“My parents live separate lives,” he said.“They meet for formal meals or by appointment.They share nothing.It was an arranged marriage of the old style, but still … It amazes me that they managed to produce five offspring.”He looked at her, sharp with anger.“Am I to give up Blanche—the best thing in my life—for that?”
Eleanor shrugged helplessly.“Do all men give up their mistresses when they marry?”
“No.Heavens, Eleanor, we shouldn’t be talking like this!”
She smiled.“You need to talk.I’m certainly no delicate blossom to be shielded from the realities of life.”
He sat beside her.“It’s as I said.Blanche is like a wife.More like a wife than most wives, I suspect.I couldn’t change it to a hidden, nasty thing, but I couldn’t flaunt her before a wife.For one thing, Blanche would never stand for such a situation.So when I marry, it will be over.We both know that.But I will lose something very important from my life.”
“Perhaps you should marry Blanche,” Eleanor said.
He laughed with genuine amusement.“She’d laugh too at the notion.Marry an actress, a butcher’s daughter from Manchester, and a well-known whore?My father would clap me in Bedlam.But don’t picture a tragedy.Blanche is not the love of my life and we both know it.I love her—I love you, after a fashion.I have never been in love.”
Eleanor sighed.“It is, at times, a painful affliction.”
“But who has lived who never felt it?”He shook his head.“I think Nicholas sent me here because he knew I needed to talk before I knew it myself.”
“Yes,” said Eleanor bleakly.“He does have a way of reading minds.”
He eyed her with concern.“You are going to take him back, aren’t you?”
“Oh, doubtless,” she sighed.“But sometimes I wish I could strip him down to raw truth.”
“You will,” he said.“That’s what makes love so painful.”
Lucien stayed two nights and then left to make his way to Melton and the hunting season, hopefully without encountering his parents or Phoebe Swinnamer.Eleanor had only one day to wait, and despite lingering doubt and uncertainty, she hungered to have Nicholas back and in her arms.
Eleanor woke to the twenty-first day in a fevered excitement, and as the day progressed Miss Hurstman lost all patience with her fidgeting.
“How soon can I expect him, Arabella?This morning?”
“I would doubt it.Where would he come from to arrive in the morning?”
“He arrived in the morning last time,” said Eleanor with a discontented frown.
“He rode through the night, which was a mad thing to do even if it was a full moon.Now the moon’s new, so he couldn’t do it if he wanted to.”
He could have stayed close by and come over early, Eleanor thought a little crossly.“This afternoon, then,” she said out loud.
“Perhaps,” said Miss Hurstman briskly.“Don’t forget, however, that you sent him away for at least three weeks.That doesn’t mean he has to come back in three weeks.”
Eleanor paled.“He wouldn’t!”
“He might, and why not?”She looked at Eleanor with exasperation.“Lord, I don’t know much about men, but if you expect him to grovel, you’ll lose him.”
“You said I should make him woo me!”Eleanor protested.
“Yes, but how’s he supposed to do that from the other side of the country?Oh, I wash my hands of you,” she declared and stalked off.
After a dinner during which they sniped at each another, Eleanor sat alone in the drawing room.She was wearing a gold velvet dress, her hair was piled high on her head, and there was amber on her wrists and around her neck.She was determined not to cry.If he really cared he would have come at the first possible moment, moon or no moon, but she had made allowances for practicalities.There was no excuse, however, for him not turning up by now.
So what was she going to do when he turned up tomorrow or the next day?Just accept it and be grateful?
She began to pace the room anxiously, angrily.Oh, no.If he thought to play games with her now, what would he be like when he was sure of her?
“What has you in this rage?”asked Nicholas from the doorway.
She whirled on him.“Where have you been?”
