Eloise swallowed against the lump in her throat as she watched Amanda’s tortured expression. There was something wrong with these children. Or if not with them, then for them. Something wasn’t right in their lives. With all of her nieces and nephews, Eloise had seen enough happy children to know this. “That will be all right, Amanda,” she said, her heart wrenching. “You may keep your lemon drops.”
“But we have to give you something,” Amanda said, casting a fearful glance at her father.
Eloise was about to tell her that that wasn’t necessary, but then, as she watched Amanda’s face, she realized that it was. In part, of course, because Sir Phillip had obviously insisted upon it, and Eloise wasn’t about to undermine his authority by saying otherwise. But also because the twins needed to understand the concept of making amends. “Very well,” Eloise said. “You may give me an afternoon.”
“An afternoon?”
“Yes. Once I’m feeling better, you and your brother may give me an afternoon. There is much here at Romney Hall with which I’m unfamiliar, and I imagine you two know every last corner of the house and grounds. You may take me on a tour. Provided, of course,” she added, because she did value her health and well-being, “that you promise there will be no pranks.”
“None,” Amanda said quickly, her chin bobbing in an earnest nod. “I promise.”
“Oliver,” Phillip growled, when his son did not speak quickly enough.
“There will be no pranks that afternoon,” Oliver muttered.
Phillip strode across the room and grabbed his son by the collar.
“Ever!” Oliver said in a strangled voice. “I promise! We shall leave Miss Bridgerton completely alone.”
“Not completely, I hope,” Eloise said, glancing up at Phillip and hoping he correctly interpreted that to mean,You may now put down the child.“After all, you do owe me an afternoon.”
Amanda offered her a tentative smile, but Oliver’s scowl remained firmly in place.
“You may leave now,” Phillip said, and the children fled through the open doorway.
The two adults remained in silence for a full minute after they left, both staring at the door with hollow, weary expressions. Eloise felt drained, and wary, almost as if she’d been dropped into a situation she didn’t quite understand.
A burst of nervous laughter almost escaped her lips. What was she thinking? Ofcourseshe had been dropped into a situation she didn’t understand, and she was lying to herself if she thought she knew what to do.
Phillip walked over to the bed, but when he got there, he stood rather stiffly. “How are you?” he asked Eloise.
“If I don’t remove this meat soon,” she said quite frankly, “I think I might be sick.”
He picked up the platter the meat had arrived upon and held it out. Eloise put the steak down, grimacing at the wet, slopping sound it made. “I believe I would like to wash my face,” she said. “The smell is rather overwhelming.”
He nodded. “First let me look at your eye.”
“Do you have very much experience with this sort of thing?” she asked, glancing at the ceiling when he asked her to look up.
“A bit.” He pressed gently against the ridge of her cheekbone with his thumb. “Look right.”
She did. “A bit?”
“I boxed at university.”
“Were you good?”
He turned her head to the side. “Look left. Good enough.”
“What doesthatmean?”
“Close your eye.”
“What does thatmean?” she persisted.
“You’re not closing your eye.”
She did, shutting them both, because whenever she winked only one eye she ended up squeezing it far too tightly. “What does it mean?”
