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Which led to another question, one she almost dared not ask. “And what will people say when you and I are seen much about Town together?”
“That your cousin has saddled you with an old hound to keep the young pups at bay,” he drawled. “I’ll be exceedingly flattered should anyone assume differently.”
If she had her way, that was exactly what they would do, right up until the moment he proposed to someone else. In the meantime, Yarborough would give up on her and find a new target for his ambitions. It’s perfect! She hugged the thought to herself and kept it locked away where it wouldn’t show on her face. “Well, given the fact that he’s been badgering me to marry, I would have thought him happy to allow me a bit more leash.”
“Oh, don’t mistake his intentions. Your cousin wants you married—but he also wishes to make certain you marry the right sort of man.”
“And he trusts you to make that determination, does he?”
“Like him, I have your best interests at heart. He knows this.”
Heat rose in her cheeks again. “Perhaps he’s right, at that. And after all, you do know my standards.” It was a rash thing to say, and she knew it. But it couldn’t be unsaid. She softened. “If any gentleman is able to pass muster with you as his judge, I say let him come forth and seek to win me.”
His hazel eyes hardened. “If any man is able to pass muster with me as his judge, he will be a remarkable fellow indeed, for it will be most difficult for me to deem any man worthy of you.” He blinked and the strange, almost savage look was gone before she could question it.
Charles could not have given her a more protective guardian. With any luck, Sorin’s watchful presence at her side in London would stave off any serious pursuit. A faint call made her look back to the coaches, where Charles was waving to signal their impending departure.
Sorin, taking note, offered her his arm.
She groped for words to make small talk as they walked back together, but all pleasantries seemed to have vanished from her vocabulary. Neither did he deign to speak. The air between them seemed heavy with unspoken thoughts, and her conscience pricked her.
Am I doing the right thing?
“Your essentials have been transferred to Lady Wincanton’s carriage,” said her cousin as they approached.
“Thank you, Charles.” Lady Yarborough, who looked as if she’d just swallowed something bitter, glared at her as she passed. Had she lacked better manners, Eleanor would have stuck her tongue out and asked her how she liked being excluded. Instead, she settled for sailing by with her head high. Lord willing, Sorin’s mother would find her company pleasant enough that she wouldn’t be required to ride with Lady Yarborough again. The thought was reinforced as they passed her son, who was complaining stridently about the dust ruining the shine on his boots.
“Now, if only it would contrive to rain,” murmured Sorin for her ears only as he walked beside her.
“You would prolong our suffering?” she replied just as quietly, though they’d already passed out of earshot.
The grin he shot her was devilish. “I would claim a seat aboard my own conveyance, naturally. Owing to its smaller compartment and my mother’s need for leg room—her joints ache terribly if she does not stretch every now and again—Charles and Yarborough would have to ride in the other.”
“I see. What an unfortunate arrangement for Charles and Rowena,” she mused with a little devilishness of her own.
“Indeed. But as they were the ones to extend the invitation, I feel they ought to bear the majority of the consequences, don’t you?”
So droll and full of mischief was his manner that she couldn’t help laughing. “Though I quite agree, you are wicked to actually say it.” She glanced back to see Lady Yarborough shaking a chubby finger first at a footman and then at a piece of luggage—presumably hers—tied atop the coach. The woman was honking orders to have it brought down at once. Charles stood by, watch in hand, looking rather put out. She turned back to Sorin with a grimace. “Instead of praying for rain, I think we ought to pray for a miracle—in the form of another coach for hire.”
Though he laughed at her sharp jest, Sorin shot a quick, silent prayer heavenward. Please let it rain! His mother would be with them in the coach of course, but it would still be another opportunity to be close to Eleanor.
A month, he vowed. One month, and he would make her see him as more than a fusty bachelor. More than just an old friend.
He had not missed the black look on Yarborough’s face. It was brash of the young whelp to direct such open malice at him, but such were the vagaries of youth. There was no love in the man’s heart for Eleanor, of that much he was certain. His designs on her were driven purely by the potential for gain. She knew it, too, he suspected.
As they approached his carriage, he surreptitiously waved the waiting servant off so that he could hand her up himself. Before he could do so, however, Eleanor turned to him as if about to say something, but then appeared to change her mind. His eye was drawn to where the white pearls of her teeth clamped down on her rosy bottom lip.
Hoping to ease the tension, he whispered, “I’ll check in on you and Mother from time to time to make certain you don’t get gobbled up.”
“Thank you,” she replied in a small voice, looking down. “I’ll do my best to be good company for her.”
“You are always good company, Ellie,” he said as he opened the carriage door. A shy smile was his reward. He returned it, extending his hand and enjoying their brief touch as he helped her step up on the sideboard. It was a wrench having to leave her, but it couldn’t be helped.
His mother poked her head around and fixed him with a questioning look. “You did send ahead to the inn, yes? They expect us?”
“Charles said his man returned two days ago,” he replied with a subtle nod, answering her unspoken inquiry as well. “Arrangements have been made at all overnight stops.”
“Excellent. I shall require hot water to be brought to my room immediately upon arrival, and I shall want dinner sent up. I will be too exhausted for words by the time we reach the place.” She shifted a little and winced, ruining the effect of her imperious demands. “When we reach London, I shall ask you to have an upholsterer refurbish the cushions in this carriage,” she added. “The padding is inferior and needs replacing.”
