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Caroline stilled, and Eleanor cringed at the cold fury that stole into her eyes. “Oh? Pray tell me why not?”
“Because he is not within your reach,” she said bluntly, wincing as Caroline’s mouth opened on an offended gasp. “Please, just listen! Although you are of good family, you cannot expect him to make an offer to someone so beneath him in rank and thus so unqualified t—”
“How dare you!” raged Caroline, her cheeks becoming mottled.
“—unqualified to assume the duties of a countess,” Eleanor pressed on. “There are certain expectations to be met when it comes to his marriage. Even if his mother does not demand that he meet them, his sense of duty will. His rank is an obstacle you simply cannot overcome.”
“Why not? Others have done so. If he felt passionately enough about me he would not let something as meaningless as rank get in the way.”
It was time for the hard truth. “Do you know anything at all about running an estate that size?” Eleanor asked, deliberately harsh. “I speak of much more than just Holly Hall, Caroline. His estate encompasses several properties, some of them quite large. As his wife, you would be expected to help him manage their upkeep, including oversight of their servants. And then there are the associated villages, farms, and tenants that come with each. You would be duty bound to visit their sick, provide charity to their poor, and succor their elderly in his name. Have you never wondered what Rowena does when she goes out or why she’s so tired when she returns? It’s not all parties, expensive clothes, and having people fawn over you. You have no concept of the responsibilities that come with such rank!”
“I can learn,” the redhead bit out.
Damn, but she was muleheaded! “Right. Then we’ll leave that aside for the moment, along with the great multitude of societal rules to which women of such rank must adhere, and focus on the more vital issue. Has he given you any encouragement to engender such determined pursuit?”
Caroline’s color deepened. “It is still very early. And I will not have that perjurer putting him off me before I have my chance!” she said, stamping her foot. “I’m going this instant to confront him and put things right.”
Eleanor didn’t budge from her position in front of the door, but squared her shoulders and stood firm. “If you go in there now with cannons ablaze, what do you think will happen?” Her calmly posed question had the desired effect, for Caroline stopped cold. “If you lose your temper now, it can only end in embarrassment and disaster. My cousin will send you home rather than allow you to accompany us to London, and then you’ll have no chance at all of making a match—with anyone.”
“What would you have me do?” replied Caroline angrily. “Let the blackguard spread rumors without contradicting them? Without fighting back?” A tear slid down her face. “Am I to do nothing to cleanse myself of the blight on my character?”
Eleanor’s own eyes smarted. How could she make her understand that the way the aristocracy handled such matters was very different from that of the bourgeoisie without deeply insulting her? She thought for a moment and then seized upon the one thing she knew would work. “You shared your desire to bag a titled husband. Well, there are strict social rules by which all ladies of quality must abide. To confront a gentleman publicly or to speak ill of him to others in secrecy would only serve to lower you—not him—in the sight of those whose ranks you aspire to join. There is only one way a lady can truly defy a smear against her character, and that is by exhibiting irreproachable behavior, behavior that puts the wagging tongue to shame.”
“You want me to be good and hope no one believes him?” her friend said with damp sarcasm.
“Rowena once told me that a lady never lends dignity to the libelous by acting in a manner that reinforces their position. You cannot accuse a baron of slanderous acts with no proof and expect to escape without serious repercussions. As unfair as it is, people side with those whom they know, and you are largely unknown save by the unfortunate choices you made during the last two years. Lord Marston is both respected and well-liked by many. There is nothing you can say against him without damaging yourself. Your only hope is to hold your tongue and let your good conduct and unrelenting temperance prove any negative rumors false.”
Caroline’s pale lips shook. “No one will believe I’m innocent if I don’t protest.”
“They will believe the one whose behavior shows the higher quality,” Eleanor told her, softening. “A true gentleman never speaks ill of a lady. If he has broken this rule, he will incur Society’s censure for it, and your exemplary conduct can only lift you in the eyes of those who doubt you. By using this approach, you risk nothing and stand to gain much.”
“And what of Lord Wincanton?” Another tear slid down her friend’s face. “Am I to allow poisonous gossip to reach him unimpeded?”
Conflicting emotions made Eleanor’s already tense stomach squirm. Truly it was in Caroline’s best interest to direct her hunt elsewhere for a husband. And, if she was willing to admit it, Eleanor would be enormously relieved, herself. But it would have to be a clean break. Caroline must understand that there was no chance of success or she would never give over. “You must cease your pursuit of him at once,” she said in the same firm tone she’d heard Rowena use so many times when giving orders. “And not because of Lord Marston.”
Caroline’s brow puckered in confusion. “What do you mean? He cannot have any other cause to dislike me?”
“Dislike may be too harsh a word, but certainly you’ve given him ample cause for discomfort. Because you are my friend, he has been tolerant of your attempts to ensnare him—thus far. But his patience is not infinite.” She braced herself as Caroline’s eyes narrowed.
“You seem awfully certain of the gentleman’s sentiment toward me, or rather the lack thereof. Tell me, is this advice based on factual knowledge or is it merely a supposition engendered by jealousy over his attentions?”
The accusation made Eleanor suddenly ill at ease. Jealous? Her first impulse was to deny it. She cared for and admired Sorin greatly, but to be jealous of his attentions implied another level of sentiment. Am I jealous? Part of her wanted to laugh at the suggestion; another part of her saw no humor in it whatsoever. But her feelings for Sorin—whatever they were—were irrelevant at the moment. What mattered right now was that Caroline comprehended the gravity of her situation. “Factual knowledge,” she answered briskly.
Drawing herself up, Caroline raised her chin and looked down her nose at her. “I believe I have a right to know exactly how you acquired such knowledge.”
Though Eleanor maintained her impassive stance, the coldness in her friend’s voice made her shrink inside. She’d known better than to hope Caroline wouldn’t ask for specifics. So be it. “Lord Wincanton recently invited Lady Ashford and me to accompany him to an event and, although I specifically mentioned that you are to stay with us in London, he very pointedly did not extend his invitation to include you.”
An obstinate toss of red curls was her first answer. “Perhaps he wished to invite me himself and has simply not yet had an opportunity to do so.”
Eleanor shook her head in denial of this postulation. “I’ve tried every means to gently dissuade you from your course, but it seems I’ve no choice but to tell you the truth. Lord Wincanton confided that he’s concerned you may have mistaken his politeness for greater interest. His efforts to distance himself have been out of consideration for you because he does not wish to wound you with a more overt
rejection. He expressed hope that your attentions will be diverted once we reach London, allowing him to avoid any further awkwardness.”
Silence reigned for a very long, very uncomfortable moment.
“I see,” replied Caroline faintly. A breathless little laugh escaped her as another tear slid down her face, which had grown dangerously pale. “Good Lord, what must he think of me? I’ve been the worst sort of flirt, and if Lord Marston has spoken to him of our past connection…” A careless shrug lifted her slumped shoulders for moment. “That’s it, then. My chances are ruined. London no longer holds any promise for me.”
“Of course it does!” Eleanor said. “There are other gentlemen, you know.”
