Chapter Twenty-Six
Jeffries told him that Eleanor wasn’t in, which James didn’t believe for a second, so he pushed past the butler and ran straight into Robert Townsend, who pushed him right back out into the night. The oil lamps by the house cast a murky light between them.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Robert said.
James, who’d had to catch himself on the rail so he didn’t tumble down the front steps, straightened to his full height. “Did you ask her?”
“I don’t need to ask her,” Robert said. He’d always seemed like a fairly even-tempered fellow to James, but now his eyes were narrowed, his mouth flat in anger. He looked like he might be tempted to strike James, if James would only give him a reason. “You bloody bastard. You broke her heart.”
James’s breath turned to smoke in the air, emerged in fits and starts. “I didn’t… I…” But he had, hadn’t he? She had just been rejected by the society, and then James had come along and more or less done the same. His heart sank straight down to his toes. How could Eleanor ever forgive him?
And how could he possibly deserve her, even if she did?
“I made a mistake,” he finally said.
Robert snorted. “You did a little more than make a mistake.”
“I know. I know I did. I’ll find some way to make it up to her, just—”
“How?”
“What?”
“How are you going to make it up to her?”
That Robert was asking at all shocked him. “Do you think I can?”
“I don’t know. But before you failed miserably, you made her happy, for some reason that I cannot begin to fathom.”
His heart leaped. “Let me see her.”
“No.”
James took a threatening step forward, and Robert lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed. James halted on the top step. Getting into fisticuffs with Eleanor’s brother wasn’t going to help his cause.
But the thought led to another, and another, and spiraled into memory.
Suddenly, the world around him seemed to quiet.
Would it be so bad?
Would it be so bad for people to see who you are?
When the idea struck, it burned like lightning. It was, he realized, exactly what he needed to do. Eleanor had been brave. He needed to show her that he could be brave, too. He needed to prove to her, and to himself, that he was worthy of her strength. And he could think of only one way to do that—by going back to the start.
“Tell her there’s going to be a prizefight,” he said, heart pounding. He could already taste the iron in his mouth.
His statement was greeted by complete silence.
“That’s your plan? A prizefight?” If it was possible, Robert seemed even more unimpressed than he had before.
“Will you tell her? I can write you the details later. Just promise me you’ll give them to her.”
Robert wasn’t swayed by the plea in his voice. “I’ll think about it.”
With that, the door was shut in his face.
James chose to be hopeful…Robert hadn’t said no.
…
Eleanor’s hand paused over the article, just above her hastily scrawled name. It hurt to look at it, hurt to remember. The society’s rejection and James’s rejection were inextricably connected in her mind. She could not think about one without thinking about the other, without remembering just how horrible it felt to be unwanted.
But she needed to continue her work, somehow. She supposed, since she couldn’t cut out her mind, she would have to cut out her heart.
She had just dipped her quill in ink, resolving not to think about it, to work until the pain lessened, when Robert appeared at her door.
He sat down on the corner of her bed and she turned to face him from her writing desk. The night outside was dark and quiet, and they studied one another in the candlelight.
Robert was not usually so intent, which worried Eleanor. “What is it?”
He sighed. “I kept debating whether this was the right choice or not, and in the end, I came to the decision that it isn’t really my choice at all. I would like to protect you from any pain you might face, but that would be a disservice to you.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
His mouth twisted wryly and he handed her a small slip of paper that listed a time and a place, and nothing else. “There’s going to be a fight between MacGregor and Thomas Clark.”
Eleanor felt a curious pain in her chest. Here she was, trying not to think about James, and the man wouldn’t let her be. And instead of letting her be, he was sending her notes? She stared down at the paper, holding it in a tight grasp. “Did he tell you this?”
Robert nodded. “I assume it’s his way of asking for a second chance. He seems to think you’ll understand the significance of it.”
A second chance? Her heart lifted on a pulse of hope.
“Did he say anything about Lady Sarah?”
“No,” Robert said. “But I happened to see Lady Sarah yesterday, and she wanted me to pass along a message to you. She said before she’d even had a chance to speak to MacGregor about a topic you and she had discussed, he apologized ‘for everything,’ and rushed out of the ball he was attending. She hasn’t heard from him since.” Robert paused, and then added, “I don’t know why everyone seems to think I’m your message runner.”
Eleanor’s hope, poised so precariously, took flight. Her heart didn’t just lift, it soared.
James hadn’t proposed to Sarah. He hadn’t even tried.
And now, he was fighting Thomas Clark. Despite his father’s disdain. Despite all the things he’d thought he wanted. All because of what she’d said.
This fight was for her.
She smiled, her first true smile in days, and shook her head, and then she laughed, pressing her fingers to her lips in an attempt to stem the awkward tide of her happiness. But happiness as deep and rich as what she felt in that moment couldn’t be contained so easily, and it bubbled forth like a spring.
Good Lord, she was a mess.
Robert cocked his head. “Is it what you wanted?”
Yes, somehow, it was exactly what she’d wanted. She set the paper down and tried to keep the stupid smile from her face. “We will, of course, be going to the fight,” she said primly.
“For the record, I think it’s a bad idea.” Robert did not sound surprised, but he didn’t sound enthused, either.
“I know it’s frowned upon for women to attend these events. George and I can go in disguise,” she said, as though it was obvious.
Now her brother looked alarmed. “You’re not going to resurrect Cecil, are you?”
“No, I think hooded cloaks will suffice this time.”
Robert shook his head. “I don’t know why I let you embark on these wild schemes.”
“Come now, I can’t possibly do anything more scandalous than what I’ve already done.”
“Anything is possible,” he said darkly.