Robert stopped. “I attracted you? How?”
Eloise faced him, her expression smooth and even. “I had watched you converse with Lady Lydia for weeks. At first you seemed as handsome and vacant as her other suitors, but I saw glimpses that told me you were not what you seemed. I did not know how to find out more—or even that I should. Then you came to Adrienne’s shop, where you were not appalled to find me with pencil-stained fingers... and I realized you were Robbie Green. My curiosity became rather intense about a duke’s son who had been playing a role of gambling hall manager for a number of years. Especially one who had knowledge of the sordid side of this city.” She paused and nodded, almost as if to herself. “A knowledge I believed could help me locate Timothy. You latched on to the search for him so quickly and with such determination, I thought you understood why it was vital we find him. Then when you”—she hesitated and glanced around—“when you kissed me, I knew I wanted more.” She pushed her shoulders back and looked away from him. “I thought you would be different. And here we are.”
Robert’s eyes narrowed, studying her, but Eloise turned and continued forward. “We should keep walking.”
Robert matched her slower stride, silent for a few moments, his mind caught up in her words. He’d had women flirt with him, cooing and simpering at him, most of his life. One reason Lydia’s behavior had always set him on edge was the falseness in her courting, the pretense of enjoying his company.
Eloise, however, had captured his notice with her honesty, her kindness, her dedication to her brother...
I thought you understood why it was vital we find him.
Robert stopped again, staring after her as she continued her stroll. She reached the corner and paused looking back at him. They stared at each other a few moments, then he closed the distance. “Why,” he asked softly, “did you think I understood?”
She licked her lips, then took a deep breath. “Lucy told me that you had known Morgan a long time. Knew what he did. She also told me that you had been one of Bill Campion’s closest friends since you were a young man, not even out of university. And your own agony every time Timothy’s name came up.”
He took a step away, a cold wash flooding over him. “And?”
“You knew why I have been so driven to find Timothy. I now understand why you have been as well. It feels as if we have been brought together for just this reason.”
“Who is Timothy’s father?”
He had not meant to say it, to ask something so intrusive, but given this moment, it seemed inevitable.
She did not flinch. “By law, his mother is Grace Surrey, the Countess of Pentney. His father is Percival Surrey, the Earl of Pentney.”
“By nature as well?”
This time her eyes widened and her mouth gaped. “You think—?” Her words faltered, and she gasped for breath. She floundered a moment, then looked away from him, glancing up and down the street. Finally she took one last deep breath and seemed to steady herself. “My father is an honorable and proper man who has never behaved in any untoward manner toward me or any other woman.” She swallowed hard. “The cousin to whom my parents had hoped to betroth me had no such qualms.”
It was a lightning bolt, and Robert felt it to his heels. “The cousin who was next in line to the title.”
“Yes.”
“He does not know.”
“No.”
“Because if he did—”
“It would all be blown to flinders.”
“So Timothy—”
“Can never know.”
“You have sacrificed everything for him.”
She tapped the cane against her boot. “Do not pity me.”
Robert clinched his fists to keep from reaching for her. “Pity, Lord Edmund, is as far from what I feel right now as east is from west.” Admiration. Pride. Desire.
Love.
They all made his chest swell, but he knew she would accept none of those words in this moment. “I am, however, now driven with impatience for us to continue our day. We have a lot to achieve and little time to do it. Are you game?”
Her eyes gleamed. “I am ready, kind sir. Lead on.”
*
