Cian scratched at the felt under his hands. “It has been nearly seven years now.”
“And does anyone in her family suspect?”
“Her brother, James.” There didn’t seem to be much point in hiding it, anymore.
“The head of the family?” Raymond scrubbed at his hair, ruffling it. “The head of the Gainford family is aware you and Eleanore have an association, yet he is still insisting she marry that Prince of hers?”
Cian pressed his fingertips to his temple to stop the pounding. “He has his reasons.”
“Yes, his late father insisted upon it, so he, in his turn, is insisting upon it,” Raymond replied. His voice was dry.
“Other families are not like ours. This is how it is done in society. Have you forgotten that?”
Raymond shook his head. “No, I have not forgotten. How could I?” His tone was dry. “I was a victim of that custom, too, remember?”
Cian felt a touch of shame. “Yes, I had forgotten. I’m sorry.”
Raymond sighed. “There is still something you are not telling me. Not that you must tell me, of course, although I would like to think you would confide in me if you needed to.”
Annoyance touched him. “I would tell you if I could. You have all the essential facts. No matter how I feel about it, Eleanore must marry the Prince.”
Raymond stared at him. “No matter how you feel about it?”
“My feelings have no bearing on the matter.”
Raymond’s hand slapped the table. “They should matter! I cannot stand to see you so happy, knowing it will not last. There must be something you can do. Can you not run away together? Elope, for heaven’s sake! Force the issue!”
Cian saw glistening in Raymond’s eyes. His gut clenched. “You would countenance going against her family’s wishes in that way?”
Raymond gripped the brandy balloon, his knuckles white. “Your mother knows the facts as well as I do,” he said softly. “She cried on my shoulder last night, Cian. She understands societal expectation, too. She cried on my shoulder because she knew you will take the honorable path, no matter how you feel about it.”
Cian reached for the decanter and the nearest empty glass and poured. He took a deep swallow. It burned on the way down. When he could speak again, he said, “He is dying, Raymond.”
Raymond drew in a sharp breath. “James?”
“He had rheumatic fever when he was a child. His heart is not strong. He has already lived longer than anyone expected him to.” Cian drank deeply.
The silence settled over them as Raymond considered every aspect of it. He would understand the ramifications as well as Cian. “Killian Gainford died before his time,” Raymond said. “So now James is obliged to make sure his wishes are fulfilled, before he dies himself.”
“James and Eleanore both want that,” Cian finished. “Killian believed that the Gainfords marrying into the royal family in Austria would restore the family honor which we Williams smeared at the Battle of Castlebar.”
“That is ridiculous,” Raymond replied. “The Gainford reputation is as solid as the Bank of England.”
“Killian believed differently,” Cian replied.
Raymond sat, not speaking. Unhappiness was a cloud around him.
Cian shoved up the decanter toward him. “I like James very much,” he added. “I think he would fit in with this family rather well, too. He has the soul of the adventurer. He just does not have the heart for it. Eleanore has lived his life for him, instead.” Cian shook his head, frowning. “No,” he corrected himself. “She lived life for both of them.”
Raymond put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. “Ah, God! What a mess!” He ignored the decanter.
Cian unstopped the decanter and refilled his glass. “So, you see, it really doesn’t matter how I feel about it.” He nudged the glass up against Raymond’s elbow.
Raymond took the glass and with a big sigh, swallowed more than half of it. Then he put the glass down with a hiss. “I suppose I must retract my question about whether you would marry her or not.”
“It was a fair question,” Cian told him. “Even if I could marry Eleanore, I’m not sure I could bring myself to it.”
Raymond studied him. “Because she died…”
Cian sighed. “When she died, the blow was worse than when my father died. I honestly think I went mad, for a while. Jack and Will pulled me out of it, or I might still be there. I don’t think I could face it again.”
Raymond pushed the decanter toward him. He sat up. “It is too late for you, Cian. Marry her. Don’t marry her. Steal away with her to some far-off place. Run off by yourself and hide on the other side of the world. It doesn’t matter. You love her. And one day she will die. You will have to face it again, no matter how far you run.”
Raymond’s words jolted him. Horror swirled through him. Silently, Cian reached for his glass.
“Jack and Will got you through it before,” Raymond said. “Next time, the family will be there for you, too. Remember that, before thrusting away a lifetime of happiness to avoid the pain which always comes with it.”
“Not that it matters a damn anyway,” Cian said, pouring the last of the brandy into his glass.
Travers coughed at the door. They turned to look at him. He lowered his hand. “I beg your pardon, Lord Innesford. The Duke of Gainford is here and is asking to speak to you.”
Cian’s eyes scratched with tiredness as he turned his gaze toward Raymond.
Raymond lifted his brow.
Cian’s first instinct was to tell Travers he would speak to James in his study. The study was immaculate, while this room showed wear and tear and the evidence of extreme family fun, which wasn’t always to the taste of others in the world.
Then he reconsidered. What did it matter what James thought? This was Cian’s family and this was his house. He would make no apology for the true nature of his family. He was sick of doing that. The Gainfords had held it against him for years and would continue to do so no matter what he did.
“You had better show him in then,” he told Travers.
“I should go,” Raymond said, getting to his feet.
“No, stay if you like,” Cian said. “You know it all, anyway.”
Travers returned with James Neville in tow. James still had hold of his hat and looked around the library with his brows lifting. “Oh…”
Raymond held out his hand. “Your Grace,” he said.
“Marblethorpe, yes?” James asked, shaking it.
“Call me Raymond,” Raymond said. “Everyone does. I am more comfortable with that than with Marblethorpe. Marblethorpe was my father.”
“Raymond,” James repeated. He swiveled to Cian. “Do forgive me for intruding on what is clearly a large family affair. Only I heard a strange rumor that you and my sister were the only people staying at Innesford. As she omitted to mention that in her letters, I was compelled to come and investigate for myself.” A peal of laughter came from the drawing room. James turned his chin to look in that direction. “Clearly I was wrong.”
“You were not wrong,” Cian said. “Eleanore and I were alone here for weeks before the annual family gathering began last Saturday.”
Raymond raised his brow but said nothing. He studied James, instead.
James’s lips parted in surprise. “I see,” he said. “I suppose I should thank you for being frank. However…”
Cian held up his hand. “Let us dispense with all the protestations and hysteria, shall we? Eleanore chose to stay with me. When you present yourself to her in a few minutes, she will choose to go home with you. That is the reason why you are here, is it not? You have come to take her home?”
James licked his lips. “Well, yes…”
“There will be no complications,” Cian told him. “There have been no indiscretions which will ever be made public. You have nothing to fear. Your ambitions for the family will go ahead as you planned.”
Raymond sighed. It was a soft
sound Cian suspected he had not meant for anyone to hear.
James turned his hat in his hands, crumpling the brim. “Eleanore is outside?”
“No,” Raymond said. “I believe she is resting in her room at the moment. She won five hundred pounds at the table this afternoon, because my cousin did not understand that a lady can out drink a man when she has a mind to.”
James’s gaze swept the room once more, taking in the remains of the card games and the evidence of heavy drinking. The corner of his mouth twitched a little.
Cian went over to the bell pull and tugged on it. Travers appeared instantly, telling him that Travers had been hovering just outside, possibly even eavesdropping. He didn’t mind. Travers was a better butler if he knew exactly what was going on.
“Travers, could you let the Lady Eleanore know her brother is here to see her, please?”
“I believe Lady Eleanore is on the croquet court, my Lord,” Travers replied.
“I thought she was in her room, resting?”
“Lady Mairin and Lady Bridget coaxed her into another game, my lord.”
Cian nodded.
“Eleanore is playing croquet?” James asked, sounding amazed.
Travers turned to him, his expression neutral. “Lady Eleanore won two hundred pounds with her first game, your Grace. I believe everyone would like a chance to earn their money back, now.”
“This way, James,” Cian said. He led James through to the drawing room, where the last of the sun was blazing through the windows. Most of the doors stood open, and the sounds of everyone enjoying themselves were loud. There were three groups of people in the drawing room, also chatting and drinking tea or something stronger. They all looked up as Cian and James entered the room. Raymond was just behind them. James, as the only stranger in the house, would naturally draw the eye.
Cian peered through the window toward the croquet court. Eleanore had been wearing yellow, as she often did. He saw the dress first. His heart gave a little aching throb as he studied her face.
She looked happy. Clearly, Mairin and Bridget were about to win the game, for they were standing near the pegs, concentrating on taking their last shot. Eleanore was playing with Blanche, who was a weak player at best. It didn’t seem to matter to Eleanore. She stood with the mallet between her hand, the other up at her brow, shading her eyes as she watched the twins peg out.
A smattering of people sat in the canvas lounge chairs, observing the game. Beyond the croquet court, a handful of men were playing cricket. A cheerful clatter of crockery came from the tent.
Cian had never seen a gathering through the eyes of a stranger before. For this one moment, he did. This was what James saw right now. No outsider had ever seen their gatherings.
Cian braced himself, expecting James would find the casualness and chaos, the informal dress and the lack of protocol objectionable, especially as his sister was part of it.
James moved over to the French windows, as if he was drawn by the view. Cian and Raymond followed him there. They stood behind him, waiting.
For long moments, James just watched. Especially, he observed Eleanore, surrounded by Cian’s family, laughing and talking with them as a second game and probably the last for the evening, was arranged. There was much discussion about who should next play with Eleanore. The privilege of playing with her or against her was vigorously contested.
While the discussion took place, someone was caught out on the cricket pitch. There were cries of glee and groans. Even farther behind the cricket pitch, four men stood at the top of the stairs down to the beach. Vaughn and Rhys were two of them, and Raymond thought the other two were Stephen and Dane. Stephen’s red hair was unique. All four were talking with their heads together and the conversation looked intense.
“I had no idea…” James murmured.
Cian moved up close to him. “Eleanore is right there. Go and speak to her,” he said. “Or would you rather sit and I can fetch her for you?”
James glanced at him. “I can go out,” he said softly. He moved through the French windows and across the gravel to where the grass started. A footman skirted around him with a murmured apology and carried on to the tent, carrying a pitcher of tea.
As James passed the row of canvas lounges, Lilly and Jasper looked up at him, startled.
James stepped onto the croquet court and moved over to the group of people arguing over who should play next. Silence fell over them as they realized James was among them.
Cian rolled his fingers into fists and squeezed, for as Eleanore’s gaze fell on her brother, her smile faded. “Hello James.”
James did not say hello back. “I’m sorry,” he said, instead.
Everyone gathered around Eleanore stared at James with growing alarm.
“I am to go home with you,” Eleanore said. “Yes?”
“I am afraid so, yes.”
There were soft sounds of protest, smothered quickly. James glanced around him, startled. He cleared his throat and put his hat back on his head. “There is a ten o’clock train to London,” he said. “We can make it, if you hurry.”
Eleanore’s gaze shifted. She scanned the house. Cian knew she looked for him. He didn’t move. If he did, if he went out there, he would try to find a way to make her stay.
Eleanore lifted her mallet and held it out toward Mairin, who took it from her. “I can meet you at the front door in five minutes, brother,” she said. There was no life in her voice at all.
Raymond leaned close to Cian and murmured, “Are you sure about this, Cian?”
Cian worked to clear his throat, so he could speak. “I would give all that I have to keep her,” he breathed. “Only, she has never been mine to keep.”
Her body did not cooperate as Eleanore climbed woodenly up the stairs. Her fingers were clumsy as she packed her valise with essentials she would need until her trunk followed her to Durham. It took forever for her to complete the simple task. She realized she was slowing her movements deliberately, hoping Cian would arrive and assure her she did not have to do this. She wanted him to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right.
That would never happen, though. Cian would always abide by her wishes and he knew this was what she wished.
Only she didn’t wish it. Not anymore. The only thing which made her finish packing and buckling the valise, then lift it from the bed, was her promise to her brother to help him fulfil their father’s wish to unite their family with the royal family in Austria. For the Gainfords to regain a reputation of honor, they must abide by the betrothal which had been in place since she was a little girl. To break it would add to the stain on the family name.
The facts been explained to her many times over the years.
Eleanore made her way downstairs once more. At the turn of the stairs, she paused with her hand on the newel post. Below, every single member of the family stood in the foyer, watching her descend. Their faces were all strained or puzzled.
James stood close to the door, with Travers holding the door open for him. Cian stood at the back of the tight group of people. Eleanore tore her gaze away from his face and made herself step down the last of the stairs.
Lilly came forward. Jasper was beside her. Lilly’s face was white and her eyes wide. She took Eleanore’s hand, her fingers working against her palm. “We’ve only just begun to know you,” Lilly whispered.
“There is always London,” Eleanore reminded her. Although Eleanore did not recall seeing Lilly at any society event for years.
James waited for her. Eleanore took a step in his direction. Lilly caught her arm. “Wait…” Lilly embraced her, her arms warm.
Then one by one, everyone whom she had beaten, spoken to, drunk with, or laughed with came up to her and did the same. They murmured farewells and begged that she stay in contact. Long before they were finished, Eleanore began to shake.
Even Cian’s mother, Natasha, hugged her and patted her cheek. Natasha’s smile was tremulous, although she sai
d nothing and did not attempt to extract any promises from Eleanore about remaining friends.
Cian did not speak to Eleanore or try to reach her through the mass of people. He remained by the library doors. His face was drawn. There was nothing for him to say, anyway. It had all been said many times before. This was the end they had both known was coming.
James took Eleanore’s elbow and drew her to the open door. One of the Truro cabs stood waiting for them on the drive. The driver jumped down to open the door for her and James, as the rest of the family poured out of the house behind them.
Eleanore put her hand on the polished wood the door, squeezing it with her glove. James grip on her arm tightened. “Two steps up,” he said softly. Did he understand, then, how impossible those two steps were for her to take?
Eleanore shook her head. “I cannot…” She whirled away from the door, back toward the house. Cian was standing at the step in front of the door, just as she had known he would be. Eleanore moved toward him, peripherally aware of the family separating and making way for her.
She flung her arms around Cian’s neck, stretching herself up on her toes and resting against him for balance. His arms came around her to hold her steady, just as she had known they would. She reached up to kiss him and his lips met hers. His heart raced against her chest. He was shaking too. He said nothing as he lifted his lips from hers. She would remember the look in his eyes forever. A storm of feeling swirled in them.
No one protested at the impropriety of kissing a man she was not married to, not even her brother. The silence was complete.
She thought Cian might say something. She longed for him to. Instead, he touched his head to hers. His eyes closed.
Then she realized he could not let her go. It was up to her to step away, far enough so his arms would no longer hold her. Only she didn’t know if she had the strength to do that, either.
Just take one step, she told herself. She had survived a shipwreck and the storm. She could do this. She summoned up the willpower she had used to stay afloat while tossed up on wild seas and used it to take a step backward. Just the one step.
Rules of Engagement Page 17
