Eleanor did herbest to endure calling hours with as much poise as she could muster. But with Lydia not feeling well and Bridget taking callers at her own family home, the Lindley drawing room wasdisturbingly empty.
Typically, Eleanor wouldn’t be bothered by it. She’d likely be convincing herself that she was enjoying the quiet afternoon without distractions. Today, however, she could barely keep her disappointment and embarrassment from growing with each minute that ticked by on the clock.
Perhaps she’d misunderstood Waring’s parting promise last night.
No. He’d said distinctly that he’d call upon her today.
Had he changed his mind?
Did he regret…?
She shifted in her seat and glanced toward her old nanny who was playing chaperone for the day. Thankfully, the elderly woman didn’t seem to notice the intense blush pinkening her cheeks as she thought ofthe kiss. Nanny sat in the corner of the room, humming a tune to herself as she stubbornly forced her arthritic fingers to perform the arduous task of embroidery she loved so well, blissfully unaware of Eleanor’s growing discomfort.
Thank goodness Ralston wasn’t present today, having some lordly business to attend to.
At least, heclaimedto have some important task. Eleanor was inclined to believe it was just an excuse to escape his duties as her constant escort.
And she wouldn’t blame him one bit if that were the case.
There was something going on with him. And though he’d certainly deny it if she even hinted at it, she highly suspected it had something to do with the interesting Miss Dickson. He hadn’t done anything to openly declare an interest in the woman, but Eleanor had noticed a few subtle signs. The most telling being that his gaze would often travel in the young woman’s direction if she were present in the room, accompanied by a contemplative—almost frustrated scowl. Her brother didn’t scowl at things that meant nothing to him.
Eleanor huffed a breath.
Another compulsive glance at the clock revealed there was still an hour left of what would be considered acceptable calling hours. She didn’t think she could endure another moment of waiting for a man who clearly wasn’t going to make an appearance. She tried not to feel the weight of disappointment, but she failed miserably.
It seemed Lord Waring had changed his mind about her.
Her stomach clenched. It was nothing new, really. She was accustomed to gentlemen losing interest in her after they engaged in conversation. But she’d actually thought maybe there was something different about the viscount. Maybe…
She shook her head. Maybe nothing.
She’d been wrong.
Smoothing her hand along her skirts, she rose to her feet, noticing her would-be chaperone had fallen asleep. Her old woman’s arthritic hands rested in her lap and her chin rested against her shoulder as her ample bosom rose and fell with deep breaths.
Eleanor was contemplating if she should awaken the woman or allow her to sleep, knowing her naps never lasted very long, when she spied something at the edge of her vision.
Looking toward the doorway, she stilled at the sight of Lord Waring, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. His ankles were crossed in a relaxed stance and his hands were tucked into the pockets of his trousers. A soft smile hovered over his mouth and his blue-green eyes were sharply focused on Eleanor.
How long had he been standing there?
Heat blasted through her core followed swiftly by an icy tingle racing over her skin.
Don’t be a ninny. It was just a kiss. He is just a man. You will not crumple at his feet nor melt with the first flicker of his smile. Pretend it never happened. Forget everything it made you feel and focus on the necklace.
Empty words.
As soon as she looked into his eyes, every sensation she’d experienced the night before came rushing back. The swirling. The heat. The hunger.
As she slowly turned to face him more fully, the viscount straightened his posture and gave a proper bow. “Good afternoon, my lady,” he said in greeting. His voice was warm but his eyes glittered with sparks. “There was no footman when I arrived. I hope it’s alright that I made my way here on my own.”
Even her father’s servants hadn’t expected her to receive any callers and had left their post. Despite the rush of embarrassment, proper manners were too deeply ingrained and she replied with a gentle nod, “My lord.”
The viscount lowered his chin to look at her with an intimate, teasing expression. “I thought I told you to call me Phin,” he murmured.
“I was starting to doubt you intended to call,” she noted.
“I’d said I would.” His features shifted into a subtle frown as he glanced about the empty room. “I thought it would be easier for you to slip away if I waited for a crowd to gather.”
