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Rowena nodded and stood, straightening her skirts. “I’ll tell him.”
Eleanor closed her eyes. What a disaster. She’d wanted nothing more than to end this in a civilized manner, one that would—should—have allowed Yarborough to walk away with his pride and honor intact. If he’d had any to begin with, that is. If he didn’t cooperate…
“Shall I tell the kitchen to send up some breakfast?” asked Rowena.
The very mention of food brought on a wave of nausea. “Thank you, but no. Perhaps some tea, but nothing more—for now,” Eleanor amended with a smile, not wishing to upset her any more than she was already.
“I’ll have Charles inform Lord Marston and Sorin of your decision.” She shook her head. “Poor Sorin was beside himself last night. I know he’ll be especially relieved to learn you are well. You know for a moment, I thought that perhaps…”
Eleanor’s breath caught at the sight of the sad little smile hovering about Rowena’s mouth. “What? You thought what?” She twisted the coverlet in her hands.
“In all the many years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so furious,” said Rowena. “Charles had to physically prevent him leaving here last night once he was certain you were out of danger. Such was his anger over your ill treatment that we both feared he would seek out Yarborough and challenge him.” Her gaze pierced Eleanor. “You are very dear to him, you know.”
Tender pain blossomed in her heart. But not dear enough. She looked down and began smoothing out the wrinkles she’d put in the coverlet. “As he is to me.” It came out sounding rather strangled.
Several heartbeats passed in silence before Rowena spoke again. “I’ll see about having tea sent up for you.”
“Thank you.” Unwilling to raise her watering eyes, she waited until Rowena departed, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The knowledge that Sorin had been so angry on her behalf both pleased and frightened her. Guilt crept in alongside the fear. If she hadn’t been trying to make him jealous, this would never have happened. This was her fault for being fool enough to think herself safe with Yarborough under any circumstance. For pity’s sake, he’d drugged her in plain sight of everyone! Had he succeeded in his dreadful scheme, she would no doubt have awakened to the news of her upcoming nuptials.
If Marston hadn’t found her in time. If Sorin hadn’t secreted her away. If, if, if…
She had to see him. At once. If only to thank him and know in her heart that he wasn’t wroth with her. And she must write a letter expressing her gratitude to Lord Marston, as well. Scrambling out of bed, she rang for Fran. “Tell Lady Ashford I’ve changed my mind and will come down for breakfast. Tell her, and then come right back and help me dress. Hurry.”
Eleanor turned to her wardrobe, snatched out her new lavender walking gown, and threw it across the rumpled bed. As she pulled her nightdress off over her head, her thoughts returned to her scandalous dream. The curious floating sensations, the feelings of warmth and safety—and above all the memory of passionate kisses and touches shared with the man she loved.
Memory…
Memory?
Her hands froze in the act of pulling on a stocking. No. Not memory. Vision. Wild imagining. Dream. It was a dream. Only a dream. One by one, she tallied all the many reasons why he would never behave in such a manner, the final being that even if he did by some miracle secretly desire her, he was far too honorable a man to take advantage of her in her weakened state.
An irony-laden laugh forced its way up from the depths to choke her. No, the images in her mind were no more than a result of longing and lust mingled with whatever Yarborough had slipped into her glass. A mere dream.
But what a dream! Even now, her body still tingled.
Standing before the mirror in her stockings and shift, she let her hands trace the shape of her hips, moving up until they cupped her breasts. Her nipples, just visible beneath the near-transparent batiste, were dark, rosy shadows. She closed her eyes and stroked one, imitating the actions Sorin had taken in her erotic dream. Lightning pleasure shot straight down to her belly as the sensitive nub contracted, causing her to gasp.
It was the same feeling as in the dream, only far less intense. The juncture of her thighs pulsed with sudden heat, making her legs feel weak. Reaching beneath the hem of her shift with a trembling hand, she was shocked to find her secret flesh slick and burning as with a fever. An unbearable tension seemed to build within her at her own touch. What would happen if she were to stroke there as he had?
The doorknob rattled. With a tiny squeak of guilty fright, Eleanor leaped away from the mirror, snatched up her wrapper, and enfolded herself in it just as Fran entered.
“Lady Ashford says she’ll have Cook make you something fresh when you come down, my lady.” The maid came over to the bed to fetch the gown that had been carelessly tossed atop it. “She’s been so worried. Said nobody ought to ever eat meat that’s not served hot when away from home.”
Eleanor breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I can only agree and say that I will certainly never do so again.”
“Poor thing,” said Fran, looking at her with pity. “Oh, and she also said to tell you Lord Wincanton will be calling later today. Such a nice gentleman he is.”
“Yes, he is,” Eleanor said absently as Fran helped her don the gown. Would she be able to look him in the eye? Another fear clawed its way to the surface. What if it hadn’t all been a dream? It had certainly seemed very real. What if in her intoxicated state she had behaved inappropriately toward him? Her heart quailed.
“Eleanor?”
Turning, she saw Caroline peeking in from the doorway with eyes full of worry. “I’m perfectly fine,” she said at once, reaching out to embrace her friend as she entered.
“When I heard what happened, I—” Caroline drew back to search her face. “They told me you left the ball ill,” she breathed, one eye on Fran, who was just leaving. She waited until the door closed before continuing. “Lady Ashford asked Lady Heston if she would mind taking me home after the ball, so I knew nothing until after I arrived.” Her eyes narrowed in fury. “The beast ought to be hung!”
“I cannot say that I disagree with you,” Eleanor replied, grimacing. “But no matter how much I would love to see him brought to justice, we must avoid a scandal. I’m surprised Rowena told you what really happened.”
Caroline’s face flushed. “In truth, she did not. When I came in, I heard Lord Marston speaking to Lord Ashford and remained hidden so they would not see me. I know I ought not to have listened, but I could not help myself. I was completely horrified and so very angry for you! I had to wait until they moved on before I could go up to your room.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Lord Wincanton was here with you when I came in.”
