Adrian wasn’t so certain.
Chapter
Two
The Eagons’ house was obscenely warm, as predicted, just as it always was. The crowd was not overly large, but neither was the room, thus the press of bodies only amplified that discomfort. Mrs. Eagon, for whatever reason, feared that every young lady present would catch a chill and thus the windows of the ballroom were never opened wide enough to permit any real relief from the overwhelming crush. Indeed, the warmth generated by the sheer number of people present in the room, as well as the cloying smell of too many competing perfumes, was dizzying. Had she been given to such things, Eleanor might have fainted. She prided herself on being made of sterner stuff than that, though she was struggling to maintain her dignity at the moment. She was not some silly girl overcome at the slightest bit of discomfort, nor was she one of those wretched women who would feign a swoon for the attention it would garner for them.
The musicians struck up another energetic tune for yet another country dance, the violin emitting a sharp, almost shrill sound. On the dance floor, her brother was twirling some young wallflower around, likely making her night. He had no interest in her beyond being kind, but that was long accepted aboutJulien. He was a confirmed bachelor and she… well, she was a confirmed spinster, wasn’t she? It hadn’t been her intent, but the reality of it was just the same.
Across the room, she caught sight of Adrian. He was flirting shamelessly with someone whom she despised. Of course, he was. Lifting her fan, she waved it rather frenetically in an attempt to drum up a breeze, some hint of cool air in the overheated and overcrowded room.
“Are you unwell?”
Eleanor turned to her friend, Caroline Ashworth, and offered a wan smile that was intended to be reassuring. “Just overheated. Let’s take a turn, shall we?”
“It’s only going to make you more overheated. Perhaps we can sneak to the window and one of us can create a diversion while the other nudges it open a few more inches?”
“Heaven,” Eleanor sighed. “Absolute heaven. Also, it counts as a good deed. We’ll be saving others and securing our own position beyond the pearly gates.” The last was uttered in a teasing note, one that reflected good humor which she did not currently feel. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Adrian was no longer flirting with the irritating Anna St. Martin and her perfect blonde curls. It was one thing to accept that he’d never view her as anything more than Julian’s sister and a friend by extension of that. It was another altogether for him to become tangled up with a viper hiding in plain sight.
They began maneuvering their way about the room, weaving between groups of people that had clustered around the dance floor. They’d taken only a few steps when Lord Foxton strolled past them. The man had long been known to skimp on personal hygiene and that night was no different. The smell of stale sweat could not be masked by the overpowering perfume he’d attempted to cover it with. And the combination of the two, along with her attempt not to breathe too deeply in his presence,had her listing slightly, suddenly unsteady. The world seemed to tilt. Caroline was asking her questions but for the life of her, Eleanor couldn’t force an answer beyond her parched lips.
And as the darkness seemed to swarm about her, Eleanor waited for the bone jarring impact of the hard floor, but it never occurred. It was like the guttering of a candle. Everything flickered and then simply went dark.
Julien’s gazewas focused across the expanse of the ballroom. Adrian followed suit, his curiosity piqued. And what he saw sent a shock of alarm through him. Eleanor was on the arm of her dear friend, Miss Ashworth, and then she simply wasn’t. She seemed to vanish right before his eyes. There was a collective gasp moving like a wave across the ballroom. Whatever had occurred, it required immediate attention.
Neither of them questioned the decision. They simply moved in unison toward the scene, fighting their way through the throng of partygoers. When they reached her, Eleanor was on the floor, a gentleman kneeling beside her as Miss Ashworth looked on, frantically patting the back of Eleanor’s hand is if that would miraculously revive her.
When she saw them, Miss Ashworth panickingly exclaimed, “She was feeling overheated and then… she just fainted! Eleanor never faints.”
“Clearly, she does given the right provocation,” Julien said, his tone sharpened with worry. “Have you called for a vinaigrette?”
“Yes,” the unknown gentleman stated. “I have taken the liberty of doing so… I do beg your pardon, sir. I was nearby andhappened to catch the young lady before she could do injury to herself by falling upon the floor. I am Lord Marklynne.”
“Thank you, Lord Marklynne, for your assistance.” Julien’s reply was stiff, not overly friendly and seemingly somewhat off-put by the peer. In truth, he was off-putting with his somewhat stiff manner and arrogant way of speaking.
Nothing further was said as Eleanor, being typically Eleanor, did not slowly rouse from her faint with delicate and affected feebleness, but sat bolt upright and summarily dismissed everyone. There was no simpering or continued display of what she would likely term ‘the sacrifice of her dignity’. “I’m quite alright. Please do not fuss so.”
She moved to get up and Adrian stepped forward intending to help her, even extending his hand toward her. He was far more concerned about her than was warranted by a swoon in an overly warm room. That degree of concern might have alarmed him had he a moment to ponder why it mattered so very much. But before he could consider the degree of worry it caused him, or before he could actually reach her, Marklynne was there, aiding her to her feet. All solicitousness and chivalry, he stayed at her side, steadying her by offering her his arm. And Adrian hated him. Not disliked or possesses of a slight aversion to. The rage that pulsed through him was like a living thing, like a rampaging dragon from the myths of old. The fury of it was as shocking in its intensity as it was puzzling in its origin.
“By all means, let us all step back and give her a bit of room. If the warmth caused the initial swoon, then us crowding her so will surely send her into another,” Adrian stated sharply, his gaze locked rather pointedly on Lord Marklynne. If anyone thought his tone odd, or his stepping forward to take control of the situation when her brother was literally at his elbow, no one dared say anything. But the sly looks that passed between a few smug observers was difficult to miss.
“I would, under the circumstances, beg an introduction… formally, of course,” Lord Marklynne stated.
“Of course,” Julien replied.“I would be happy to oblige, Lord Marklynne… My sister, Miss Eleanor Harcourt and her companion, Miss Caroline Ashworth. I myself am Julien Harcourt and the gentleman at my side is a family friend, the Right Honorable Mr. Adrian Grant.”
Why it bothered him to be called ‘a family friend’, Adrian couldn’t say. But it did. It irritated him beyond reason. He was more than that. Wasn’t he? If so, what exactly? Again, he was perturbed with no real explanation as to why, not even for himself.
“I thank you for your assistance, Lord Marklynne,” Eleanor said softly. Her tone clearly indicated that she did not feel this was a conversation everyone present needed to hear. “It was most kind of you to aid me at such a time.”
“It was my utmost pleasure to be of service, Miss Harcourt. If I may, with your brother’s permission, call upon you tomorrow to insure your continued improvement?”
Eleanor, to Adrian’s amazement, blushed prettily—a response never before witnessed. “That would be much appreciated, my lord.” Eleanor murmured softly as she looked up through her lashes at Lord Marklynne.
Adrian stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. This was Eleanor, for heaven’s sake! Funny, capable, dependable, always good in a crisis, unflappable Eleanor who was suddenly enacting the role of flirtatious coquette and doing it as efficiently and admirably as she did everything else. And in that moment, something else occurred to him. Eleanor wasn’t just pretty. She was beautiful. Beautiful and alluring and he could not continue to willfully blinded himself to that fact. He’d done so for years because Julien was his friend. Because Eleanor washis friend.It had been an easy enough thing to overlook when she wasn’t batting her eyelashes at some titled arse.
“The Eagons will give you our direction,” Julien stated. “For now, I believe I shall see my sister home. This evening has been more exciting than either of us would care for. Adrian?”
“I’ll make my own way home. Good night, Eleanor. Do take care, won’t you?” He didn’t quite trust himself not to say something asinine and make her rush headlong into Marklynne’s arms or cry on the man’s tailoring enhanced shoulder.
