*
What could Eleanortell him?She couldn’t abandon Mrs. O’Connor, not when the woman had broken down in tears over her secret. Besides, it truly wouldn’t take long to teach her to write. Grayson’s mother was clever and quick.
“I want you to come with me,” he repeated when they were out of his mother’s hearing.
“We just went over this,” she reminded him. “Did you invite me out here to say goodbye properly or to argue further?”
“You are being childish,” he persisted.
Eleanor hadn’t expected that remark. She’d hoped he had moved past his initial impression of her as too young for a relationship. She’d shown herself to be smart enough to figure out the puzzle, and if he only knew, she was being dependable and keeping her word to his mother.
“First, you called me selfish. I don’t think I am, and I didn’t appreciate it. And now childish. I don’t believe I am that, either. Still, I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“I called you selfish because I was worried you would go to Turvey House and get sick, and I couldn’t bear it. I’m calling you childish because I fear you will get into mischief if left to your own devices here at Angsley Hall. Without me.”
He truly didn’t see her as a responsible adult.
“Without a nanny, you mean?”
“No. I didn’t mean that at all. But I don’t want you climbing trees and searching for something that isn’t there.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked decidedly distraught.
“All signs point to us being on the right path. How do you know it isn’t there?”
“Because I made it all up,” he said softly.
He might as well have shouted the words, for they hit her like a punch to her stomach. They also addled her brain.
Hadn’t he found the mysterious piece of paper in a book?
“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he shook his head. “I made up the idea that William Kidd was ever here in Bedfordshire.”
How terrible of him!She had never taken Grayson for a liar.
“You tricked me? On purpose?”Had he wanted to make a fool of her?
It took a moment for his gaze to meet hers. Then he answered, “Yes.”
“I don’t believe you,” she snapped back. He was obviously saying this to stop her from going any farther without him. “How can you explain the rock and the devil’s seat, and even the skull? You couldn’t have made up a giant boulder.”
“Only the names.” Then he let out a long sigh. “Actually, the names exist, but I applied them to our local places.”
“You are still not making sense. Exist where?”
“In a story,” he confessed. “A Gothic tale by Poe.”
“No!” she protested. “You’re only saying this so I won’t search without you. I’ve climbed many trees, Mr. O’Connor, and had many adventures. I don’t intend to stop when you are not by my side. But you don’t have to destroy this wonderful quest by lying about it.”
“You’re being unreasonable. I’m telling you the truth. I only did it to please you.”
Eleanor had never felt so betrayed or foolish.
“And now you’re being cruel. I have a task to do here completely unrelated to your silly, fantastical game, and you shall not dissuade me from finishing it. I made a promise to someone, and I will keep it.”
His eyes narrowed. “To whom?”
She kept her lips firmly pressed together.
