Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,48
oddness as people—even the kindest sort—tended to do eventually. A prospect which made her chest ache with sadness. ‘Of course, things move faster when Max assists me. I missed him this morning.’ So much for nonchalant.
‘He was indisposed this morning and...’ The teacup clattered in her saucer and suddenly Eleanor’s face was wretched. ‘Oh, Effie—as much as I know he is going to be furious if I tell you, I feel I must because I really have no idea what to do and, so far away from home, nobody else to turn to!’ Eleanor was up and pacing, her odd mood doing nothing to calm Effie’s now wildly racing heart.
‘I hate it when he gets like this. When he withdraws from the world and will not let anybody in... And it’s all my fault. Poor Max... I should have handled it differently...’
Fear constricted Effie’s throat. ‘What’s happened?’
‘This.’ Eleanor reached into her pocket and retrieved a tightly folded sheet of newspaper. She unfolded it and handed it to Effie, pointing to the third announcement in Births, Marriages and Deaths. ‘He was devastated when he read it. I could see it on his face. Then he stormed out to who knows where and came back not an hour ago and shut himself away again. He refuses point blank to see me or speak to me about it.’
Effie read it aloud. ‘“The Earl of Castlepoint is happy to announce that her Ladyship the Countess of Castlepoint, of Prittlewell House, here on the morning of Saturday last, gave safe delivery of a son and heir...”’ It was a standard announcement with two similar listed directly below. ‘I don’t understand?’
‘She was Max’s fiancée. Before the accident. She left him while he was recovering.’
‘Oh...’ This was the first Effie had ever heard of a fiancée. Her surprise at the news was rapidly overwhelmed by an emotion which churned her stomach. Anger at the woman’s thoughtless, callous treatment of Max tinged with overwhelming jealousy that he clearly still had feelings for the woman if this piece of news had caused him pain. ‘Oh.’
‘I never liked Miranda.’ Eleanor’s tone was clipped and her features suddenly furious. ‘I always thought her shallow and vain. More concerned with pretty gowns and how full her dance card was than with anything of substance. She went out of her way to ensnare him in the most calculated fashion and I was of the firm belief the only reason she had sunk her claws into him then was because he was a handsome and eligible heir to a wealthy earldom—but I kept my own counsel. When he came home injured, she proved me correct, although it gave me no pleasure to be proved it. He was still bedridden and in agony when she terminated the engagement.’
‘She ended their engagement? Then? How could she?’ Because such a monstrous cruelty beggared belief.
‘Max will tell you he terminated it and technically he did, but only because she put him up to it! Because she couldn’t bear the thought of marrying a man who was no longer the dashing naval hero, but a wounded one—regardless of the title and fortune. She was impatient to be the wife of an aristocrat and was not going to allow his inconvenient injuries to get in the way of her desires!’
‘That’s awful...’
‘Oh, but you haven’t heard the best of it yet! Within two months she was engaged again—which completely broke his heart, of course—and then we had to relive the pain again when she married a scant few months later. And she had the audacity to marry in June. The exact same month she had planned to marry Max because Miranda had set her sights on being a June bride, too, and she had no intention of waiting a year until this summer to do it. In Saint George’s in Hanover Square, of course. The same church they were to be married in. To rub salt in the wound. And now this.’
Eleanor shook her head angrily, tears in her eyes. ‘Yet another blow. A reminder of all that should have been his. He knew she was expecting. Gossip has been rife for months and he diligently reads the newspapers, sometimes I think simply to torture himself, so I should have had the