Not Just a Wallflower. Carole Mortimer
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that you had me tracked down at my club, with all the fervour of a pack of hounds baying at the scent of fox—’
‘Do not be melodramatic, Justin.’ Edith eyed him with indulgent exasperation.
His brows rose. ‘Do you deny having had a note delivered to my rooms late in the evening, one moreover that appeared to be of such vital urgency that my manservant instantly dispatched one of the other servants to track me down at one of my clubs?’
‘I did instruct the note be written and delivered to you, yes. But it was not so late in the evening when I did so,’ his grandmother added pointedly. ‘Nor can I be held responsible for the actions of your manservant in dispatching a servant to seek you out so doggedly.’
Justin gave another scowl. ‘But you do not deny that the reason for sending the note was so that you might bring me here simply in order to discuss your young companion?’
The dowager duchess sent him a reproachful glance. ‘There is nothing simple about it, my dear. Ellie, and her future, have loomed large in my thoughts of late. Even more so this evening, when I am feeling so unwell—Justin, would you please refrain from pacing in that restless manner and instead sit down in that chair beside me? It is making my head ache having to follow your movements in this way.’ She gave a pained wince.
Only one part of that statement was of any relevance to Justin at this particular moment. ‘In what way are you feeling unwell?’ He pounced on the statement, his expression distracted as he lowered his long length down into the chair beside the bed before reaching out to take one of his grandmother’s delicately fragile hands into both of his.
Edith gave a weary sigh. ‘I find I become very tired of late. An occurrence which has made me realise that—it has made me aware that I should have made much more of an effort to ensure that things were settled before now...’ She gave another sigh, a little mournful this time.
Justin scowled darkly. ‘Grandmama, if this is yet another way for you to introduce the unwelcome subject of my acquiring a duchess—’
‘Why, you conceited young whippersnapper!’ She gave him a quelling glance as she sat up straighter in the bed. ‘Contrary to what you appear to believe, I do not spend the whole of my waking life thinking up ways to entice my stubborn and uninterested grandson into matrimony!’ Then she seemed to collect herself and settled back once more on her pillows with another pained wince.
Justin gave a rueful shake of his head at hearing her berate him so soundly; not too many people would have dared speak to him like that and hope to get away with it! Oh, he was certain that many of the ton referred to him, behind his back, as being ‘arrogantly haughty’ or ‘coldly disdainful’, and even on occasion as being ‘harsh and imperious’ just like his grandmother was, but they would not have dared to do so to his face.
Not when they were sober, at least, Justin acknowledged derisively, as he thought of Litchfield’s insulting behaviour earlier this evening. A rash and dangerous move on Litchfield’s part, when Justin was acknowledged as being one of the finest swordsmen in England, as well as one of the most accurate of shots; no gentlemen would dare to talk to him in that way when they were sober, for fear they might incite—and subsequently lose—the duel that would undoubtedly ensue.
‘I am glad to hear it,’ he drawled in answer to his grandmother’s comment. ‘Pray, then, what are these “things”, which need to be “settled”, Grandmama?’
‘Eleanor’s future, of course.’ She eyed him carefully, her gnarled fingers folding and then refolding the fine bedsheet beneath them. ‘She is so very young, and has no other relatives apart from ourselves, and I cannot bear to think of what might become of her when I am gone.’
Justin tensed. ‘When you are gone? Is there any likelihood of that happening in the near future?’ he prompted sharply as he felt the slight trembling of the hand he still held in his own.
The fact that the love his parents shared had been exclusive and all-consuming, and not one which had allowed time or particular consideration for their only child, had, as a consequence, meant that it was Justin’s paternal grandparents, Edith and George St Just, who were the constant influences in his life, and with whom he had chosen to spend the majority of his school holidays, as well as Christmas and birthdays.
‘Doctor Franklyn is of the opinion that I am simply wearing out—’
‘Utterly ridiculous!’ Justin barked, sitting forwards tensely, blue gaze fierce as he searched the unusual delicate pallor of her face. ‘He is mistaken. Why, you had tea with your two dear friends only a few days ago, attended Lady Huntsley’s ball with them just yesterday evening—’
‘As a consequence, today I am feeling so weak that I do not even have the energy to rise from my bed.’
‘You have overtaxed yourself, that is all,’ he insisted.
‘Justin, you are no longer a child and, sadly, neither am I.’ His grandmother gave another heavy sigh. ‘And I cannot say I will not be pleased to be with your grandfather again—’
‘I refuse to listen to this nonsense a moment longer!’ Justin released her hand to stand up before glowering down at her. ‘I will speak to Dr Franklyn myself.’
‘Do so, by all means, if you feel you must, but bullying the doctor cannot make me any younger than I am,’ Edith reasoned gently.
Justin drew in a sharp breath at the truth of that statement. ‘Perhaps you might rally, find new purpose, if I were to reconsider my decision not to marry in the near future.’
‘Generous of you, Royston.’ She gave him an affectionate, understanding smile, which had the effect of shooting more fear into his heart than anything she might say considering she’d been so hell-bent on seeing him married off as soon as humanly possible. ‘Unfortunately, the outcome would, I am sorry to say, remain the same.’
‘I simply cannot accept that!’
‘You must, Justin,’ his grandmother chided gently. ‘Gratified as I am to see how the thought upsets you, it is a fact of life that I cannot go on for ever. I should, of course, have liked to see you settled before my time comes, but I accept that is not to be...’
‘I have already suggested I might give the matter of matrimony further consideration, if it would make you happy!’ He scowled fiercely at the mere thought of it.
‘You must, and no doubt will, do exactly as you wish. At the moment I am more concerned with my dear companion. I must know that Ellie—Eleanor’s—future has been settled before I depart this world.’
‘I would prefer that you not say that phrase again in my presence, Grandmama.’ Justin had resumed his restless pacing, too agitated by his grandmother’s news to be able to stand or to sit at her bedside any longer.
‘Ignoring something will not make it go away, my dear,’ Edith pointed out.
Justin was well aware of that, but even the thought of his grandmother no longer being here, gently chiding or sternly rebuking him for one misdemeanour or another, was anathema to him. She was only in her sixty-ninth year, and Justin had not so much as spared a thought for the possibility of her dying just yet; Edith St Just had been, and still was, the woman in his life on whom he had always depended, a woman of both iron will and indomitable spirit, always there, the steely matriarch of the St Just family.
‘May we discuss Eleanor’s future now, Justin?’ Edith continued, uncharacteristically meek.
Eleanor Rosewood, and her future, were the last things that Justin wished to discuss at this moment, but a single glance at his grandmother’s face was enough to silence his protests as he noticed once again how the paleness of her face, and the shadows beneath her eyes, gave her the appearance of being every one of those eight and sixty years.
He bit back the sharpness of his reply and instead resumed his seat beside the bed. ‘Very well, Grandmama, if you insist, then let us talk of Cousin Eleanor’s future.’
She