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Eleanor’s temples had begun to throb. She didn’t want to confront him, but she didn’t seem to have much choice. “I’ll think on it,” she promised. Putting down the post she’d been crumpling, she eyed her friend. “Speaking of confrontations, you’ve been very quiet of late. Still determined to avoid him?”
“I’m determined not to make a fool of myself,” replied Caroline coolly. “I’ve wounded him. If I try to recant now, he will only reject me. Again.” Her shoulders slumped. “I have no desire to be publicly humiliated. Neither do I wish to cause him further pain.”
“Why not let Lord Wincanton speak with him and ascertain his mood? He might have had a change of—”
“No! He must not interfere. Marston would be ashamed to learn that others are aware of what occurred between us. Let the matter remain private, I beg you.”
Though she had deep misgivings, Eleanor nodded. Excusing herself, she went downstairs. As she neared the family sitting room, she heard Rowena speaking and paused a moment to listen.
“I cannot help but suspect that this sudden illness was a sham,” she heard Rowena say. “I’m certain something happened between them but what, exactly, I know not. Thus far there have been no rumors but even if nothing surfaces, I still—”
“Let it be,” interrupted Charles. “Whatever happened, it appears to have been kept private or we would have heard something by now. We ought to be grateful the girl seems to have finally learned her lesson without causing permanent damage to her reputation.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Rowena again spoke. “Charles…there is something else I wish to speak with you about.”
Eleanor waited, barely breathing.
“What is it, my sweet?”
The concern in his voice as well as his use of the pet name made Eleanor smile.
“I’m with child again,” came Rowena’s soft reply.
A soft exclamation erupted from Charles. “You are certain?” he asked in a quavering voice.
“I am. I saw Doctor Harper yesterday and confirmed it. Provided all goes well, our next child should be born in late autumn.” Her words were followed by the sound of someone rising in haste, no doubt to embrace the bearer of such good news.
Reluctant to intrude on such a private moment, Eleanor retreated. Later that night, she found her thoughts returning to that moment. All day long, there had been a quiet feeling of joy throughout the house. The servants knew, and word was no doubt spreading across London even now. While she was pleased for Charles and Rowena, she couldn’t help feeling lonely.
I’ll never experience that sort of happiness…
She was not the only one suffering. Though Caroline had also offered them both heartfelt congratulations, Eleanor had caught a look of profound sadness in her eyes as she’d turned away. She said nothing, however, for fear of making her friend feel even worse.
As she lay abed listening to the rain against the window panes, Eleanor’s thoughts turned to Sorin. Things had improved since the night they’d brought Caroline home, and she lived in terror of saying the wrong thing, of ruining the growing warmth between them. Despite her earlier resolve to become a spinster, she’d again begun to hope to change his view of her. Rowena had dismissed Jane’s example, but Eleanor wasn’t so sure Sorin desired something different.
I have to try. If Jane pleased him by being demure and proper, so can I.
But in her secret, innermost thoughts, she longed to please him in other ways—ways no proper lady would even imagine, much less act upon. Things she wouldn’t have any knowledge of if it weren’t for Caroline sharing certain scandalous conversations she’d overheard between her married sisters. Things that made her feel hot and uncomfortable to think about now. If Sorin knew she was having such thoughts about him he would be shocked. Maybe even appalled.
He would certainly think her far too wicked to consider for a wife.
Lightning flickered, causing shadows to leap and dance throughout the room. An earth-shaking rumble of thunder followed an instant later, and the rain began to lash the windows in earnest. A painful sob heaved its way up from her chest, and tears streamed from her eyes as if mirroring the torrent outside. All the frustration and fear she’d been holding in for so long, she now released. No one would hear. No one would know.
“Eleanor?”
Eleanor leaped from the bed with a squeak of fright, her heart pounding. “Sweet Lord above!” she gasped, trying surreptitiously to wipe her eyes. “Caroline, what in heaven’s name are you doing up and about at this hour?” Despite the rug, the floor was frigid. She eased herself back onto the bed and tucked her feet beneath the covers.
“I’m sorry,” said her friend, coming into the room fully. “I did not mean to frighten you. I came because I could not sleep.”
“Marston?”
“Yes. But that is nothing new.” She joined Eleanor on the bed. “You, however, have been crying. Are you still upset about Yarborough?”
Though her conscience pricked her, she couldn’t tell Caroline the truth. Better for her to believe she already knew the answer. “He and his horrid mother have all but ruined London for me this year. My only consolation is that he will soon have no choice but to pursue someone else. After all, he must marry by the end of the Season, and he’s already wasted so much time chasing after me—or rather, my inheritance.” She sat up, gladly turning her mind from her misery. “In fact, I think I’ll put it to him in just those words.”
“Then you will speak with him?”
She nodded. “At the Cleveland ball. I just have to figure out a way to do it without causing a scene.”
