Chapter Five
He’d arrived. Even if Eleanor hadn’t felt the prickle of awareness on the back of her neck, she’d have known it thanks to Caroline, who’d gone all stiff beside her before proceeding to primp and preen. Determined to ignore his presence for as long as possible, Eleanor kept her hands folded in her lap and her eyes fixed on the pulpit.
Dear Lord, please help me not to make a fool of myself today.
An hour of listening to the vicar deliver scathing indictments concerning the innately sinful nature of humanity was all the reprieve she could expect. As soon as it was over, Charles would spot Sorin and drag them all over to stand and politely listen to, if not actively participate in, their conversation. She closed her eyes. How can I face him?
There had to be a way to avoid him. Immediately, she crossed Caroline off the list of possible excuses—her friend would delight in any opportunity to hang at his elbow and upon his every word. Her desperate eye fell on Rowena, who was speaking to Mrs. Quimble about an upcoming charity fundraiser. In that instant, Eleanor determined that should Rowena go to speak with her after the service rather than stay at Charles’s side, she would accompany her. No matter how tedious the conversation, no matter if it meant a month of embroidering napkins or stitching quilts, she’d do it and be glad.
The church bell rang, and as everyone moved to take their seats, Eleanor marked the presence of an unfamiliar gentleman sitting beside Lady Yarborough. A hiss of dismay escaped from between her lips as the man turned to speak to his companion.
“What is it?” whispered Caroline, following her gaze. “Oh, I see,” she murmured, appraising the young man with an appreciative eye. “A handsome fellow, is he not? I assume from your reaction that you know the gentleman?”
“That’s Donald Yarborough, and he is no gentleman,” Eleanor replied, keeping her face averted so he wouldn’t see her. “He was a terrible bully when we were children,” she added in response to her friend’s blank look. “I knocked him down once in this very churchyard.”
“You appear to have a strange penchant for hitting handsome, eligible men.” Caroline’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I don’t suppose he’ll remember it now all these years later.”
“Oh, I can only imagine he will, and all too vividly,” Eleanor muttered, busying herself with her hymnal.
“You were only children. Surely he’s forgiven you by now?”
“I very much doubt it. I humiliated him in front of half the village.”
“Well, be that as it may, I don’t think he holds it against you anymore,” said her friend. “The man is staring at you as if he would eat you with a spoon.”
What? Before thinking better of it, Eleanor looked. Yarborough was staring at her. Their eyes met, and after a momentary furrowing of his brow, his face broke into a wide grin of recognition.
Quickly, she turned away. He was supposed to be at university! Ignoring him, she looked to the other side of the aisle—a mistake, for Sorin and his mother had taken their seats there. His gaze met hers for an instant and then, without so much as a nod of acknowledgement, he turned to stare impassively at the front, as though he hadn’t seen her.
Her stomach clenched. He’d given her the cut. Him. Sorin. Her oldest friend. She ought to have looked away, too, and pretended not to have noticed, but the little muscle jumping at his jaw fixed her attention. She knew that expression all too well. He was annoyed. With her, apparently. Pain lanced through her, and her eyes began to smart. Steeling herself, she poured all of her concentration into singing hymns. Then the sermon began—a treatise on, of all things, the many blessings bestowed by the institution of marriage.
Beside her, Caroline giggled softly. “It seems the good vicar has taken a liking to the eldest of the Braithwaite girls,” she said, indicating a pretty, young blond woman sitting near the front.
Eleanor bit back a sigh of frustration. Was heaven against her, too? She’d rather suffer the usual blisteringly cautionary diatribe than this! She spent the entire service in a state of utter wretchedness.
…Trying not to look at Sorin.
…Resisting the urge to elbow Caroline, who kept wriggling about and making little noises to draw attention to herself.
…Attempting to ignore Yarborough, who was trying without much subtlety to attract her notice. She sucked her teeth in irritation. Really! Couldn’t he at least wait until after church to make a laughingstock of her?
When the final blessing was issued and the congregation dismissed, it was all she could do to keep from hiking her skirts, jumping the pew, and bolting for the door. Dignity, she reminded herself. Donald Yarborough must never have the satisfaction of knowing he’d troubled her. As for Sorin, he would have no excuse to reprove her this day either, and he would certainly never know how much he’d hurt her with his coldness.
Two could dance that waltz.
Holding her head high, she exited her row just as Sorin, who was following his mother, came to the end of his. The Dowager Countess she greeted with a sweet smile and a nod before allowing the lady to go before her. Sorin, on the other hand, she did not deign to acknowledge, though he waited politely for her to precede him. Without so much as a glance, she gave him her back.
Her teeth clenched with frustration as behind her she heard Caroline’s enthusiastic greeting. Hoping for a quick exit, she made to follow Rowena who, much to her relief, was making a beeline for Mrs. Quimble. Before she’d gone ten steps, however, a male voice—not Sorin’s—called out her name.
“Lady Eleanor! Wait—I say, do stop a moment and greet an old friend, won’t you?”
Damn. And how dare he call himself my “old friend”? Groaning inwardly, Eleanor stopped and turned to Yarborough with as blank an expression as possible. “My humble apologies, but have we met?”
“Do you not recognize me?” His mouth stretched into a saucy grin. “I certainly remember you. How could I ever forget? Why, it was in this very churchyard that you taught me the meaning of humility.”
At that moment, Sorin passed them by—again without seeming to see her. Blood boiling, she looked to her old nemesis, let out a little feminine squeal, and clapped a hand to her chest in a manner that would have made Caroline proud. “Donald Yarborough? Upon my word, you are so changed that I did not even know you! You’ve grown so very”—she ducked her head, feigning embarrassment, but then peeked up at him coyly—“so very tall.”
Satisfaction filled her as Sorin halted in his tracks, stiff as a poker. Ha! “Goodness, but it seems to be the time for old friends to return,” she said to Yarborough. “You cannot have been home for very long?”
“I arrived just yesterday. Felicitations on your birthday, by the bye. Mother informed me that I missed the festivities,” he continued, his smile turning sheepish. “I’m afraid she was most displeased with the lateness of my coming, though it could hardly be helped. One of the horses drawing my coach stepped in a hole and lamed itself.”
“Oh, well I’m truly sorry to have missed you,” she replied with an exaggerated pout, watching with glee as Yarborough stood a bit taller and as, behind him, Sorin half turned around. “You are home to stay, I hope?” she added for good measure.
“Indeed. Well, after the Season, of course,” amended Yarborough. “You will be going to Town as well, I suppose?”
“Oh, but of course. We’ll no doubt run into each other quite often, won’t we?” It was, perhaps, a bit heavy—but she was set upon making a point to yon eavesdropper. It was no lack of civility on her part that had determined her current marital status!
“I certainly hope so,” said Yarborough, his gaze roaming for a moment before settling on her bosom. “I should like to see you as often as possible.”
Ugh! But even as she forced a smile, she saw from the corner of her eye that Sorin was still listening. Perhaps it was time to give him a little taste of his own tonic. “But come, you must greet my cousin, Lord Ashford. I’m sure he will be as delighted as I am to welcome you home.” Taking the arm he offered, she sailed right past Sorin, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead. And here’s some sauce for the gander!
Sorin bit the inside of his cheek as the pair sauntered away. He’d not wanted to ignore Eleanor—far from it—but there was no possible way for them to talk safely as long as his mother was present. She knew him too well and saw far too much with her keen eyes. Already he’d been admonished for his distracted state.
Wherever Eleanor was, there his focus seemed to be fixed and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. Especially now, when he didn’t like the look of the fellow upon whose arm she’d just draped herself. The man’s walk was more of a swagger, and his demeanor conceited. He looked a right rogue.
“That’s young Donald Yarborough, if you’re wondering.”
Jerking around, he found his mother had come up and was now staring in the same direction he’d been looking. Damn. “Ah, yes. I thought he looked familiar. He was a childhood friend of Eleanor’s, I believe.”
“I doubt he views her in such benign terms now,” she replied drily. “I hear he is determined to find a bride this Season.”
The acid-gnawing sensation redoubled in the pit of his stomach. “He’s not the sort of man Ellie would consider.”
Her lips pursed. “You would know better than most, I’m sure, but Lady Yarborough would never forgive him if he didn’t at least try. The same will likely be true of every unattached, fortune-hungry male in London, until she marries.”
She was right, he knew. Were Eleanor as homely as a hound, her inheritance would still guarantee a certain level of desirability on the marriage market. Her fortune and beauty combined made her an irresistible target. “Which is why Charles has already enlisted my help to keep an eye on her,” he said quietly. “I’ll see that she does not fall prey to any trickery. If he is a roué, I shall soon learn of it.”
“I see. And then what?”
“I’ll inform Charles and he’ll make an end of it.”
Her soft chuckle startled him. “And when she finds out you’ve gone to her guardian behind her back and sabotaged her chances with him or any other lad for whom she sets her cap, she’ll—”
“I have no need of subterfuge. I’ll speak openly with them both.”
“Mmm, and I’m sure she’ll hear every word from the man to whom she gave the cut little more than an hour ago.”
Taking a deep breath, he counted silently to ten before answering with equanimity, “She has always valued my counsel. She’ll listen to me.”
An indelicate snort erupted from his mother. “Eleanor is no longer a child to be so easily led, my son. But I think you’ve already discovered that.”
Her penetrating look sent a guilty flush creeping up his neck.
“I knew it,” she breathed, a triumphant gleam entering her eyes. “She is the reason you’ve been avoiding Holbrook, not Ashford. I gathered as much when you failed to greet each other this morning.”
“Mother, I don’t—”
“There is no point in denying the obvious,” she interrupted, raising a wrinkled hand. “And you need not explain how it came about. Just tell me what happened to cause the rift. Perhaps I can help.”
“I do not require assistance,” he said, hot with embarrassment. “And there is no need for me to explain anything because there is nothing to explain. We had a difference of opinion. That is all.”
“Well, it must have been rather a significant one,” she said, arching a brow. “A woman does not cut a man, much less one she considers a friend, unless she has been mightily offended. Come. Tell me. What did you say to elicit such ire?”
“It was nothing, really,” he said, shrugging. “I simply inquired of her as to why she’d turned down so many proposals. She told me her reasons, and I questioned her logic.”
“In other words, you behaved like a condescending ass.”
An exasperated breath exploded from him before he could contain it. “I was not an ass!” Several people turned and frowned. He lowered his voice. “I merely made the observation that her standards, such as they are, are unlikely to be met by any mortal man.”
“And I suppose you expected her to be grateful to you for offering up your enlightened opinion?”
“No,” he snapped. “But neither did I expect her to behave in this manner. After all, it was in her best interest that I point out the unrealistic nature of her expectations.”
“Her best interests…or yours?” she asked lightly.
Again, the blood rushed to his face. “I wish only for her happiness.”
“Of course you do.”
For a moment he thought he’d succeeded in closing the conversation. No such luck.
“I must assume that you have not informed her concerning the true nature of your regard?” she persisted.
Oh, bloody hell. “There is nothing of which she need be informed. This is not the first time we have disagreed,” he said, steering the subject back on course. “You know, as well as I, how intractable she can be at times. But I’m confident her irrational ire toward me will dissipate once she comes to acknowledge that I am correct.”
When she finally spoke, his mother’s voice trembled with barely repressed laughter. “I don’t wonder that she is vexed with you if your attitude was such. My dear boy, you may have traveled the world but you have a great deal to learn about women. Men are not the only ones with pride, you know, and you have sorely wounded hers. You must make amends if you wish to enter back into her good graces.”
“By make amends, you mean apologize.”
“Precisely.”
“I won’t apologize for speaking the truth. She will eventually come to see reason.”
“Not if that young man has anything to do with it,” she said, nodding at a point beyond his right shoulder.
Unable to help himself, he looked, and across the green saw Yarborough bend to say something at Eleanor’s ear. A throbbing began at his temples as Yarborough bent closer—without any resulting protest, he noted—and she laughed in response to whatever it was he’d said.
Pain shot through him. The same suffocating, gut-wrenching pain he’d felt all those years ago when he had watched her effortlessly win the adoration of every man she’d encountered. The same pain he’d hoped never to experience again. Her inheritance might be the lure that first drew them and her beauty the second, but it was her own unique charm, her warm spirit that thereafter held them helplessly prisoner.
Behind him, he heard a delicate cough. Turning, he found his mother staring at his hands—which were curled into fists at his sides. “You should tell her how you feel.”
“I cannot,” he blurted, knowing it was useless to try and hide from her anymore.
“Why ever not?” she asked, frowning. “Surely you don’t believe Ashford would object?”
“Ashford views me as a brother and trusts me with his family—with Eleanor, whom he has worked tirelessly to shelter from the world’s licentiousness. I’ve worked alongside him in this, such that he asked me to stand in his stead as guardian during her debut. How will he feel when I, whom he has so entrusted all these years, reveal unchaste sentiments toward her? I fear our friendship would not withstand such a betrayal.”
“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “Once you assure him of your honorable intent, I’m certain he’ll be both understanding and amenable. Doubtless he’d prefer that she marry you over certain others I could name. Friendship is always a desirable state within one’s family.”
“Even if Ashford were to be agreeable, there is Eleanor herself to consider,” he persisted. “I’m too old to be of interest to her.”
“Rubbish. Young ladies marry gentlemen twice, sometimes even thrice their age every day and are quite happy. At a mere twelve years her senior—”
“Nearly thirteen,” he corrected her.
“You are far short of either mark,” she continued without acknowledging him. “You’ll need a better excuse than that, I’m afraid. Why should she not welcome your suit? She’s known you more than half her life and cares for you greatly.”
“Yes, she cares—but not in the way a wife should for a husband. She grew up with me lecturing her on comportment, correcting her every lapse, always urging her to better herself. She once told me I was worse than any governess. I’m not exactly a romantic figure in her mind.”
“Then you must change how she sees you. But first you must apologize—be sincere and contrite, and pray she accepts it,” she said over his irritated rumble of objection. “And in the future, I would advise you not to criticize a woman’s logic—no matter how flawed you think it is.”
“Yes, I believe I’ve learned that lesson,” he said with chagrin. “Very well, I’ll apologize. The revelation of my changed sentiments, however, remains a dilemma. I cannot simply propose a different sort of relationship between us.”
“No indeed. I do not myself entirely understand how you arrived at such feelings considering your long separation from each other, but if I’m surprised by it, it is likely everyone else will be doubly so. If at all possible, it would be better for you to ease slowly into an understanding with her. Achieving your purpose will require great care and discretion.”
“I will, of course, employ the utmost discretion,” he promised, shocked to hear himself say it. So much for his decision to selflessly refrain from pursuing his heart’s desire. “As for my altered attitude, I believe it can be explained by the letters we’ve been exchanging.” It wasn’t wholly untrue, and he needed some legitimate excuse.
“Letters?” She frowned again. “What letters?”
“We exchanged letters while I was abroad—she enclosed her correspondence along with Charles’s. I told her of my travels and she wrote back concerning the happenings here. When I returned, it was as though we’d never been apart.”
“With the exception that she’s grown now, and into a very beautiful young woman,” she said with a thoughtful nod. “I certainly hope she comes to return your feelings, but you ought to prepare yourself in the event that she does not. The friendship was forged when she was young, and such perceptions as she has concerning you may be difficult or even impossible to overcome.” Her grim expression softened into one of sympathy. “But I suppose you’ve already given that a great deal of thought.”
“Indeed I have.” Nothing more could be said on the matter without further embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “May I assume, based on this conversation, that she has your approval?”
“Naturally,” she said in an equally dry manner. “She’s a duke’s daughter and a fine catch. But were she a pauper, I would still grant my blessing.” His surprise must have been evident, for she began to chuckle. “Surely you did not think I would object? I’ve always been fond of the girl.”
“I thought you had your eye on Lady Billingsley’s daughter?”
“Given the circumstances, I no longer consider her an appropriate choice—unless of course matters don’t turn out,” she replied, her usual business-like demeanor returning. “Now, I shall leave you to plot your course without further maternal interference.” She shot him a knowing glance as she straightened her hat and veil. “Despite your fears to the contrary, I shan’t act on your behalf unless you specifically request it—and you needn’t look so relieved. There are times when a mother’s meddling can be both useful and effective.”
“I shall bear it in mind,” he muttered.
“See that you do,” she replied with a hard glance. “Now, go and rescue her from Yarborough before everyone here thinks them forming an attachment.”