But now . . . tears burned the back of Eleanor’s eyes. It seemed love wasn’t so simple, after all.
When she didn’t reply, his mouth twisted with a strange, bitter smile. “Your father must have indulged you just as your brother does, if he allowed you to refuse such an advantageous offer.”
Her father.Indulgent. For a single moment she was tempted to tell him all about her father, just to see the shocked look on his face.
“Why do you avoid Lindenhurst?” she asked instead. “It’s your home, isn’t it?”
He hesitated. “A trade, Eleanor? My secret for yours?”
Another deal with the devil?It was becoming a habit, and yet she hadn’t much choice. She could try and get the information from Amelia later, but she didn’t like the idea of involving the child in this mess.
The devil it was, then. “Oh, very well.”
“Lindenhurst was my home until I was thirteen, then things changed, and it wasn’t anymore.”
Itwasn’t anymore?
“Julian’s father, my Uncle Reginald . . . he took over the estate, and my mother and I removed to a cottage on the property. We lived there for four years, until my mother died. Then I went off to India.”
Dear God. Surely he didn’t mean to say his uncle had snatched the estate right out from under him and his mother? Eleanor swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Your uncle and aunt still live there?”
“Yes. My uncle and my Aunt Mary took Amelia in when I left. She was raised at Lindenhurst. It’s her home, but it’s not mine, and hasn’t been for a long time.”
“That was . . . kind of them.”
“My aunt has been good to Amelia.”
He didn’t say a word about his uncle’s goodness.
“I see Aunt Mary occasionally in London,” he went on. “I’ve seen my Uncle only once since I returned from India, when I asked him to remove from my London townhouse. He wasn’t pleased, to say the least.”
Eleanor frowned. “But it’syour townhouse.”
“Yes.”
She half-turned in the saddle, but she could only see his profile. “Lindenhurst is your estate. It belongs to you, doesn’t it?”
He inclined his head. “Yes.”
Eleanor’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the peculiar tale, but he’d hidden more of the story than he’d revealed. Then a thought occurred to her. “What did your uncle say when you told him about the hunting party?”
He gave a short laugh. “He didn’t care for the idea, but there’s little he can do. As you said, it’s my estate.”
She hesitated, not sure if she should ask the question that hovered on her lips. “Why don’t you order them to remove from Lindenhurst, as well?”
He turned then, so she could see his entire face. His green eyes had gone flat and cold. “Because I owe them.”
“Owe them?” Eleanor repeated, shivering despite herself at the look in his eyes.
“Yes. They’ve raised Amelia since birth. I pay my debts, my lady. I collect them, too.”
Eleanor stared at him. What would it be like, to owe such a man a debt? Her entire body went cold at the thought. Did he believe her indebted to him? Was that why—
“A trade, Eleanor, remember? Why did your father allow you to refuse the Marquess of Durham?”
She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want this strange, tempting man inside her head, where he could see her secrets. But it was too late. She paid her debts, too.
She took a deep breath and raised her gaze to his. She thought his green eyes flared with a brief heat before he murmured, “Why, Ellie?”
