“You were my knight in shining armor,” she replied as soon as she could catch her breath.
“I’m happy to have been of service.”
The night ended with myriad toasts to the holiday and new year, followed by dancing, interrupted by caroling and more toasts. They had abandoned the library when the supper bell rang, Henry’s sly, secret smile making her heart tumble as they ate and retired to the ballroom. Eleanor stuck to the corner, occasionally taking a turn with one of her father’s friends, but hoping Henry would pull her from her seat. He met her eyes once or twice, but never asked her to the floor.
She fought the disappointment pressing in her chest; of course he would not be interested in dancing with her. She had read the scandal sheets and knew his reputation; Lord Henry, Viscount Morley and the future Earl of Fensworth, bounced from one beauty’s bed to another, constantly pursued by merry widows and unhappy wives, filling his company with opera dancers and elegant courtesans. He showed no signs of slowing down, no sign of casting off his mantle of debauchery.
Lady Eleanor Warwick would never catch his eye, at least not in the way she wished.
The night was over too quickly, and soon Eleanor found herself in the foyer once more, wishing farewell to her hosts. Cold air swept in from the open doors, lifting her ginger curls and making her shiver. She looked up as he lay her wrap across her shoulders from behind. Lord Henry leaned down over her shoulder, his lips so close to her ear his warm breath ghosted on her cheek. He smelled like peppermint and whiskey, and her heart shuddered in her chest.
He hovered for so long she wondered if he would kiss her. She could turn her head, just the slightest bit, and his lips would touch hers. But he could never want a kiss, not from her. Instead, she turned away, pulling her wrap tight before turning to face him. “Good night, Lord Morley, and thank you for your hospitality.”
Henry swallowed heavily, then smiled. “Happy Christmas, Lady Eleanor.”
“Happy Christmas.”
8 January 1897
Dear Lady Eleanor,
How could it possibly still be snowing? I am fairly certain the sky has gotten lazy. I may lose my sanity if I can’t leave the house.
If I were to burrow myself to freedom, could I persuade you to take tea with me?
Yours,
Henry
9 January 1897
Dear Lord Henry,
I believe the heavens put much more effort into snow than simply the grey, dull sky typical to the season. To create such spectacular, unique beauty only to have it sullied and destroyed the moment it reaches the earth? It must be disheartening for poor Mother Nature.
Summer is my least favorite time. I would gladly endure an extra winter to avoid the unpleasantness (for lack of a stronger descriptor) of wearing a corset in the July heat. I pray you never have the experience, although I would not be surprised if you had. If so, I would love to hear the story.
I would be delighted to have you around for tea. My brother Victor—I believe you knew each other at Eton—will join us. Would midday this Wednesday suit you?
Sincerely yours,
Eleanor
12 January 1897
Dear Lord Henry,
I do hope you are well, as you did not come to tea today. If you need to reschedule, I understand.
Yours,
Lady Eleanor
No reply
Chapter 6
“Hereyouare,Mrs.Pommelfritz.”
