Eli responded forcefully. “No, I am the one who must apologize. My news made you happy, and you gave in to an impulse. I took advantage as no gentleman should.”
“Nonsense! You didn’t overstep. You were…” She stumbled over the next word. “Wonderful.”
He shook his head. “We were both overcome by the moment. It’s best if we forget it.”
Fanny glanced toward the opening in the hedge. “We ought to return.”
He gestured for her to go ahead of him, but she turned back. She owed him gratitude. “But first I want to repeat my thanks. I am delighted. My brother…the earl… I can’t tell you what a relief it is. But you, Eli! I know you’ll find me a perfect place.”
He gestured to the opening again. “You were correct—we ought to get back.” His voice sounded oddly hoarse.
They walked companionably enough, but Eli didn’t offer his arm. He loped along with his hands clasped behind his back. After a while, he asked, “So we are agreed that I’m to find a property in Ashmead? Manchester and London being prohibitive.”
“Of course.”
He nodded solemnly. “I will do my best, Miss Hancock.”
The steward had returned. Fanny didn’t like it at all.
*
The rest ofthe way to London, Eli kept to himself and worked on one of his lists, this one entitled “Reasons to Keep My Distance from Frances Hancock.” She was his employer’s sister. Helping her was his job. His behavior had been inappropriate. She was an innocent with little experience with men. She needed to understand she had choices. She preferred her independence. She was an earl’s daughter. She deserved more than a steward could provide.
That last one shocked him. As if he’d even considered marriage. He dismissed it and added,Lust makes you an idiot.
When they arrived in London, the Morgan carriage conveyed Eli to Caulfield House, where he let the staff take his luggage to a guest room while he unpacked his valise in the study and set to work. He had announcements for the papers about the dower house complete before supper. Such announcements would, of course, reflect on the earl’s social standing, but the entire world already knew what “poor Clarion” had had to endure. Eli decided not to warn the bank of his visit. Unexpected appearances kept them on their toes.
He requested a tray in his room for supper, not wishing to burden the staff more than needed. Clarion traveled with his butler, housekeeper, cook, and most of the maids and footmen, rotating them between houses twice a year rather than employing two full staffs. That reduced whichever house he left behind to a skeleton staff. In London, that meant primarily Mr. and Mrs. Stilson, a taciturn couple that served as maid and groom when the earl was in residence and general caretakers when not. It had been Eli’s suggestion and had resulted in satisfying reduction in expenses.
Sitting in morose solitude over cold meats and cheese reminded Eli why he preferred the country. He mulled that thought more than it deserved, using it to keep thoughts of Fanny at bay. It didn’t work for long.
He’d never told her part three of the plan. The part in which Eli investigated publishers. It shouldn’t be difficult to find them, but how would he tell which were good? The earl had said to ask Fanny. Come to think of it, the entire exercise had been the earl’s idea.
For one insane moment, Eli envisioned himself convincing a publisher—a gray-bearded, intellectual sort behind a deep desk piled high with manuscripts—that her words were genius and winning her a contract. A lucrative contract, causing her to gaze at him as her hero.
The daydream dissipated. Even if he managed such an implausible turn of events, she would be more likely to resent the interference than to be grateful.
You need a drink, Benson. Or a woman. Eli wasn’t entirely without sexual experience, but he never made use of the women in London’s brothels—much less employed women of the street. He shuddered at the thought. That it had even crossed his mind told him how lost he was. He padded back downstairs in stockinged feet. The earl kept his best brandy in a hidden cupboard in his study. He wouldn’t begrudge Eli a drink. Or two.
Paying a woman for her favors wouldn’t help Eli’s obsession with Fanny Hancock, in any case.Besides, he thought, sitting behind Clarion’s desk,publishing is a business. How hard can it be to do the research?
He could do that much. Tomorrow he’d scan the papers for advertisements. Perhaps, like many industries, they clustered in the same area.
Just ask her,a defiant voice told him.
