Minimizing and then pocketing the telescope, he reached out and, to her surprise, he tickled her.
“Tell me.”
She squealed and tried to get away, but he held her fast. His fingers were prodding her, trying to find her tender spot, creeping up her rib cage. She squirmed against him and, in doing so, his hands brushed the sides of her breasts, taking her breath away.
They froze, and it was as if the world fell away, leaving them alone in the gray light of the back hallway.
Their gazes locked.
“Eleanor,” he said softly, turning her name into a caress.
“Yes?”Was this the moment he would declare his feelings for her?
Chapter Twelve
“Tell me whatyou saw,” Grayson ordered again, then he cracked a smile and found her ticklish area under her ribs, making her squirm.
Eleanor shrieked and truly couldn’t catch her breath. Eventually, she nodded, and he halted.
“I saw Mr. Stanley, just like you,” she told him.
“And?”
When she paused, he took hold of her again, preparing to tickle her mercilessly once more.
“He came from your mother’s doorway.”
“What?” He released her, frowned down at her, then glanced back out the window. “He’s nearly here! Quick, out of sight.”
Taking her hand, he half dragged her down the hallway to the deserted drawing room. Pulling her inside, he closed the door behind them.
“I wouldn’t want him to think he was being spied on.”
“Even if he was,” she pointed out.
“When you asked,what do you make of it?I know whatyoumade of it. My mother and Mr. Stanley! Can it be?”
“They’ve both worked here a long time, and they are both without spouses. There’s nothing wrong with it,” she hesitated, “unless you do not approve.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked.
“I don’t know. For me, it was simply surprising. He popped out of the doorway, and I reacted.”
“Should I ask her?”
Eleanor scrunched up her nose, imagining such a conversation between mother and son. “You might embarrass her.”
“True.” He paused. “All these years, I’ve never seen her courted by Mr. Stanley or even keep company with anyone. I suppose with them both living under the same roof….” He shook his head to clear his thoughts.
“Perhaps that’s why your mother doesn’t wish to go to Turvey House and live with you there.”
“That would explain it. Do you really want coffee?”
“No. I am thinking if Mr. Stanley can venture out in this, why can’t we? Let us, at least, take a walk.”
He tilted his head and thought about her proposal.
“All right. Cloaks and Wellingtons are in order.”
