“I haven’t imbibed, Mama,” Eleanor said, wanting to swat her away, wondering if she would smell Tristan on her clothes. His distinctive scent of fresh air mixed with Cloverbee’s clean lemon verbena soap.
“One would hardly blame me for suspecting, given how you’re acting.”
“It’s the fresh air, Mama. It does one a world of good.” And it did. She would climb Ben Nevis in a month. She would marry Tristan next year. Then they would climb the Matterhorn as a married couple. Adventurers together! It sounded so delightful. Right out of an adventure novel itself.
How her life had changed as a result of Ophelia’s ribbon distress! She should send that modiste a note of thanks.
Tristan danced with her and escorted her into supper. They talked about mountains and knots, London and horses, dockside and Grosvenor Square. He was adept at conversation, making her laugh and parrying back when she managed to squeeze in a joke as well. Her father caught her eye from down the table, raising his eyebrows. When she nodded, he broke out into a wide smile. Her father would be associated with an aristocratic family after all. He wouldn’t get to be his own earl, and neither would she be a lady, but it was close enough proximity that her children might be eligible to marry nobility.
Oh, their children. A whole new idea for her to fantasize over. She decided to not tell anyone officially until Tristan had a chance to speak to her father. Or his father. Or whomever he needed to in order to make their courtship proper.
What did that mean for a man like Tristan? Carriage rides in Hyde Park? Chaperone-approved balls? She couldn’t believe that at twenty-five, she finally had a suitor. After being ignored for so long, someone finally saw her. And he was handsome and accomplished and an aristocrat on top of it all. She felt like she was in a fairy tale.
When the ball concluded, and Ophelia, Justine, and Prudence swarmed her, whisking them upstairs to bed, Eleanor didn’t even feel tired. Her feet didn’t hurt, and she could have danced for hours more.
“What’s going on with you?” Justine asked, poking her in the ribs as they ascended the stair.
“Me?” Eleanor repeated, because she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“You seem very... happy.” Prudence observed, a secretive smile on her face.
Did Prudence know? “I had a lovely time. That was the best ball I’ve ever been to,” Eleanor said.
“Private balls are much better than public ones,” Justine agreed. “Don’t you think, Ophelia?”
“Hm?” Ophelia asked. It was then that Eleanor noticed a troubled look on Ophelia’s face. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“Tired?” Prudence suggested.
“Yes,” Ophelia said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Just tired. I’ll see you all down at breakfast in the morning.”
“But—” Justine called as Ophelia peeled off from their group and went to her room. Ophelia’s door shut behind her before Justine could finish her sentence. “But I thought we were all going to undress together, save the maids some work.”
“I think I’d like to go to my room as well,” Eleanor said. She wasn’t tired, but she didn’t think she could keep her mouth shut about Tristan asking to court her if they began talking about the evening.
“Well.” Justine huffed. “Breakfast it is.”
Eleanor gave a weak smile as they all entered their own rooms, one by one. Breakfast might be very enlightening.
Chapter Nine
Eleanor crept downstairs,wondering if the meal would even be set up this early. Perhaps she could bother someone for a cup of tea, at least. She hated to make a fuss. But as she approached the corridor, she heard the sounds of a whispered argument.
She didn’t know what she should do—she certainly didn’t want to be accused of eavesdropping, but she also didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of walking into a fight. Perhaps it was merely two servants having a disagreement over where to place the chafing dishes. Eleanor squared her shoulders and continued on to the breakfast room.
“—oh! Miss Piper, you’ve arrived!” Tristan swanned over, all smiles, his hand outstretched.
Eleanor’s stomach flipped, knowing that he would soon be courting her properly, and they would have a chance for yet another kiss. But she looked behind him, seeing only Ophelia. In fact, it was only the two siblings in the room. They were the ones arguing? She hoped they weren’t arguing over her. Did Ophelia object to Eleanor joining their family?
“I have wonderful news, by the by. Oh, where are my manners? Did you sleep well?” Tristan looked at her with such joy he was radiating.
“I did, thank you.” Eleanor allowed him to guide her to the table.
“Do you take tea or coffee or chocolate in the morning? This seems like something I ought to know.”
“Tea, please. And you?” Eleanor sank into her chair, feeling her head might be spinning a bit. He was so very much, right here. She thought she would have a moment to sip at a cup of tea and stare out the window, but instead he was barraging her with questions and information and looking like Apollo.
“Oh, tea, of course. Can’t call oneself a proper Englishman if one doesn’t support tea. Coffee is for the Americans, the unruly blowhards.”
