by Liana Lefey
The corners of her mouth curled slightly and her nose, utterly devoid of freckles, lifted a fraction. “Those were the antics of an impulsive youth. I am a lady now. In every respect.”
Clearly she had not forgotten. “That pixie was my friend. I would not have changed her for the world, and I shall miss her if she is indeed truly gone.”
His carefully cloaked apology had the desired effect, for her lips now formed a sweet, rueful smile reminiscent of days past. “She is still here. And she will always be your friend.”
The pressure in Sorin’s chest eased. “It gladdens me to hear it.”
“Come now and share a toast with us,” she said, blinking eyes that were suspiciously bright. “A toast to celebrate your return.”
“Indeed,” said Rowena, coming forth. “It has been far too long since you graced us with your company. You used to spend weeks at a time here with us. We have all missed you.”
“Indeed we have,” agreed Charles, handing him a flute of champagne. “Waterloo was necessary, I suppose, but for the life of me I’ll never understand why you personally had to take care of all that bother in the East.”
Against his will, Sorin’s gaze fixed on Eleanor. “Neither assignment could be delegated to another and both were equally necessary,” he said, distracted as he watched her accept a glass.
“Well, at least it’s all over and done now,” said Charles. “The hunting has been dismal without you along, you know. I hardly bothered with it last year. As such, the deer have just about overrun the place. My gardener has been having fits over the beasts. The pheasant have been unchecked as well. Droves of them at every turn. But we’ll soon sort it out now that you’re back.”
“I shall be glad to help, of course,” Sorin replied absently. Eleanor was wearing an interesting shade of green that complemented her eyes, and her deep-caramel hair was piled high in the Greek fashion currently so popular. It made her look cool and regal—like the woman she was, rather than the child he now struggled to remember.
Pushing aside such thoughts, he tried to concentrate as everyone raised glasses to first toast Eleanor’s twenty-first birthday and then again to toast his return. Her cheeks remained pink with excitement as she sipped her champagne, and the smile she gave him over the rim of her glass made his heart constrict.
Of all the things Sorin had experienced, his visceral reaction to her innocent embrace five years ago had been one of the most alarming and unwelcome. He’d hoped the time away would cure him of the affliction, but it seemed to be stronger than ever. His hand still tingled where hers had touched it. It was obvious now that his perception of her had been irrevocably altered. Gone was the little girl he’d discovered crying in the garden after her parents’ funeral the day he’d returned from his own tragedy in London. He’d never see her as that little girl again.
“Why not start tomorrow morning?” asked Charles, jolting him back to the present. “Since you’ll be staying the night with us, we may as well make the most of it and bag a few birds, eh?”
Stay the night? Remaining under the same roof as Ellie overnight was the last thing he needed to do right now. “That is very kind, but I should never wish to impose upon your hospitality when I live so near and you have so many other guests.”
“Nonsense.” Charles waved away his excuse. “Rowena would have my head if I let you ride back now when your favorite room has been prepared for you.”
There was no refusing him without raising questions, so Sorin nodded acceptance.
“Excellent!” said Charles. “We’ll rise early and head south down by the lake where the little devils like to roost. In the meantime, I believe the music is about to begin. As we are celebrating both Ellie’s birthday and your homecoming, why don’t you two lead the first dance?”
“I would be honored.” Heart racing, Sorin offered his arm to Eleanor and led her out onto the open floor, keenly aware of her feather-light touch on his sleeve.
“I remember my first dancing lessons were with you, here in this room,” she said with a wistful smile as other couples began to form the line. “I was all but hopeless.”
He remembered. She’d been eleven and determined to trample his toes to a pulp. He’d had the good sense to come prepared wearing his heavy boots. Those were such innocent, happy times. “Indeed you were,” he agreed. “But you improved.”
Her gentle laugh fell on his ears like rain on a thirsty field. “I did, thanks to your patience. You were a very good teacher.”
“I was mediocre, at best. Charles ought to have sent for a real instructor for you.”
“He did. Andre LaValle. But he was only here for two days.”
“Just two days? That’s not nearly long enough.”
“It was for Charles,” she said, pulling a wry face. “He discovered the blackguard attempting to seduce one of the new maids and sent him packing at once, in the dead of night, no less. Rowena had taken great pains to secure his services and was absolutely livid.”
Of that he had little doubt. To this day, LaValle was one of London’s most sought-after instructors.
“But when Charles told her what had happened, she agreed with him,” continued Eleanor. “She said she’d sooner bring a serpent into the house than expose me to such a man.” Her expression softened as she looked up at him. “That’s why she asked you to teach me. She wanted someone trustworthy.”
Trustworthy. Wonderful. The knot in his gut drew a little tighter.
The music commenced, ending their conversation and intensifying the already pitched battle of will-versus-want taking place inside Sorin. In and out the dancers twined, the pattern first separating them and then bringing them back together again and again. With every touch of Eleanor’s bare fingers against his, the inexorable pull of desire grew stronger.
As soon as the dance came to a close, Sorin bowed and gave her hand to another gentleman, excusing himself. Coming back was a mistake. Nothing had changed, save that his predicament was worse than ever.
Chapter Two
Eleanor lounged beside Caroline on the picnic blanket and watched her idly strip the petals from a wildflower. “You’ll stain your fingers,” she warned.
“Do you know, I think you may have been right about Lord Wincanton,” said her friend.
Tilting back the broad brim of her straw hat, Eleanor peered at her. “Oh? How so?”
Caroline discarded the now-barren stem and sat up to face her. “Well, most men seem to share the opinion that we females have nothing between our ears but air. They often speak to me as though they believe me incapable of intelligent thought, but not him. Of all the gentlemen present last night, excepting your cousin, of course, Lord Wincanton was the only one to treat me with respect, as though I was his equal.”
“That has always been his way,” Eleanor replied, readjusting her hat so that it provided better shade. It was still quite chilly out this early in the spring and the sunlight felt heavenly, but she could ill afford to spot her face. “He would not dream of disrespecting anyone, least of all a lady.”
A dimple appeared in her friend’s cheek. “I asked him what it was like being at sea, whether or not he’d seen any whales and, if so, were they truly as large and terrifying as it is said. I once asked the same questions of a visiting navy captain, and the man laughed and told me only that I need never worry about such things. But Lord Wincanton described for me a whale in detail and then told me about a terrible storm his ship had survived. It was dreadful! The way he described it made me feel as if I were right there with him,” she finished dreamily.
Eleanor refrained from scowling—just. He’d told her about the whale, too, but he hadn’t mentioned any storm in any of his letters. A sense of unease settled in her stomach as she looked at Caroline, marking her misty eyes, her blushing cheeks. “I take it you’ve changed your opinion of Lord Wincanton since we last spoke of him.”
Caroline’s gaze slid away, her color deepening. “I really cannot say. We spoke only briefl
y after we danced. I should need more time to come to any final conclusions about him.”
They danced? It must have been while she was occupied elsewhere. But why had he danced with Caroline? She was nowhere near his rank.
Cool reason applied itself almost at once. He’d danced with many women of all stations last night…but he hadn’t spent an inordinate amount of time talking with anyone else afterward. Certainly not long enough to tell tales of storms and whales. He practically ran the instant the music stopped after dancing with me. She forced a pleasant smile to her lips. “Well, since it appears he is to remain in England—for the time being, at least—you may well have your chance.”
She watched her friend’s face carefully, but Caroline was now concentrating on weaving together long blades of grass to form a fairy basket. “That would be nice,” she said, holding up the half-finished product and smiling. “Remember when we used to make these and leave them filled with dandelion fluff for the fairies’ beds?” She bent once more, returning to her handiwork. “The real question is whether or not he plans to come to London. Though his mother is quite insistent on the matter, he’s still undecided regarding whether or not to put himself up on the block this Season.”
Eleanor sat bolt upright. “Surely you did not ask him such an impertinent question?”
“Of course not!” answered Caroline, clearly appalled that she would think such a thing.
Which meant he’d volunteered the information. Why would he tell such a thing to Caroline and not me? “And?” she prompted. “Did it seem like he was leaning in any particular direction?”
A sly smile crossed Caroline’s face. “I cannot imagine him staying behind to molder away in the countryside while everyone else frolics in London. No, I’m certain he’ll be going. Have you ever been to Holly Hall? He told me about it a little, but I cannot quite picture it in my mind.”
“Yes. I’ve been there many times,” Eleanor answered, trying to calm herself. He’d told someone—someone other than her—of his adventures abroad. He’d included details he had not shared with her, he’d talked about his estate, and worst of all, he’d mentioned the Marriage Mart. To Caroline. Surely he wasn’t planning to woo her? She looked at her friend with new eyes, seeing her fine, freckle-less skin, dark auburn hair, and blue eyes in an entirely different light. Caroline had always been very pretty. But she was also impatient, short-tempered, pouty when she didn’t get her way, and generally impulsive in her conduct—all qualities Sorin frowned upon. But still, she was quite pretty.
And she couldn’t be more wrong for him.
“Are you unwell?” asked Caroline.
Following her friend’s concerned gaze, Eleanor realized she was holding a hand to her stomach which, to be honest, was feeling a bit unsettled. She snatched it away. “I’m perfectly well. But I think perhaps I might like a cup of tea. I’m a bit chilled.” She rose.
But before she could take even one step toward the house, Caroline pointed down the hill and let out a little squeal. “Oh, look! They’ve returned. See? Here they come!” Tossing aside her half-woven basket, she leaped to her feet.
At the edge of the wood, a group of men was emerging amid a boiling sea of rowdy hunting dogs.
“Halloo there, ladies!” called Charles, grinning and waving. “Just look at this lot we’ve brought back—enough to feed the whole county for a week!” He pointed proudly at the string of dead birds dangling from a pole slung across the shoulders of two sturdy men.
Eleanor laughed and waved back, but her eyes were not on the birds. Sorin, his face lit with one of his rare smiles, strode alongside her cousin. It filled her with pleasure to see him here, back where he belonged.
“You were right—he does smile,” whispered Caroline, ruining the moment. “Quite nicely, in fact. He really is a handsome gentleman, is he not? I don’t know why I failed to see it before.” She giggled softly.
An odd impulse swept through Eleanor, an unpleasant one that made her long to shove her friend down the hillside. Head first. “Well, of course he smiles. He’s not made of stone.”
Caroline turned to her, brow puckered. “You needn’t bite my head off. I meant no insult. I was simply admitting I’d been mistaken about him.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of sorts from lack of sleep, I suppose. It was a long night.” Yes. That’s it. I’m tired. “Come, let us go down and meet them.”
“With all of those dogs running about loose?” said her friend with a look of horror. “Are you not afraid for our gowns?”
“My cousin’s hounds are very well trained, I assure you.” If one knew the proper commands, which she did.
Caroline looked doubtful, but followed anyway.
Eleanor waded right into the churning mass of dogs without any hesitation, leaving Caroline to cautiously pick her way through with many a gasp and squeal of dismay.
“A successful hunt, I see,” Eleanor said, grinning at the men. “I suppose I should run and tell Cook what we’ll be having for dinner for the rest of the week.”
Her cousin beamed at the compliment. “Blasted creatures were so complacent I could have simply plucked them from the ground like fallen fruit and shoved them into sacks.” He turned to Sorin. “You will take some of them with you, won’t you?”
“I’ve got plenty of my own, I’m sure,” replied Sorin with a shake of his head. “Mine have had five years’ respite, whereas yours have been undisturbed for only two. Perhaps you might render me the same assistance in thinning them out next week?”
“I should be delighted,” said Charles with gusto. “But look at these lovely creatures that have come to witness our triumphal return!” he exclaimed, gesturing to the two women. “How brave of you ladies to risk your slippers and hems amongst this unruly lot. Down, Albert!” he commanded one particularly excited dog that had decided to personally greet Caroline—who was even now squeaking a horrified objection.
Eleanor repressed a laugh as the dog obediently put its forepaws back on the ground. Caroline’s previously pristine skirt now bore an enormous pair of muddy streaks down its front. “You cannot let them know you’re afraid,” she tutted without sympathy. “As long as you appear fearless and in command they won’t bother you.”
“Yes, well I rather wish you’d told me that before coming down here,” said her friend crossly. “Just look at my gown—it’s ruined!”
“Not to worry,” Eleanor soothed, flicking a glance at Sorin. “Fran will have it out in a blink.” Good, now he’d see what a petulant ninny Caroline could be. She turned to him. “You did enjoy yourself, I hope?”
He barely glanced at her, so intent was he on retying a knot that had worked loose on one of the birds during their walk back. “Very much indeed.” He turned away from her to face Caroline. “And I’m glad to see we were not the only ones taking advantage of the spring sunshine. How sorry I am to see your lovely gown spoiled, Miss Caroline. I’m sure Eleanor meant it when she said it could be quickly put to rights.”
Shock suffused Eleanor as he smiled down at Caroline—and as Caroline blushed to the roots of her hair in happy response. Her heart began to hammer in her chest in a peculiar, almost painful manner.
“Cousin Eleanor?”
She started and looked to see Charles staring at her expectantly. “Yes?”
“I asked if you would be so kind as to run to the house and tell Rowena we’ve returned. Oh, and do let her know the menu will need adjusting. We’ll feast on pheasant tonight!”
“Yes, of course,” she replied woodenly. Turning back, she again stared at Caroline, who was now batting her lashes in the most preposterous manner. Despite her foolish appearance—she looked as if she had something in her eye—Sorin was being quite cordial toward her. Attentive, even.
Her cousin cleared his throat, clearly impatient for her to get on with it. Feeling alone and put out, she began walking up the hill. It didn’t make any sense at
all. Sorin loathed women who behaved like Caroline. Or so she’d thought. Hadn’t he always told her that a lady who flirted too brazenly was no lady at all? Hadn’t he always adjured her to conduct herself with more dignity?
Confused and nettled, she trudged across the lawn and into the house. Pausing on the doorstep, she turned and listened. Faint sounds of laughter drifted back on the breeze—Sorin’s and Caroline’s. As there was no one about to care, she gave in to a sudden fit of ill temper and slammed the door behind her with a resounding bang, causing the glass panes to shudder in their frames.
The noise brought her up short. Why am I so tetchy this morning? Sorin was only being…Sorin. Obviously, he’d come to accept Caroline as part of the family, that’s all. She stared at the floor in shame and noticed how damp and dingy the hem of her skirt had become from the walk through the grass.
By the time the other three had finished their leisurely stroll back to the house, she’d changed her gown and was waiting for them with Rowena in the salon, a pot of fresh tea at the ready. In they came, still red-cheeked from the chilly air and talking excitedly of the shoot.
Caroline, still bearing the muddy paw prints, hung at Sorin’s elbow, her eyes shining with admiration. “Do tell me about the elephants, Lord Wincanton. I’d give anything to see one myself, but since that is, of course, impossible, I should love to hear about them in every detail.”
If Eleanor was irritated before, she was now positively ready to take her friend by the ear and toss her out of the nearest window. “Tea, anyone?” she offered brightly. “You must surely be chilled to the bone. This just came from the kitchens so it’ll be nice and hot.”
“Ah, yes!” boomed Charles. “How very thoughtful of you, cousin. Wincanton, have some tea. And if that won’t drive away the bite, there’s always a nip of brandy, eh?”
