For a fleeting instant he merely stared at her, and she saw the moment he chose his interpretation — the one that preserved order, reason, and his own certainty. His expression softened into reassurance, as though she had revealed a private anxiety he felt bound to soothe.
“My dear Miss Harcourt, you need not concern yourself on that score,” he said. “I do not embark upon such arrangements without careful consideration. Had I entertained doubts regarding your suitability, I should not have proposed the trial at all. It was merely for the sake of propriety as to become betrothed on such short acquaintance would surely court scandal.”
Propriety. Careful consideration.Suitability.That word landed with quiet finality. Eleanor felt the faintest tightening in her chest, not the sharp pain of having either her heart of pride wounded. No, it was resignation. Quite resolve settling into place as she recognized that , he had sorted her very neatly into the category of useful. Like a well worn pair of boots while Miss Langford was a pair satin dancing slippers with shiny pearl buckles.
Her brows lifted slightly. “Then you do not anticipate the possibility?”
“I anticipate a satisfactory conclusion,” he replied. “You may be entirely easy in your mind. You are in no danger of being dismissed.”
Dismissed.
She let the word linger between them a moment before speaking again. He had simply dug in, entrenching himselfdeeper in arrogance and vanity rather than recognizing that he’d said things that were, in truth, unforgivable.
“And if the inclination were not yours to decide?” she asked.
He blinked. The certainty in his expression faltered. A small crease appeared between his brows, as though she had introduced an unnecessary complication into an otherwise orderly discussion.
“I—” He stopped, cleared his throat lightly. “I beg your pardon? You mean… should you wish to withdraw?”
There it was. The first true misstep. The first hint that the tidy order of his expectations might not hold.
“Yes,” Eleanor said. “That is precisely what I mean.”
He stared at her, not offended so much as perplexed. “I confess I had not considered such an outcome.”
“I am aware,” she replied. “You’ve made that rather glaringly apparent, my lord.”
He shifted slightly, his mouth opening and closing again and again. Almost as though he were an actor on stage trying to remember lines simply by forcing his mouth to shape them. Finally, he managed, “You are a practical woman, Miss Harcourt. You understand the advantages before you. Position. Stability. The restoration of an old estate to which you would lend admirable order. I cannot imagine you discarding such a prospect. You would be the wife of a titled gentleman, a peer. ”
“And yet,” she said with quiet certainty, “I must decline.”
His lips parted, then pressed together again. “I must confess my shock at your actions, Miss Harcourt. For such a reputedly sensible woman, this is a rather emotional conclusion. ”
“No,” she said. “It is a clear one.”
“You would discard position and security because my aunt prefers brighter company?” The words came out sharply, his wounded pride having taken the reins rather than instilled decorum.
“I would decline,” Eleanor said evenly, “because you believe prettiness and steadiness cannot coexist in one woman — and because you have already determined which category I occupy. I find myself reluctant to be bound to a man who thinks I am capable enough to counter my lack of prettiness.”
He looked genuinely taken aback. “You misinterpret me.”
“I do not think I do.” She rose, smoothing her skirts, her composure intact though something within her felt newly unburdened. “You have been candid with me, my lord, and I am not unappreciative of that. Now, you must allow me to offer you the same courtesy. I do not wish to be selected for my efficiency, nor valued for my durability. I wish to be seen. For a man to want me solely for myself rather than for the ease I can bring to his life—be that financial gain or even a well ordered home..”
Color rose faintly in his face, though whether from embarrassment or irritation she could not say. He opened his mouth as though to argue, then seemed to think better of it.
“You are making a grave mistake,” he said at last.
“Possibly,” Eleanor agreed. “But it will be my mistake to make.”
And in that distinction lay everything.
“No other offer will compare,” he warned her. “I possess an old and distinguished title which I was happy to share the benefit of with you.”
“I shall endeavor to bear the loss, my lord. Allow me to wish you a good day,” she said, effectively putting an end to the conversation before it could veer into ugly territory.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he simply rose to his feet, turned on his heel and marched out. Had he been a woman, such a fit of temper would have been referred to as ‘high dudgeon’. As a man, he could simply claim to be insulted by her insufferable sentimentality and complete lack of wisdom. And perhaps shehad taken leave of her senses, but it felt rather freeing to make a decision not based entirely upon practicality.
Chapter
