The misplaced miss elois.., p.1
The Misplaced Miss Eloise, page 1
Also by Maggie Dallen
A Wallflower's Wish
A Duke for Miss Daisy
A Lord for Miss Lily
A Marquess for Miss Marigold
Tis the Season for Lady Sarah
A Hero for Lady Abigail
The Earl's Runaway Bride
The Duke's Darling Debutante
The Viscount's Darling Adventure
The Marquess's Darling Match
A Wallflower's Wish Books 1-3
Wallflower's Wish: Books 4-6
Wallflower's Wish: Books 7-9
Bluestocking Battalion
Miss Minerva's Pirate Mishap
Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau
Miss Sally's Unsuitable Soldier
Miss Rebecca's Rebellious Viscount
Miss Hattie's Reluctant Hero
Crazy Crush
Tall, Dark, and Nerdy
Too Nerdy to Handle
The Man, The Myth, The Nerd
Dashing Lords
A Rake's Redemption
A Duke's Distraction
A Gentleman's Gamble
Fall in Love Like a Princess
A Shot With Prince Charming
Geeks Gone Wild
Love at First Fight
My Virtual Prince Charming
Once Upon a Comic-Con
Geeks Gone Wild Series
How to Catch a Crush
Striking Out with the Star Pitcher
Saved by the Crush's Brother
Playing Hooky with the Hottie
First Kiss with the Quarterback
Sleepover with the Enemy
School of Charm
The Misadventures of Miss Adelaide: A Sweet Regency Romance
The Misunderstanding of Miss Louisa: A Sweet Regency Romance
The Miseducation of Miss Delilah: A Sweet Regency Romance
The Misgivings About Miss Prudence
The Mistletoe Mistake of Miss Grayson
The Mischievous Miss Charlotte
The Misguided Miss Mary
The Misplaced Miss Eloise
The Mysterious Miss Lydia
The Misfortunate Miss Farthington
School of Charm Series
Summer Love
Senior Week Crush
Senior Week Fling
Senior Week Kiss
Summer Love Boxset
The Glitterati Files
All-American Princess
Princess of Hollywood
Wicked Earls' Club
Earl of Charm
Earl of Davenport
Standalone
A Lady's Luck
Dashing Lords Series: Books 1-4
Crazy Crush Series
Audible Love
The Misplaced Miss Eloise
School of Charm
Maggie Dallen
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
About the Author
1
Miss Eloise Haverford’s cheeks ached.
Clasping her hands before her, she smiled sweetly at the crowd gathered around her and tried her best to ignore the rapid flutter in her chest.
She truly wished she could blame her racing pulse on dancing or perhaps the tightness of her stays...
However, it was difficult to blame her current discomfort on dancing and stays when she hadn’t yet danced at this evening’s fête, and her stays were tied the same way they always were, and by a maid who knew precisely what she was doing.
It was only Eloise who did not know what she was about.
Her skin prickled uncomfortably and her ribcage felt like it was caving in. Oh goodness. What was wrong with her? A sweat broke out along her hairline and Eloise swiped a hand quickly, hoping no one noticed.
They didn’t. This crowd might have been gathered around her, and she might have been the woman of the hour, considering she was the bride-to-be they were all celebrating this evening...
Yet no one was paying any attention to her. They were all too busy listening to her fiancé, The Earl of Pickington. Lord Pickington.
What a name.
A hysterical giggle threatened as her mind summoned a memory of her younger sister Charlotte’s reaction to his name.
Charlotte was sweet as could be, but she’d never learned how to hide her emotions, and the title of Pickington had been met with disdain.
So, you’re to be Lady Pickington for the rest of your days? Her nose had wrinkled. But that doesn’t suit you at all!
Charlotte, her mother had said in a warning tone. But Charlotte hadn’t seemed to hear. It’s a title better suited to someone covered in scabs or boils or—
Charlotte! Their mother had finally gotten her to stop, but not before Eloise and their brother Rodrick had lost the battle with laughter.
Eloise’s smile faltered now. It had seemed so very silly at the time. Who cared about what one’s title sounded like? What mattered was that she was going to be a countess.
She glanced up at the earl at her side. He was old enough to be her grandfather, another fact Charlotte had felt obligated to point out time and again. Wrinkled and withered, with foul breath that made Eloise’s eyes water...when he deigned to speak to her.
Most of the time, like right now, he seemed to forget that she was by his side.
She’d like to think that was another side effect of old age. But she wasn’t so certain. He was sharp as a whip when it came to talk of politics or gossip or the latest theatrical performance in town.
Perhaps she was just not interesting enough to warrant his attention.
Her insides fell flat as that truth hit the mark. Yes, that was likely it.
Now if Charlotte were here... That was a girl who demanded attention. She fairly crackled with energy and vitality and—
Oh dear. Now she was battling tears as well as this panicky sensation that would not quit.
She truly did miss Charlotte. Her gaze roamed over her fiancé’s ornate townhome and all the finely dressed guests. He’d told her it would be an intimate gathering the night before their wedding. A small celebration among close friends and family to mark the occasion.
As she took in the crush around her, well...it did not feel intimate. And if these were friends, they were not her friends. Her family was here somewhere, though—minus Charlotte, of course, as she was traveling with her new husband.
But she’d spotted her parents talking with some of their acquaintances, her brother Rodrick was here somewhere, and she’d seen her friend Mary at one point, but she could not find her now, and...and...
And Eloise was certain the air was being sucked out of this room. She drew in a sharp inhale, hoping to get some air in her lungs.
“...isn’t that right, my dear?”
She jerked away out of instinct as Lord Pickington’s hand came to the small of her back. All eyes were on her and she caught herself before she could recoil completely. She didn’t so much as blink when a wave of rancid heat hit her square in the face as Lord Pickington breathed down on her.
What had he asked? Didn’t matter.
She smiled brightly and nodded. “Yes, of course, my lord.”
And then he turned back to the others and she was once more ignored as the conversation continued without her.
She was never needed for these sorts of interludes. They’d been engaged for months now so she’d grown accustomed to Lord Pickington’s ways. And his expectations. Of which there were few.
He expected her to smile on command and to agree to whatever he said. That was about it. Oh, and look pretty. He’d outright told her that once. Your job is to look pretty, my dear. He’d said this with a scowl as they’d taken a turn about her family’s drawing room one evening before dinner.
Her mother had informed him that she’d been ill, but he’d insisted on calling upon her, and then had scolded her for not looking her best.
She shoved that memory aside.
Looking pretty she could do. It was really all her mother had ever expected of her as well, so she ought to be used to it.
Her mother. Maybe she could help. She cast a glance in her mother’s direction, hoping to catch her eye. Not that she’d be much help, but she might come over and check on her, at least. Or maybe Eloise could find some way to slip off to the private quarters for some air.
That was all she needed. A little air so she could breathe.
But her mother didn’t seem to notice her stares, and Eloise’s heart slammed harder and harder with each passing second at Lord Pickington’s side. Her limbs were twitching with tension and no amount of telling herself to calm down was helping.
Honestly, what was the matter with her?
She normally glided through evenings such as this one without trouble. She’d long ago mastered the art of smiling sweetly and nodding agreeably, even when her mind wandered.
In fact, it was moments like this one tha
But this evening, her mind couldn’t seem to escape. It was trapped.
She was trapped.
Her heart tripped and raced, beating harder and faster until her pulse was all she could hear.
She needed a moment to catch her breath. Just one.
And then she spotted him. Rodrick. Her older brother was in the corner talking to his friends. Relief washed through her. He would help her find some space. He’d buy her some time, come up with an excuse to cover for her absence so she could...
So she could...what? Sit? Walk?
Breathe?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that this wretched night was passing too slowly and too quickly all at once. There seemed to be a clock ticking in the back of her mind.
By this time tomorrow she’d be wed.
A line of sweat trickled down the back of her neck, but it was a chill that made her shiver.
She waited until there was a pause in the conversation before leaning close to Lord Pickington. “Pardon me, my lord. I see my brother and wish to speak with him.”
She needn’t have even finished. Lord Pickington gave her a muttered assent, seemingly irritated that she’d interrupted him at all.
She slid away from him, and the farther she got, the better able she was to breathe.
Truly, this was problematic. They’d be married in the early afternoon. She shouldn’t be so discomfited by her own husband.
She certainly couldn’t have this panicky reaction every time he was near.
She fixed her gaze on her brother. He was a tall gentleman, but he looked slight in the midst of his aggressively masculine friends. She recognized them all, though she was not well acquainted with his crowd.
She might have been if things had been different. But from the moment Eloise had come out in society, she’d known she was to marry Lord Pickington. Even before the engagement was official, her future had been laid out for her. They’d only been waiting for Lord Pickington’s period of mourning for his late wife to come to an end before making it official.
Because of this, Eloise hadn’t had the sort of Season the other girls her age had experienced. Everyone knew she was spoken for and so none of the young eligible gentlemen paid her much notice. They never danced with her or tried to flirt with her or...
Oh what did it matter? So she’d never had the chance to flirt. So what? But as she approached Rodrick and his friends, she was acutely aware that these were the sort of men she would have spent time with if her situation had been different.
As it was, they only knew her as Rodrick’s sister. Most likely didn’t even remember her name.
Two of the gentlemen seemed to be saying their goodbyes as she drew near. Not surprisingly. The young and handsome Duke of Carver and his cousin, the Marquess of Kalvin, were notoriously dismissive of stodgy formal events such as this one.
But one of Rodrick’s friends remained. The Viscount Wycliffe. Her insides twisted and turned with nerves. Which was ridiculous. The man might have a reputation for being arrogant and dismissive, but he was still a gentleman. And her brother’s friend.
There was nothing to be afraid of.
But her already tense innards disagreed, her heart choosing that moment to skip and scatter, making her breath catch and her limbs quake.
If she could just find one minute alone with Rodrick to tell him what was happening.
And what is that? How to explain that she was falling apart inside and she knew not why?
She nearly stumbled over her steps as she wove through a group of Lord Pickington’s friends. Maybe Rodrick could tell her what was wrong with her. He was a smart fellow, and he’d been engaged even longer than she. Of course, he actually liked his fiancée, Franny. More than liked her, Eloise suspected. Not that he’d ever admitted as much.
“Rodrick.” She called his name as she drew near, but it came out breathless.
Why couldn’t she draw in air like a normal person? No matter how much she sucked in, she couldn’t seem to get enough. And the air tasted hot and bitter. With each new guest who arrived, she was certain the room was closing in on her.
This was ridiculous. She’d never minded crowds before. But then again, she’d never been to a party celebrating her upcoming nuptials before either.
She’d been opposed to this from the start. Wasn’t it bad luck to celebrate a wedding before it even occurred? But her mother had waved away her concerns, stating only that this was what Lord Pickington wished and so that was how it would be.
Her father had made a jest about how Lord Pickington wanted to see the faces of his heirs when they saw the fine birthing hips of his latest wife. Her mother had tsked and told him he’d had too much to drink.
Eloise had blanched, her stomach sinking with horror. Because her father might have been in his cups when he’d said it, and he’d likely been teasing...
But there’d been some truth to it.
Everyone knew why Lord Pickington hadn’t wasted a moment finding a new wife after his last had died. His second.
Eloise was to be his third.
A couple stepped in front of her but didn’t seem to notice her existence. No one did unless Lord Pickington ordered them to take notice. Otherwise she was invisible.
Just the soon-to-be third wife of a man prone to losing his spouses. Not that she thought he murdered them or anything so melodramatic as that. They’d both died of natural causes.
Charlotte’s voice filled her head, a memory of a horrible joke she’d made before leaving for the continent. Someone had mentioned that he’d lost two wives and to Eloise she’d murmured, they’d been bored to death, no doubt.
Eloise had swallowed a laugh and had chided her sister gently the way she ought. But right now...
Oh, right now she had to swallow convulsively to fight off a laugh. And not a good laugh.
Not a happy laugh.
No, this was terrifying laughter, the kind that if she let out...
Well, she wasn’t sure if she would ever stop. She had a frightening notion that the laugh would continue until it turned into a scream.
She was panting for breath by the time she reached Rodrick’s side.
“Why, Eloise,” he said with no lack of surprise. “What are you doing here?”
She blinked at him, a wave of hurt unable to be denied. Seriously? Even her brother was surprised to find her at her own wedding party?
He gave his head a shake and shared a look she could not comprehend with his friend. “Er, pardon. That came out wrong.” Rodrick gave her a smile that made the tension within her ease somewhat. It was the same smile all three siblings shared, and one that made her feel like maybe she did have a friend here, after all.
“What I meant was, what are you doing over here with us when your fiancé is over there?” Rodrick’s smile was mildly strained and just a little sad. “It seems Pickington hasn’t wanted to let you out of his sights all night.”
“Yes, well...” She couldn’t finish.
Yes, well...this is my lot now.
Yes, well...perhaps that’s why I feel like a prisoner.
Yes, well...please save me because I fear I am losing my mind.
She couldn’t say any of those things. There was no way to speak frankly now. Not when his friend was standing right there listening.
Listening...and staring.
She blinked with alarm at the intensity of his dark gaze. After an evening being ignored or overlooked, Eloise suddenly felt very, very...seen.
She blinked again, and this time he looked away. Eloise had the irritating idea that she’d just been dismissed. She’d never been this close to the Viscount Wycliffe before. She’d never actually spoken to him or been introduced. For a moment she wondered why he was even here, but then it came to her with a jarring realization. This was one of those heirs her father was referring to.
