Bloody hell!
Maybe her living next door, irritating him to no end, would finally break the spell that she had somehow cast over him.
“Do you promise to hold my confidence?”
“You mean you will tell me?” he asked.
“So long as you swear that you will never tell another single living soul,” she insisted. “There are exactly ten people who know what I do. They have never spoken out of turn so if the truth came out, I would know it came from you.” She leaned forward, the bodice gaping and he forced himself not to stare at the swell of her breasts. “Can I trust you, Lord Garretson?”
The curiosity was getting to him and he needed to know. “I swear to hold your secret,” he promised.
Eliza arched a brow. “Are you certain? I must be able to trust you.”
“You can trust me, Eliza,” he insisted with a bit of irritation. “Who would I tell anyway?”
Who?That was the exact question that concerned her. Then again, why would he gossip about her when he hardly ever attended entertainments. Though he did have brothers, but Micah already knew, and it was possible that Olivia had told Xavier, though she suspected they had more interesting topics to discuss.
“Very well, I will show you.” Eliza rose from her seat and opened the trunk before she retrieved the novels and periodicals where her writings had been published and placed them on the table before Garretson.
Whenever she traveled, one trunk was dedicated to her publications, as well as any stories she was currently writing, along with her writing desk with all necessary materials such as parchment, pencils, quills, and ink.
“What are these?” Garretson asked. Even though the items were obvious, she could understand him questioning why she put them on the table.
“Novels, serial stories, and the like.”
“What does this have to do with you? Are you an editor?”
Eliza blew out a sigh and settled back into her chair. “No, I am not an editor. Read the name of the author of those pieces.”
Garretson picked up the top book. “E. B. Westin.” He set it aside and picked up the next book. “E. B. Westin.” He set it aside and picked up the third and said more slowly, “E. B. Westin.” It was then he looked at Eliza. “You are E. B. Westin, spelled with anI, who writes the horrid novels?”
Inwardly Eliza was very pleased that he knew what she wrote. Garretson didn’t strike her as the type of person who would read anything beyond boring, scientific books, such as those involving gems or rocks.
“Yes, I am and it is a job I enjoy very much.”
“Is that what you were doing when I came in? Were you writing another novel?”
“I was organizing the notes of one that I started writing long ago but never finished. My summer will now be spent rewriting it for publication.”
“What is that about?”
“I never talk about my work until it is complete,” she answered.
Besides, this rewriting involved the hunt for the mummy and as it would end on his property, Eliza wasn’t about to alert Garretson to her plans.
“It will likely be much like the others involving terror, curses, and magic in a gothic manor or castle. The same type of story I often write.”
None of her descriptions matched her true intentions but would be layered into the story she created involving a very real search.
Chapter5
He could not believethat Eliza was E. B. Westin, though if he would have bothered to give it much thought, perhaps he would have realized himself. It was just proof that people simply made assumptions without facts because Lucian would have wagered that E. B. Westin was a man with a talent for fright.
Yes, he had read the novels and had enjoyed every single one.
They had been his escape from the Season when forced to be in London to attend Parliament. He had visited castles in Spain, dark forests in Germany, Châteaux in France, and even keeps in the Highlands. Yes, they were gothic in nature, and contained a bit of romance, but were also predicable, which added to his comfort and entertainment in reading them.
Not that he would tell Eliza, of course.
