“Lord Warwick, how lovely to see you!” Eleanor shuffled forward as a petite lady in middle age greeted her father and dotted kisses on her father's cheeks. Eleanor shoved her glasses away, knowing her mother would scold her if she wore them in public. “And Lady Warwick,” Lady Fensworth said. “I am so pleased you came tonight, Imogen.”
Ellie’s mother paused for a long moment before embracing her friend. “Happy Christmas, Penelope.” Eleanor gave a deep sigh of relief; perhaps her mother would not need as much minding tonight. Remembering herself, Lady Warwick turned to Ellie. “You remember my daughter, Lady Eleanor.”
“Of course!” Eleanor forced her attention from Henry’s profile to the lady in front of her and recognized the high cheekbones and deep chocolate eyes of her son. “I remember you attending last year, just after your debut. It was such a crush, we did not even have a moment to speak. Did you enjoy yourself?”
A blush crept from the modest neckline of her evergreen velvet gown towards her chin. “Yes, my lady—”
“Did you meet my son, Lord Henry?” Lady Fensworth leaned forward and gestured toward where Henry stood at the base of the stairs. “He’s been away from town studying in Oxford.”
Eleanor blinked—he was almost far away enough to require her lenses to see him clearly. A crafty smile passed over his full lips as he met her gaze and started across the foyer. She thought she might crumble to the floor.
“Lady Eleanor.” Henry took her hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “How delightful seeing you again.”
“Likewise, my lord,” she choked out.
“I trust you are… feelingwellthis evening? Or are you expecting more pyrotechnics?“ One eyebrow raised into a perfect arch.
She pressed her lips together to suppress a giggle. “Quite so, my lord. Thank you for your inquiry.”
Lady Fensworth and her mother exchanged confused glances; Eleanor focused on keeping her composure, while Henry obviously did the same. He released a deep breath and grinned. “Would you care for some punch, Lady Eleanor?”
“I would be delighted,” she replied, taking his arm as he offered it.
They took three steps into the room before he leaned over and murmured close to her ear. “Thank goodness that wasn’t awkward at all.”
Eleanor’s laugh echoed through the hall.
“Favorite novel.”
Henry thought for a moment. “I’m not much for novels, honestly. I prefer plays. It’s easier for me to visualize the action.”
Eleanor shrugged. “Alright, favorite play.”
“King Lear. I’ve never actually read it, but whenever it’s playing I’ll go at least twice. Yours?”
“The Mikado.”
He winced. “Questionable taste, but I’ll allow it. Most embarrassing moment?”
The warmth of the fire in the library lapped at her cheeks as she leaned against the arm of the overstuffed leather chair, twisting her mouth into a look of mock consideration.
Shortly after supper, Eleanor found herself cornered by a well-meaning friend of her mother’s who began peppering her with questions about her first failed season and her plans to marry. Ellie’s pulse raced and her breathing rasped in her lungs. Just when she was certain her legs would collapse from beneath her, Henry appeared at her side, making an excuse for her and leading her into the family’s cavernous library. There, he discovered a bottle of brandy and comfortable seats by the fire.
“There are many contenders, but I believe when a handsome viscount had to cut me out of my dress at a ball and then I cast up my accounts all over his shoes would be my lowest point.”
He threw back his head and laughed. Every emotion he experienced, he felt it fully. Laughter was full-bellied, scowls creased his eyebrows and pulled his lips tight, smiles spread from ear to ear and made his eyes twinkle.
“That’s difficult to beat, but I suspect I can do it.” He put his glass down on the table between them and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees for dramatic effect. “When I was in the second form, I split my pants during a cricket match in front of the entire school.”
“Decidedly not terrible,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.
“It wouldn’t have been terrible, except it was wash day and I had no clean undergarments to wear.”
Eleanor burst out laughing, nearly spitting out her brandy. Proper ladies did not sit alone with handsome viscounts in a library, nor did they sip brandy, and they certainly did not laugh hard enough to make tears fall.
“But did you win the match?” she asked, pushing her spectacles back up her nose. She was far more comfortable seeing things clearly, and being with Henry had put her surprisingly at ease.
He groaned and sat back, shaking his head dramatically. “Alas, no. I was so humiliated I turned tail and retreated to hide in the washroom until my tutors came and found me. Quite the day.”
