How…interesting.
That made her an exception, then.
Eloise did enjoy being an exception.
“I’ve done it lots of times,” she lied, for no other reason than to stir the pot and gauge his reaction. When a muscle ticked high in his jaw, her lips curved. He wanted to pretend that he was unaffected by her. That their kiss–her very first kiss–had meant nothing. But that betraying twitch said otherwise. “With men, that is. Not women. Though I’m not one to rule anything out.”
“Where do you live?” he growled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.
“Why do you want to know?” She flashed him a puckish grin that he did not return. “Care to continue this in a bedchamber? A tad bold, as it’s the middle of the day, but my sisters should be–”
“I am going to take you home,” he interrupted. “I am going to leave you at your front gate. Then I am going to walk away, and pretend this was nothing more than a terrible nightmare.”
“You think I’m a nightmare?”
“The worst kind.”
“And why is that?” Unfazed by his description of her–she’d been called far worse, and by her own family, no less–Eloise slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow and pointed west, in the general direction of Grosvenor Square.
“Because even though I’m awake, you’re still here.”
She had a good chortle at that, and off they went. For the rest of the way, Adam remained largely silent, responding to her questions and observations with an uncommunicative grunt or nod. When they reached the front gate of the Duke of Monmouth’s mansion, a towering wrought iron beast of a structure with his insignia carved into the metal, Adam’s glower–almost impossibly–grew worse.
“Thisis where you live?” he asked in an accusatory tone.
“This is where my sister and her husband live,” she corrected him. “I’m just staying here for the free food.”
His gaze flickered. “What–”
“Thank you for the kiss, Mr. St. Clair. It was splendidly mediocre.” She stole through the gate before he could reply, but even halfway up the stone walk she was able to hear his teeth grinding together. Casting a surreptitious glance behind her, she caught him staring after her, his dark brow furrowed and a strange, almost haunted expression on his face. The emptiness she saw there, the sheerbleakness, tugged straight at her heart. But before she could call out to him, he pivoted on his heel and walked away.
The rest of Eloise’sday was consumed with preparations for the ball. There were last minute gown alterations, hair ribbons flying in every direction, hot tongs sitting in simmering coal buckets, stockings being stretched, and a general sense of impending doom, or so it felt to her.
While her sisters and their corresponding maids ran in frantic circles, Eloise ate plums in the library for the better half of the afternoon. By the time she yawned and got to her feet, the setting sun was casting a hazy stream of yellow light across the bookshelves. Absently licking a driblet of plum juice off her finger, she strolled out the door and into complete mayhem.
“…carriage brought roundnow,” Lenora cried as she dashed past, a long train of blue silk peppered with rosettes swishing in her wake. From an adjacent doorway, the Duke of Monmouth observed his wife with the faint etchings of a grin as he sipped from a glass of brandy. Beside him stood Graham, looking a tad paler than usual (the viscount hated balls almost as much as Eloise), and to his left was Ezra, presenting a lean figure in pure black save for his golden lion’s mane.
The earl’s face went completely blank and then fixated on the grand staircase with possessive intensity as his fiancée, glowing in a gown of shimmering silver, slowly descended the stairs, the heels of her shoes sinking into the thick carpet.
Cognizant of all eyes on her, Annabel paused on the last step, gracefully raised an arm above her head, and completed a full twirl. Ezra was there to catch her hand before she came all the way around, and Eloise mimed retching into a potted fern as the two lovebirds cuddled up against each other on their way to the carriage.
But even as she went through the motions of expressing her disgust at such a blatant display of physical affection, Eloise found herself plagued by an unprecedented twinge of jealousy. Having finally experienced passion for herself, she wanted a man to gaze at her like Ezra gazed at Annabel. As if Annabel was the sun (or in this case, the North Star) and he was the earth, destined to revolve around her until the end of time.
Adam hadkissedher like that.
When his mouth was on hers, they’d been the only two people in all of creation.
But after it was done, after it was over, he went right back to hating her, and she…well, she no longer hated him as much as she probably should have.
When it was Bridget’s turn to make an entrance, the shy-wallflower-turned-beloved-viscountess came demurely down the steps wearing a pink blush and a navy gown that was vaguely familiar. She made a beeline straight for Graham, who tucked her in against his side and ushered her through the doorway with a steady ease that belied Annabel and Ezra’s flair for the dramatic.
That left Lenora, Perth…and Eloise. But then, much to Eloise’s astonishment, her sister and the duke madetheirway out the door, leaving her standing beside the fern with her jaw hanging open. Surely it was some sort of joke, even though Lenora wasn’t often given to pranks, and she waited for someone to come back and fetch her. When no one did, she tiptoed to the window just in time to see the gigantic town coach pulled by a team of six gray horses heave itself away from the curb and rumble off.
“What’s happened?” she spoke into the stillness, her gaze darting around the empty room. Aside from a few maids tidying the bedchambers, the household had been granted an evening of respite. The servants would return in the morning to help the Rosewoods finalize their packing for Clarenmore Park. Until then, it appeared that it was just the scullery staff, a few mice…and Eloise.
Abandoned.
Forgotten.
