“No,” Mr. Fulk admitted. “For what is the point? I intend to court you, pay suit, woo you as it were, but the conversations must be held with your father, not you. Conversing with you is...”
Eleanor’s eyebrows were so high up her forehead, it felt like they might lift off like birds. She could not believe the gall of this man.
“...extraneous, at best. But like petting a dog, or brushing down a horse after a long canter—”
Eleanor could take it no longer. The dance was still going, the music still playing, but she thrust herself away from him, shaking loose from his hands. “I am no dog, sir. Good evening.” She spun on her heel and marched over to where Opheliawas standing with Justine and the woman who must be the American Mrs. Cabot.
“I’ll climb your bloody mountain if I die doing it.” Eleanor stomped off to get some air.
Chapter Four
“Thank you allfor coming,” Ophelia announced, looking around at their small assembly. His sister looked through him, as if he were any other member of the team. He stifled a smile, in case she thought it was to mock her, when he was just so proud of his baby sister. She was doing it. She was leading her people.
It was the first real expedition meeting they’d held. This wasn’t a salon, nor was it a tea. This was for budgeting, scheduling, working out the nuts and bolts of their plan. The Ladies’ Alpine Society was assembled, Ophelia, Bad News, Miss Piper and the new one, Mrs. Cabot. But there was more to the team than just the lady mountaineers: there was his father, Tristan himself, and the expedition financier, Mr. Leopold Moon. He handled the books for all aspects of the expedition, and there wasn’t a single shoelace he hadn’t accounted for. Tristan had suggested he come, not trusting they would remember every detail of what would be required of them, even for their trial climb of Ben Nevis.
He hadn’t been properly introduced to the new woman in the crowd, but Tristan had a hard time thinking of manners when he was doing his best to stay on the opposite side of the room as Eleanor Piper. All the ladies were dressed in their most serviceable gowns, hair tied back in severe chignons, and he did not know why, because it made no sense, but it made Eleanor Piper look even more regal.
They sat in the Rascomb drawing room. But this time, they were all business. Spring was nearly over, and that meant they needed to train if they would be climbing Ben Nevis in May.
Even with this temporal urgency, he could not stop thinking of Eleanor. His forearms prickled with awareness. He’d held her in his arms while they danced last night, his gloved hand resting on her small, pinched waist. The only thing she spoke of was Ol’ Fulker, and she was spitting mad. It was glorious. Her anger had her heaving, and he almost tripped over his own feet not looking at how her chest moved in response. That lovely expanse of skin was tantalizing. Smooth as cream, and he wanted to be the cat to lick up cream such as this. A rough tongue that would make her eyes widen in pleasure and—he cleared his throat, flexing his thighs to clear the blood that was beginning to build in his trousers. Enough. Time to pay attention.
“This, if you have not yet been introduced, is Mrs. Cabot. She is from Minnesota, and she is a widow, and she is joining our expedition.”
“That’s one more mouth to feed,” murmured Mr. Moon to himself, flipping open his ledger and notating it. Ophelia shot him a quelling look that he did not notice.
“Tristan, would you like to come up and tell everyone about what to expect on Ben Nevis?” Ophelia prompted him.
Tristan took his weight from the curve of the pianoforte and sauntered to the front of the small assembly. “Greetings to you all, thank you for being here. Our goal is to climb the Matterhorn, and make my sister Ophelia the first woman to summit the mountain. I would be happy to add your names to the list of ladies to summit its height as well. As you may know, Mr. Edward Whymper was the first to do so last year. However, you may also know that this is a treacherous, difficult climb, both up and down, and it killed four of his expedition, includingLord Francis Douglas, Mr. Charles Hudson, Mr. Douglas Hadow, and Michel Croz.”
Tristan surveyed the ladies to see if any of them blanched at such a prospect, but they all remained stoic. They must know of the danger in this attempt.
“Some believe,” Tristan continued, doing his best to not look at Eleanor, “that Mr. Hadow was at fault for being inexperienced. I knew Hadow from finding him in those places of mountaineering, and indeed, from his spectacularly swift climb of Mont Blanc. He was young, and in excellent shape. But I believe he did not understand snow, and that, my friends, is what we are going to prevent in our excursion.”
Eleanor lips pushed off to the side in an off-center purse, as if she were chewing the inside of her cheek. Her lips were a distraction. He had to stay focused! He was the safety expert, after all.
“This summer, we will be climbing Ben Nevis in Scotland as a practice expedition. Before then, we will be training with ropes, terrain, and yes, even vocabulary. Hearing each other on a mountain can be very challenging, especially if we hit bad weather, so we will be going over the words we use to describe specific emergencies.”
Bad News seemed to actually pay attention, which was shocking in and of itself. This was the first time their proposed expedition felt real. They might actually go to Switzerland. This could be an actual ascent. He was happy to share the accomplishment with his sister, and did not care a whit if she gained notoriety for it. This was the challenge of a lifetime.
“We will be hearing from Mr. Moon regarding our expenses, and then, as no doubt you all saw from the rigging on the staircase, we will be practicing a climb.”
“A climb from the entryway to the drawing room?” Bad News asked.
He hadn’t heard any of her usual disdain dripping from her words, which was a welcome change. “Yes. We are going to practice tying into a rope, set the order of our climb, and get familiar with our equipment. Any questions?”
Eleanor continued to chew on her cheek, but raised a finger. Tristan nodded at her, because he couldn’t chance saying her name aloud. He wasn’t sure he could address her formally as was her due and the correct thing. He’d been thinking of her first name because it was so soft and musical. And then it became habit, and now he had to concentrate to address her properly.
“I was under the impression that in the case of the Matterhorn expedition the rope snapped, and that was the cause of the fall?” Eleanor said the statement as a question.
“The rope did indeed snap, yes,” Tristan affirmed. “However, it was likely secondary to the fall. If you’ve spent time in the mountains, you’ll realize that the give-and-take of the rope between climbers does not often grow taut. So if it snapped, perhaps because of an inherent weakness, or a sharp rock, it was because there was some undue strain, like a fall.”
Eleanor nodded. “What kind of rope was used?”
Tristan grimaced. “That news has not yet been provided.”
“So we’ll need something that is both flexible and strong. That will not rot or degrade in wet conditions, is that correct?”
“Yes, though we do have some ropes already—”
