“I lost sight of your horse by the stables,” she added. “It was either very brave or very foolish of you to ride in such weather.”
“Most likely foolish,” muttered his mother, though he knew she said it lovingly.
Eleanor stared at him, her brown eyes seemingly richer and darker than he recalled.
“You came here to see me?” she asked.
He had to tell her, wishing it wasn’t going to upset her while knowing with certainty it would.
“I came here to warn you. You must not—nay, you are forbidden—to go to Turvey House.”
Chapter Three
Eleanor gasped. She’dbeen staring at Grayson’s mouth as usual, watching his attractive lips form words, wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him. She’d been kissed during her debutante Season by a rascal who waylaid her behind a copse of trees in Kensington Gardens in broad daylight after a picnic. Her mother had been distracted for only a moment. That was all it took.
She was initially horrified but then, out of sheer curiosity, didn’t push away the young man. It was her first kiss, and Eleanor had truly wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
Apparently, nothing at all,was her conclusion.
Still, other girls said a kiss could make one’s head spin and ones’ feet lift off the ground. Others said it caused one’s heart to race. Moreover, she’d read for herself about other more wondrous changes to the body that could happen upon being overly excited by a man.
All she’d felt was a crumb from the rascal’s sandwich brush off his lip onto hers, followed quickly by a strong upheaval of revulsion. She’d thought she might lose her delicious picnic lunch. Then he’d walked away, whistling happily as if he’d conquered an army.
Gray’s words penetrated her thoughts.
“Whatever do you mean, warn me? I’m going to Turvey House tomorrow. I’ve come all this way.”
“You cannot,” he said, his tone firm.
“What’s the matter at Turvey?” his mother asked.
Gray glanced from her to his mother, and a shiver of fear ran through Eleanor.
Finally, he said, “It’s Margaret. She has a slight fever.”
Eleanor stood up. “I must go to her at once.”
“No, that’s why Cam sent me. They don’t want to take a chance on her having something contagious.”
“That’s absurd. I’m her sister. I must go tend to her.”
“Don’t be selfish,” he snapped.
“Gray!” his mother admonished him.
“How can you say that?” Eleanor asked him.
He’d never said a cross word to her before, except warning her once to duck when she rode under a low branch ahead of him.
“I say that because I don’t want Margaret to have to worry about you. She has their little one, Rosie, to think of, and she doesn’t want Cam to fall ill. And she needs to focus on feeling better and not worrying whether you are going to get sick, too.”
Eleanor paused, and then looked at Mrs. O’Connor, who nodded her agreement. She sagged back into the chair.
“Is she very sick?”
“No, not terribly. A little warm, a little lightheaded.”
“Sometimes, the change of seasons will do that to a person,” Grayson’s mother pointed out.
