“And why is that, Lord Wellesley?” She continued to probe, disturbing him not a little by how swiftly her mood seemed to shift.
“Because she felt it unseemly for a lord to involve himself in his servant’s private life.” Wells could not seem to lie to her, try as he might.
“I see,” she answered. “I believe you have just answered my question then, my lord.”
“I have?”
“Yes,” she declared, remarkably now at ease. “It appears that you and my sister both have feelings for one another which you are neither willing, nor able, to admit. And I have unwittingly poked a hole in my sister’s well-worn armor, for which I must now pay a very dear price.”
“Miss Eleanor . . .” He tried to protest, but she merely held up her hand to still him.
These two, he thought to himself,recalcitrants.
“No, Lord Wellesley.” She shook her head at him. “I do not wish to hear more, as it will only put me in worse straits withCharles. I shall simply imagine what has transpired between you these past months and shall endeavor never to bring it up with her again.” She looked suddenly exhausted. And then, in a rapid turn of mind, burst out, “May I ask what you pay your steward, my lord?”
“Cuthbert?” He was astonished. “That is hardly your business, miss, though you may ask him yourself how much he?—”
“Is it enough to live on, sir, were he to take a wife, to have a family?” she persisted.
“Well I should think so, yes. And if I know John, he’s likely put funds aside, a nest egg as it were, for the day he leaves me, though I’d be loath to see him go.” He eyed her sharply. “If you mean to steal my friendandsteward from me you’ve another think coming, miss.”
She held her ground, oblivious to his threat. “I mean nothing of the sort, Lord Wellesley. I mean only to keep your steward here with you, by your side. AndIforever byhisside,” she added quietly to herself. Then, standing up, she gave him a peculiar little smile. “Thank you so much for visiting, my lord. You have been most kind again to Father, who surely enjoyed the chess game very much. But if you’ll excuse me now I have a rather important letter to write to my sister, and if you do not mind, Lord Wellesley, I shall deliver it to her myself on the morrow.”
He stood quickly, bowed slightly, then made his way out the door, down the path, and onto the main footpath. He walked the entire way back in disbelief at Charles’s sister. Whoever had raised these Merrinan girls had been astonishingly negligent in teaching either one of them the deference due a duke’s son.
Termagants,he muttered to himself.Both of them.
That night Charles came late to his lordship’s bed. So late, in fact, that he was deep in sleep. She’d been so wounded by Eleanor’s blithe comment she’d wanted to hurl something at her sister, shatter a dish, strike her even. She’d been horrified by her overreaction, yet too proud to admit the source.Pride goes before a fall,her mother had warned her often.You’ll hurt only yourself, daughter, if you don’t learn to let a thing go. Do not be so proud you cannot ask for help, or admit when you’ve been wrong.
Well she’d been wrong alright. She’d been wrong to assume she could guard her soul against Roland Wellesley. And she could admit that what her parents had found with one another was a love so rare as to be impossible to repeat.
As Charles slipped beneath the covers, she was careful not to wake his lordship. She snuggled against his warm, bulky frame, craving his person now more than ever. She closed her eyes and pretended it was Christmas and they lay in the shell room once again. In her mind she heard his rich, sonorous voice tell her his fantastic stories; she wasn’t even sure they’d all been true. It had been magical to lie on the floor staring up at the star-studded ceiling, as if she stood on a ship under a constellated sky with he her captain, ferrying her off into adventure.
She loved how they’d merely spoken, too, that night; they’d not made love at all. She had felt a knot in her gut unspool only to reel her deeper in, binding her to him more firmly than ever. She’d wanted to remain in that room with Roland Wellesley, suspended in time, in a life she might never lead but could imagine in that moment, with him. His voice at her ear had filled her with such warmth and trust and longing she knew she wouldpay for it with her heart, but that night, just briefly, he’d been hers and she his.
Already, the memory was bittersweet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Despite his better judgement, Wells unfolded Eleanor’s letter to Charles.
My Dearest Charles,
I know we have quarreled and I hate it so. But I also know you are too angry with me to visit or write, so I’ve no choice but to unburden my conscience in this letter instead.
Wells almost folded the note back up, hearing John’s voice berate him; he quashed it and read on.
I do not presume to know what you have endured since the night you left us to steal two chickens. I curse the day you did, for ever since we have been parted, and by more than mere distance it seems. You write me only half truths, I can tell, nor do I insist you tell me all. But I despair that you have taken upon yourself responsibility for my happiness at great cost to your own. It is not right, sister, and I will not accept it. You have sacrificed much for me and Papa, too much, and I hereby absolve you of your burden. I am old enough now to make decisions of my own, to steer my own course. Father remains a burden, of course, but he isboth our burden, which you shall not bear alone, not so long as I live. So Charles, I beg you let go this notion of a London season for me. How many years must you toil for Lord Wellesley before you save enough to make such a thing happen? And why London again, after how shabbily that city treated us? I’ll not return to Mother’s family, nor will you, and without their support, no season can happen for either of us, you know this.
Charles had spoken before of giving her sister a London season, but who exactly were these grandparents of theirs? Wells felt a creeping unease as he continued to read the letter he’d conveniently accepted from Eleanor on Charles’s behalf. He’d sent Cuthbert to accompany the young woman back to her father’s house. She’d been disappointed not to see Charles, but he’d been unable to convince his housekeeper to speak with her, despite the fact Eleanor had traipsed all the way to the Abbey herself.
As for John, I intend to ask him how he feels, for though I shudder to imagine he does not care for me, I am not so foolish as to mope about, waiting for a sign from him either. I shall ask him outright his intentions, and upon learning them decide what action next to take. You see, Charles, I learned from you one must indeed at times act, however rashly, in order to move forward in life. Had you not acted all this time on our behalf, Papa and I should surely have perished. And though I rue the day you poached those chickens, your action that night set us both on new paths: I should never have met John Cuthbert, nor you Lord Wellesley. Do not be angry that I write it, Charles, because it is the truth. And his lordship is an honorable man. I cannot but think him otherwise when all he’s done and said thus far indicate no less. And though we both know he cannotbe more to you, I would hope you may depend on him as something of a friend. I love you and beg your forgiveness for my words.
Yours, Eleanor
Wells needed to sit down. He felt a wave of guilt for being privy to this girl’s thoughts, intimate as they were, and an equal stab for what she’d written this time—that her sister trusthimto be an honorable friend when he had acted anything but honorably towards Charles Merrinan from the start.
He swallowed hard. He’d been an utter heel to force Charles to become his mistress. She might enjoy him now, but he well recalled the look of terror on her face that first night he’d demanded she strip and bathe before him, and later when he’d . . .
