Yet he pushed those thoughts from mind, deciding right then this was the last letter he’d read. He could no longer stand to see himself through Eleanor Merrinan’s eyes when he knew full well he wasn’t honorable in the least. Hell, he’d long eschewed the very notion of being a proper gentleman, else he should never have run off to sea and abandoned his duties, to his mother’s enduring dismay. But to have such a lady as Eleanor think so highly of him when in reality he was so base, well . . . Were he to continue reading her correspondence he should feel only more guilty.
Wells further berated himself. Was it any wonder his betrothed had eloped with Lord Hawlings rather than marry him? Perhaps she’d seen through his act and seen him for the cad he was. Perhaps she couldn’t stomach the thought of marrying a future duke who would bed her for an heir and then leave her for years at a time, gallivanting about the globe and taking mistresses as he pleased. He’d not be the first peer to do so, but reading the Merrinan sisters’ letters had put him in theuncomfortable position offeelingwhat it was to be a woman, at the mercy of men, beholden to them for their happiness, for their very existence. It was an uncomfortable, unexpected feeling he did not enjoy experiencing in the least.
Wells rose from the chair to deliver Charles her sister’s letter, wondering how she’d react to Eleanor’s words. She’d not visited him since the disagreement with her sister—or if she had she’d left too early for him to notice. He’d not gone to her either, recognizing she needed space. Yet he’d missed her, missed her even now. As much as he hated himself for his behavior towards his housekeeper, he still wanted her in his bed, desperately almost wanted her in his arms. Like a man parched for water, now that he had sampled her elixir, there seemed no going back.
“John . . .” Eleanor hesitated slightly, her arm still tight about his own, her father’s house faintly visible on the horizon. John had jumped at the chance to accompany Eleanor back after she’d delivered her letter in person at the Abbey, though he’d not been pleased that letter had fallen directly into Wellesley’s hands. Charles had stubbornly refused to see her sister.Fool gel.
“May I speak freely with you?” Ellie continued. “You won’t take offense?”
“’Course not.” John pulled her closer. “I should never be mad at you, Ellie.” And in that instant he truly could not fathom being cross with her. Ever.
“The other day, when we, when you kissed me, did you?—?”
“I should never’ve been so bold, miss. I do beg your forgiveness.” His heart pounded in his chest, the words feeling clumsy and rushed.
“No, I did not think you bold at all, John. That was not my question, quite the opposite.”
“The opposite?” She amazed him. Utterly.
Eleanor stopped him in his tracks. “John Cuthbert, do you have feelings for me, sir?”
He nearly tripped his feet. “Ellie, love, y’ know I do!”
“Only I do not, you see,know, because we’ve never spoken of our feelings, John. We have kissed but once, and it is important for me to truly know how you?—”
Yet already, his lips were upon her something fierce, her words silenced with such strength of feeling he worried almost, that she might faint.
When at last he broke off, his voice sounded harsh to his ears. “That answer yer question, woman?”
“John,” she exhaled his name, collecting herself, “I should like to hear you say it. Not just kissing, but . . . words.”
He struggled. “Miss Eleanor . . .”
“Ellie,” she corrected.
“Ellie, you’re the, why, the loveliest woman I’ve ever known, miss, and I’ve known women, plenty of ’em. I’ll not lie t’ you. But none’ve ever made me feel as you do.” He fumbled to find words. “Yet I’m no . . . I’m not yer equal, miss, anyone can see that. So t’ declare meself, t’ court you properly, why, it’d make a fool o’ you, and a lowlife out o’ me, and I’ll not do that t’ either of us. You deserve better’n what little I can give. I’m sure yer own sister would say the same if she knew the half o’—”
“You leave Charles out of this, John Cuthbert.” Her tone tongue-whipped him. “This is between you and me and not another soul in this world, do you hear me?” Her eyes blazed at him, lighting a flame inside his soul he tried desperately, abysmally, to squelch.
“I meant no disrespect, Ellie. Meant only t’ say that others, too, wouldn’t look kindly on me courtin’ you, and I would courtyou, Ellie, y’ know I would. I’d not ask for yer hand without first?—”
“You’d ask for my hand then?” Soft, doe eyes suddenly flew to his face, searching.
“If I were a different man, if I’d means or a name or, well, anythin’ at all t’ offer you o’ course I would, Eleanor. I’d be a damn fool not to,” he ground out, impassioned.
“Good.” She let out such a satisfied huff of air he simply stared at her in awe a moment, disbelieving. She then took his arm snugly in her own and began to march them along, back towards her father’s house. “I should like you to court me, John, and after a reasonable amount of time, you may ask for my hand.”
He was dumbfounded, abruptly stopping them. “Ellie, y’ can’t?—”
“Can’t what?” Her look burned a hole in his chest. “Do you think I am not serious, John? Do you think me so changeable, so inconstant, that I would ask you to court me and then refuse you in the end? Because if you think that of me, John Cuthbert, I tell you now I am not that woman.”
He was nearly speechless. “Ellie, love,” he told her, “I’d never think that of you, honest. Only I’ve naught t’ offer you but what some other gentleman couldn’t offer in plenty, giving you what you deserve, miss, which is?—”
“John,youare what I want. And if you offer me yourself, I shall need for nothing else. What have I now that is so precious I cannot lose it?” she beseeched. “I have but only myself to give you, too, and if you would have me, I can imagine no greater gift than?—”
Yet already he had her in his arms, kissing her with a madness, a need more overpowering than before. And this time, she matched his longing kiss for kiss, shocking him even more.
It was a long time before they made it indoors.
