“We only have one horse.”
“Which wecouldattach to the gig.”
“Lydia, I’ll be fine. I have two sharpened hatpins and I’d wager my right hook is meaner than Lord Eastleigh’s left.”
CHAPTER 6
Despite Lydia’s many attempts at turning the conversation, Lord Eastleigh’s favorite subject at dinner proved to be the same as it had been at tea—himself. His stories of manly prowess were tempered only by his demands for wine. One decanter was drained well before the bouillabaisse went cold, and while the earl was rather more florid in complexion than he had been on arrival, he was demonstrating he could drink any man, or woman, under a table.
As for Eliza, her eyes were fixed on her hard-won cuckoo clock in the hallway. They’d served dinner an hour early to avoid a confrontation between suitors, but the time of her outing with Lord Havenwood was drawing perilously near. Time to get things moving.
After they finished the final course, Eliza rose, her wineglass held high for a toast. “To you, Lord Eastleigh, for illumining us with your wit and irrepressible ... confidence.” Eliza smiled tightly, tapping the toe of her slipper on the rug. “Now, shall I see you to your carriage?”
Charles gulped down the last of his wine, setting the goblet hard on the table. “Indeed, Miss Sullivan. There’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you in private.” He gave an obliging nod to Lydia and offered his arm to Eliza. As they went outside, he turned and took her hand. “Some concerning things have come to light, and I feel I must be frank with you, for your own benefit.”
“Oh?”
“I hear I may not be your only suitor.” He paused, fixing her with his cool gaze. “I’ve heard Havenwood means to sink his talons in.”
“Why, I’ve only met Lord Havenwood once, at Lady Gregory’s ball. We’ve barely spoken ten words to one another.”
“He’s a dangerous man. Ask around. You needn’t hear it only from me.”
Eliza measured the guarded anger in his words and the tension in his long-fingered grasp. He was jealous.Letting other people win isn’t my strong suit.
So. She’d become a prize. A conquest.
Eliza jerked her hand from his, heat running through her veins. “My temperament dictates I make up my own mind about people, Lord Eastleigh. As I do not know the man well, I shall refrain from thinking ill of him until he demonstrates reason to regard him poorly.”
“That’s all very admirable, but you should know the scandal has its basis in fact—that fire was no accident, and his mother’s disappearance holds suspicion of murder. She knew certain things about her son—things he’d never want revealed. There’s a darkness in him you’d do well to regard with caution.”
“And what would Lord Havenwood have to say aboutyou, sir?”
Charles’s smile faded. “Your cheek does not suit a lady, Miss Sullivan. I’ve business to attend to in London, but I’ll be around to call upon my return. Donotentertain other suitors. Mark me—I will be your strongest ally here in Hampshire. One you’d do well to indulge if you’d see your successes manifest.” He lifted the brim of his hat, then turned on his heel to go to his coach-and-four.
Eliza exhaled, hugging her pelisse around her shoulders. As soon as he’d gotten far enough down the drive that she could no longer see the white plumes of his horses, she turned to go inside.
Lydia was standing on the terrace steps. “I heard everything. Was he threatening you?”
“I’m not sure, but it seemed that way.” Eliza hurried through the doors and took the stairs to her room two at a time. She kicked off her shoes as she struggled out of her dinner gown, sending a button skittering across the worn carpet. “He sets my nerves on edge. And how on earth did he know Lord Havenwood was calling on me?”
“It certainly wasn’t me! If I had to venture a guess, I’d say it was a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed gossip,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “If she has designs on Lord Eastleigh, she’d have reason to let him know you’ve been entertaining other suitors, wouldn’t she?”
“Our business will get around much too quickly in this little village, I’m afraid.” Eliza stepped out of her petticoats and into a pair of dark-green riding trousers, styled so they looked like a voluminous skirt. Next came a high-necked shirtwaist and a cropped velvet jacket with frog closures.
The bell rang downstairs, echoing through the house.
“He’s here,” Lydia said. “I’ll see him in. You really should have me chaperone, especially after all that. It’ll breed more gossip if you go out alone on a ramble with him. Think of your reputation! And what if he’s as bad as they say he is?”
“Don’t worry, sister. My reputation has been muddied before, and as for protection, I can handle myself.” Eliza pulled two wickedly sharp hatpins from her dressing table drawer and pinned her riding hat at a jaunty angle. “I’m not a scared little girl.”
“All right. But don’t go too far, and if you’re late coming home, I’ll send out a search party. I do mean that. With lanterns and guns and great barking dogs.”
A hiccup of laughter burst from Eliza’s lips. “And you sayI’mdramatic.”
Lydia swept from the room, muttering to herself. Within a few moments, Eliza heard Lord Havenwood’s voice floating up from the foyer. She shook off her nerves and walked decisively to the stairs, her riding crop in hand.
As she turned the corner on the balustrade, she saw him. His back was to her—his shoulders broad, the rest of him lean. He was kitted out in well-worn but once-fine riding gear, with leather boots up to his thighs, trimmed with silver spurs. When he heard her step, he turned, his lips widening into a vulpine grin. Eliza’s stomach and heart lurched at once, as if she’d ridden too fast down a hill. As she drew near, she noticed the ring of amber rimming his viridian irises like fire, flaring as they took her in.
