Chapter Twelve
With great anticipation, Eleanor watched London’s busy streets pass by her window. The leaden sky and drizzle bothered her not at all, though she wished the inclement weather had come a bit sooner so that Sorin might have ridden with her. It had begun just as they’d crossed into the outskirts of Town, and he’d elected to remain mounted rather than bring the damp into the carriage with him.
Despite having enjoyed the comforts of Lady Wincanton’s carriage and companionship, both of which were far superior to the alternative, it had been a long and wearying road. Every night Caroline had bemoaned at length her having to endure Lady Yarborough’s constant poking and prying into her personal business, and every night Eleanor had felt terrible for not being able to share her own good fortune. It wasn’t her carriage to offer, and it would have been inappropriate to ask her hostess to further alter arrangements.
Still, she was here. The Season had never before held much charm or significance for her, but now it was everything. It was an opportunity. If Sorin, who was now officially on the market, could somehow be made to see her as the best possible match…
This time, the prospect of marrying Sorin inspired neither panic nor guilt, but rather excitement.
If I must wed, then why not marry someone I already know? Someone I’m quite fond of and who lives close to Holbrook? It made perfect sense, really. Holly Hall was but a stone’s throw from home. And Charles would doubtless be more than pleased to have his dearest friend become part of the family.
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it was the wisest course of action. Who better to marry my friend than me? True, he’d been stern and disapproving in the past, but things might be different now that he saw her as a woman grown and not a schoolgirl needing constant correction. In the course of one conversation, a whole new world of possibility had opened up. Now to see if it is indeed possible…
“I can see you’re just as pleased as I to have arrived,” said Lady Wincanton with a smile that transformed at once into a frown as one of their wheels hit a bump, jostling them. “Merciful God. My posterior will certainly be glad of a change in attitude.”
“Mine, too,” Eleanor agreed with a rueful laugh. She felt completely at ease with Sorin’s mother now. Rather than being cool or aloof as she’d once thought her, Lady Wincanton was warm and kind. The lady had also proven to possess not only a sharp wit, but a far more playful sense of humor than she’d thought possible. Sorin was very much like her. “I confess I will be delighted to see the outside of this carriage,” she admitted. “I long for a proper hot bath.”
“That shall be my first order of business as well,” agreed Lady Wincanton. “Along with a glass of mulled wine.”
They fell into amiable silence as the coach wended its slow way through London’s sodden streets to St. James Square, where they both made their London homes. Eleanor felt like cheering when they at last came to a full stop. She smiled at Lady Wincanton. “Thank you again, madam, for so generously sharing your carriage with me.”
“The pleasure was all mine, my dear. I shall look forward to seeing you again on Tuesday.”
The door opened then and Eleanor disembarked, glad for the large umbrella the footman held over her head. The other carriage had already stopped ahead of them. Issuing from within its confines were the shrill complaints of Lady Yarborough concerning the weather. She grinned as Caroline all but leaped from the conveyance in her hurry to get away. Even Rowena, who was normally so calm and patient, looked harried as she quickly followed suit.
Her view was blocked then as Sorin rode up between them, the water dripping from the brim of his hat as he looked down at her with a warm smile. “I shall make an appointment at Rundell & Bridge’s and send a message to let you know when it has been set.”
“I look forward to it,” she replied, marking the avid gleam in the eye of the footman awaiting her leisure. That juicy bit would no doubt be halfway across London within the hour. So much the better!
With a polite tip of his sodden hat, Sorin hailed the driver of the carriage bearing his mother and moved to ride ahead of it.
Eleanor watched him for a moment. Now that she was really looking at him, she noticed what a truly fine figure he cut even in the rain.
Sorin. The only one who had understood her grief and had treated it with respect because he’d suffered a similar loss himself. The only person who’d let her cry and never told her not to be sad or to keep a stiff upper lip. Sorin, her friend and guide, ever sensible, always wise. The more she thought about it, the more the idea of a union appealed.
He’s not so stern and uncompromising, really. I think I could be happy as his wife.
Only when he’d faded into the gray curtain of rain did she turn away. She shivered, marking the chill that had crept in to grip her fingers and toes. The warmth of a fire would be most welcome indeed.
Before she could set foot on the first step, however, someone else called out her name. Cringing, she stopped. Damn. Of course Yarborough would want to say a parting word. Likely several. Assuredly too many. Pasting a cool smile on her lips, she turned.
What a sorry sight he was with the water dripping off his new—and no doubt ruined—hat. He’d wanted to dismount and ride in the carriage when the rain had started, she remembered, but when Sorin and Charles had themselves declined the option, he’d changed his mind. Unlike the other men, who’d seemed almost to enjoy the rain, he looked utterly miserable.
“Sir Yarborough, I do hope you won’t think me rude for my haste, but…” She gestured at the increasingly heavy downpour.
“Not at all, Eleanor,” said he, his smile strained. “I don’t wish to detain you long, only a moment to bid you a warm welcome home and to say that your delightful company has been the highlight of my journey. I hope to see you again very soon.”
She only just managed to keep her mouth from dropping open. Not only was his familiarity of address impertinent, but he’d hardly spoken two words to her since her confrontation with his mother! Then she marked that his gaze rested not on her, but rather on the footman standing beside her. So, he planned to use the servants’ grapevine as well, did he? Indignation heated her blood, driving off the cold.
“Why thank you, Sir Yarborough,” she said, deliberately using formal address. Damned if she’d be quoted as having used his Christian name! “And know that you also have my thanks for your kindness to Caroline. I fear she would have been desolate when Lady Wincanton stole me back in Hindon were it not for your constant attentiveness and gallantry toward her. And do also please relay my heartfelt thanks to your dear mama for inviting her to tea. I’m sure it also lightened her spirits considerably.”
His smile slipped a little. “Yes, of course.”
At that moment, it began to rain in earnest. Blessing the weather, she dipped the tiniest curtsy, so as not to soak her hem. “You’d best go before you catch your death,” she said loudly over the splatting of raindrops. “Caroline will scold me most fiercely for keeping you out in this. I’m sure we’ll meet again in passing sometime soon! Good-bye, Sir Yarborough!”
Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned and hurried up the steps, forcing the footman to follow with the umbrella. She chuckled to herself as they left the despicable Donald Yarborough behind in the deluge. Up, up she went, not once glancing back. The footman sheltering her could take that conversation to the other side of London, too!
“Good Lord, Ellie!” exclaimed Rowena, who was waiting for her in the foyer. “Your boots are likely wet through. What in heaven’s name were you doing lingering out there?”
“Saying good-bye to Sir Yarborough.”
Rowena’s brow shot up at her sour tone. “Go and get out of those wet things at once,” she ordered softly. “And then you can tell me everything over a hot pot of tea.”
It felt so good to be warm and dry that it was hard to imagine venturing out again into the chill air, but Sorin was determined not to delay. There were preparations to make that he hadn’t been able to see to while in Somerset, and there were certain people he needed to speak with as well.
Happy was the chance that had made him look back at Eleanor. Had he not, he wouldn’t have seen Yarborough still sniffing about. Considering the conflict between Eleanor and Lady Yarborough, he’d thought that perhaps the fellow had decided to leave off pursuit. Not so, apparently.
It wasn’t that the blackguard represented any sort of romantic threat—Eleanor could hardly stand the fellow—but rather the trouble he might stir up that worried Sorin. Yarborough was up to something, and whatever it was it couldn’t be good for Eleanor.
Rising, he called for his valet to bring his other boots and ready the light carriage. Rain or not, some things simply couldn’t wait. He needed answers, and he needed them quickly. His mother came in just as he was preparing to leave.
“I take it you’re going to see Stafford?”
“As a matter of fact I am,” he said, frowning. “Lord, woman. Were you not my own mother, I’d swear you were a Gypsy fortune-teller. One day, I’ll have to figure out how you do that.”
A thin smile was her only acknowledgement of the compliment. “It was merely a logical assumption on my part. You’re suspicious of Yarborough. Stafford possesses the means to confirm those suspicions or lay them to rest. You being the decisive person that you are, I would not have expected you to wait a moment longer than necessary to seek out his services.”
“I could just be going out for an evening’s entertainment, you know.”
“On your first night in London after a six-day journey and in this biblical downpour?” she scoffed. “And with that look on your face? You look like you’re either going to attend a funeral or planning to cause one.”
“Stafford should hire you,” Sorin grumbled good-naturedly. “I think I’ll just tell him to come ’round with some of his cold cases and let you have a peek. You’d probably solve the lot of them over tea.”
“What nonsense,” she replied, but her expression was smug. “I myself began to seriously wonder about Yarborough when you told me of his reluctance to pay his bill that first night. And then there was that whole ‘Irish land sale’ business Eleanor told me about. He brags and makes a show of prosperity, but begrudges an innkeeper a measly crown. Something is not right.”
It was uncanny how similar they were in nature. “I know it. But John will ferret out the truth,” he assured her, pulling on his gloves.
“And what will you tell her?”
“Eleanor?” he asked. “Hardly necessary to let her in on it, I should think. I might tell Charles, though. Just so he can keep an eye on her when I’m not around.”
Her mouth thinned. “Yes, well tell him to be sure that Rowena goes with Eleanor’s little redheaded friend whenever she visits them so as to prevent her becoming a source of information. I would not put it past that pair to attempt extortion.” Moving to the chair he’d vacated, she sat with an indelicate grunt and stretched her feet out before the fire.
The trip had taken a heavy toll on her joints, Sorin knew. He was thankful they’d arrived before this cold snap had fully settled in. He’d stop by the apothecary along the way and bring back something to ease her discomfort. “Rowena will want to throttle me if she finds out I’m interfering, you know.”
“If it prevents a disaster, I’m sure she won’t mind. If you’re going, you had better do so now before it grows too late in the day,” she said, waving him off and closing her eyes. “Wait,” she said suddenly, opening them again.
“Yes?”
“On your way out, have Jacobson bring up some of that cognac I know he’s hidden away, will you? Quietly.”
He fought back a grin. “Of course, Mother.” The liquor was probably far better than any apothecary’s tonic. As a rule, ladies weren’t supposed to drink hard liquor, but when her joints pained her his mother was apt to bend the rules a bit. At least she would sleep peacefully and pain-free tonight. With a short bow, he departed.
“Take me to Bow Street, George,” he told the driver, a man who’d been in his family’s employ since early boyhood. A man he could trust to keep quiet. Boarding the carriage, he sat back and rapped twice on the roof, signaling his readiness to depart. He could have sent for John to come and see him tomorrow, but he didn’t want the household servants getting wind of such a visit. There were no secrets in London—or at least they were damnably hard to keep. Better that everyone think him off to Covent Garden for a bit of fun.
The streets weren’t very congested. A good portion of London’s population preferred to remain indoors when it rained like this, but even so it took him a bit longer to get to Bow Street than he’d have liked. It didn’t matter. John’s door was always open, whether at the office or at home.
An hour later, the two of them were talking over a pint at the Dove and Duck. John had agreed to put eyes on Yarborough, and they’d moved on to more pleasant matters.
“So you’re on the market this year,” said John, lifting his glass. “Good. About time you put on the shackles. My sister would want you to be happy.”
Sorin knew the time for mourning Jane was long past, but the mention of her name still elicited a pang of sadness. Her death had extinguished the light in his world for so long—but not anymore. His spirits rose at the thought of Eleanor. “I’ve not been completely unhappy. I’ve travelled the world and come home a far richer man than when I left, and I have a great many friends.”
“It’s not the same as having a family.” John’s knowing eyes watched him over the rim of his glass as he took another swallow. “Believe me, I know. I waited far too long to do it, myself. Should have done it ten years ago rather than waiting until this old pate started showing through,” he said with a laugh as he reached up to pat his thinning hair. “Still, my Winnie never seems to mind, bless her. She says I’m still of some use.”
“Well, I’m determined to marry before I’m too old to be of use to anyone,” Sorin said, taking a long drink.
“I’m glad,” said John, his solemnity returning. “You know, I thought I’d have a harder time adjusting to married life after all I’ve seen. But the truth is that it’s good to be able to come home and leave all of it behind. When I’m with Winifred and the children, the darkness just can’t take hold of me.”
His candor took Sorin completely by surprise. He’d been friends with Jane’s brother since the day they’d met, and in all that time John had never once mentioned experiencing any discomfort related to his work. Sorin had never understood how the man managed to sleep after witnessing firsthand the nightly tragedies that played out on London’s streets. How could any man have any peace after being exposed to such constant danger, corruption, and death? “Do you not worry for their safety? Does that concern not divide you at all?” He’d wanted to ask it for years.
John nodded slowly, considering. “At first I thought marrying would weaken me, make me more vulnerable. I fully expected to have to resign. But the truth is that with Winnie I’m stronger. Knowing I’ve got her and the children waiting for me at home gives me something to look forward to. Something to think about that’s not so awful as what I have to sometimes deal with. As far as their safety is concerned, I’m well-equipped to ensure nothing happens to them. Benefit of being the Director,” he said, baring his teeth in a knowing grin. “They’re better looked after than the bloody king.”
His words again awakened in Sorin the fierce need to protect Eleanor. For a moment, he considered asking his old friend to set a Runner to watch over her, but that would probably be going a step too far at this juncture. First, he needed to know if there was even a legitimate threat. “Marriage has changed you. In a good way, of course,” he added quickly.
“I think you’ll find marriage will change you, too. In a good way, of course,” John shot back with a wink. “Provided you find the right woman, that is.” He sat back, looking smug. “Which, unless I’m mistaken—and I’m usually not—you’ve already done. A man doesn’t have a fellow watched for no reason. Who is she?”
Bloody hell. He should have known better than to think he’d be able to get away with it. “Lady Eleanor Cramley, daughter of the late Duke of Ashford and cousin to the current duke.”
John’s brows knit. “The girl you mentioned in your letters?”
“The same,” he admitted, feeling his neck growing hot.
A slow smile spread across his friend’s face. “I was wondering when you’d realize it. Don’t look so shocked,” he said softly. “Your letters have been full of her for ages. I kept expecting to hear that you’d proposed to her, but you never did, and I could not understand why when you’re so obviously well suited.”
“She was—is—a good deal younger than me, John,” Sorin explained uncomfortably. “I was away at Eton when she was born, but I’ve known her since she was in pinafores. I practically helped Charles and Rowena raise her. I’m sure you can see the complications, both with her and with her family.”
The other man brushed the excuses aside with a wave. “None of that will matter if you truly love each other. She’s grown now, after all.” He peered at Sorin, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?”
“No.” At least he didn’t believe so. “And before you say anything, I cannot just tell her without risking a great deal of upheaval. I must be sure of her feelings first.”
John looked thoughtful for a long moment. “You know, I think this Eleanor of yours was the saving of you. After Jane’s death, you needed something to concentrate on other than your grief, someone to look after. Your Eleanor filled the hole Jane left behind.”
Sorin’s heart clenched. “I suppose she did, in a way. You know, after a few years I tried looking for someone else, someone like your sister. But Jane was one of a kind.” He laughed to himself. “As is Eleanor. To find myself attracted to her was confounding, to say the least. She and Jane are so different in temperament that I never would have thought…”
John’s smile was gentle and a little sad. “Maybe that’s no bad thing. I would not dwell too hard upon it. Just accept the fact that she’s what you need now, and don’t let her slip away.”
He didn’t intend to. “I’m planning to remain close to her throughout the Season. I’ll know which direction to take soon enough.” He hoped.
“There is only one direction that will lead to happiness for you. Don’t be foolish enough to take any other. Tell her.”
“I will, when the time is right.” If indeed that time ever came.
“Love makes fools of us all.” John shook his head and took another swallow.
He could only laugh in rueful agreement as the barkeep refilled their glasses.
“You won’t ask me, proud ass that you are,” said John, taking out his pipe and knocking out the dottle. “But I’ll do it anyway because it’ll give you peace. I’ll have a man posted to watch her house. If your fellow so much as twitches his nose at her, we’ll know about it. And if he’s into anything that a gentleman ought not to be into, I’ll have it.”
“John, I don’t know how to thank you,” Sorin replied, both grateful and relieved.
The other man paused in the process of refilling his pipe and winked at him. “You’ll be thanking me aplenty when the bill hits your purse.”
“I meant personally. You’re a good man, John. And a damned good friend.”
“That’s the only kind to have,” said his friend with aplomb. He laughed. “I’d never have thought love would bring you to my door again. But I’m glad it did. Here’s to love and to the saving of us poor fools who fall into it.”
As they again lifted their glasses, Sorin thought to himself that John was right, more right than he knew. From the moment he’d met her, Eleanor had been, and continued to be, the saving of him.