Chapter Eleven
Eleanor forced herself not to squirm as the Dowager Countess of Wincanton inspected her. Her gaze was not unkind, but it was penetrating. Just outside, she heard Sorin issuing commands concerning pillows and such. Desperate to escape the intense scrutiny of her new traveling companion, she peeked out from between the curtains.
It afforded her a rare opportunity to observe Sorin’s profile for a moment unseen. Or so she thought. Turning, he caught her eye and smiled. At once she dropped the curtain and looked down at her lap, unwilling to expose her burning face to the carriage’s other occupant. The door opened again, causing her to flinch, but it was only a servant bringing in blankets.
Once everything was in place and the servants gone, the carriage lurched into motion, forcing both ladies to steady themselves until the rocking settled into a more predictable rhythm.
“Thank you for inviting me to join you,” Eleanor said at last, breaking the deepening silence. Her face once more cool, she risked raising it.
“You are most welcome,” replied Lady Wincanton with a brief smile. “I can well imagine how uncomfortable you must have been. Four together in one carriage seems to me unbearably crowded.”
“Yes. It was quite close,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Even more uncomfortable when confined with an individual for whom one has little liking,” added Lady Wincanton, a knowing twinkle in her eye.
Eleanor felt her cheeks again grow warm. Just how much had Sorin overheard? And how much of it had he told his mother? “No doubt,” she finally replied, her voice coming out sounding choked.
The woman’s smile returned, and this time it was warm and genuine. “I think we can agree that a journey may be either lengthened or shortened by the quality of one’s traveling companions.”
“Indeed we can,” Eleanor replied, half laughing at herself. Ironically, it seemed she’d jumped from the boiling pot directly into the fire.
“Then let us shorten our journey, shall we?” said the older woman with relish. “I have not bothered to keep up with the news of the county for an age. Nothing has seemed worthy of my interest—until now. Tell me of young Sir Yarborough,” she demanded. “Sorin says you knew each other as children. What think you of the lad and his mother?”
Again, Eleanor wondered just how much the woman already knew. “I, ah…”
The Dowager Countess chuckled. “I’ve put you on the spot now, but you needn’t worry, my dear. For your sake, I shall for the moment forego polite speech and tell you that my own impression is not a flattering one. The woman is garish and coarse, and her son is no better than a puffed-up fool of a peacock.” She sat back and pursed her lips. “There. Now you may proceed without concern for my delicate sensibilities.”
A laugh borne purely of surprise escaped Eleanor and she clapped her hands over her mouth, horrified.
But Lady Wincanton merely smiled. “I can see I’ve shocked you. I should have perhaps waited a bit longer before so freely offering my opinion, but I cannot help thinking you share it.”
“I would be lying if I said I did not,” Eleanor admitted, surrendering. “He was a horrid little boy who has grown into an equally horrid man. As for his mother…” She relayed the conversation that had caused such an uproar. “I know I should have held my tongue, but the wrongness of it was such that I simply could not remain silent, not even for the sake of peace.”
Lady Wincanton nodded. “I agree. To have done so would have led her to believe you were in agreement with her.”
“And it would have encouraged her to continue in her attempts to sway my cousin to favor her son’s suit,” Eleanor added drily.
“Ah, now we come to it,” said Lady Wincanton, her eyes robin-bright. “I thought there was an ulterior motive behind their wanting to join our party. Their coach could easily have been repaired in time for the journey. So your old enemy has decided to woo you, has he?”
“He thinks only of my purse—and perhaps a bit of revenge for my embarrassing him when we were young.” She didn’t elaborate further. Sorin might understand her reasons for having knocked the brute on his arse, but his mother might not. “It is my hope that in light of our recent disagreement, Lady Yarborough will now reconsider me as a daughter-in-law and persuade him to look elsewhere for a bride.”
“And if she does not?”
Eleanor pressed her lips together briefly. “Then I shall have little choice but to make my feelings on the matter unmistakably clear.” And she would do so in a manner guaranteed to put off any further pursuit.
As though she’d heard the rebellious thought, Lady Wincanton nodded, her expression grim but approving. “You have no fear of making enemies, do you?”
It wasn’t really a question, but Eleanor answered it anyway. “No. I don’t,” she said recklessly. And if she did, she wasn’t about to show it.
“Sorin told me I’d like you even better now that you are grown. He was right.”
Eleanor barely refrained from gaping in astonishment. He told her he thinks me grown? She had no time to ponder the revelation.
“But then, my son has always been a good judge of character,” continued the old woman, seemingly oblivious to her companion’s increasing shock. “Jane was a very nice girl, too, though I vow she was much milder in temperament. A timid soul, she was—almost passive. You, however, are anything but a silent observer. Where Jane took great pains to avoid confrontation, you, I think, would rather lead the charge.”
Oh, dear…
Eleanor’s heart paused in its rhythm as Lady Wincanton lifted her chin high. “I have decided that I like you and that we shall be friends, you and I. As such, you need not worry should the Yarboroughs attempt to discredit you. If they should be so foolish, know that they will find themselves fighting a battle on more than one front.” Her gleaming eyes narrowed even as Eleanor’s widened. “I may be old, but I’m anything but toothless. London is still my bailiwick, and those two vulgar upstarts would be wise not to cross me.”
It was a continuing struggle to hide her surprise. Lady Wincanton was nothing like she remembered. But then, she’d only been a slip of a girl the last time they’d spoken at length—if a mere ten minute conversation could be considered as such. “Th-thank you, madam,” Eleanor finally stammered. “Your confidence is most appreciated.”
“As I said, I have decided that I like you. Now, I think it is time for some refreshment. Let us see what awaits us inside this hamper.”
As Sorin’s mother rummaged through the contents of the basket, Eleanor breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had passed some sort of test, apparently. It felt good knowing she wasn’t alone in her disapproval of the Yarboroughs. By contrast, Rowena had been unhappy with her outspokenness and would no doubt have a few choice words for her tonight. She’d do her best to smooth things over, but that wouldn’t extend to making an apology to Lady Yarborough. She’d sooner cut out her own tongue than kowtow to that woman!
The two of them chatted over lemonade and an assortment of carefully packed delicacies, passing the time in as pleasant a manner as could be had whilst being jostled about in the confines of a carriage. Surprisingly, Eleanor discovered they had much in common. The more they talked, the more she genuinely liked Lady Wincanton. Even so, she was careful not to reveal too much of herself, and she especially avoided talking about her relationship with Sorin.
After a while, they fell into a companionable silence, and Lady Wincanton’s head began to nod.
Now she had time to contemplate all that had been said. He thinks of me as grown… A thrill of gleeful triumph ran through her. That thought led to another, less innocent one. If he’s willing to alter his view of me from child to adult, might he be willing to alter it further? She’d meant only to use Sorin’s situation to help her dissuade Yarborough, but she had to consider the opportunity presented.
He wanted her help to find a wife. How could she help him unless she knew what sort of woman he sought? If she herself could manage to fit that description… I might not have to leave Somerset after all. Again, she wondered at the wisdom of even contemplating a union with him. They were good friends, but marriage? Could it work?
Far sooner than expected, a bright ray of amber light peeked through the swaying curtains, its angle telling her that the time had indeed passed swiftly. The coach slowed, and Eleanor looked out to see the small, bustling village of Hindon. Eventually, they rolled to a stop in the twilit courtyard of the Ellington Arms coaching inn.
As she disembarked from the carriage, she caught Caroline’s eye. She looked positively miserable. Lady Yarborough took her son’s arm and without a word to her traveling party, began walking.
“Did I not tell you? A fine place!” boomed Yarborough, gesturing about with his other hand as though he were the proud proprietor himself.
Sorin, who was supporting his mother, glanced back at her with a sardonic look.
Eleanor stifled a laugh and followed on.
A portly, balding man hurried forth, bowing and scraping, to ask which of their party Lord Wincanton was.
“I am he,” said Sorin.
The man bowed deeply. “I received your message, my lord, and have prepared a private dining room for your party.”
Yarborough’s bewildered expression began to turn downright nasty.
“Thank you,” said Sorin with a kind nod. “My mother, however, will wish to dine in her—” He paused as his mother patted his arm and shook her head. “Never mind, it appears we shall all be dining together.”
At the innkeeper’s bidding, they proceeded into a small room clearly set aside for guests of prominence. Eleanor hurried around the opposite side to sit between her cousin and Rowena, narrowly avoiding the hasty chair Yarborough pulled out as she passed. She pretended she had not noticed, leaving Caroline to claim it.
Unfortunately, her position put her directly across from Lady Yarborough, who fixed her with a baleful glare. Eleanor ignored her in favor of the bowl of steaming soup that was promptly placed before her. There was little talk during the first course as everyone was hungry and tired. But as the second course appeared and the wine began to flow, so did conversation. Keeping her head down over her plate, Eleanor refrained from making eye contact with anyone at the table. Perhaps if she finished her meal quickly, she might be excused before any more disasters could occur.
No such luck.
Lady Yarborough cleared her throat loudly, drawing everyone’s gaze. “Lady Wincanton, young Miss Caroline here has informed me that you have an acquaintance residing in Golden Square.”
Eleanor caught Caroline’s pained expression just as Lady Wincanton paused in her repast to fix her inquisitor with a steely eye.
“So I do,” the Dowager replied flatly.
Lady Yarborough waited, but Lady Wincanton offered nothing further. A tiny bit of red crept above the neckline of her gown. “How delightful,” she said rather awkwardly. “For we now also reside in Golden Square.” Again she waited. In vain. The red crept higher. “I wonder if perhaps you might introduce me,” she pressed on. “After all, we’ll be neighbors.” It was said with a sickly smile that slowly faded as the Dowager Countess of Wincanton again lifted her head to regard the woman with chilly disdain.
Looking at them, Eleanor thought Sorin’s mother looked like a fierce lioness regarding a plump housecat.
“Miss Caroline is right,” said Lady Wincanton at last. “The lady in question happens to be my sister-in-law. Happily, she is away caring for her daughter who is expecting the arrival of my grandniece or nephew any day now. I do not expect her to return to London this Season, so I’m afraid there is no one to whom you may be introduced at this time. As for your other neighbors, I know them not. But I’m sure they will come to know you in due course.”
Eleanor hid her smile by taking a bite of roast chicken and watched the scarlet of mortification creep the rest of the way up Lady Yarborough’s neck to flood her face. It would have been perfectly delightful had the woman not immediately turned her narrowed, spiteful gaze upon her. Eleanor hadn’t mentioned anything to Lady Wincanton about her desire to be introduced to anyone, but damned if Lady Yarborough would ever believe it. There was nothing she could possibly do or say to mitigate the unbridled hatred shining from the woman’s eyes.
“Ah! Rowena,” continued Lady Wincanton as though oblivious to the rising tension in the room. “I want to ask you if Eleanor might come and join me Tuesday afternoons for tea with some of my friends and their daughters while she is in London. You are, of course, aware that I quite enjoy her company, and as I have no daughters of my own…”
Rowena glanced at her in open surprise before answering in a rather startled voice, “Oh, of—of course she may. I’m delighted that you’ve had such a pleasant time together.”
“Excellent,” said the older woman. “Then it is settled. Now, I do hope you will all forgive me, but I believe I shall go to my room now. I’m quite exhausted. Far too much so to even consider the temptation of dessert. Sorin, if you don’t mind.”
At once he rose and offered her his arm. Just as they made the turn, Lady Wincanton looked back at Eleanor and winked.
For the second time that day, Eleanor wanted to kiss a Wincanton. She’d just been placed under the aegis of one of London’s most respected matrons.
Before anyone else could speak, Lady Yarborough, who was now a rather interesting shade of violet, rose also. Rage radiated from her like the spines on a hedgehog. “I’m quite fatigued as well,” she bit out. “Donald, you will escort me to my room. Now.”
Eleanor almost pitied him as he reluctantly left his half-eaten dinner to do her bidding. Almost. She watched as, without so much as a fare-thee-well, Lady Yarborough grabbed her son’s arm and stalked out of the room.
Rowena turned to her with a baffled countenance. “What in heaven’s name have you done to Lady Wincanton?”
“I—I’ve done nothing,” she answered truthfully.
“Well, she certainly has taken a liking to you,” said Charles.
“Unlike Lady Yarborough,” said Rowena, her tone dour. “Eleanor, I must ask you to at least attempt to make amends with the woman. I know she’s horrid,” she added more quietly. “But we are forced to travel with her for the next several days, and I’m not entirely certain I shall be able to reestablish good relations without your help.”
She felt her pulse quicken with outrage. “I will not retract a single word,” she vowed.
“Eleanor, please!” hissed Rowena. “It’s not that I disagree with you—I fully share your opinion on the matter of contention—but she complained about you for a solid hour after you left! I worry for your reputation should she reach London in such a state. Even if Lady Wincanton has decided to take you under her wing, Lady Yarborough could still inflict a lot of damage. And not just to you,” she added, shooting a nervous glance toward Caroline.
Despite her growing fury, the sight of Caroline’s desperate face moved her. “Very well. I dislike being held hostage in this manner, but for Caroline’s sake I’ll make the effort.” The visible relief on Rowena’s face at the concession grated on her nerves. “However, do not expect me to apologize to her for what I said—or to accept her son’s suit. He is a brute and a liar, and I will have no part of him.”
“Of course not,” said Charles without hesitation. “I don’t know what passed between you and his mother, though I expect to be fully informed forthwith,” he added, looking pointedly at his wife, “but after spending a full day in his company, I can honestly say I have no desire to see the Yarboroughs become part of our family.”
Unexpectedly, Rowena nodded agreement. “I am of like mind. Should he press for your hand, his suit will not be considered.” She paused, seeming to wrestle with herself for a moment. “Eleanor, I would not ask you to humble yourself if I thought there was any other way. I did try, but Lady Yarborough will only accept your contrition.”
“That will be most difficult, as I have none,” Eleanor snapped. That she should bend knee, albeit metaphorically, to such a woman was both ridiculous and insulting. But she would do it for Caroline. “However, I’ll do my best to at least appear remorseful.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Eleanor warned. “She’s furious with me and from the look she gave me just now that’s not likely to change over a few words.”
“Nevertheless, I do appreciate your willingness to try.” Rowena looked at her with such concern that it made her heart turn. “Do be careful, dear. Neither of them is of significant rank, but their newfound wealth may broaden their sphere of influence. And duke’s daughter or not, you are as vulnerable as any when it comes to gossip. There is only so much we can do to protect you.”
“I understand,” Eleanor replied. She stood just as servants entered bearing dessert. “If you will excuse me, my appetite is quite gone. I think I shall go to bed now.”
Charles rose, too, waving off the attendants and their sweets. “And I, as well. You and Caroline are sharing the room next to ours. We will escort you upstairs.”
Eleanor followed them in silence, wishing with all her might that they were back at home where she could retreat in privacy. Then she remembered that Holbrook wasn’t really “home” anymore.
“I shall call for hot water to be brought up to you,” said Rowena as they unlocked the door.
“Thank you,” said both Eleanor and Caroline at the same time.
Charles poked his head in and glanced around the room. “Not that I expect any trouble, but you have only to knock on the wall or call out if we are needed,” he said quietly. “Wincanton is just on the other side of you, as well.”
So close… Eleanor’s spine tingled, and she wondered at it. Was it her conscience pricking her again, or was it something else? She had no time to decide either way.
“Where are Sir Yarborough and his mother staying?” whispered Caroline, speaking for the first time in more than half an hour.
“Across the hall,” answered Charles, jerking his chin in that general direction. “So watch how loudly you converse.”
“Good night, Ellie, Caroline,” said Rowena. “Lock the door behind us.”
Immediately after doing so, Eleanor went to the narrow bed against the far wall and sat, claiming it. On the other side of this wall, there might be another bed just like this one. And in it, Sorin might be resting even now, his head on a pillow, just inches away. The thought was both comforting and disturbing.
“I’m so sorry, Eleanor,” said Caroline, coming to sit beside her.
“It was not your fault,” Eleanor answered, wishing she would just be quiet and let it go. “It was mine. I ventured my opinion without thinking of the impact it might have on others. I should have had better self-discipline than to allow her to get under my skin.”
“If it is any consolation, I agree with everything you said to her,” said Caroline. “And—and I can definitely see now that Sir Yarborough is not someone I would ever want as a suitor. You were right about him.” She made a face. “But even if he were not a complete ass, I certainly would not want her for my mother-in-law. I’ll do my best to distance myself from him during the remainder of our journey.”
Though glad to hear it, Eleanor knew it wouldn’t be that simple. “You’ve accepted an invitation to tea, remember? You cannot renege without a valid excuse, of course, but I would advise that you break ties with them soon afterward, lest everyone assume you are being considered for a match.”
Caroline frowned. “You were just invited to tea by Lady Wincanton. Does that not put you in the same position?”
Eleanor blinked in surprise and then forced out a little laugh. “Our situations are entirely different. I’ve known Lord and Lady Wincanton practically all my life, while you’ve only just met the Yarboroughs. Everyone knows Sorin is a sort of older brother to me—perhaps even an uncle, given the difference in our ages. No one will think anything of it.”
Inwardly, she squirmed. ‘Uncle’ was a bit of a stretch, but it was too late now. She was determined to use such assumptions to her advantage, but she would have to be careful. Her best hope now lay in Lady Wincanton, who had referred to her in very motherly terms tonight. She would foster that rapport—in private and in public. Not only would it fend off the Yarboroughs, but it might help Sorin see her potential as a wife.
Again, she quailed at the thought of what might happen if she succeeded in changing his view of her. Is that something I truly want? She tried to sort out the muddle of thoughts and feelings provoked by the idea, concentrating on the positives. He is handsome. And intelligent. And kind to a fault. He’s a good man—one of the finest I know. And despite his sometimes starchy demeanor, he has a rare sense of humor. We’ve always gotten on quite well. Altogether, it would be an excellent—
“I have little reason to believe either Lady Yarborough or her son has any genuine interest in me, anyway,” said Caroline, her face settling into an expression of grim resignation. In truth, I really think they’ve only been nice to me in order to get to you.” She sighed. “I did not anticipate needing to be concerned with such ruses until after we reached London.”
“Caroline, there will be gentlemen interested in you for more than just your fortune and connections. You must believe that.”
“Oh, I do,” said Caroline, her chin rising. “But Sir Yarborough is not among them. He would not have looked at me twice were I not your friend.”
“How can you be certain?” she asked kindly, though she knew it was the truth.
“Papa once told me no man sells his land unless he has no other alternative,” explained Caroline, her tone matter-of-fact. “And he’s done exactly that.” Her eyes narrowed. “The Yarboroughs are awfully anxious to give the impression of wealth, but I’d be willing to wager that once the money he received for that land runs out he’ll be a pauper—unless he marries well. I am certainly no heiress. It would not surprise me at all if Lady Yarborough withdraws her support of me the moment she realizes you’re a lost cause.” She tossed her curls. “It’ll be a relief.”
Eleanor looked at her with new respect. “I did not think you would see it—about the money, I mean.”
“Neither did Lady Yarborough,” replied Caroline archly. “I hope she won’t brag about her son’s exploits to any other prospective brides. Or maybe I do. It would serve them both right if her flapping jaws ruined his chances of bagging an heiress.”
“Little chance of that,” Eleanor sighed. “Unfortunately, there will be plenty of naive young debutantes just waiting to be taken advantage of by people like the Yarboroughs. Let us just be glad we are not among them.”
Later that night, when the candles had been extinguished and Caroline was fast asleep, Eleanor lay awake, staring at the faint light shining from the gap beneath their door. She’d heard no evidence of anyone occupying the adjacent room since the inn had quieted. Even so, she swore she could feel Sorin’s presence emanating from the other side of the wall.
Closing her eyes, she tried to put it out of her mind. But thoughts of him would not desist. Eventually, fatigue claimed her and she slipped into the realm of dreams.
Sorin lay still as death. Eleanor was so close. He could hear everything on the other side of the wall, from her gentle laughter as she talked with her friend to the splash of water as she bathed. The thought of her bathing sent a flash of heat through his body, tightening his loins. He thanked the Lord they’d left for London a week before most other families and that he’d had the forethought to make clear in his advance letters that he wanted a room of his own. After the day he’d spent listening to Yarborough, it would have been absolutely unbearable to have to share a room with him.
When all was quiet and he could hear nothing more, he turned onto his side and stared at the dim line of light under the door. His mother had certainly put Lady Yarborough in her place tonight. Even so, there would likely be trouble for Eleanor from that source later on. Mother’s sponsorship would help stave off any attacks on her character, but she wouldn’t always be there to act as a buffer.
I, on the other hand, will. It was a promise he intended to keep.
Rolling over again, he faced the darkness and closed his eyes, trying to find sleep. Despite being weary from the day’s long ride, a great restlessness had taken him the instant he’d lain down. His thoughts refused to settle. He longed to be with Eleanor somewhere quiet where he could work on her unimpeded. London was just too full of distraction and turmoil.
If only I’d come home sooner…
Opening his eyes, Sorin was startled to find his valet standing over him with a lit candle. Groggily, he rose and went to the window. Opening the shutters, he saw faint streaks of predawn light on the eastern horizon, and cursed beneath his breath. It certainly didn’t feel like he’d slept. Dressing with all speed, he went downstairs and joined the others at table. Two members of their party were conspicuously absent. “Where is Lady Yarborough?” he asked Charles, taking the seat beside him.
“Like your mother, she’s taking the morning meal in her room,” his friend muttered around a forkful of ham. “Unlike your mother, her choice to do so is doubtless a form of protest over last night’s defeat,” he added with a chuckle.
“She’ll be down soon enough. Or she’ll get left behind,” Sorin replied, taking a sip of what the serving woman had alleged was tea. He cast a covert glance down the table. Yarborough had sat himself opposite Caroline at the other end of the table and was already filling the air with boastful chatter. Eleanor, who’d made a place for herself in the middle of the long trestle away from everyone, appeared quite content eating her breakfast alone and in peace.
She looked up from her plate and smiled at him warmly. He smiled back and lifted his cup in silent salute. The serving woman chose that moment to come back and load his plate, coming between them. By the time she moved out of the way, Eleanor had finished her repast and was rising. Rowena, who’d also finished, came over to her and together the ladies excused themselves.
Sorin bolted his food as quickly as possible and got up, leaving behind a rather startled Charles. He was just entering the common room when he noticed Lady Yarborough coming down the stairs. Not wishing to start the morning off with an unpleasant encounter, he hung back and waited, hoping she would go the other way. To his disappointment, however, she made a beeline to where Eleanor and Rowena now sat with their backs to the room, warming themselves by the fire.
Alongside his mother.
He scowled in surprise. What was she doing downstairs this early? She never emerged from her chamber until just before it was time to depart. Curiosity drove him to follow Lady Yarborough at a distance and quietly take a nearby wingback chair that faced away from them.
“Good morning Lady Ashford, Lady Wincanton,” he heard Lady Yarborough say. There was a heavy pause, and then, “Good morning, Lady Eleanor. I do hope everyone rested well.”
“Quite,” answered his mother. “One expects the bedding in such establishments to be disagreeable at best; however, I found mine surprisingly tolerable.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” replied Lady Yarborough. “I will relay your compliment to my son, who suggested this establishment. He expects the best, you know. As do I. I have no forbearance for things that are not of the very highest quality.”
Silence.
“Lady Yarborough, might I have a word with you in private?” he heard Eleanor ask after a moment.
“My dear child,” said Lady Yarborough in an oily manner that made his skin crawl with distaste, “whatever you have to say to me may surely be said before your family and friends.”
After a moment’s hesitation Eleanor again spoke, her voice sounding a bit strangled, “Yes, of course. Lady Yarborough, I wish to express my…regret over the unfortunate misunderstanding between us yesterday.”
“Misunderstanding?” The flatly spoken word was laden with displeasure.
“Yes,” answered Eleanor. “I’ve had time to think about what transpired. You were correct in that I have never been so unfortunate as to be faced with a decision like that which was forced upon your son. Though I would like to think I would have chosen differently, I cannot be absolutely certain I would have done so had I been in his place. As such, I ask that you forgive my having spoken in haste. I’m afraid I let my passion carry me beyond the bounds of polite manners.”
Tucked away in his chair, Sorin covered his mouth to hide a broad grin. Clever girl! She hadn’t at all apologized for what she’d said, but rather the manner of its delivery.
“Why, of course I forgive you,” replied Lady Yarborough in a saccharine tone. “I know you meant no disrespect. Your words were borne of a tender heart—a most commendable attribute in a young lady.” A heavy sigh. “Would that my own circumstances had allowed me to remain so sheltered and idealistic. But alas, my naïveté was extinguished long before its time.”
Sorin’s mother cleared her throat loudly. “In my opinion, it is a mark of her exemplary upbringing that she has retained such charming ingenuousness, especially when one considers the degradation of society these days. Would you not agree, Lady Yarborough?”
Sorin muffled a laugh.
“Er, yes. Quite so,” said Lady Yarborough after a moment.
“Then, as we all seem to be in happy agreement, may I assume the aforementioned ‘misunderstanding’ has been resolved?” continued his mother.
“Of course,” said Lady Yarborough in a strained voice. “Yes, of course it has. It was really nothing to begin with.”
“Excellent!” his mother interrupted, though the other woman was clearly not finished. “Then I shall go and find my son so that we may depart.”
Grimacing, Sorin sank a little deeper into his seat and hoped to escape notice.
“Eavesdropping, are we? Shame on you.”
The quiet voice at his ear made him jump, and Sorin bit back a curse. “Damn it all, Charles!” he hissed. “Don’t sneak up on a body so!”
“Judging by the stiffness of Lady Yarborough’s spine, it must have been well worth hearing,” whispered his friend, who was smiling from ear to ear. “Come, their backs are turned. Stand, and we’ll act as though you’ve just come in with me.”
Too grateful to turn down the offer, Sorin did as he was told.
“You must tell me everything when we have a private moment,” murmured Charles. “Not that I’m avid for gossip, but for once I’d like to know what my wife does before she tells me only the bits she deems important.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” Sorin answered, doing his best to appear nonchalant as his mother approached them.
“Lord Ashford,” she said with a brisk nod of greeting. “How perfect your timing is. Might I borrow my son for a moment?”
“Of course, madam.”
Sorin mouthed the word “traitor” at him as he turned, earning in response a wicked and completely unrepentant grin. Before his mother could speak, however, a nearby disturbance drew their attention.
“What do you mean I owe you a crown?” growled Yarborough angrily, his demeanor menacing as he addressed the owner of the establishment. “I thought we had an understanding.”
Very politely, but also very firmly, the innkeeper clarified. “My lord, you and your lady mother had the use of two of my best rooms last night. The cost of meals was included in the price, which is half a crown apiece. The others in your party have already settled their accounts.”
Yarborough’s face and neck grew mottled. “I bring you business of the highest order—a duke and a bloody earl—and this is how you repay my kindness? I could have advised them to go by way of Chilmark rather than stopping here!”
“And your recommendation is greatly appreciated, my lord. But at no time did I ever agree to let my rooms free of charge.” Arms folded, the innkeeper stood before him, waiting.
“Gentlemen, is there a problem?” Sorin asked, stepping in.
Yarborough, who looked ready to murder, blinked in surprise at his intrusion. “Not at all. Just taking care of a bit of private business. I’ll be along in a moment.”
“After rendering payment in full,” said the innkeeper quickly, holding out his hand toward Yarborough. “Which I’ll be having now, my lord, if you please.”
An impatient sigh burst from Yarborough. “You are inconveniencing not only me, but the other members of my party with this boorish persistence!” he hissed to the innkeeper. “We’ll discuss it when I return from London.”
“Take your time, please,” Sorin interjected loudly. “I’m in no hurry to remount. In fact, I’ll wait with you while you settle your bill.”
Jaw clenched, Yarborough snatched his purse from his belt and began to count out coins into the happy proprietor’s hand. When he’d slapped the last one into the waiting palm, the innkeeper smiled broadly and bid him good day and safe journey. He did not, notably, encourage Yarborough to come back on his return trip, as he had Sorin earlier that morning.
Clearly, Yarborough had not expected to have to pay for lodgings. Either he was a stingy blackguard bent on getting something for nothing or he had money trouble. Neither was good, but if parting with a mere crown was painful…
The extravagant clothing, the new London address, cozying up to the Ashfords—suddenly, it all made sense. “When in doubt, brazen it out,” the old saying went. He’d be willing to bet a thousand pounds that the Yarboroughs had spent every penny on this trip in an effort to fool and catch a rich heiress.
And that rich heiress was undoubtedly Eleanor.