Chapter Three
Eleanor fought for inner calm as she watched Caroline shamelessly flirt with Sorin. Such behavior was to be expected whenever Caroline encountered any reasonably decent-looking male of the species—but his favorable reaction to it was most certainly not.
“Eleanor?”
She jumped and saw that Charles was staring at her expectantly. “I’m so sorry. What were you saying?” If the heat in her cheeks was any indication, she was turning as red as a beet.
“I said that with any luck some young buck will persuade you to marry, as well,” he reiterated. “Oh, I know you mean to stay ‘unencumbered’ and all that rot, but you never know.” He turned to Sorin. “This may be the year our Jericho finally falls.”
“Charles,” admonished Rowena, giving him a sharp look.
“Jericho?” said Sorin at the same time.
Her heart sank.
“Yes, well, Lady Jericho, to be precise,” corrected Charles, ignoring the elbow his wife nudged against his side. “One of the fellows dogging Eleanor’s heels last Season, a young reverend, in fact,”—he broke off and chuckled for a moment—“declared he would bring down her walls even if it meant marching ’round her house seven times while blowing the matrimonial trumpet.” He dissolved into laughter.
Eleanor cringed. It wasn’t all that funny, really.
“A most persistent young man, as I recall,” added Rowena, shooting Eleanor an apologetic glance. “He proposed to her three times.”
Caroline turned to face her with a wounded expression. “Did he? You never told me.”
“Well, to be honest, I did not think it noteworthy.”
“Not noteworthy?” said Charles with another incredulous laugh. “The man proclaimed before the entire assembly at the Darlington ball that God Himself had promised him in a dream that our Eleanor would be his wife. Not noteworthy!” he scoffed. “You should have seen the bloody book at White’s. Entire pages were devoted to wagers on whether or not she would succumb to his siege. Every man in London with a shilling to spare likely bet on the outcome.”
Sorin’s face was deadpan. “How disappointed they must have been when she made good her escape.”
“Ah, indeed.” Charles wagged a playful finger. “But he did not make it easy, oho no. Our Eleanor ran, and wherever she went, the good reverend followed.”
Indeed he had. Like a biblical plague.
“He tried everything to catch her,” continued Charles. “I understand he even shammed an injury at one point.”
“An injury?” exclaimed Caroline, her hand rising to her bosom.
If Sorin’s gaze hadn’t been fixed on the region over which that hand rested, Eleanor would have found her dramatic display hilarious. As it was, she was not at all amused. “Yes,” she bit out. “He ‘hit’ his head on a low branch during a garden party—quite intentionally, I assure you—and then in front of everyone requested that I accompany him back to the house so that he might recover. I could not decline without seeming rude, so I agreed. As soon as we were out of sight, however, the horrid little toad miraculously recovered his ailing faculties and then proceeded to behave in a manner most untoward.” He was still staring at Caroline. Her temper flared. “He kissed me.”
That got his attention—along with everyone else’s. Her palms grew moist as Sorin’s hazel eyes pierced her.
“And?”
The single, gruffly uttered word affected her like a finger plucking a harp string. From the top of her head all the way down to her toes, which began to curl in her slippers, everything inside her began to resonate in the strangest manner. “He—I—”
“Ellie,” gasped Rowena. “You never told us he assaulted your person. You said he accidentally stepped on your hem and caused you to fall.”
“He did,” she finally replied. He had, only it had been quite deliberate. He’d stamped down on it with his heel, tearing the bottom and bringing her crashing to the ground like a felled tree. “And I did fall. He reached down to help me up, and before I knew what he was about or could stop him, he kissed me. I can only surmise that he must have been overcome by ardent emotion.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. He’d been overcome with lust and had fallen on her like a ravening beast. She’d barely been able to fend him off and get away.
“Merciful God, Ellie,” whispered Rowena, her face white. “Why did you not tell us?”
“Because there was no need,” she answered, trying to ignore a pang of guilt. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone, ever, for fear of being labeled “compromised” and ending up forever bound to the miserable barbarian. Reverend indeed! Lecherous brute was more like it. At least she was safe now, for he’d since gotten married. “I can assure you he regained his senses very quickly and that the matter was resolved.”
“Is that what happened to his eye?” asked Charles, his own narrowing. “I knew something was wrong when you came back so quickly. When we all returned to the house, the good reverend’s eye was blacked,” he explained to his wife. “He claimed it was the fault of the tree, but I now suspect otherwise.”
All eyes turned to Eleanor. “I’m sure I don’t remember all of the details. It was almost a year ago, after all.” A weak excuse, but better than none.
“Yes, practically an eternity,” her cousin drawled.
“Eleanor, tell me you did not actually strike him?” asked Caroline, her mouth forming a perfect little “o” of shock when she failed to reply.
“I suspect she did, and quite roundly,” Charles answered for her, his eyes twinkling. “His eye was swollen completely shut. Never have I seen a man’s face look so battered, save after a jolly good brawl. She had to have hit him square on and hard.”
“Indeed?” murmured Sorin, still staring at her.
“Most ladies would have simply called out for help,” said Rowena sternly. “I consider it very fortunate that he did not return the blow, as some men might.”
Charles’s face darkened. “There would have been a calling out and sure, had he laid a violent hand on her.”
“I, for one, am glad she was able to defend herself,” said Sorin, shooting her a quick conspirator’s smile.
Eleanor returned it. After all, hadn’t he been the one to teach her how to curl her fingers into a proper fist? It was one of the few times he’d ever condoned unladylike behavior.
“Still,” continued Charles, a frown marring his normally good-natured face, “Rowena is right. You should have told us of his presumption at once so that I might have addressed the matter properly on your behalf, as is my duty. I am most distressed that you did not come to me.”
She bowed her head meekly. “I did not wish to burden you with so trivial a matter when you were already so worried. Rowena was indisposed, if you remember, which—”
“I’d just learned that I was enceinte,” interrupted Rowena softly, smiling at her husband. “Remember?”
The look he shot her was one of pure adoration. “I do indeed.”
“Which was why you escorted me to that particular party,” finished Eleanor. “Regarding the reverend, the matter is now moot. The gentleman has married.”
Charles settled back in his chair. “Married or not, if the blackguard should attempt to make a nuisance of himself again, you must promise to tell me at once.”
“Yes, of course.” The promise was completely unnecessary. The reverend had not so much as looked at her since the incident.
“Goodness me, Eleanor,” said Caroline with a weak laugh. “I’ve known you for many years, yet I should never have imagined you so bold as to strike a man with a closed hand.”
“Yes, well, I suspect the injury to the good reverend’s pride was far worse than the one to his eye,” Eleanor mumbled, hoping she would drop it and move to a different topic. No such luck.
“Had I been in your place, I would not have known what to do,” breathed Caroline, her eyes wide. “I should have likely fainted, or at best screamed in the hope that some brave soul might come to my rescue.” She cast a smoldering look at Sorin.
But to Eleanor’s delight, Sorin wasn’t looking at Caroline. “For my part, I’m very glad your courage did not fail you,” he said, the warmth in his eyes reaching down into her. “I am appalled that a man charged with acting as a shepherd would be so sorely lacking in self-control. I believe you did his flock a great service by teaching him the error of his ways. One can but hope the lesson was henceforth reflected in his conduct and not merely in his sermons.”
Though his tone was dour, the twinkle in his eye instantly restored her spirits. She had no doubt whatsoever that he, too, was remembering his clandestine instruction on proper punching technique. She smiled at him fondly. “One can but hope.”
Damn me for a thrice-blind fool. Sorin tried—and failed—to look away, to ignore the pull of that smile. He reminded himself that the tenderness in her eyes was at best nothing more than sisterly affection. Charles cleared his throat, and he realized he’d been staring and that an awkward silence had fallen. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, he stood. “By George, it’s very nearly noon. I’m afraid I’ve lingered here far too long.”
“You’re leaving?” blurted Eleanor, half rising from her seat. Almost at once, she sank back down, a faint blush beginning to stain her cheeks. “My apologies, I meant no imposition. It’s just that we’ve been so long deprived of your company,” she amended lamely.
His heart leaped at the knowledge that she had missed him, but it was too late to change his mind now. “I regret having to depart as well, but I must return. I promised Mother that I would go over the accounts with her today.”
“Of course,” agreed Charles, standing. He, too, appeared crestfallen. With visible effort, however, he brightened. “And there’ll be plenty of opportunities to visit now that you’re back to stay. You are of course welcome here at Holbrook any time—no invitation necessary, just as before.”
“Indeed,” said Rowena. “You must visit us again soon.”
It would never be the way it was before, but Sorin couldn’t deny the fact that he’d missed this place even more than he had Holly Hall. And he couldn’t deny the fact that it felt wonderful to be here even though it presented him with a dire problem in the form of Eleanor. “Thank you,” he replied, bowing to them both. “I certainly will. Rowena, Charles, it has been a delight.”
Rowena smiled fondly. “The pleasure is all ours.” She turned to Eleanor. “Will you please accompany our guest to the stables? I have something to discuss with Charles and Caroline.”
From the corner of his eye, Sorin saw that the redheaded girl wore a look of undisguised rancor at the announcement. Her misplaced ambition to bag him was clear. And it was his own bloody fault.
Rising, Eleanor smoothed her skirts. “I shall be delighted, of course.”
He didn’t quite know what to expect as they sauntered down the otherwise empty hall that led to the rear of the house, but it wasn’t this silence. Eleanor had always been so talkative, ever excited to relay to him the latest bit of news from her world. The quiet, composed woman beside him seemed almost foreign. Though he knew it for foolishness, he much preferred her blushes and outbursts. “I suppose you’ll be happy to return to London?” he finally asked.
“I shall be happy to see some of my friends, but in truth I much prefer quiet living.” She looked at him sidelong. “I’m not nearly as frivolous-minded as Charles believes.”
“I’ve never thought you frivolous-minded.”
It earned him a faint smile. “Charles thinks all women are bent on gaiety. He teases me over what he calls my ‘false temperance’ and vows that I secretly harbor the same giddiness and whimsy as other ladies my age. I vow to be bullheaded and disagree with him.”
That’s better. “One would think he might appreciate your taking the more sober attitude.”
“Indeed, one would,” she said with a small sigh. “But I’m afraid that as long as I fail to agree with him that marriage is the only sensible course, my cousin will continue to view me as a child incapable of any sort of wisdom.”
His gaze was drawn to her mouth, which was curled in a wry smile. “I’ve met a great many matrons sorely lacking in wisdom. It’s not some mysterious gift to be instantly imparted upon speaking one’s wedding vows. It can be obtained only through experiencing the travails of life.”
She laughed softly. “Perhaps my cousin is correct after all. I’ve certainly suffered very few such trials. My life here at Holbrook has been idyllic.”
He stopped. “Eleanor, you have suffered such loss as can only impart wisdom far beyond your years.” He referred to her parents’ untimely demise when she was but nine. Did he dare bring up the more recent past? “I must confess I’m astonished to find you so reserved.”
“If I appear so, it is because that is what is expected of me,” she replied, her voice taking on a crisp edge. “I would not shame my guardians by conducting myself in a manner unbefitting my station. As you once said, ‘a true lady always exhibits an attitude of polite reserve’.”
Damn, and damn again. “Yes, but there is a vast difference between reserve and gravity. Reserve is merely the veil that conceals one’s true sentiments from being inappropriately displayed.”
“And gravity?”
“Gravity is the hallmark of a soul that no longer experiences joy.” Such would likely be his fate once this was finished. He pushed the black thought aside. “You had a foot on that path when I first met you, and I was quite relieved to see you abandon it. May God grant that you never again find it.”
“You showed me a better path,” she replied softly, her irritation fading. “And you’ve been my faithful guide ever since.”
“Yes. But I have perhaps been wrong about a few things along the way.” At her puzzled look, he hurried on. “I cannot help but feel there is something between us that remains unresolved. I know you’ve long since forgiven me for my harsh words the last—”
“Of course I have,” she interrupted, looking away uncomfortably.
“Eleanor, please just hear me.” He took a step closer, forcing her to again meet his gaze. “I wish there to be no bitter stones between us. In the past, I might have been a bit…over-zealous in my correction of you, but I never wished you anything but happiness.”
“I’ve never thought otherwise,” she said, straightening her shoulders to address him with dignity worthy of a queen. “And you needn’t worry. I recognize that what you did was for my own good. I have since seen several of my peers fall prey to a lack of reserve. They displayed their sentiments openly, only to be rejected and humiliated—or worse, ruined by an unscrupulous man’s whim. Because of your wise and timely instruction, I’ve avoided such pitfalls and the misery that accompanies them. For that, I cannot thank you enough.”
Sorin bit back a groan. “Please, don’t thank me,” he managed at last. “It was not an entirely selfless act, you know. I was just as concerned for my own reputation as I was for yours.”
“I know,” she said, surprising him. “I admit that at first I failed to understand, but in time I grew to comprehend the untenable position in which I had put you. I was impetuous and indiscreet, and you were right to correct me before I could publicly shame us all.” She bowed her head. “I doubt anyone else would have done so as gently.”
Remorse piled onto his shoulders until the weight of it was almost unbearable. “Eleanor, Charles has told me of your many rejected suitors. You have, to his utter bewilderment and despair, refused to consider any and every gentleman that has expressed interest in you, and I cannot help but feel that the fault is in some way at least partly mine. While it is true that I’d hoped to impart to you a sense of decorum, I never intended that you should withhold yourself so entirely as to become isolated.”
In the silence that followed, he braced himself.
But in spite of her reddening face, she spoke with chilling calm. “You confuse reserve with a lack of feeling. Reserve is the veil behind which we conceal those sentiments inappropriate to display, is that not what you said?”
“It was indeed,” he replied, now regretting the fact that he’d ever broached the subject.
“Then consider it fortunate that I maintained my reserve, because to have displayed my true feelings for those so-called suitors would have been insulting to their dignity and very likely ruinous for me.” Her eyes flashed, belying her cool tone. “I’ve given every gentleman before which Charles has paraded me an opportunity to prove himself worthy of my regard. It’s not my fault that all have failed to meet my standards. If I’ve been reserved, it is because I have yet to find a gentleman possessing the qualities necessary to engender my trust and affection.”
Prudence warred with curiosity—and promptly lost. “Might I inquire as to these…standards you’ve set forth? Because it seems to me you’ve set some lofty requirements, if indeed no less than four—six if you count the good reverend’s repeated attempts—proposals of marriage have been turned down due to lack of their fulfillment. Are you certain the fault lies with the gentlemen?”
In an instant, he knew he’d gone too far. Her eyes widened, and the flags in her cheeks brightened to a cherry red that spread to the tips of her ears.
“Perhaps I am too harsh a critic,” she said a bit unsteadily. “My only excuse is that my expectations have been set by the examples with which I was provided in my youth. My father, Charles, and…” A suspicious brightness rimmed her lower lashes for a bare instant before she averted her gaze.
Comprehension dawned. “If you mean to say that I am at fault for—”
“Who else was there?” she snapped, glaring at him through leaf-green eyes that glittered with unshed tears. “Had I been exposed to lesser men, I should perhaps be more willing to accept such a one. However, as I was not, I shall continue to hope for better. Had you been here to see what has presented itself thus far, I would like to think that you would agree with my decision.”
The words had been spoken softly, and yet they cut like the sharpest steel. He took a step toward her, intending only to offer comfort and reassurance, but she quickly edged away.
“Regardless, my standards are my own and I will not compromise them,” she said, her tone once again brisk. “Now if you will excuse me, I believe you know your way out.”
Brushing past him she stalked away, leaving him to stare after her in shock—and to wrestle down the fierce joy that had begun to kindle in the ash pit of his heart. Just because she’d made him part of her standard for comparison did not mean she desired him. When evaluating suitors, young ladies often looked for the qualities exemplified by the older gentlemen in their acquaintance. That he should even dare to dream that she might have meant more was a measure of his idiocy.
Still…her blush had been quite spectacular. Had she fooled herself into thinking him her husbandly ideal? If so, he must disabuse her of the notion at once, no matter how much the selfish part of him would rather do otherwise.
He walked the rest of the way to the stables, torn between guilty elation and fear for both her and himself. He’d ruined one young woman’s life by trying to change her—he wouldn’t ruin Ellie’s.
The truth must be learned, and the damage—if any—must be undone. The question was how to do it without her suspecting anything.