Beside her, the bright and undeniably charming Miss Martindale was expertly holding court over the rest of the room. It appeared the crush of gentlemen callers were all just anxiously awaiting their turn to bask in her effervescent attention. Though she made obvious attempts to include Eleanor in the conversation, it was not working. In fact, anytime the focus shifted in her direction, the lady would tense and blush.
He could appreciate Miss Martindale’s efforts, but it was not what her cousin needed.
Watching Eleanor carefully, he noted the way her gaze never settled upon anyone or anything for long, unless it was an undiscernible point on the far wall. She sat with perfect poise, and posture, but he observed a tautness to the slope of her shoulders and the line of her jaw. Her bodice rose and fell with calm and steady breaths, as though she spent all her focus on inhaling and exhaling in balanced rhythm.
She was slowly being tortured.
He had no choice but to rescue her.
Pushing away from the wall, he strode forward, crossing boldly behind the sofa where Miss Martindale reigned. Reaching Lady Eleanor’s side, he gave a jaunty bow as the young woman’s dark eyes lifted to his and she stared back at him with tense features and a firmly pressed mouth.
Phin smiled, hoping to set her at ease. “My lady, how pleasant it is to see you again. And on such a lovely day,” he commented casually, recalling her aversion to compliments directed at her appearance.
“Lord Waring,” she replied stiffly. For a moment, it looked like she might say something else, but then her gaze darted about the room and the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.
“I wonder if you might enjoy a walk through the garden I see outside those windows,” he quickly interjected with a tilt of his headtoward the other side of the room.
She instinctively glanced in the direction he indicated. Yearning flickered across her face.
Before she could think of a reason to refuse, he added, “I suddenly find myself desperate for some fresh air. Please say you’ll accompany me.”
Though her gaze held a glimmer of sharp suspicion, she gave a short nod and rose to her feet. Her cousins quickly looked up to mark her departure. Phineas gave them each a quick half smile which inspired a scowl from Lady Lydia and subtle twisting smirk from Miss Martindale.
The lady’s brother, however, took a step forward from where he’d been quite literally standing guard near the main entrance to the drawing room. Phin hadn’t even noticed his presence. Lord Redington’s expression was decidedly displeased as he looked to his sister. But after that one step, he paused and resumed his prior position, directing a rather forbidding scowl at Phin, who couldn’t help but smile back with a tip of his head.
Chapter Thirteen
Eleanor ignored herbrother’s fierce disapproval, returning his sharp, inquiring look with a flat stare as she led Lord Waring to the drawing room windows which had been designed to allow people to walk through to the terrace beyond. A few were already thrown open to allow a breeze and she exited the drawing room with a sigh of relief.
One thing was for certain; Bridget’s debut was decidedly different than Eleanor and Lydia’s first season.
She was happy for Bridget’s popularity and swift success, but while Lydia managed to take this unexpected turn of events in stride, finding her own niche amongst the chaos, Eleanor struggled. She felt as though she balanced on the edge of some dark precipice. Every moment felt as though it could lead to some social disaster.
Despite her initial show of reluctance, she was grateful for Waring’s appearance and offer of a stroll. She honestly wasn’t sure how much longer she’d have managed in that crush of eager suitors.
Though she maintained a sedate and proper pace, she did not stop on the stone terrace. Instead, she continued down the three steps to the path which cut through the garden in perfectly symmetrical patterns surrounding a large stone fountain in the center.
If she kept very near to the house and never stepped out of sight, there was nothing at all improper about taking a short stroll with the viscount.
That is what she told herself anyway.
She also told herself that her eagerness to accept his invitation had much more to do with her discomfort in the drawing room than any actual desire to spend time with him again. She certainly wasn’t foolish enough to develop an interest in the man.
Yet, she couldn’t deny she was hyperaware of the closeness of Lord Waring’s shoulder to hers and the relaxed way he walked which brushed their arms against each other with each step. Nor could she ignore the quick smiles he tossed her as they continued through the garden in lengthy silence. It was for those reasons—and how her body responded to them—that she was forced to acknowledge that although this brief sojourn may have been entirely proper with another man, it verged on the scandalous with this one.
Why did he so boldly seek her out yet again?
It was unnerving. She didn’t trust his motivations the slightest bit.
“Such an exceptional garden. Do you spend much time out here, Lady Eleanor?”
His question, which finally broke the silence and in such a carefree tone, did nothing to set her at ease. She stopped abruptly and turned to face him, but not before sending a quick glance toward the house to ensure they stood in full view.
“Lord Waring,” she began firmly.
“At your service,” he inserted with a ready smile and an irreverent bow of his head.
She frowned. “My lord, shall we set aside all pretense for a moment?”
