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“And then there is Eleanor herself to consider,” she went on. “She is not so practiced at concealing her heart. If she falls in love with you, Charles will see it. There, I think, lies the solution to your dilemma. And there is where I can help you,” she said, holding up a hand to forestall the objections piling up behind his teeth. “I’ll create opportunities for you to spend time with her, and I’ll keep Charles’s attention focused elsewhere. Our having agreed to host Caroline for the Season should be enough to occupy his mind,” she said darkly. “But I advise you not to take too long in finding out what you need to know.”
“Thank you,” he said simply. “Your trust means more to me than I can say.”
Her expression again turned arch. “Oh, I fully expect to be rewarded for my trust in the form of a ring on Eleanor’s finger. Yours.”
“If it is within the realm of possibility, I shall,” he promised. At that moment, Eleanor reappeared and began making her way toward them. There was little time. “To begin, I would like to escort her to the Blessington ball. If arrangements have not already been made, that is,” he added quickly, letting her know with a jerk of his chin that they wouldn’t be alone for much longer.
“We would be delighted if you would join us,” she replied with a bright smile.
“Join us for what?” asked Eleanor as Sorin stood to greet her.
“Lord Wincanton has agreed to accompany us to the Blessington ball,” said Rowena.
Eleanor’s eyes lit. “How wonderful! Will your mother join us as well?”
“I’m afraid she’s already accepted an invitation for another event that evening.” So had he, actually, thanks to her having answered affirmatively on his behalf. He would have to send his regrets, but as long as Mother attended they wouldn’t feel slighted. She wouldn’t mind making his excuses. After all, he was on the market now and must focus his attentions on bringing home a bride—Eleanor.
Chapter Fourteen
The sun shone bright and hot, making it the perfect day for a picnic. Eleanor was careful to keep her parasol positioned to prevent any light getting through. The Blessington ball was in just two days.
Never had she prepared so assiduously for an event in all her life, not even her debut. Lemon water had been daubed on her nightly to ensure her face and shoulders remained free of freckles. Milk baths had been taken. And she’d been careful to keep her bonnet on and her shoulders covered when in the sun. Every inch of skin from her fingertips to her hairline had been plied with lotions and creams in order to make it as soft as butter. She wasn’t about to spoil it all now.
Anything that smacked of childishness, whether in appearance or behavior, had to be avoided at all costs—and a freckled face screamed immaturity. Grown ladies did not expose their faces to the sun.
I’m an adult now, and I must look and act like one. It was vital that Sorin see her as his equal, his match, in every respect.
He’d gone to fetch her some lemonade, leaving her to wander along the banks of the pond and admire the swans as they made long vees on the water’s surface. He would be back at any moment, but for now she was free to let her mind wander. Edging beneath the shade of an obliging willow, she leaned back against its trunk, closing her parasol.
In just two days, she would don the rose gown, her new diamonds, and her most seductive smile. He would come and offer her his arm. They would appear together and be announced together. And then they would dance. Closing her eyes, she imagined herself in his arms, floating across the ballroom floor. He would look at her, and he would say—
“Lady Eleanor, how delighted I am to see you again.”
A little yelp of surprise burst from her as she jumped and turned to face the unwelcome intruder, her skin crawling with distaste. Fighting the urge to scowl at him, she affected a polite smile. “Good afternoon, Sir Yarborough.”
Coming closer, he made an elegant leg before her. “Surely you and I have known each other long enough for you to call me by my Christian name?”
“Oh, but I mustn’t,” she said, stepping away from the tree to give herself plenty of maneuvering room in case she needed to retreat in haste. “It would be highly improper of me, Sir Yarborough.”
His smile widened, and he took a step closer. “Since when have you ever worried about propriety?” he asked, reaching up to rub his jaw, a deliberate reminder.
Damn.
He laughed. “You needn’t scowl. I came not to stir up old grievances, but rather to let you know that I’ve missed your company. I can only assume that, like so many, you’ve found London’s distractions pleasant and absorbing.”
It was an unsubtle hint that she’d been ignoring the almost daily invitations he’d been sending. “Indeed,” she said brightly, snapping her parasol up and open, though there was no need. “I’ve been so very busy. In fact, this was the first time I’d been afforded a moment’s peace.” One unsubtle hint deserved another.
A crease marred the space between his brows, and he took another step closer. “Perhaps you should take some rest from this whirlwind of activity. I should dislike it very much if you were to fall ill from overexertion.”
She’d show him “overexertion” if he came any nearer! Her fingers gripped the ivory-headed handle of her parasol. “I can assure you, Sir Yarborough, that the state of my health is more than satisfactory.” Behind her back, she balled her other hand into a fist and braced herself. “One might even go so far as to say it is robust.”
“Indeed, quite so,” said another voice. It was Sorin. He parted the trailing willow branches and entered the shade bearing two cups. “She has practically run me to Bedlam these last few days. Ellie, your lemonade.”
She accepted the cup he proffered and took a grateful sip to hide a grin of pure glee. The look on Yarborough’s face was one of frustrated indecision. She understood his conundrum well enough. On the one hand, being considered a friend of the Earl of Wincanton would do him no harm socially. On the other, the illustrious Earl appeared to be blocking his efforts to woo the object of his desire—thanks be to heaven. One day, perhaps, she would find the opportunity to thank her rescuer properly. Or perhaps improperly…
“Lord Wincanton, a pleasure to see you again as well,” said Yarborough finally, though the words sounded empty. “I met Miss Caroline near the bowling lawn a short while ago. She told me she was looking for you.”
Sorin’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Yes, I know. I spoke with her just a moment ago.” He turned to face Eleanor fully, giving Yarborough his back and blocking the fellow’s view. “She was most troubled concerning a letter she received from her aunt regarding a young cousin.”
