All those suitors, all rejected, several of them decent, kind men she’d refused for no other reason than she simply didn’t love them. All those suitors, and even the worst among them hadn’t erased her as if she didn’t exist.
She’d only ever known one man who did. Her father. Hart Sutherland, the handsome aristocrat, the perfect nobleman, every inch the hero, until one looked closely and discovered the villain underneath.
Her father had behaved as if his wife were invisible until, after decades of such treatment, she was. As the years passed, her mother became more and more transparent. Her slippers ceased to make any sound on the marble floors. Her silk skirts didn’t rustle, and her voice never rose above a whisper. Her movements were so silent it was as if she weren’t there at all.
She became a ghost. Haunting. Haunted.
Her father hadn’t been any more interested in his children than he was in his wife, except for Alec, the heir, with whom he’d been brutal. But Eleanor and Charlotte? His daughters hadn’t mattered. They didn’t exist. They were ghosts.
“But, but . . .” Charlotte was so aghast she could hardly speak. “But if he cares nothing for you, then why does he want to marry you at all?”
Eleanor shook her head. “That’s what I don’t understand. He won’t say, and I can’t deter him from this mad scheme unless I know his reasons.”
“Not your fortune, then?” Charlotte pressed. “Not social gain?”
“Not money. He’s wealthy. He doesn’t need my fortune, and he claims it’s not my social connections, either, but I do think it has something to do with the Sutherlands. Indeed, he admitted as much.”
Charlotte fell silent, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Julian West. He must know what his cousin is up to, mustn’t he?”
Eleanor glanced at her sister from the corner of her eye, opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again without speaking a word.
Julian Westknows. He must.
Camden West knew everything about her. He knew she’d rejected numerous suitors. He knew about Lord Tidmarsh, who’d never even made an offer, and he knew better than to bring his proposals to Alec. He’d watched her for weeks before he made his approach. It was beyond comprehension the incident at the Foster’s ball could be a coincidence.
Of course Julian West knew. How could he not?
Yet she looked her sister in the eye, gritted her teeth, and lied. “No, I don’t think he does. Camden West as much as admitted to me he simply saw an opportunity and seized it. His cousin doesn’t know what he’s up to.”
“Do you really think so?”
Eleanor’s heart lurched in her chest at her sister’s hopeful expression, but she pasted a bright smile on her face. It was better this way—better if Charlotte didn’t know. She wouldn’t take it quietly if she found out Julian West had intentionally compromised her.
No, it wouldn’t do. She couldn’t have Charlotte interfering in this. She needed all her wits to deal with Camden West, and she couldn’t protect her sister at the same time. It was far better to let Charlotte’s little flirtation burn itself out. Julian West was a rake, after all—an innocent like Charlotte wouldn’t hold his attention for long. He’d grow bored, and Charlotte would soon forget him. Perhaps she’d come out of the scrape a bit wiser, and ready to look with more favor on a proper gentleman—someone like the Marquess of Hadley, for instance.
Eleanor cleared her throat. “He doesn’t behave as if he knows, does he? He’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman since the Foster’s ball.”
“Perhaps you’re right. He doesn’t act as if he knows.”
Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief.
They walked on in silence until they reached Mr. Paterson’s shop. Eleanor put her hand on the door to go in, but Charlotte stopped her. “Does mother know about this?”
Eleanor let the door close. “No, and you mustn’t tell her.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t like to keep secrets from mother. If she knew, she might be able to—”
“If she knew,” Ellie interrupted, “She’d feel obligated to tell Alec, and how do you suppose he’ll react? He’ll challenge one of the Wests, and then Robyn will find out, and he’ll challenge the other.”
“Dear God.” Charlotte paled. “You’re right. That’s just what would happen.”
The bell above the door of the shop rang merrily as Eleanor pushed it open and stepped across the threshold. “Mother mustn’t find out.”
Charlotte didn’t follow. “But I don’t see that we have any other choice.”
The shop bell tinkled a pitiful protest as Eleanor let the door slam closed and stepped back onto the walkway. “Of course we have a choice.”
Charlotte considered this. “We’ll let Camden West ruin me. He’s got you at his mercy, Eleanor, and since this entire disaster is my fault, I will be the one to suffer for it.”
