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But if that was so, then why was he acting like this?
It took every ounce of self-discipline not to look at her. Sorin could feel the strain as every one of his nerves tugged in her direction. Doggedly, he instead kept his eyes fixed on her vapid little friend, refusing to give in.
He still couldn’t get over how much Eleanor had grown and matured. She’d taken the trouble to change her gown and looked radiant in pale yellow muslin. Like sunlight and daisies. How very like her to remember just how he liked his tea, too.
“We’ll be staying the whole Season this time,” Charles was saying.
“And we’ll have young Miss Caroline with us,” added Rowena. “When her parents informed us they would not be making the journey this year, Eleanor insisted we have her come and stay with us.”
Eleanor smiled sweetly. “London is always so much more fun when shared with a friend.”
He watched as she reached out to refill her cup from the pot. Though her neckline was perfectly modest and her bosom entirely covered with a fichu, the material pulled tightly across the swells beneath it. The temperature in the room went up a bit. He had to get out of here, and soon. Before Charles invited him to stay another bloody night. Before his traitorous desires and emotions could give themselves away through some stray word or misdeed.
Eleanor was speaking again to her friend, “I dread to think of some handsome swain wooing you away and depriving me of your company. But though I lose you to your groom, I wish you good fortune in the hunt.”
“As do I,” said Rowena.
“Indeed, I wish you the best of luck,” added Charles with a chuckle. “After all, the whole purpose of the thing is for the unwed to find a ring.” Though the rhyme was spoken with humor, the look he directed at Eleanor was pointed.
“Not all unwed ladies go to London with that singular purpose, Charles,” she replied calmly, taking a sip of her tea. “I certainly shan’t.”
“Why not?” Sorin blurted before thinking it through.
“Why should I?” Her tone was light. “Thanks to Papa, I have wealth enough of my own to live comfortably for the rest of my life, provided I manage it well.”
In for a penny… “You mean not to marry?”
Her shoulders lifted in an elegant shrug. “Well, I suppose if I should happen to meet someone who makes me completely happy, I might feel inclined toward matrimony.” She sighed. “But I think it highly unlikely that I shall ever find such a person. I may be young, but I’m woefully set in my ways, as my dear cousin will be quick to tell you. Besides which, the company I most enjoy is already right here.”
“But what of children?” asked Caroline, seemingly as shocked as he was to hear her announcement.
“Oh, well. I suppose I should like to have children someday,” she replied. “But not at the expense of being bound to someone with whom I cannot truly be happy. No. I would rather remain unencumbered than compromise my joy.” A beatific smile curved her lips. “Besides, what need have I that cannot be fulfilled through such friendships as I already possess?”
An awkward silence fell, and Sorin barely refrained from snorting aloud into it. What need, indeed? Wicked thoughts on that subject ran amok, and it was all he could do to keep the chief—and highly inappropriate—answer behind his teeth.
“Surely your heart longs for something deeper and more meaningful?” asked Caroline, oblivious to the barely audible sigh of relief from the men in the room.
The girl had taken the words right out of his mouth, for which he was grateful—until he noticed she was looking at him rather than at Eleanor, and with far too keen an interest.
“Not at all,” said Eleanor, smiling. “I’m quite content with my life just as it is, I assure you. All the longings of my heart are met.”
Such blithe words from one so clearly inexperienced! A hair’s breadth away from bursting into laughter, he sought to cover his amusement by taking a sip of tea. Above the rim of the cup, he watched Rowena level a quelling stare at Charles, who looked near to asphyxiation.
“And what of you, Lord Wincanton?” asked Caroline, drawing his gaze. “What are your views on the institution of marriage?”
A mouthful of tea went down the wrong pipe. Fighting the urge to cough, he took another sip and carefully cleared his throat. “Me? Ah, well. I suppose I shall be obliged to marry, naturally. Eventually,” he amended as the girl’s eyes took on a distressingly hungry gleam. He looked at Eleanor and saw her lips quirk just as she ducked her head over her teacup. The little imp was laughing! Well, it took two to waltz. “Unlike some, I have not the option of remaining unencumbered. I have a duty to my family—one with demands that, unfortunately, cannot be fulfilled by mere friendship.”
Charles’s brows collided, and Sorin realized he’d alluded to a bit more than was appropriate for present company. The conversation needed to move forward and quickly. He glanced at Eleanor, but then immediately swung his gaze toward Caroline, feeling as though he were navigating a battlefield. “I was engaged once. But she was taken from me only weeks before we were to marry.”
Jane. She’d been killed in a riding accident during a hunt almost ten years ago. The horse, a borrowed mount, had thrown her and then stepped on her, crushing her. As long as he lived, he would never be able to expunge the sight of the life ebbing from her blue eyes. It was his fault she’d died. He’d put her on the accursed beast, dismissing her reluctance and encouraging her to put aside her timidity and be more adventurous, to live more fully.
Never again.
“I’ve yet to find her equal,” he continued, shoving his guilt into a dark corner. It amazed him how such an old wound could still feel so raw. “And now, like Ellie, I’m woefully set in my ways. Yes. I’m afraid the lady I marry will have to be eligible for sainthood.”
Caroline’s hand flew to her bosom, and she leaned a little closer. “How can you say such a thing about yourself when you are the very soul of accommodation and kindness? Any lady would be honored to call you her own.”
Sorin felt the carved arm of the couch, an immovable barrier, dig into his ribs on the opposite side. She would be in his bloody lap in a moment. “So says a kind-hearted young lady of little experience with ill-tempered old men like myself.”
