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Tucking a small posy of freshly picked violets into the pale green sash tied beneath her breasts, she spun before the mirror, watching the diaphanous material bell out ever so slightly. When the weather warmed a bit, she’d dispense with most of the underlying petticoats. The walking dress would have a much slimmer silhouette with only a single opaque underskirt, and it would also be far more daring. Too bad this was an afternoon outing rather than an evening affair, for then she’d be able to leave off the fichu that covered her to the collarbone.
Still, the gown was quite flattering and therefore absolutely acceptable for her outing with Sorin. And Rowena, she reminded herself, trying not to resent the fact. It was only proper, after all. No matter how close Sorin was to her family, he was still unmarried.
But not for long…
Her stomach trembled at the thought of what she was about to attempt. Nerves. Never had she thought to suffer from them. But she seemed to be all nerves when it came to anything having to do with Sorin these days.
Relax. She made herself take a deep breath. He has stated his intent to select a wife. Why not me? We already know each other, after all.
But her unrelenting conscience refused to leave it alone. What if true love was waiting for him out there? What if through her machinations she prevented his finding it? She would rob him of the greatest happiness anyone could hope for on this earth.
Then again, there were entire books of prose expounding on the cruel nature of romantic love. Many considered it a curse. Better to marry a friend who will never subject him to such ill treatment.
Satisfied, she patted down a stray hair and smoothed it into place. But as she stared back at her reflection in the mirror, the pessimistic little voice again intruded: But what if I win his heart and hand only to make him unhappy in the end, despite all efforts?
The knock on her door made her jump.
“The Spencer, Fran! Quickly,” she urged her maid, pointing. “And the shawl. The shawl—over there!” The weather had improved significantly, but it was still nippy in the shade. Fran rushed to fetch the short jacket and hold it out for her. Eleanor’s fingers shook too badly to negotiate the frogs. Finally, she gave up and let her maid do them up for her. Throwing the thick cashmere over her arm and grabbing her gloves and reticule, Eleanor darted from the room. Hearing voices below as she neared the stairs, she slowed to a more dignified pace.
Sorin stood at the bottom, his smile gratifyingly appreciative as she descended. “How lovely you look today, Ellie.”
Warmth suffused her from the inside out, and her lips began to tingle. The sensation spread, until her whole body felt alive and awake as never before. How peculiar? Was this heightened self-awareness due to the fact that she now regarded him as the potential companion of her life? Had she considered another, would it have been the same?
“Lady Ashford has already gone out to the carriage,” he continued. “Shall we?”
Taking his arm, she walked out with her head high and her spirits light. Happiness swelled within her. Nothing could possibly ruin this day! Had there been a torrential downpour awaiting her outside, still she would have been elated. “I’m so pleased that you asked me to help you,” she told him quietly as they approached the carriage. “Truly, it was an unexpected honor. I only hope my selection is to your mother’s taste.”
“I would not worry overmuch,” he replied, giving her hand a pat. “Having spent five days with her in close quarters, you’ll likely know what pleases her better than I. After all, ladies will often reveal to others of their own sex things they won’t discuss with menfolk. Whatever you select will be perfect, I’m sure. In any case, I trust your judgment.”
The compliment and his lingering gaze sent a pleasant shiver of delight up her spine. He entered the carriage before her and then extended a hand to help her up before taking a seat opposite Rowena, who was already present.
“How pretty you look,” said Rowena with a smile as she sat down beside her. “Did I not tell you this new style would be fetching?” She turned to Sorin. “She hardly allowed me to have her fitted for it. I’m afraid our Eleanor is slow to approve of change.”
The butterflies in Eleanor’s stomach began to flutter anew. “I won’t disagree with you, but I will own that once I find something that pleases me, I keep it close to my heart and greatly dislike parting with it.” Plucking up her courage, she looked directly at Sorin. “Having said so, I’ll also admit that change can be good—when it is the right sort of change.”
His eyes widened a fraction just before he quickly looked away out of the window, and panic tightened her midsection. Had she gone too far? Oh, sweet Lord! “Rather than making me sound so set in my ways,” she hurried on, “let us instead say that I am not overly fond of changes that come with undue haste.” Damn, but that came out wrong! “Prudence never did a lady any harm,” she added lamely.
“How…interesting,” said Rowena, her brows rising. “I think you are finally growing up, Eleanor.”
Eleanor cringed. Rowena hadn’t meant to sound so patronizing, she was sure. She flinched a little as the older woman laid a gentle hand on her arm.
“You’ve matured into a fine young woman,” said Rowena. “Your mother would be quite proud of you, as am I.”
A sudden sting of tears threatened to ruin Eleanor’s composure. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Indeed she would,” added Sorin softly, looking at her with an expression of tender approval.
But was it the approval of a mentor who’d once scolded her to act like a lady or the approval of a man who thought her worthy of bearing his name and children? The world around her faded as she stared into his eyes, becoming lost in the slow, rhythmic thunder of her own heartbeat.
The air in the carriage fairly crackled.
“I think I shall buy a new timepiece for Charles while we are at Rundell & Bridge’s,” said Rowena, breaking the spell. “I noticed his has become a bit worn.”
The world returned with a crash and Eleanor looked away, mortified. Good heavens, what must he think of her, staring at him like any bold miss on the street? “I think my cousin would like that very much,” she said quickly, focusing on Rowena. “But nothing too fancy, I should think. He always complains that his father’s watch is too ornate.”
“True enough. Most men do seem to prefer things that are direct and uncomplicated,” answered Rowena.
Knots began to form in Eleanor’s gut. Oh, no. No, no, no… Had Rowena seen her staring at Sorin? Was her
