NOT JUST A WALLFLOWER Read online

  She gave a forlorn sigh. ‘How on earth have you managed to avoid the pitfalls of the marriage mart for so long and so expertly, your Grace?’

  And just like that, Justin’s scowling and dark mood of the past twelve hours became a thing of the past, and he began to chuckle even as he moved forwards to pull back a chair for her. ‘I believe I may attribute my own success in that regard to both stealth and cunning!’

  Eleanor pursed her lips as she sat down. ‘Then perhaps you might consider tutoring me into how I might do the same, for I fear I am completely at a loss as to how to deal with it myself.’

  Justin eyed her curiously as he lowered his long length into the chair beside her, waiting until one of the footmen had placed plates of sweetmeats on the table for their enjoyment before answering her. ‘You would not consider yourself fortunate in becoming Braxton’s countess?’

  She shook her head. ‘He is a pleasant enough gentleman, I am sure, but I—I have no ambition to become the wife of any man who does not love me with all of his heart, as I intend to love him.’

  Justin studied her closely. ‘Because of the unhappy circumstances of your mother’s marriage to Frederick?’

  Eleanor nodded. ‘I can imagine nothing worse than suffering such a fate myself.’

  Justin could not help but admire the strength of her conviction, even if his own feelings on the matter were in total contradiction to her own. He thought it was far better to marry a woman for her lineage and ability to produce healthy children. On which subject... ‘And what of children, Eleanor?’ he enquired. ‘Do you have no desire to have a son or daughter of your own one day?’

  Green eyes twinkled mischievously as she looked about them pointedly, the supper room now filling with other members of the ton seeking refreshment. ‘Is our present conversation not as socially unacceptable as discussing the education of Lord Caulfield’s young daughter with him?’ she murmured softly before leaning forwards to pierce a piece of juicy pineapple with a fork and lifting it up to her lips.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Justin allowed ruefully. Then he found himself unable to look away from the fullness of her lips as they closed about the juicy fruit.

  Her expression was thoughtful as she chewed and swallowed the fruit before innocently licking the excess juice from the plumpness of her lips. ‘Then of course I would dearly love to have children of my own one day, both a son and a daughter at least. But only—’

  ‘If you were to have those children with “a man who loved you with all of his heart”,’ he finished drily.

  Ellie smiled. ‘Why are you so cynical about falling in love, your Grace...? Your Grace?’ she prompted quizzically as he started laughing again.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘You do not find it slightly ludicrous to ask me such a personal question at the same time as continuing to address me with such formality, Eleanor?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she allowed huskily, colour warming her cheeks.

  ‘Perhaps, Justin,’ he insisted.

  She blinked, aware that an underlying, inexplicable something seemed to have crept into their conversation, although she had no idea what it was or why it was there. ‘Would calling you Royston as your grandmother does not be more appropriate?’

  ‘Far too stuffy,’ he dismissed gruffly.

  Ellie lowered her lashes. ‘I am not sure the dowager duchess would approve—’

  ‘Not sure I would approve of what?’ Edith prompted briskly as she joined them, Lady Cicely and Lady Jocelyn accompanying her.

  Her grandson rose politely to his feet and saw to the seating of those three ladies in the chairs across the table from them, before resuming his own seat beside Ellie. ‘I was endeavouring to persuade Eleanor into calling me Justin when we are alone together or in the company of family or close friends,’ he explained with an acknowledging bow of his head towards Lady Cicely and Lady Jocelyn.

  Lady Cicely looked flustered as she glanced nervously towards the dowager duchess. ‘I am not sure...’

  ‘Is that quite the thing, Edith...?’ Lady Jocelyn frowned her own uncertainty as she too deferred to the dowager duchess for her opinion on the matter.

  Edith gave her grandson a searching glance before answering the query. ‘I do not see why not. They are cousins by marriage, after all.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘I am still unsure as to whether—’

  ‘You were rather abrupt with Braxton just now, Royston,’ the dowager duchess cut off her friends’ continued concerns as she turned to look at her grandson.

  ‘Was I?’ the duke returned unconcernedly.

  ‘You know very well that you were.’ His grandmother frowned.

  ‘I am sure he will recover all too soon,’ he murmured distractedly as he reached out to pierce another piece of fruit before holding it temptingly in front of Ellie.

  Something Ellie—even in her ‘naivety and inexperience’—knew to be entirely inappropriate. Nor did she care for the piercing intensity of Justin’s glittering gaze at it rested on her parted lips.

  At the same time she realised that this was what had changed so suddenly between them just minutes ago; one moment Justin had been berating her for her ‘flirtatiousness’ in what he believed to be her encouragement of Lord Caulfield and the next he had been shamelessly flirting with her himself. Just what was he up to?

  Was this perhaps another lesson, to see if she had learnt anything from their conversation just now?

  Whatever the reason for his behaviour, it had resulted in his drawing unwarranted attention to the two of them. As Ellie glanced nervously about them, she could see several of the older matrons in the near vicinity looking positively shocked at the intimacy of his gesture in offering to feed her the sliver of pineapple. Indeed, Lady Cicely and Lady Jocelyn both seemed to be holding their breath as they waited to see what Ellie would do next. Edith’s expression was, unfortunately, as enigmatic and unreadable as her grandson’s.

  Ellie gave a cool smile as she sat back in her chair, not quite touching the chair back itself, as she had been taught to do by her mother long ago. ‘I find I am no longer hungry for pineapple, your Grace,’ she informed him repressively. ‘Perhaps you should eat the fruit yourself? I can vouch for it being truly delicious.’ She held her breath tensely as she waited to see what Justin would do or say next.

  Chapter Seven

  Madness.

  Absolute bloody madness!

  For there could be no other reason why Justin gave every appearance of behaving like a besotted fool, enticing his ladylove with succulent titbits of fruit.

  Justin considered himself to be neither besotted nor a fool, Eleanor Rosewood was most certainly not his ladylove—nor would she ever be—and the only enticing that had ever interested him, where any woman was concerned, took place between silken sheets—and it was fruit of the forbidden kind!

  He looked into those emerald-green eyes just inches from his own and knew from the uncertainty, the slight panic he detected in their depths, that Eleanor’s casual dismissal just now was purely an act she had assumed for their audience. That the widening of her pupils, the bloom of colour in her cheeks, her slightly parted lips, and the barest movement of her breasts as she breathed shallowly, were indicative of what she was really feeling.

  And Justin had no trouble at all recognising that.

  Arousal.

  For all that she might express her resentment of him in the role he now held in her life as her guardian and protector, and despite her rebelling against any and all restrictions he might choose to place upon her actions, she could not hide the fact she also found him physically attractive, despite her stated aversion to ‘lust’ being the reason for her mother’s marriage to Frederick.

  A knowledge that caused Justin’s lips to curl into a satisfied smile as he straightened. ‘Much better, Ele
anor,’ he drawled as he discarded both the fork and pineapple on to his plate before turning to the three older ladies seated across from them. ‘I am endeavouring, at her request, to tutor Eleanor in how best to deter over-zealous gentlemen of the ton, without also offending them,’ he explained wryly as Lady Cicely and Lady Jocelyn, at least, continued to look upon him in obvious shock.

  His grandmother’s expression was no less disapproving. ‘And in that you appear to have been successful. Unfortunately,’ she continued irritably, ‘your chosen method of doing so has now also succeeded in rousing the speculation of the ton regarding the Duke of Royston’s intentions towards his young ward!’

  Justin gave a scornful laugh. ‘An occurrence which will likely render Eleanor popular with the gentlemen and unpopular with the ladies!’

  ‘It is not in the least amusing, Royston.’

  ‘Of course it is, Grandmama.’ He relaxed against the back of his chair. ‘How can it be anything else when we all know I have no romantic intentions whatsoever where Eleanor is concerned.’

  ‘I really must thank you for your most recent lesson, your Grace.’ Ellie had heard quite enough of ‘the Duke of Royston’s’ opinions for one evening. Arrogant, mocking, insufferable gentleman that he was!

  Unfortunately, she also found him verbally challenging, dangerously handsome and physically exciting, to the extent that she suspected she might still be in love with him, despite previous private denials to the contrary.

  Just to look at this man, to be in his company, to exchange verbal swords with him, still, in spite of her inner remonstrations with herself, caused her heart to beat faster, her breathing to falter and every nerve ending in her body to become thrillingly aware of everything about him. And Ellie knew she had almost succumbed to his dangerous allure as he had held that sliver of pineapple up in front of her so temptingly.

  It had been so intimate an act, the noise and chatter about them seeming to disappear as the world narrowed down to just the two of them, and Ellie had found herself totally unable to look away from those piercing sapphire-blue eyes.

  Much, she realised now, like a butterfly stuck on the end of a pin by its curious captor!

  Certainly his next comment had shown that he had felt none of the physical awareness of her that she now had of him. Indeed, he had merely confirmed what she had suspected all along: that the arrogant Duke of Royston was merely being his usual insufferable self by teaching her another ‘lesson’.

  ‘If you will all excuse me, I believe I will go and tidy my appearance before the dancing recommences?’ She placed her napkin down upon the table before standing up.

  Justin also rose politely to his feet. ‘I will accompany you.’

  Ellie raised one mocking brow, in perfect imitation of the duke’s own haughty arrogance. ‘To the ladies’ retiring room, your Grace?’

  Those chiselled lips twisted. ‘I will obviously wait outside in the hallway for you.’

  Ellie frowned her irritation. ‘I am sure that is unnecessary—’

  ‘I beg to differ.’ His mouth tightened. ‘Unless you have a previous arrangement to meet with Braxton in one of the private rooms?’

  She gasped. ‘Of course I have not!’

  He straightened his shoulders. ‘Then I think it best that I accompany you to ensure he does not waylay you. Ladies.’ He gave a polite bow to the three older women seated opposite them before pointedly raising his arm for Ellie to take, leaving her no choice but to place her gloved hand upon that arm and walk along stiffly at his side as he coolly nodded acknowledgement of acquaintances as they made slow progress across the crowded, noisy room.

  But that did not mean Ellie did not bristle inside with indignation, at his highhandedness, for the whole of that time!

  She removed her hand from his arm the moment they were outside in the less crowded Great Hall. ‘How dare you! Who are you to embarrass me in front of other people, by questioning whether or not I might have behaved so scandalously as to have arranged to meet Lord Caulfield privately?’

  Justin eyed her calmly, knowing himself to be once again in control—thankfully—of this situation. And himself. For he had not been as immune to Eleanor’s physical awareness of him just now, when he’d attempted to feed her the pineapple, as he had given the impression of being...

  No, indeed, he had risen to the occasion in spite of himself and had been forced to remain seated at the table for several minutes longer than necessary in order to wait until the bulge in his breeches became less obvious.

  Much to his increasing annoyance.

  Eleanor Rosewood’s role as a protégée of his grandmother’s, and his own ward, now rendered her as being completely unsuited to ever becoming his mistress. Nor did she meet the stringent requirements of a prospective duchess. As such there was no place for her in his well-ordered life, other than the annoyance of being forced by circumstance into acting as her guardian. All was not lost, of course; any number of women here this evening could, and in the past had, assuaged his physical needs.

  ‘Who am I?’ Justin repeated in a suddenly steely voice. ‘I believe, for the moment at least, I am placed in the role of acting as your guardian and protector. Whether you feel you are in need of one or otherwise,’ he added as she parted her lips with the obvious intention of protesting. ‘As such, I have no intention of allowing you to embarrass me, or my grandmother, by behaving in an unsuitable manner through ignorance.’

  Ellie eyed him hotly. ‘You truly are the most insufferable man I have ever met!’

  ‘So you have remarked before, I believe.’

  ‘Then I must believe it to be true!’

  The duke gave a deliberately weary smile. ‘And I am fortunate in that I find your opinion of me to be of little interest.’

  Just as Ellie knew she herself was of little interest to him either, other than as an appeasement to his grandmother’s plans for her, the dowager the only woman whom he so obviously did care about; Ellie had heard a definite coldness in his tone when she had mentioned his mother to him.

  Unfortunately, she now had no choice but to curl her fingers painfully into the palms of her gloved hands, in order to prevent herself from giving in to the temptation she felt to slap that supercilious and arrogant smile from his perfect lips!

  She drew in a deep and controlling breath. ‘Is it any wonder, then, that I have come to prefer the company of such polite gentlemen as the Earl of Braxton?’

  Those blue eyes narrowed. ‘I should warn you that it would be unwise to challenge me, Eleanor.’

  Ellie’s throat moved as she swallowed nervously, once again aware of the sudden tension that had sprung up between them, of how the very air that surrounded them now seemed charged with—with she knew not what.

  The only thing she was sure of was the fluttering of excitement beneath her breasts, of the dampness to her palms inside her lace gloves, of the burn of colour blooming in her cheeks as his eyes continued to glitter down at her.

  She swallowed again before speaking. ‘I do not believe that is what I was doing.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No,’ she said defiantly.

  A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘I disagree.’

  ‘That is your prerogative, of course—what are you doing?’ she squeaked as the duke took a firm grasp of her arm before pulling her down the shadowed hallway, away from the crowded public salons, to where the private family rooms were situated. ‘Justin?’ she prompted sharply as he threw open the library door and pushed her unceremoniously inside the darkened room.

  He followed her inside before closing the door firmly behind him. ‘Of all the times I have asked you to do so, you must choose now to decide to call me Justin?’ He towered over her in the darkness. ‘I do believe you are challenging me, after all, Eleanor,’ he murmured huskily.

 
It took Ellie several moments to adjust her eyes to the gloom of the library, at which time she realised it was not as dark as she had at first imagined, that the moonlight shone in brightly through the windows, giving his overlong-blond hair a silvery rather than golden sheen, his eyes glittering a much paler blue, the light and shadows giving his hard, chiselled face a darker, more dangerous sharpness, than it usually had.

  Not that any of that was important, when placed alongside the scandal that would ensue if anyone were to discover them alone together in the darkness of the library! ‘We should not be in here, your Grace.’

  ‘Yes, you are most certainly challenging me, Eleanor,’ he remarked in reproof. ‘Did no one ever warn you that it is dangerous to wake the sleeping tiger?’

  ‘You are likening yourself to a tiger?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘Now I believe you are mocking me.’

  He took a deliberate step forwards, causing Ellie to take a step backwards, only to find she could go no further as she came up against the closed door. Her eyes widened in alarm as she watched him place a hand flat against the door either side of her face, at once holding her captive between that door at her back and the hardness of his body just inches in front of her own.

  Too few inches. Indeed, Justin stood so close to her now that she could feel the heat of his body through the thin silk of her gown, felt surrounded by the clean male smell of him as much as his impressive height and breadth. Her senses began to swim as she scented the sharp tang of his cologne, her breasts suddenly feeling fuller, firmer, the tips tingling with an almost painful ache, an inexplicable dampness between her thighs, the whole experience making her legs feel weak.

  As clear evidence that she did indeed love this man...

  The warmth of his breath brushed softly, sweetly, against her temple as he bent his head closer to her own before murmuring, ‘Little girls who deliberately wake the tiger deserve to be...punished, just a little, do you not think?’

  Ellie quivered in awareness, felt as if his close proximity had sucked all the air from the room, her head beginning to whirl as she tried to breathe, and failed. ‘Please...!’ she gasped at the same time as she lifted her hands to his chest with the intention of pushing him away, of allowing her to draw in a breath. Only to find she had no strength left to do so, that instead of pushing him away her hands lingered, as if with a will of their own, her fingers splaying almost caressingly against the heat of his broad chest.