Ophelia gasped.
Justine and Prudence walked into the breakfast room at this moment. Spying Tristan’s grip on her arm, and Eleanor’s tear-filled gaze, they must have concluded something quite big was afoot.
“I didn’t know I had to choose one or the other,” Eleanor said, straightening herself. She could handle this with dignity.
“Why didn’t you just tell me, you nincompoop?” Ophelia asked.
“I still need to speak with our father and her father.” Tristan searched Eleanor’s eyes.
“Why did you ask me last night? I had the very devil of a time sleeping because of it!” Ophelia said. “And why does she have to choose? Why not both?”
Tristan threw an exasperated look at his sister, giving Eleanor a moment without his intense gaze on her. She blinked hard, trying to will away the tears. She didn’t want to choose.
“Because this expedition must be above reproach! You can’t have a courting couple on a remote mountain. That’s scandal, and then you won’t be able to make a decent match, nor Miss Brewer, and if you think women’s mountaineering can survive upper class scandal, you haven’t been paying attention.”
“What are you even talking about?” Justine asked, her arms crossed.
“The queen wants to bar mountain climbing all together, thanks to the death of Lord Francis Douglas. Throw in some ruined young noblewomen, and you’ve set back mountaineering for decades.”
“I don’t believe you,” Justine said.
Tristan got to his feet. “You can’t possibly not have thought about this.”
“About what?” Ophelia said.
Tristan gripped his palms together, his frustration palpable. Eleanor didn’t like it. Most of all, she could understand his point. The women who had gone before them, who’d climbed lesser peaks, had done so with respectability intact. There was discussion of all-female teams for this very reason.
“You want to continue mountaineering, yes? After the Matterhorn?” Tristan asked Ophelia.
“Of course. Climbing mountains is the only thing I want to do with my life.” Ophelia stood now as well.
“You won’t sell any books or guides or essays if you are thought of as a ruined woman. Men won’t take you seriously because you are a woman, and women won’t take you seriously because you are ruined. The only way to make this gambit successful is if you maintain the expedition’s pristine reputation.”
Eleanor looked at Ophelia, her expression stunned. Then she shifted over to Justine and Prudence. It was sinking in. But Eleanor suddenly knew her mind. All of what Tristan said was true. But if she had to choose, she would choose the mountain.
She might be lonely, she might never marry, but her father would settle money on her so that she’d never want for anything. And when she was an old and doddering spinster, she could at least point to her footnote in history. She could say she was a part of the women to first climb the Matterhorn. That was far more important than being a wife.
“I choose the mountain,” Eleanor said, enunciating each word clearly. She didn’t want to be misheard or have to repeat herself.
“What?” Tristan rounded on her. “But you agreed with me.”
Justine chuckled softly, and Ophelia hissed his name in disapproval.
“No one yet knows you’ve asked to court me, so we shan’t mention it. And no one needs know. I trust everyone here can keep a secret?” Eleanor looked at the other women, who all nodded. Justine had a devilish smile on her face.
“We can, but he can’t,” Justine said, pointing her finger.
“Then it will be on his head if his sister’s reputation is ruined.” Eleanor looked at him coolly. She didn’t want to marry a man who would take her hard work from her. To live a life smaller in scope seemed not just unpalatable, but impossible. To give in to men like that awful Mr. Fulk was beyond comprehension.
She thought swiftly through the consequences. If they married before Ben Nevis, there would be scandal that Eleanor was pregnant, which would be the reason for the fast marriage. If they married after Ben Nevis, he could, in his husbandly wisdom, forbid her from going up the Matterhorn. She hadn’tthought that last night, but his betrayal this morning certainly proved otherwise.
“But—” Tristan’s hurt and disappointment was writ across his face.
She couldn’t bear to witness it. She fled the room, hearing Prudence advise everyone to leave her be. The American seemed to be the wise one after all.
Chapter Ten
Tristan retreated tothe bathtub. Nothing a good soak and a dram or six of whisky couldn’t fix. He’d been so sure about Eleanor. He’d never been sure of any woman—not ever. Not any of his actresses or dancers. Not any of his noble dance partners at the chaperone-approved celebrations. Eleanor had been different than the other women he’d met. She was patient and smart, interesting and witty. And she chose the mountain over him. A stupid fucking mountain that she’d never climbed.
