Chapter
One
CHAPTER ONE
Miss Eleanor Harcourt strode purposefully along the corridor toward her brother’s study—the masculine bastion always dimly lit and smelling faintly of cigars. She needed an answer. If he meant for them to host a ball that Season, which they had done every year, then they would need to put things in motion. A date would need to be settled upon, a theme of some sort needed to be chosen. There were musicians to be secured, refreshments planned, decorations, a gown for herself… and it all had to be planned and scheduled around existing events of comparable and competitive desirability, such as the Hadley’s musicale or Lady Trenton’s annual ball. While they had wealth and position, they did not have rank. To face off against a revered hostess, or heaven forbid a duchess, would render their ball an utter failure. And Eleanor detested the very notion of failure.
Normally, when approaching Julian, she would knock before entering. But he’d been avoiding her because he had no wish to be bothered by the details of the undertaking though he greatly enjoyed the results. He loved a party, after all, despite his general disdain for the planning thereof. In truth, herbrother rarely planned anything. He simply showed up with the assumption it had all magically coalesced into a finished event. But the moment she stepped into his inner sanctum, she realized her error. Her brother was not alone.
Adrian Grant was the most wonderfully irritating man in the entire world. Too handsome by far with his thick, dark hair and natural athleticism, he garnered resentment and admiration in equal measure. He was alsoa gentleman through and through. He was polite, attentive, charming, and he looked at her as though she were a potted plant. Pretty, but unimportant. Something in the background to add to the overall aesthetic, but easily ignorable otherwise. A familiar pang assailed her, not of her heart, surely, but her pride.
“Pardon my intrusion,” Eleanor inserted, as she stepped into the room, clearly not at all sorry for her actions. “But it is vital that I speak with you, Julian. If you wish to hold the ball, then decisions must be made and they must be made today or I will not be responsible for the outcome.”
“Drat it all, Ellie,” her brother said as he snapped shut the ledger before him with a decisive flourish. “You know we want to have the ball. We always have the ball. Every year. And every year it is a success. Why must I be plagued with the planning of it?”
“Because if you do not give me series of suitable dates to choose from—dates where musicians can be obtained, where the appropriate floral arrangements can be ordered—then it will stop being the success it has been every year!” She’d have stamped her foot if it would have moved him to action rather than just amusing him.
“Give over, Julien… you know she’s right. I’ve watched the two of you do tis particular dance year after year.” Adrian intoned with bored amusement. It was a prime example of thesame disaffected ennui that made young debutantes swoon over him.
Though it galled her to do so, she smiled in a grim facsimile of gratitude. “Thank you, Adrian. Your support in the matter is greatly appreciated.”
He nodded at her, turning his attention once more to the documents before him, documents, she could only assume were beyond engrossing as he barely even glanced at her. A mild flash of annoyance swept over her, but she quickly pushed it away. She’d made a vow to herself when they’d returned to town for the season that she would not fall prey to that sort of wasteful emotion anymore. And why would she be upset? It was not as if he ever did much more than glance in her direction. She’d long ago given up being hurt by his—what? He didn’t ignore her. He simply had the audacity to be pleasantly indifferent to her.
“You are quite welcome, Eleanor,” he said, not bothering to look up.
Julien glanced through the ledgers on his desk in a thoroughly exasperated manner. The pages flipped so quickly it was a miracle he could comprehend their contents. Then he stopped. “A month from tomorrow,” he stated. “We’ve no engagements on the book for that date. Is that enough time?”
For most people, likely not. But a great deal of the groundwork was laid for her. The numerous tradespeople whom she’d have to deal with in organizing such an event were well familiar with her and with the fact that they would be paid in a timely manner. More so than with many of their peers. They would be happy to accommodate her even on short notice. She was a remarkable hostess. She prided herself on that.“That is more than achievable.”
“We’re expected at the Eagons’ tonight.”
Eleanor tried to keep her frown at bay, but failed. Her lips turned downward and a slight sound of distress escaped her.Those were always such deadly, dull events. But the Eagons were friends of their late parents and impossibly kind people, even if dull. The music was lackluster, the refreshments flavorless and plain, and the heat… the heat of their small ballroom was intolerable. “Very well. Just the two of us or is Adrian attending as well? I can arrange for the barouche to be readied.”
“No need,” Adrian answered, his distraction palpable. “I’ll make my own way. I’ve an engagement beforehand. Though I will look forward to your very pleasant company tonight. You’ll save a dance for me, Eleanor?”
“As I do at every event,” she said, a fake smile curving her lips. One dance. Only one dance. At every event. And never a waltz. It was always some country dance or minuet. Something utterly benign. Because that is what existed between herself and the Right Honorable Mr. Adrian Grant. An acquaintance so marked by its unremarkable nature that no one even lifted a brow to see them together. It was almost as if, in the eyes ofthe Ton, he’d become her second brother. If only she could see him that way.
“What will you do?”Julien asked.
Adrian looked up from the documents, his confusion evident. He was still trying to make sense of it all. Oh, not the documents. Those were perfectly straightforward. It was simply that they altered his circumstances so greatly. He’d lived his whole life subsisting primarily on charm and reputation. Not impoverished, but lacking in prospects. He was the younger son of a younger son from a second marriage. His best hope for a future with any sort of security at all had been that his cousin might be kind enough to bestow a living on him. Now, he’dlearned that his cousin had passed in an untimely accident and his uncle had shuffled off the mortal coil a year prior. He was the heir. The entirety of the Grant family fortune and lands would now be his. The weight of that was settling heavily upon him.
“I suppose I’ll see this blasted solicitor and forfeit my role as ne’er-do-well,” he answered without any real heat. “Certainly an unexpected turn of events. Thomas was all but wed to Miss Lytton. My assumption was that I’d never inherit anything beyond a small bequest. Now I am an eligible bachelor and the marriage minded she wolves will be out in full force as they attempt to secure my hand for their whey-faced daughters.”
“Whey-faced?” Julien repeated laughingly. “There are some very lovely young ladies who have been vying for your attention for some time… even without prospects.”
Adrian made a sound that indicated his opinion of them. They weren’t terrible. In truth, some of them were, just as Julien had said, quite lovely. But they were all… what? Silly. But then they were little better than children, so wasn’t silliness their due? But he couldn’t fathom the notion of attaching himself to some young woman, fresh out of the schoolroom, immature, silly, and with no thoughts in her head beyond the excitement of her first season. Being in their presence made him feel… old.
It wasn’t as if he’d never seriously entertained the notion of marriage before. He’d made concerted effort to find himself a bride a time or two. And it had been a series of dismal failures. If—if—he were to consider any woman going forward it would be someone sensible, someone not given to hysterics or who was obsesses with gossip.Someone like Eleanor.That thought crept in, slipping in silently but not nearly as unobtrusive as it ought to have been. Instantly, he dismissed the very notion. Not that he’d marry Eleanor, of course. She was his friend, after all. The sister of his very best friend. That, along with his very limited prospects over the years, had allowed him to form a veryplatonic sort of affection for her. Or so he frequently reminded himself. He liked her, he was fond of her. Not because she was female but because she was… well, Eleanor. Just capable, intelligent, dependable and still often bitingly funny, Eleanor who could give you a polite set down and leave you smiling, until you had a moment to really decipher what she’d said. And who had lovely brown eyes and dark hair that gleamed like polished mahogany in candlelight.
For a brief second, he considered allowing for the possibility of something other than merely platonic feelings for Eleanor, but then instantly he dismissed it. The risk was too great, after all. Julien was his dearest friend. And that, as far as he was concerned, needed to be the end of it. He had too few friends to go muddying the waters in what could well end in disaster.
“I’m certain there are,” Adrian agreed with his friend, keeping his tone neutral even as he tensed. He disliked matchmaking in general. When it was directed at him, he loathed it. “And I’m certain one of them will make a lovely bride for you. I’ll be looking for something… more. I think. More extraordinary than simply lovely.”
Julien smirked. “Ah. Waiting to be struck by Cupid’s arrow?”
“Not bloody likely. Felled by Artemis’ spear… I’ll leave the girls for someone else. I’d prefer a woman grown with a brain in her head and a sense of practicality.”Like Eleanor. But not Eleanor. Never Eleanor.
“Ah. Boring… Well, that requirement should not be too difficult to meet.”
