Page 65 of Saving a Scoundrel
She huffed out a long breath of frustration.Hehad a plan fortheirfuture? Without consulting her? Without coming to see her in person? How typically male of him. Ellie paced across the carpet. She shook the letter in her hand. How dare he send her some vague missive about working things out about their future. He shouldn’t be so sure she still wanted a future with him, the cocky bastard.
Collapsing onto the settee, Ellie sighed. She had mulled over how she felt for days. The shock of the encounter in the library had worn off, and her feelings still churned. She was disappointed in Lucius. He had handled the bet made by his friends badly. He hadn’t been fully honest with her about many aspects of his life. But somehow, the reality of Lady Pierson had upset her far more than finding out about his work at the brothel. Perhaps it was the lady’s taunt;you’ll never be enough for a man like Lucius, which had cut to the very marrow of her insecurities. Country mouse, vicar’s daughter, bluestocking, what business did she have loving a vivacious, handsome scoundrel?
“The truth is I’m jealous,” she muttered.
“Jealous of what?” Susanna breezed into the library. “There it is.” She walked over to the table and grabbed a book from its glossy surface. “I’ve been looking for you,” she crooned to the book.
“Jealous of Lady Pierson, of all of the women who Lucius has been with, danced with, flirted with.”
“That’s a lot of women.” Susanna laughed.
Ellie scowled at her friend.
“I’m jesting. Well, not really. It is fruitless to be jealous of the women in his past. They are just that, in his past. As for Lady Pierson, don’t be jealous of that shrew. She is bitter that he jilted her. It was clear he has no attachment to her anymore.”
“I guess. I didn’t know I had such a penchant for possessiveness. And then there is this.” She held out Lucius’s letter.
Susanna took it from her and read through the short note quickly. “Hmmm, hardly in the league of the love letters we found. But it seems sincere.”
“And vague and bossy.” Ellie rose. “He is making plans for our future, and he just wants me to wait around for an indeterminable time for him to figure out the direction of his life? How long? A few weeks, a few months, a few years?” She threw her hands up.
“I see your point.” Susanna nodded her head.
Ellie sliced one hand through the air. “I will not wait around if he didn’t even have the decency to come in person and speak with me. I think I’ve had my fill of London’s entertainments and intrigues. I’m going to go home.” Yes, that is precisely what she needed. To be at home in her cozy parlor reading a book by the window. To walk through familiar places and see familiar people. She longed to see her father and smell his familiar cedarwood scent.
Susanna gave her a swift hug. “All right dear, let’s speak to Mother and Father.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ellie was tired,her skirts covered in dust from the various stops they had made to change horses on the trip from London. But her heart soared as the carriage stopped in front of the whitewashed house of her childhood. The flowers in her father’s garden were in full bloom. The door to the carriage opened, and Mr. Fitzwilliam helped her down. The two Dearborn servants that had seen her safely home would head to the Dearborn seat at Hensley Hall for a few days before returning to London.
Sam Green untied her trunks, and he and Fitz carried them to the front door. There were three more than what she had left with. She hoped her father wouldn’t be too shocked by the amount of clothing Lady Dearborn had purchased for her. She spotted him, down at the bottom of the garden, in the vegetable patch, bent over the cabbages, his wide-brim straw hat covering his shock of white hair. “Father!”
He turned at her call. “Eleanor!” His long strides ate up the distance between them.
Tears sprang into the corners of her eyes as she was enveloped in her father’s strong embrace. She burrowed against his jacket, drinking in the fresh scent of tomato vines and sunshine.
“Ah, girl, I missed you.” He pulled back but kept his hands on her arms. “You look pretty as a picture.”
Ellie smiled through her tears. “I’ve been traveling for fourteen hours. I feel like a wilted daisy.”
He swiped a thumb across her cheek, catching a tear that had slipped down. “What’s all this? I only received Lord Dearborn’s letter yesterday that he was sending you home. Did something bad happen?”
“No.” Ellie shook her head. “I just became homesick. London is exhausting and complicated.” She leaned against his chest again. “I missed home.”
Her father ran a hand down her back. “Let’s go inside. You can change from your traveling clothes, have a cup of tea and tell me all about it.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they moved toward the house. “Oh, and by the way, I invited Mr. Evans to supper this evening. He usually joins me a few times a week. I hope you don’t mind.”
*
Ellie glanced acrossthe table at Mr. Evans. He wasn’t a bad-looking man. Thick dark hair framed a pleasant face that was only marred by a crooked nose. Perhaps the unfortunate result of a fight in his youth. He was taller than her father and had a thick stocky build. He looked more like the doorman at the Termage than a man of the cloth.
Mr. Evans caught her staring at him and gave her a small smile. “It’s a pleasure to have you home in Marbury, Miss Spencer.”
Ellie quickly lowered her gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Evans. Father, the gardens look beautiful. Have you had lots of rain?”
“Yes. It’s been a blessing for the garden for sure, but not so much for the church roof. Thankfully, Mr. Evans is young and strong. He has spent some time replacing roof tiles over the past couple of weeks.”
“It’s my pleasure to help in any way, sir.”
