“Wouldn’t you rather we go directly to the docks? I should dress simply to speak with the sailors, shouldn’t I? While I can assure you I don’t wish to rush you, I wouldn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of your kindness.”
He looked at her with an almost pained expression. “Ella,” he said gently. “You do not put me out. In fact, the longer I know you, the more time I wish to give you to secure your future.” He held her gaze, and she found breathing hard as she stared into the depths of his dark eyes. “Besides, the Saint Madeleine, the ship my sister departed on, does not dock again for three days. In the meantime, I’ll start looking into positions for you.”
That made her pause. “How will we go about doing that?”
“Keep eating while l tell you.” He glanced at her half-full plate.
It was true she hadn’t eaten that much. After days of barely consuming food, it was difficult to take in t
oo much at once. “I’ll try.” She made a face as she looked at the food. “It was absolutely delicious but I am quite full.”
“How can that be?” he asked, looking down once again at her plate.
She nibbled her lip. “I haven’t eaten such extravagant meals for some time. They fill me so quickly.”
His eyebrows drew together, as he appraised her. “Then we’ll stop to dine later today while we’re out,” he said. “I know very few respectable ladies but I’ve a friend who is most certainly connected within society. Or rather, his wife is. I’ve sent them a note this morning and they’ve agreed to host us for afternoon tea. She will be far more likely to know of a position for you.”
With a sigh, she decided to eat a few more bites to placate him when a new thought occurred to her. “Will they also think we’re married?”
“No, but they are aware of my search and they understand your position. Her Grace is rather familiar with skirting the rules of society.”
“Her Grace?” she squeaked, and her fork, which had been about to enter her mouth with a nibble of food, dropped again, the tremor in her hand making it impossible to eat.
A chuckle escaped his lips. “Tricia is the last woman you should fear. Her sister, the Countess of Sussex, may also be there. Trust me when I say there are no better women in all of England to help you.”
Taking a breath, she tried to fathom her change in fate in a single day. “I trust you to help me in this.”
He gave her a warm look as he rose from the table, extending his hand to help her rise. “Shall we go then?”
With a nod she took the hand he offered. Warmth spread through her at the touch.
When he tucked her hand in his elbow, she ignored the giddy excitement that fluttered within. They’d made a business arrangement. It was best to keep it at that. Her father had taught her well enough what happened when she allowed emotion to dictate her relationships. She needed to build a life where she could be free from poverty but also from the possibility of being hurt again.
Matthew looked across the carriage, admiring Ella’s profile. Blast it all to hell, if she wasn’t even lovelier this morning. Her skin was a delicate shade of ivory that the pink of her dress accentuated. Her dark hair had been intricately styled at her nape to look touchably soft and feminine.
His loins tightened again. He hadn’t had a reaction like this to a woman since Sarah. As a Marquess, intent upon infuriating his father, he’d met and fallen in love with a woman who was part of respectable society but not suited to be the wife of a future duke. Her father was the brother of an earl. The spare. It had been one of the most exciting things about her.
Well that and her kiss. He should have known she’d had far more experience than she professed.
It had been Sarah he’d fought with his father about. He’d returned to their country home in Yorkshire to ask permission to marry. His father had refused to approve the match. And they’d had a terrible row. He’d been furious with his father. So angry that when Camille had come to him with a problem, he’d sent her away without listening. Matthew had been too busy wallowing in his own.
He’d been scheming a grand plan to refuse his inheritance, so that he and Sarah could be together. With his own future in such turmoil, he hadn’t taken the time for the one person who loved him.
He gazed across the carriage at Ella. Despite what she’d gone through, she looked the definition of innocence. He wondered if she was as she appeared or if, like Sarah, she hid a scheming heart. He hated himself for not trusting. But deep within, he knew that if he’d seen Sarah for what she was, he would have never turned Camille away. It had been folly.
When his sister had disappeared the next day, he’d tracked her to London. He’d managed to follow Camille as far as The Kicking Horse but no further. Worried and searching for help, he’d made an unplanned visit to Sarah. They’d met in her garden many afternoons and he knew exactly how to sneak in and out.
He’d wanted advice on Camille. Comfort that he hadn’t lost his sister forever. He’d wanted her support, assurance that she’d wait for him while he secured his future and hers. If his father was going to disown him then he needed time.
She was there, waiting with her pretty smile and lovely curves. He imagined she waited there every day, even knowing he was away, because she’d missed him so.
Only her face spoke not of excitement, but of dread. “What are you doing here?” she’d hissed.
The story had come spilling out as he held her now limp hand. When he’d finished, he could hear the begging tone in his own voice. “Say you’ll wait for me. Tell me that you’ll be content to be my wife without the title.”
She blinked and didn’t answer right away. Normally, she didn’t stop talking but her silence in that moment spoke volumes. “Try to understand that it is up to me to raise my family’s standing.”
He’d jerked away, the reality of her words crashing down. She only wanted him because he would inherit a dukedom.