“Don’t work on the puzzle without me,” Eleanor begged.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I promise.”
She rushed to the door. When she reached it, with her hand on the latch, she turned.
“I very much enjoyed the kiss, by the way, and would like to do it again.”
Then she left.
Was he playing with her emotions? Toying with her heart?
He thought about it long and hard. No, he was perfectly serious about Eleanor Blackwood. In that moment, he decided what the treasure at the end of the game would be.
*
There had beenno opportunity to meet with Grayson in the library before dinner. First, Eleanor spent ages with Phoebe, agreeing to answer questions truthfully in exchange for the girl’s silence. It seemed an easy bargain until she discovered Phoebe had many questions—about boys, babies, London, dancing, the Season, and more.
She expressly wanted to know about kissing, and Eleanor found herself giving a first-hand account, toned down for the girl’s younger ears, of what it was like. She would have liked to be alone, perhaps lying peacefully in a meadow, recalling how it felt to have Grayson not only kiss her but touch her tongue with his. Even thinking of it made her stomach twitch.
And when his hands grasped her bottom, he certainly shocked her at first. Then his squeezing fingers had made her tingle all over. For a brief moment, she remembered how he’d pulled her against his male parts, which were hard. Rather than being scary, she had wanted more.
Of course, she didn’t tell Phoebe any of that. Perhaps, in a few years, she would give the girl a copy of a helpful book. She and Beryl had read more than one which had opened their eyes to what happened between men and women.
Eventually, Eleanor fled the girl’s room, promising to have another heart-to-heart talk in a few days. Then she had run directly into Lady Angsley who sighed about missing her eldest child before saying how glad she was to have Eleanor there, “almost like having Beryl.”
With those kind words, she could hardly turn her ladyship down when asked to go for a long stroll. Eleanor used the time to ask about any beetles Lady Angsley might have seen since the woman was a devoted gardener. That led her hostess to give an extended discourse on every flower in her terraced beds.
When Eleanor thought even she was tired of hearing about the natural world, she excused herself. She wanted to get her sketch pad and begin her drawing of Grayson’s horse.
By the time she had a rather good illustration of a horse sketched and shaded, she looked up from her perch on a bale of hay in the stables to see Mrs. O’Connor happening by.
“Good day,” she called out to Grayson’s mother.
Turning and waving, Mrs. O’Connor changed direction from walking toward the main house to the open paddock gate.
“Good day, Miss Eleanor. And it is a lovely one after so much rain. What have you got there?”
Suddenly, Eleanor felt a little shy. What would Mrs. O’Connor think about her creating a drawing for Grayson? She turned the pad so his mother could see.
The woman studied it a moment, then she looked over at the horse, then she looked at Eleanor.
“I’m sorry. I can seethathorse plain as day,” Mrs. O’Connor gestured to the one beyond the fence, “but this one is a bit blurry without my spectacles. Still, they don’t look the same at all. With the blaze on its nose, your drawing looks more like Gray’s Percy.”
“You’re correct. He told me Percy was his favorite.”
His mother looked again, then she smiled. “He’ll love it. It’s very sweet of you to make this for him.”
Eleanor felt the heat rise to her cheeks. If only she were better at hiding her emotions.
“He has been ever so kind to stay and keep me company after Beryl left.” She had to glance away from his mother’s gaze when her mind started to consider their kissing, but her skin grew warm, nonetheless.
“I won’t interrupt you any longer,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “I’m on my way to the main house to have tea with Cook while the younger ones prep the fixings for tonight’s meal. I wish I could invite you along, but the kitchen staff would go barmy if you were to sit at their table. They wouldn’t know what to do with themselves.”
“I understand,” Eleanor said. “I shall have to go in soon and dress for dinner anyway. Enjoy your tea.”
Mrs. O’Connor strode off, a very fit woman in her late forties, perhaps early fifties, who, if not for her failing eyesight, could have served at the main house for decades to come. How fortunate her son lived so close.
Thinking of Grayson, Eleanor sketched in the detail of the back hooves and then closed her pad and headed in the same direction as his mother had taken. Though many hours stretched ahead of her before bedtime, it would be difficult to spend time alone with him after dinner in the library, for guests were expected to be social and to participate in games or provide entertainment if one could sing or play an instrument.
