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Eleanor almost laughed aloud at the bald-faced lie. She would have been in his lap had there been no one else present!
“Lord Wincanton has been our friend for many years and has always been perfectly at ease here at Holbrook,” said Rowena. “In the future, I expect you to behave with proper decorum, especially when we have guests.”
“Yes, Lady Ashford.”
The meek answer seemed to close the conversation. Quietly backing up a few paces, Eleanor schooled her features, shook her skirts, and rounded the corner.
“Well, that was quick,” said Rowena, her brows rising. “I would have thought you’d spend at least a few minutes talking, though I suppose all the letters between you made it unnecessary.”
Eleanor suppressed a curse that would have in previous years earned her a mouthful of strong soap. “I would have enjoyed further conversation but he was in rather a rush to return home.” Quite deliberately, she sat down beside Caroline so that she wouldn’t have to face her. “But truth be told, you are right. Neither of us can have much to say that hasn’t already been said.” Let Caroline ponder that and wonder what she meant by it. It was a childish thing to do and she knew it, but that didn’t make it any less gratifying.
Rowena’s brow furrowed, causing the knot in Eleanor’s stomach to tighten. “I suppose it is the mark of a good friendship that you understand each other so well,” she said at last, dismissing the subject.
But I don’t understand him at all! Slowly, Eleanor released the breath she’d been holding. Still refusing to look at Caroline, she reached out to pour herself another cup of tea. “Oh, pity. The pot has gone cold. Shall I ring for a fresh one?”
Rowena shook her head. “There is no time for it, I’m afraid. You must both go and change. Eleanor, see that Fran takes care of the stain on Caroline’s skirt.”
She made it to the top of the steps before Caroline stopped her.
“You never mentioned to me that you and Lord Wincanton corresponded during his absence.”
Affecting the same too-sweet tone, Eleanor answered, “I did not think you would find our discussions of any particular interest. You’ve always—at least until today—made it quite plain that you thought him stuffy and boring. Had I known you were interested, I would have been glad to share them,” she lied.
“Oh really, Eleanor!” said her friend, dropping all pretense. “You’ve been exchanging letters with a man traveling abroad and you thought I would fail to find them interesting?”
Shrugging, she resumed progress up the stairs. “Not unless you find observations regarding the price of goods and sketches of scenery fascinating,” she said over her shoulder. Opening her door, she went in fully expecting to be followed. She was not disappointed.
“Still, you could have told me,” grumped Caroline, making herself comfortable on the edge of the bed. She heaved a sigh. “Don’t you think he looked handsome in his hunting coat this morning?”
“If you think a man in muddy boots tromping behind a gaggle of dead birds swinging from a pole is a handsome sight, then I suppose so,” she said sullenly, determined to be disagreeable. Flinging her shawl aside, she gave the bell pull a yank.
Caroline sat up straight and stared hard at her. “My, but something has curdled your cream this morning.”
Thankfully Fran chose that moment to enter, and for a few minutes the women busied themselves disrobing. The instant the maid stepped out to fetch a forgotten item, however, the inquisition continued.
“Well?”
“Well what?” Eleanor replied, dismayed that her friend was still interested enough to persist. “Which do you think I ought to wear, the blue or the green?”
“Don’t try that trick on me, Ellie,” said Caroline, her hands on her hips. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” she asked blankly. That I think you a ninnywit for even contemplating a man like Sorin for a husband? She bit her tongue. “I’m just a bit out of sorts,” she said at last, walking over to snatch the blue gown from the wardrobe and lay it across the bed. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine as soon as I have something to eat.”
Caroline followed and forced her to face her. “You’ve been out of sorts ever since he arrived. Don’t think I failed to notice it. And the way he acts around you…” Her blue eyes narrowed. “Is there something between the two of you?”
A strangled laugh burbled up from Eleanor’s chest. “Good heavens, no! At least not in the way you mean. He’s known me since I was a child. We are merely friends. Old friends.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it, because I’ve decided that I want him.”
Though she knew it already, hearing it said aloud almost made Eleanor drop the ribbon she was holding. She tried to sound nonchalant. “You cannot be serious, Caroline. He is not your sort and you know it. Why waste your time?”
Her friend was having none of that, however. “Was it not you who said I should look to him as a shining example of what a gentleman ought to be? Well, why not take the original rather than settle for an imperfect copy?”
If she’d been irritated before, Eleanor was now quite thoroughly vexed. But she dare not show it. She had no desire to ruin their friendship or incite the redhead’s wrath. Reason told her that once they were in London, Caroline would forget all about dull, older, sober Sorin. “I suppose I did tell you that,” she said, turning with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry—I don’t mean to be ill-tempered. I’m just hungry and rather tired, if you want to know. I hardly slept after the excitement of last night.”
This excuse seemed to mollify Caroline, for the sparkle returned to her blue eyes. “And who can blame you? After all, you’ll be your own woman this Season, won’t you? How wonderful it must be to know such freedom!”
Eleanor knew she hadn’t meant it as a dig, but it certainly felt li
