Page 41 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
“Peter! Marvellous to see you,” she said. Before she reached for the ball, she gripped the lower part of his arm in greeting. She blinked up at him, almost expectant. What did she want from him?
“Hello, Ursula,” he returned, his heart aching.
“I wondered where you were,” Ursula continued. “I suppose you’re one I always expect at these garden parties, these days. I told a friend of mine, Eve — oh, there she is. Eve, come round! Meet Peter.”
Suddenly, a stunning blonde swept forth from the croquet party, holding a mallet. She blushed, seemingly embarrassed to see and be seen by the likes of Peter. Peter’s stomach clenched. He was in absolutely no mood to meet someone like this — especially someone who looked as though she wanted him to carry her the moon.
“May I introduce Lady Eve Ellington,” Ursula said. She tried to sidle a bit in front of Eve, seemingly attempting to ensure she was still the centre of Peter’s attention.
“Wonderful to meet you,” Eve said, turning her chin towards her chest in a half-bow. “Frederick has spoken about you in a marvellous manner. You’re a master at the pianoforte, aren’t you?”
Frederick shrugged towards him, his eyes glowing, seemingly hopeful. Perhaps this was his personal plot. Peter longed to be far, far away, latched into his own bedroom, away from the hubbub of courting, of Society.
“I don’t suppose Master is the appropriate term,” Peter responded.
“You’re being humble,” Frederick said, his voice a bit too bright. “The minute he sits down, all the girls pay attention. Isn’t that so, Peter?”
Peter blushed, unsure of what to say. Eve had begun to respond, declaring that she, herself, had studied the pianoforte for years, and thought often that she would have liked to become a singer, if her mother had allowed it.
But in the midst of this rather charming, if boring charade, Peter’s eyes were caught with the glint of something far across the garden party. There, standing alongside Tatiana and several other London women, stood Ella. She was staring at him, her lips parted. It was the first time they’d seen one another since their scandalous meeting in the rose garden, just yonder. In fact, Peter could currently see the wall on which he’d leaned, his heart bursting towards his throat.
As they gazed at one another, Peter forgot to breathe for a long moment. He shivered, unsure of what to say. He felt as though he was on the spotlight, forced to perform. But he only had words for Ella — who was outside of earshot.
“Come now, Peter,” Frederick said. “You can’t very well not respond to that. The two of you might well find you have a great deal in common. Perhaps you should both try your hand at the pianoforte when we carry this party indoors for the evening?”
“I’d like that a great deal,” Eve murmured, with a voice that seemed meant only for Peter.
Peter forced himself to look her in the eye once more, sensing himself to be rude. But as he did, Ella’s red hair flashed back, showing her moving away from the party, back towards the house. Peter’s heart lurched, reminding him that she hadn’t a single care for him in the world. In fact, it was probable that she’d currently found it too painful to see Frederick in this light, deeming him the more beautiful, the more pure of the two. Probably, she’d returned to the house for a private moment, one that had nothing to do with him at all.
Chapter 19
The grass swished past Ella’s ankles. She rushed, feeling manic, towards the doorway of the mansion, her heart seeming to dip lower and lower in her chest. She took several staggering breaths, feeling the thud of what she’d just seen. Peter — speaking to that blonde beauty, Eve. Peter — assuredly sending shivers down EVE’s back, with that cutting smile. Now, Ella traced all the things she knew about Eve: her musical ability, her eager laugh, and knew, in the bottom of her soul, that she was similar to Tatiana in several ways, and therefore a worthy candidate for Peter’s next great love.
She felt the world spinning. Her fingers found the edge of the door, gripping it heartily, trying to make it keep her upright. Her sister’s laugh erupted through the crowd, along with the words, “Yes, it’s terribly funny to see Frederick at a sort of event like this, isn’t it? I feel as though I saved him from a lifetime of living within his own head. He’s said it, too.”
Ella spat on the ground, trying to draw out the feeling that she might vomit. How ridiculous it would be to vomit in front of this group of people! How tragic! She would never live through it. Her throat clenched.
“It’s terribly true that my sister is the same,” Tatiana continued.
Ella wondered if Tatiana was a bit tipsy. She was prone to drinking a bit too much when anxious, and the wedding had certainly cast jitters through her. Again, Ella’s eyes tore across the crowd, finding Peter giving what seemed to her full attention to Eve. Frederick had begun to duck through the crowd, his own face green. Ella felt herself drawn towards him. She slipped through the various guests, nearly taking an elbow to the nose, before darting up to Frederick. She clenched her fists.
“Frederick,” she said. Her own voice sounded incredibly youthful to her, as though she was still that twelve-year-old, asking Frederick to come read with her.
Frederick looked vaguely shocked to see her, as though he’d lost sight of her in the wake of all the wedding chaos. After a pause, he lent her a genuine grin.
“Ella. Darling Ella. I was looking for you earlier.”
“Were you?” Ella asked. Again, she glanced towards Peter, who had ducked his head down a bit to ensure he could fully hear Eve’s voice.
“Surely. Tatiana mentioned that you did a marvellous job on her wedding gown. I wanted to thank you, Ella. Thank you for — for treating my marriage to Tatiana with such grandeur. With such love.”
Ella blinked at him. She felt the truth brewing up within her. “If only you knew the truth,” she murmured.
Frederick chuckled, seemingly thinking she was making some sort of self-deprecating joke. How wretched the world was.
“You and I both know that you think Tatiana holds the moon and the stars and the sun,” Frederick said. “And she thinks the same of you.”
Ella sizzled with adrenaline. She glanced towards the punch bowl to the side of the garden party and imagined racing towards it, thrusting her body against it and casting the punch to the ground. She imagined the liquid brimming across the grass, imagined the screeches from the various women and girls who had appeared, their eyes heavy with hope for courting. Courting the likes of Lord Peter Holloway.
