“Perhaps he merely meant to puff up his consequence for your benefit, Fanny, rather as a peacock displays his tail.”
Fanny felt her face flame.I hope I’m no peahen to be impressed with foolish display.
*
Eli had tolike Lucy’s peacock analogy, even if it did make him wish for an excuse to pluck the earl’s blasted tail feathers.
“First, he preens. Then he drags you to Hyde Park to display you to the cats, as you call them, knowing full well they would be happy to sink their claws into Fanny while the story of her accident last night was fresh in their minds. Your hero is less than he seems, Fanny.”
She paled, and he wanted to kick himself.
“He isn’t my hero,” she muttered.
The tea cart, that blessed English bastion against an excess of emotion, arrived, to Eli’s intense relief. He sat back and let Lucy manage the time-honored ritual of pouring and serving.
He watched Fanny sip her tea, watched the color gradually return to her face, and watched her sit straighter, a true lady, her back never touching the chair. His dainty warrior had returned, and his heart began to beat normally.
“We’ll deny Grimsley the door,” Eli said, determined on the matter.
“Isn’t that a bit extreme?” Lucy suggested.
“He intruded after we asked him to stay away. He’s a strutting peacock. He—” Eli sputtered.
“He rescued me last night,” Fanny pointed out softly. “I cannot treat him so shabbily.”
“Ah yes. He’s your hero.” Eli sounded like a jackass to his own ears—or at least a rude bully. He wanted to bite his tongue.
“He isn’t my hero,” Fanny said. She clipped her words with insistence.
“He looks like your description of one,” Eli snapped without thinking. Now he knew for certain that his wits had gone begging, for Fanny narrowed her eyes and glared at him.
“How—” Fanny waved a hand as if to brush the thought away. Now she knew he had looked at her writing. Eli suspected she would berate him when Lucy couldn’t overhear.
“We can’t deny Grimsley the door without London knowing. The man gossips skillfully. I learned that much watching him today,” Lucy mused. “Besides, Fanny, didn’t you promise him a dance at Danbury’s soiree?”
“What soiree?” Eli asked.
“The invitation arrived yesterday, and we accepted. The marchioness is kind, and Maddy believes it is a comfortable venue for Fanny to experience society,” Lucy explained.
“Grimsley is invited?” Eli demanded.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Lucy asked. “I know you don’t like him—and I don’t find him charming, either, truth be told—but he’s perfectly respectable.”
Eli held on to doubts about that. His face pinched, and he kept back comment. He would have to attend this soiree; he suspected an invitation lurked in the pile of mail he had neglected. “When is this event?”
“Tuesday,” Lucy said, sipping her tea.
It was Thursday. The soiree would be the following Tuesday. Five more days. He needed to convince Fanny to return to Ashmead, where family would keep her safe. Could he show Wil the Tower of London, visit publishers, and do a foray or two to the docklands in five days? He would have to. “Will we return to Ashmead after the Danbury soiree?”
Lucy opened her mouth, but no words came out. Fanny merely blinked.
“What I mean is, how long do we plan to remain in London?”And can I keep Fanny away from Grimsley until then?Eli wondered.
“Yes, we need to return to Ashmead.” Fanny’s words flowed like balm over Eli.
“So soon?” Lucy’s distress showed on her face.
“I can’t be at peace until I know I have a home for Amy and Wil,” Fanny said. She reached for Eli’s hand, and his heart sped up. “Find me that cottage we discussed and you’ll be my hero.” The edges of her mouth—her most attractive lips—tipped up, and Eli was lost in the sight. “And Clarion will, too, of course,” she added, bringing Eli down with a thump.
Of course. Her hero. The earl. What had she called Eli? The fixer.
