me with revulsion and despair and anger so intense I’ve a mind to storm the Abbey and call his lordship out.

Dear God, Charles thought. Would Eleanor truly be so rash? Her hands shook as she read on.

Sister, I beg your forgiveness. I should have believed you over my encounters with him . I am so aggrieved by how we’ve quarreled, how you’ve sacrificed for me and father yet again. If mother were alive she would be beside herself and father would surely shoot him on the spot. And were I a man I’d—well, I would do the same.

Charles, come home. I cannot stand the thought of you remaining in that house with that lord, regardless of what John says. He tells me you are fond of Wellesley now, but how can that be? How could you possibly have feelings for a man who forced you to such servitude? Come home to us, come see Papa before it is too late. Live with us once John and I marry. Charles, if you do not return within the week I will come for you myself I swear it.

Eleanor

Charles put down the letter with trembling hands and met John Cuthbert’s eyes. He did not flinch, having apologized to her the moment he’d handed her the note. I’d no choice but to tell her, miss, y’ know how she gets. She demanded the truth and as we’re t’ marry I couldn’t . . . But Charles had paid him no heed, tearing into the letter and reading it with growing horror, her heart in her throat, Ellie’s words searing her insides.

She had to sit down; she felt weak and winded, her heart a lump of lead.

“Cuthbert, what am I to do?” she beseeched.

“Well, I’d expect . . . That is, y’ ought to go and see her, Charles. Put things right between the two o’ you again.”

“No, not Ellie, John. What am I to do about . . .” She could not say his name.

John stepped beside her then, putting his hand warmly on her shoulder and squeezing just a little. “He’ll have t’ wed, miss, much as he won’t want to. He’s the Duke’s only son, he’s no choice. And if not Mowry it’ll be some other lady o’ the Ton . He needs an heir and that’s all there is to it, Charles. I’m sorry, gel.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I have always known, only I did not expect to feel so much for him.” She gulped. “I did not think I could be so foolish, John, so weak.” And she nearly sobbed then, catching herself just in time, for the last thing she wanted was pity from Cuthbert, from anyone really. The steward had seen her low before.

“Miss.” His hand squeezed hers again in comfort. “I love him too. He’s all the family I have, me best mate. And despite his rough ways he’s a good man, regardless o’ what yer sister thinks of him now. You and I both know he’s flawed but no fiend. Y’ see him for what he is, who he is, which is why he loves you too, no doubt in me mind. Only he’s not like us, Charles. He can’t allow himself t’ love same as you or me and Ellie can. His duty’s to the Dukedom, which by needs must come first. The best y’ can hope is t’ remain his mistress, gel, and if that’s no life for yer then you’ll have t’ leave, ’cause he’ll not give yer up willingly, gel. If I know Wells, he’ll keep yer for as long as he can.”

Charles hid her face in her hands, knowing Cuthbert was right. She’d seen Lord Wells kiss Miss Mowry just yesterday; their betrothal was imminent. And she knew she couldn’t share him with another, she wouldn’t. She’d have to leave, and soon, but not to set up house with Ellie and John, no. She couldn’t stomach their happiness—not that she begrudged them this—it simply asked of her too much. She’d need to flee much further than her father’s house, somewhere Roland Wellesley would not venture to find her. A place he would be loath to look.

Unfortunately, it was a place she loathed just as much.

Wells knew his housekeeper was deliberately avoiding him. Why must every woman under his roof be such a pain in the arse? Bad enough his mother was still gadding about with Miss Mowry, but to have his mistress now ignore him was an affront that cut deep.

Which is why, despite his vow to never again read Charles’s correspondence, Wells intercepted another letter, snatching it from Cuthbert’s hands.

“Give it here, sir.” His steward scowled.

“You’ll get it in a minute, John.” Wells scowled back, opening the note to quickly glean its contents.

“Yer Grace, y’ swore you’d not?—”

“I know what I said, John, but I’ve changed my mind now that she’s shut me out, avoiding me at every turn. How the bloody hell else am I supposed to know why she’s behaving like a?—?”

“Y’ could ask her, for God’s sake,” Cuthbert snarled at him. “Y’ could ask her like a man, rather’n the coward you’ve become.”

This felt like a punch to gut, coming from John. But Wells bit his lip and ignored the insult, scanning the letter.

Dearest Ellie,

I am sorry for our fighting too. Forgive me, sister, for not wishing you the very best on your betrothal. It seems there is cause for celebration here, too, as it is only a matter of time, I believe, before Lord Wellesley announces his engagement to the young lady currently visiting.

Wells froze. Did she really assume this?

I promise to be happy on both counts, as best I can, truly, and shall endeavor to visit you and Papa as soon as I am able. Only the work of added guests has me bone tired these days, worn weary. And to worry about Papa now is but another stress.

Only please do not worry about me. Despite all you now think and write of Lord Wells he is not so bad as you believe. Yes, he forced me into the position I find myself in, but I cannot say I have not enjoyed his attentions. It is a slippery slope to allow oneself feelings. I sincerely hope with all my heart that you have found in John Cuthbert a man true and steady. I believe that you have.

I do not hold such hope for myself. I am ruined, after all, and not unwillingly, I admit. I shall leave Lord Wells as soon as he is married and plan otherwise for my future, but I will not impose upon you and John, Ellie. I could not. I am happy for you, truly, but I do not think I could withstand such happiness when my own heart, for better or worse, feels numb. I will recover, sister, do not pity or judge me for my actions, I beg. I love you even when we argue, Ellie, and would steal his lordship’s chickens all over again knowing the good it has brought you—not just baskets of food but a husband no less.

Bless you and John and may God keep you both, and Papa, safe.

Charles

So. Eleanor Merrinan knew the truth of him and no doubt despised him utterly. He was surprised the lady had not shown up on his doorstep demanding satisfaction.

And his Fox? She planned to leave him as soon as he wed, assumed that he would wed, damn her. Is that what everyone now assumed, including Mowry? He’d not decided himself yet to go through with any marriage, and he certainly wouldn’t tie himself to another woman if it meant losing Charles. She was the one bright light in his life, the one female who . . . fit. He’d not lose her. He’d simply need to convince her to stay on as his mistress when he married. She could remain his housekeeper if she liked. Or better yet, he’d find a cottage somewhere on his lands that he could furnish as a sort of ‘love nest’ for her. Hell, she could open up her own school even if it would make her happy to teach the village children as her father had. In truth, Wells didn’t care what she did. He simply couldn’t lose her, not over so insignificant a detail as marriage.

“Give it me, sir.” Cuthbert’s voice cut into his thoughts.

Wells handed over the letter without meeting his man’s eyes.

“’Tis the last post I let you read, Wells,” John threatened. “Over my dead body.”

“Your dead body, is it?” Wells snapped, returning to his wits. “It’s come to this then, already? Marriage to Eleanor Merrinan driving a wedge between us? I told you this would happen, John. I told you falling in love would?—”

“Y’ don’t know a damned thing about love, sir, or you’d not be snatchin’ letters from me and instead go talk to the one woman whose poor heart you’ve broken more times’n?—”

Wells was livid. “You speak to me again like that Cuthbert and I’ll?—!”

The expression on his steward’s face stopped him short.

“As yer mate, Wells, I believe I’ve every right t’ say me peace, but as yer steward, no, I s’pose I don’t.” John’s eyes narrowed. “So if y’ regard me as servant only, Yer Grace , I’ll take me leave now.” His stare bored into Wells. “Only don’t ever call me mate again.”

And with that he walked out, leaving Wells crushed by his best friend’s words.