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“Well, I’m determined to marry before I’m too old to be of use to anyone,” Sorin said, taking a long drink.
“I’m glad,” said John, his solemnity returning. “You know, I thought I’d have a harder time adjusting to married life after all I’ve seen. But the truth is that it’s good to be able to come home and leave all of it behind. When I’m with Winifred and the children, the darkness just can’t take hold of me.”
His candor took Sorin completely by surprise. He’d been friends with Jane’s brother since the day they’d met, and in all that time John had never once mentioned experiencing any discomfort related to his work. Sorin had never understood how the man managed to sleep after witnessing firsthand the nightly tragedies that played out on London’s streets. How could any man have any peace after being exposed to such constant danger, corruption, and death? “Do you not worry for their safety? Does that concern not divide you at all?” He’d wanted to ask it for years.
John nodded slowly, considering. “At first I thought marrying would weaken me, make me more vulnerable. I fully expected to have to resign. But the truth is that with Winnie I’m stronger. Knowing I’ve got her and the children waiting for me at home gives me something to look forward to. Something to think about that’s not so awful as what I have to sometimes deal with. As far as their safety is concerned, I’m well-equipped to ensure nothing happens to them. Benefit of being the Director,” he said, baring his teeth in a knowing grin. “They’re better looked after than the bloody king.”
His words again awakened in Sorin the fierce need to protect Eleanor. For a moment, he considered asking his old friend to set a Runner to watch over her, but that would probably be going a step too far at this juncture. First, he needed to know if there was even a legitimate threat. “Marriage has changed you. In a good way, of course,” he added quickly.
“I think you’ll find marriage will change you, too. In a good way, of course,” John shot back with a wink. “Provided you find the right woman, that is.” He sat back, looking smug. “Which, unless I’m mistaken—and I’m usually not—you’ve already done. A man doesn’t have a fellow watched for no reason. Who is she?”
Bloody hell. He should have known better than to think he’d be able to get away with it. “Lady Eleanor Cramley, daughter of the late Duke of Ashford and cousin to the current duke.”
John’s brows knit. “The girl you mentioned in your letters?”
“The same,” he admitted, feeling his neck growing hot.
A slow smile spread across his friend’s face. “I was wondering when you’d realize it. Don’t look so shocked,” he said softly. “Your letters have been full of her for ages. I kept expecting to hear that you’d proposed to her, but you never did, and I could not understand why when you’re so obviously well suited.”
“She was—is—a good deal younger than me, John,” Sorin explained uncomfortably. “I was away at Eton when she was born, but I’ve known her since she was in pinafores. I practically helped Charles and Rowena raise her. I’m sure you can see the complications, both with her and with her family.”
The other man brushed the excuses aside with a wave. “None of that will matter if you truly love each other. She’s grown now, after all.” He peered at Sorin, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?”
“No.” At least he didn’t believe so. “And before you say anything, I cannot just tell her without risking a great deal of upheaval. I must be sure of her feelings first.”
John looked thoughtful for a long moment. “You know, I think this Eleanor of yours was the saving of you. After Jane’s death, you needed something to concentrate on other than your grief, someone to look after. Your Eleanor filled the hole Jane left behind.”
Sorin’s heart clenched. “I suppose she did, in a way. You know, after a few years I tried looking for someone else, someone like your sister. But Jane was one of a kind.” He laughed to himself. “As is Eleanor. To find myself attracted to her was confounding, to say the least. She and Jane are so different in temperament that I never would have thought…”
John’s smile was gentle and a little sad. “Maybe that’s no bad thing. I would not dwell too hard upon it. Just accept the fact that she’s what you need now, and don’t let her slip away.”
He didn’t intend to. “I’m planning to remain close to her throughout the Season. I’ll know which direction to take soon enough.” He hoped.
“There is only one direction that will lead to happiness for you. Don’t be foolish enough to take any other. Tell her.”
“I will, when the time is right.” If indeed that time ever came.
“Love makes fools of us all.” John shook his head and took another swallow.
He could only laugh in rueful agreement as the barkeep refilled their glasses.
“You won’t ask me, proud ass that you are,” said John, taking out his pipe and knocking out the dottle. “But I’ll do it anyway because it’ll give you peace. I’ll have a man posted to watch her house. If your fellow so much as twitches his nose at her, we’ll know about it. And if he?
?s into anything that a gentleman ought not to be into, I’ll have it.”
“John, I don’t know how to thank you,” Sorin replied, both grateful and relieved.
The other man paused in the process of refilling his pipe and winked at him. “You’ll be thanking me aplenty when the bill hits your purse.”
“I meant personally. You’re a good man, John. And a damned good friend.”
“That’s the only kind to have,” said his friend with aplomb. He laughed. “I’d never have thought love would bring you to my door again. But I’m glad it did. Here’s to love and to the saving of us poor fools who fall into it.”
As they again lifted their glasses, Sorin thought to himself that John was right, more right than he knew. From the moment he’d met her, Eleanor had been, and continued to be, the saving of him.
Chapter Thirteen
Eleanor luxuriated in layers of muslin so fine they were nearly transparent, the outermost sprigged with delicately embroidered violets. If one couldn’t wear silk, then this was surely the next best thing. An exquisite gold chain bearing a single pearl set in a circle of amethysts graced her throat, and tiny matching earrings dangled from her lobes. Her hair was braided in a high coronet with a few artful curls left loose here and there. It was a shame to cover such a masterpiece, but she couldn’t run around London with a bare head. Carefully, so as not to disturb the arrangement too much, she put on her bonnet and arranged the bow charmingly off-center beneath her left jaw.
