Chapter Twenty-One
Eleanor realized sometime after James had left and her brief conversation with Robert that she was tired of secrets.
She had been working on finishing up an article that detailed the rarer insects of Scotland when she’d gone to sign her name and, without thinking, without so much as pausing, signed Cecil Townsend.
Then she’d stared at the signature blankly.
She didn’t like that she signed her false name without a second thought.
She didn’t like that it was even necessary.
Sometimes she wished…well, she wished that she could just sign Eleanor without her life imploding on itself, without being rejected on principle alone, or ridiculed. It didn’t really seem like much to ask.
It felt like she was asking the entire world.
She didn’t like that a man as vibrant and irrepressible as James MacGregor was bending over backward to fit into a Society that didn’t want him, to prove himself to a man who’d abandoned him.
She didn’t like that she was helping him do those things by lying to someone she was starting to consider a friend.
She wondered what James thought about what had occurred in the drawing room. There was something between them, something undeniable. One kiss might be a fluke, but they had nearly kissed twice, and two…well…two kisses seemed like a choice. He couldn’t still be intent on pursuing Lady Sarah after that, could he? Would he ignore what was right in front of him? Would he ignore this thing that had blossomed between them, like a wildflower through a crack in the street, growing little by little, unseen, until it was inevitable?
Eleanor wasn’t sure, and she hated that she wasn’t sure. How could he look at her like that and tease her and almost kiss her and still hope to marry someone else? How would she bear it if he did?
But in all of her uncertainty, there was one thing she was certain of.
She couldn’t continue like this any longer.
…
“Miss Townsend, what a pleasant surprise,” Lady Sarah said, sounding sincere as she stopped on the walking pavement, even though it was cold, and the wind cut like a sharp knife.
Eleanor had caught her exiting a carriage in front of her town house. Thankfully, Lady Sarah’s mother wasn’t in sight, only a maid.
“I wished to speak to you privately,” she said.
Lady Sarah blinked but nodded at the maid, who moved away from them.
“Is something wrong?”
“You could say that. I have not been honest with you about my acquaintance with James MacGregor.”
Lady Sarah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
It occurred to her that Sarah might be in love with him, and she nearly lost her nerve. She knew that they liked each other, maybe they did love each other, in a way—she pressed her hand to her chest, easing the sudden sharp pang there—but Lady Sarah, if she was in love, was in love with a man who didn’t even exist.
And Lady Sarah was not a pawn to be moved about a chessboard—she wasn’t a piece in these men’s games.
No, she was not a piece on a board, she was a woman, with thoughts and hopes and desires, just as Eleanor was.
It wasn’t up to someone else to determine what they deserved.
Eleanor knew what she had to do, what she must do, even if James never forgave her for it.
Eleanor told her then, not everything, but almost everything. That James had used something against her to seek an acquaintance with Lady Sarah, that she wouldn’t have introduced them otherwise, that he was not as wealthy as he presented himself.
She wondered, the entire time, if she was doing the right thing. It felt wrong to betray James, but lying to Sarah felt just as wrong.
She didn’t tell the other woman that James was the bastard of the Duke of Sheffield. That, at least, clearly wasn’t her secret to tell.
Lady Sarah was silent for a long time. “But…I thought you liked him.”
“I do like him,” she said.
“But you make him sound like a ruthless fortune hunter.”
“He is something of a fortune hunter, though that’s not all he’s after,” she said. “He’s a little bit ruthless, I suppose.”
Lady Sarah had red spots on her cheeks. Eleanor didn’t know if they were from the cold or agitation. “You are not making sense, Miss Townsend.”
Wasn’t she? That wasn’t surprising. She wasn’t sure she understood everything herself.
“Do you have feelings for him? If so, I wish you would just say it, instead of toying with me like this.”
“I’m sorry, that isn’t my intent. It doesn’t matter if I have feelings for him—he wants you.” Or he had wanted her, but if that had changed, Eleanor didn’t know.
“And you want me to refuse him?”
“I want you to be happy,” Eleanor said, and she meant it.
“You don’t believe I would be happy with him?”
She didn’t think so, in the long run. James would probably begin to chafe if he attained all the things he thought he wanted so desperately. But that was just conjecture—it was impossible to predict the future. “I think he is a far different man than he presents to you, and he has misrepresented his situation. That’s all I can say with certainty.”
Lady Sarah looked down at the ground for a moment. “He isn’t the first suitor to have done so,” she said, surprising Eleanor. “I’ve grown used to it.”
“You don’t wish for honesty?”
“I did,” she said, a little sadly. “But my father’s title, my dowry…I cannot separate myself from those things. And sometimes it’s almost impossible to tell.” She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “And if I’m honest with myself, I’ve never fallen in love with any of my suitors, so it never hurts as much as it could. My parents have been lenient with me in this regard…they’ve let me turn down potential son-in-laws they would have preferred much more than James MacGregor. Though I admit, I did have higher hopes for Mr. MacGregor, because you seemed to like him.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Do you care for him?” Lady Sarah asked again.
“I…yes,” Eleanor said. “Yes, I do.” It was difficult to admit that, out loud, to someone else. She’d barely admitted it to herself. But Lady Sarah deserved her honesty.
The other woman nodded, still looking thoughtful.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she said.
Lady Sarah shot her a wry smile. “You have nothing to be sorry for. But if you don’t mind my asking, what could he possibly have to threaten you with?”
Eleanor hesitated. In the end, she simply said, “Something that I hope won’t be an issue much longer.”