NOT JUST A WALLFLOWER Read online

  Ellie could not help but feel sorry for Charles Endicott at that moment, his face first suffusing with embarrassed colour, and then as quickly paling, as Justin continued to glower down at him, appearing every inch the powerful and haughty Duke of Royston; it was like watching a fluffy little lapdog being confronted by a ferocious wolfhound. Indeed, Ellie would not have been in the least surprised if the duke’s top lip had not curled back in a snarl to bare a long and pointed incisor at the younger man!

  ‘Perhaps it would be as well if you were to return with Royston, Eleanor.’ The dowager duchess, ever sensitive to not causing a scene in public—unlike her arrogant grandson!—agreed smoothly. ‘I am perfectly happy to go alone to Lady Cicely’s.’

  Ellie was bursting with indignation at Justin’s high-handedness, longing to tell him exactly what he could do with his offer to drive her home in his carriage—which had not been an offer at all but an instruction! At the same time she knew she could not, would not, do or say anything which might upset the dowager duchess; she owed that dear lady too much to ever wish to cause her embarrassment—the very clothes she stood up in, in fact!

  ‘Then we are all agreed.’ The duke took a firm hold of Ellie’s arm. ‘Ladies.’ He bowed to them politely. ‘Endicott.’ His voice had cooled noticeably, eyes once again icy blue as he scowled at the younger man.

  Charles Endicott was the first to lower his gaze. ‘Your Grace,’ he mumbled indistinctly before his expression brightened as he turned to Ellie. ‘If you are not to be at Lady Littleton’s this evening, perhaps I might call upon you tomorrow—’

  ‘My ward is otherwise engaged tomorrow, Endicott.’ To Ellie’s ever-increasing annoyance, it was once again Justin who answered the other man glacially. ‘And the day following that one, too,’ he added for good measure.

  The younger man frowned. ‘But surely—’

  ‘Come along, Eleanor.’ The duke did not wait for her to agree or disagree, allowing her time only to sketch a brief curtsy as her own goodbye before turning on one booted heel and walking in the direction of his waiting carriage, Ellie pulled along in his wake.

  She had never felt so humiliated, so—so manhandled and managed in her life before, as she did at this moment. And by Justin St Just, of all people.

  But who else would dare to treat someone—anyone!—with such overriding arrogance but the arrogantly insufferable Duke of Royston!

  He—

  ‘You may give vent to your feelings now, Eleanor, for we are quite alone.’

  The haze of red anger shifted from in front of Ellie’s eyes at this mockingly drawled comment, enabling her to realise that she had been so consumed with that fury she had allowed herself to be put into his carriage, the door having already been closed to shut them inside.

  It was the first time Ellie had been completely alone with him since—well, since ‘that night’, as she had taken to referring to it in her mind. And to her chagrin she was instantly, achingly aware, of everything about him. The golden sweep of his hair, the glitter of deep-blue eyes set in that hard and chiselled face, the way the superb cut of his superfine emphasised the width of his shoulders and tapered waist, his legs long and powerful in pale grey pantaloons and black Hessians.

  Her feelings for him also made her aware of the tingle of sensations which now coursed through her own body, her breasts feeling achingly sensitive, that now familiar warmth between her thighs.

  A reaction which only increased her growing anger towards him...

  * * *

  Justin did not need to look at Eleanor’s face to know that she was furious with him; he could feel the heat of that anger as her eyes shot daggers across the short distance of the carriage that separated them.

  Justifiably so, perhaps. He had behaved badly just now. Very badly. Towards both Eleanor and Endicott. A fact his grandmother would no doubt bring him to task over at her earliest opportunity.

  And yet Justin did not regret his actions. Not for a moment. He had been incensed from the first moment he had seen that young dandy Endicott made up one of his grandmother’s party. To add insult to injury, his first glimpse of Eleanor, as bright as a butterfly in her gown of pale green, had been as she was laughing at something that young popinjay had just said to her.

  Justin’s mouth tightened as he thought of the scowls or blank looks he had received from her over the past few days! ‘If you have something you wish to say, then for God’s sake say it now and get it over with!’

  ‘If I have something to say?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘I—it—you, sir, have the manners of a guttersnipe!’

  ‘It would seem that today I have, yes.’ His mouth twisted into a humourless and unapologetic smile. ‘And if you intend to insult me, Eleanor, then you will have to do better than that.’

  ‘You are the most insufferable, obnoxious bully it has ever been my misfortune to meet!’ she hissed angrily, obviously warming to the subject, her cheeks also heating, those green eyes glittering across at him like twin emeralds.

  His lips thinned. ‘Because I prevented you from embarrassing yourself?’

  She gasped. ‘I do not believe I was the one causing any embarrassment!’

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘I—you—in what way was I embarrassing myself?’ she finally managed to gasp through her indignation.

  ‘By your flirtation with Endicott.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘But of course.’ Justin flicked an imaginary piece of lint from the cuff of his superfine. ‘And, as I will never give my permission for you to marry that young peacock, you might just as well give it up now and cease your encouragement of him.’

  ‘I was not encouraging him—’

  ‘I beg to differ,’ he cut in harshly. ‘And it is not only I who appears to think so,’ he continued as she would have made another protest. ‘Indeed, the society gossips have it that there will be an announcement made before the end of the Season!’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Justin shrugged. ‘The two of you are currently the talk of the ton.’

  She gave another gasp. ‘But I have only spoken to Lord Endicott on three occasions, once at the Royston Ball, again at a dinner party the evening before last, and then again at the park yesterday in the company of Miss Matthews.’

  ‘And again just now,’ he reminded her. ‘That would appear to be four occasions in four days.’

  ‘Well. Yes. But—I had no idea we would even be seeing Lord Endicott today!’

  That was something, at least; Justin had been sure the two of them must have prearranged this latest meeting. ‘I doubt Endicott’s presence at Gunter’s was as innocent as your own.’

  A blush coloured her cheeks. ‘He did mention something about having overheard Magdelena and I discussing the outing yesterday. Do you believe that Lord Endicott has serious intentions towards me?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  She looked nonplussed by the starkness of his statement. ‘Oh...’

  Justin’s mouth compressed. ‘Indeed.’

  She swallowed. ‘But even so—surely the ton cannot seriously have made such an assumption on but a few days’ acquaintance?’

  Justin felt a stab of remorse for the bewildered expression on Eleanor’s face; her eyes were wide green pools of disbelief, her cheeks having paled, her lips slightly parted and unsmiling.

  All come about, he now realised with horror, because he had taken exception to being described as a bully. Even if, in this particular case, he had most certainly behaved as one. But only for her own good, he reassured himself determinedly. If Hawthorne, a man who cared nought for the gossip of the ton, for society itself, had been led to believe Eleanor was seriously interested in Endicott, then the rest of society must believe it too.

  Justin sat forwards on the seat to rea
ch across and take one of Eleanor’s tightly clenched hands into both of his. ‘The ton has made such assumptions on far less, I assure you, my dear,’ he murmured in a more placating tone of voice.

  She looked up at him curiously. ‘You sound as if you speak from personal experience.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘It is your own reputation that is currently in jeopardy; I accepted long ago, and you confirmed it three days ago, that my own reputation is considered beyond redemption!’

  Ellie looked thoughtful. The gentlemen in society appeared to either admire or fear the Duke of Royston. The ladies, married or otherwise, to desire him. The young débutantes considered him as being the catch of the Season—any Season this past ten years or so! The mothers of those débutantes appeared to either covet or avoid coming to his attention, aware as they were that the Duke of Royston had successfully avoided the parson’s mousetrap for a long time; it would be a feather in any society matron’s bonnet to acquire the Duke of Royston as her son-in-law, but equally it could be the social ruin of her daughter if he were to offer that young lady a liaison rather than marriage.

  As such, Ellie had no idea who would have dared to make remarks about her to him. About herself and Lord Endicott, of all people. Why, she considered that young man as being nothing more than an amusing and playful puppy. Oh, he was handsome in a boyish way, and pleasant enough—if one ignored his atrocious taste in clothes—but her feelings for Royston meant she did not, and never would, consider Lord Endicott as being anything more than a friend. That anyone should ever imagine she might seriously consider marrying the foppish boy, was utterly ludicrous!

  That Justin should believe such nonsense she found hurtful beyond belief. How could she possibly be interested in any other man, when Justin himself had ruined her for all others?

  And Eleanor did not mean her reputation.

  No, her ruination was much more fundamental than that, in that she simply could not imagine ever wishing to share such intimacies with any other man but the one she had finally accepted she was in love with.

  She had done everything she could to keep herself busy since that evening, and as such give herself little time for thought. And she had endeavoured to see as little of the duke as possible, considering they now shared the same residence. But there had been no denying the barrage of memories that plagued and tortured her once she was alone in her bed at night. No way then of ignoring how her nipples pebbled into aroused hardness and between her thighs dampened, swelled, just remembering the way Justin had kissed her and touched her there.

  With those memories to haunt her, how could anyone, least of all Justin himself, ever believe she had serious intentions in regard to a dandy like Charles Endicott?

  Her lashes lowered again as she looked down to where Justin’s hands now held one of hers in his grasp. Those same hands had touched her so intimately, caressed and stroked her to a peak of such physical pleasure it still made her toes curl to even think of it.

  A reaction she did not wish him to ever become aware of, let alone find out that she was in love with him. That would be a humiliation beyond bearing.

  Ellie drew in a steadying breath as she raised her head, smiling slightly as she deftly removed her hand from his. ‘It is all nonsense, of course, but how exciting to think that I might soon receive my first proposal of marriage!’

  Arrogant brows arched. ‘Your first proposal...?’

  ‘But of course.’ Her smile widened deliberately at his obvious astonishment. ‘The dowager has informed me that a young lady can only really consider herself a complete success in society once she has broken at least half-a-dozen hearts and received and refused her third proposal!’

  The duke’s back straightened, his expression suddenly grim. ‘I sincerely trust, just because of our recent interlude, you are not considering counting my own heart as among the ones which you have broken?’

  Ellie forced an incredulous laugh to cover the jolt she felt at hearing Justin refer so dismissively to their lovemaking. ‘I believe the only thing broken on that particular evening was a cup and saucer, your Grace. Besides,’ she continued evenly, ‘surely one has to be in possession of a heart for it to be broken?’

  ‘So you do not believe I have one?’

  She raised auburn brows. ‘Are you not the one who once stated he has no intention of ever falling in love?’

  His nostrils flared. ‘I believe what I actually said was that I have no intention of being in love with my wife. But,’ he continued drily as she would have spoken, ‘you are actually correct. The truth is, I have no intention of falling in love with any woman.’

  ‘Why not?’ Ellie could have bitten out her tongue the moment she allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. And yet a single glance at his closed expression stopped her from instantly retracting the question.

  But it was a curiosity that a man such as he, a man who could have any woman he wished for, had decided—no, refused, to fall in love with any of them. ‘Well?’ she prompted as he made no reply.

  His lips quirked. ‘Perhaps it is that I have observed too many of my friends succumb to the emotion, and prefer not to behave in the same ridiculous manner? It surely makes a man far too vulnerable.’

  It was both a glib and insulting answer, but at the same time it somehow did not ring true to Ellie’s ears. She wondered anew if his aversion did not have something to do with what he had once referred to as his own parents ‘exclusive marriage’. ‘Is the object of that love not showing the same vulnerability by allowing her own emotions to be hurt?’

  ‘Then why take the risk at all?’ the duke argued.

  Ellie shrugged. ‘Possibly because it is the natural instinct of human beings to need the love and affection of others?’

  ‘The implication being, therefore, that my own feelings on the matter must be unnatural?’ he rasped.

  She looked at him for a minute, the blue of his eyes glittering—with anger or something else? ‘You are avoiding answering my original question...’ she finally murmured.

  He gave another humourless smile. ‘How very astute of you.’

  ‘And you are still avoiding it.’

  ‘That being the case, would it not be a prudent move on your part to move on to something else?’ he suggested.

  Ellie’s cheeks warmed as she lowered her gaze and turned to look out of the window beside her. ‘I do not believe I may claim to have been particularly “prudent” in our...relationship, to date, your Grace.’

  Justin could certainly vouch for that!

  Indeed, Eleanor had been anything but prudent in her dealings with him this past week, to a degree that he now knew her body almost as intimately as he did his own: the satiny smoothness of her skin, the taste of her breasts, the warm touch of her lips and the expression on her face as she climaxed against his fingers.

  Just as he could not help but notice the perfection of the calm profile she now turned away from him: the creamy intelligent brow, long lashes surrounding those emerald-green eyes, her cheek a perfect curve, freckle-covered nose small and straight, her lips full above her stubbornly determined chin.

  Eleanor had grown in elegance as well as self-confidence this past week, her pale-green bonnet, the same shade as her gown, fastened about the pale oval of her face, with enticing auburn curls at her temples and nape, her spine perfectly straight, shoulders back, which only succeeding in pushing the fullness of her breasts up against the low bodice of her gown, knees primly together, dainty slippers of green satin peeping out from beneath the hem of her gown.

  Yes, Eleanor was certainly the picture of an elegant and beautiful young lady, and Justin realised that her air of self-confidence was due to the admiration and attentions of fawning young dandies, of which Endicott was no doubt only one.

  In sharp contrast to those eager young fops, he knew himself to be both c
ynical and aloof, and not at all what might appeal to a young woman who was so widely admired and fêted. Indeed, her remarks about his cynicism towards the emotion of love would seem to confirm that lack of appeal. A realisation which irritated Justin immensely.

  So much so that he felt a sudden urge to shatter her air of confidence and calm. ‘I assure you, dear Eleanor, I have absolutely no complaints at your lack of inhibitions in the bedchamber. Nor would you hear any objections from me if you were to decide to behave that imprudently again!’

  ‘Justin!’ She gasped as she whipped round to face him, a fiery blush colouring her cheeks.

  Perhaps, if in her shocked surprise Eleanor had not addressed him by his first name, Justin might have decided not to pursue this any further.

  Perhaps...

  Chapter Thirteen

  Justin rose and crossed to the other side of the carriage and sat down next to Eleanor, his thigh pressed against the warmth of hers. He reached out and pulled the curtains across each of the windows, throwing the interior of the carriage into shadow, but not dark enough for them not to be able to see each other and know what he was doing, as he untied the ribbon on Eleanor’s bonnet before removing it completely.

  ‘We will reach Royston House shortly...’ she protested breathlessly.

  Justin reached up and tapped on the roof of the carriage.

  ‘Your Grace?’ his groom responded.

  ‘Continue to drive until I instruct you otherwise, Bilsbury.’ Justin raised his voice so that he might be heard above the noise of the horses’ hooves on the cobbled street.

  ‘Yes, your Grace.’

  Eleanor seemed frozen in place, unable to move or look away as Justin deftly removed the pins from those fiery red-gold curls, before releasing them on to her shoulders and down the length of her spine, reaching almost to the slenderness of her waist.

  Justin groaned low in his throat, closing his eyes briefly, as he imagined how sensuous those long curls would feel against the bareness of his own flesh, his shaft now hardening, thickening, just at imagining it. ‘Dear Lord...!’ He opened his eyes and raised his hands up to cup either side of her face before lowering his head to claim her parted lips with his own.