“We had not arranged to meet. I suppose I was a bit presumptuous. Still, it is no matter,” he replied. “I wished to speak further regarding our understanding. If you have a moment, of course.”
Our understanding.
The words landed like a weight upon her conscience. She had agreed to a practical courtship. She had given him her word, and she had meant it. And now she stood at the foot of the steps with her lips still warm from Adrian’s kiss and guilt tightening in her chest like a knot.
Along with it came countless doubts. Marklynne’s interest had been immediate and always at the forefront. He hadn’t needed prompting to see her as a potential bride. Unlike Adrian who had only been spurred to reveal his interest when someone else had. A bit of dog in the manger behavior, quite honestly. The warmth of his kiss faded entirely under that cold reality.
Marklynne offered his arm.
Eleanor hesitated. It was only a breath, only the smallest pause, but in that pause she felt the full measure of what she had done. Adrian stood a step behind her, silent. She could feel his presence without looking, could feel the way it drew at her as surely as gravity.
Then she placed her hand upon Lord Marklynne’s sleeve.
“Of course,” she said quietly.
As they mounted the steps, she did not look back. She could not. Not when she already knew the truth pressing at the edges of her composure: she had entered into one arrangement in good faith, and yet her heart had never been free to keep it.
Once inside,the Harcourt residence closed around them in a hush of well-ordered domesticity. The butler relieved them of hat and gloves, and Miss Harcourt directed him toward the drawing room with the composed assurance of one long accustomed to managing such formalities.
“If you will come this way, my lord,” she said, sweeping her hand toward the drawing room where she had received him only the day prior. Her voice was steady, though her movements carried a deliberateness that suggested recent exertion or lingering fatigue. He did not comment upon it. A lady’s composure was her own province.
He followed her into the drawing room, noting again the room’s quiet respectability. Furnishings, while luxurious, had beenchosen for comfort rather than ostentation. The polished wood surfaces had mellowed by years of use and all of it arranged in a way that suggested prudence rather than vanity. It was a household governed by sense. That, among other things, recommended her. And, he reasoned, Mr. Grant was a family friend. An old acquaintance of long standing. Had there been any understanding between them he had little doubt that Miss Harcourt would have mentioned it.
She indicated the settee and seated herself; he chose the chair opposite, allowing a proper distance. “I do regret that you were kept waiting,” she said. “Had I known you intended to call, I should have remained at home.”
“I arrived without sending ahead,” he replied. “The inconvenience is therefore entirely my own.” And it was. He didn’t like it any better, but he had to own some measure of responsibility for it. Though in all fairness, everything he’d learned about Miss Harcourt suggested that she was very much a wallflower. Why wouldn’t he have assumed she would be at home?
The apology seemed nevertheless to trouble her. Her hands came together in her lap, fingers briefly tightening before settling into stillness.
“At the steps you mentioned wishing to speak further,” she prompted.
“Yes.” He regarded her steadily. Clarity, in his experience, prevented unnecessary complication. “I wished to address a practical consideration. Yesterday’s conversation was entered into with admirable frankness, but circumstances may appear differently upon reflection. I wanted to be certain that you understand that an offer is not the only outcome that is possible. There is much to decide in a month’s time for both of us. If you feel that is too much?—”
“Lord Marklynne,” she said, holding her hand up to halt his speech.
He paused, waiting to hear what she might say.
“That is most considerate of you,” she said at last. “But no. I entered into the arrangement in good faith, and I see no cause to alter it. We agreed upon a month and that is what we shall do. I hope you understand that, in spite of our arrangement, I do have other social obligations to meet. Naturally, your company is most welcome when our schedules allow.”
He inclined his head.
“As you wish.”
The steadiness of her tone admitted no ambiguity. Whatever the morning’s exertions or recent social excitements, she had not reconsidered her position.
“I hope you will not think me forward in calling today,” he continued. “I believed it best that we proceed with clarity from the outset.”
“I appreciate clarity,” she replied. “It prevents misunderstanding.”
“Precisely.”
He studied her briefly. There remained a reserve about her that had not been present the previous afternoon — perhaps the natural consequence of recent attention — yet nothing in her manner suggested reluctance. She was a woman accustomed to weighing consequences, not indulging impulse.
That steadiness, more than charm or novelty, distinguished her from the younger ladies currently circulating through society. He hadn’t the patience for younger ladies and their demands for near constant attention.
“I shall not impose upon your afternoon further,” he said, rising. “I wished only to confirm that we remain of the same mind and to confirm that while our agreement was made in good faith, it is not binding… yet.”
She stood as well. “We do remain of the same mind, my lord, and you are most amiable and gentlemanly.”
