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“Ellie,” gasped Rowena. “You never told us he assaulted your person. You said he accidentally stepped on your hem and caused you to fall.”
“He did,” she finally replied. He had, only it had been quite deliberate. He’d stamped down on it with his heel, tearing the bottom and bringing her crashing to the ground like a felled tree. “And I did fall. He reached down to help me up, and before I knew what he was about or could stop him, he kissed me. I can only surmise that he must have been overcome by ardent emotion.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. He’d been overcome with lust and had fallen on her like a ravening beast. She’d barely been able to fend him off and get away.
“Merciful God, Ellie,” whispered Rowena, her face white. “Why did you not tell us?”
“Because there was no need,” she answered, trying to ignore a pang of guilt. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone, ever, for fear of being labeled “compromised” and ending up forever bound to the miserable barbarian. Reverend indeed! Lecherous brute was more like it. At least she was safe now, for he’d since gotten married. “I can assure you he regained his senses very quickly and that the matter was resolved.”
“Is that what happened to his eye?” asked Charles, his own narrowing. “I knew something was wrong when you came back so quickly. When we all returned to the house, the good reverend’s eye was blacked,” he explained to his wife. “He claimed it was the fault of the tree, but I now suspect otherwise.”
All eyes turned to Eleanor. “I’m sure I don’t remember all of the details. It was almost a year ago, after all.” A weak excuse, but better than none.
“Yes, practically an eternity,” her cousin drawled.
“Eleanor, tell me you did not actually strike him?” asked Caroline, her mouth forming a perfect little “o” of shock when she failed to reply.
“I suspect she did, and quite roundly,” Charles answered for her, his eyes twinkling. “His eye was swollen completely shut. Never have I seen a man’s face look so battered, save after a jolly good brawl. She had to have hit him square on and hard.”
“Indeed?” murmured Sorin, still staring at her.
“Most ladies would have simply called out for help,” said Rowena sternly. “I consider it very fortunate that he did not return the blow, as some men might.”
Charles’s face darkened. “There would have been a calling out and sure, had he laid a violent hand on her.”
“I, for one, am glad she was able to defend herself,” said Sorin, shooting her a quick conspirator’s smile.
Eleanor returned it. After all, hadn’t he been the one to teach her how to curl her fingers into a proper fist? It was one of the few times he’d ever condoned unladylike behavior.
“Still,” continued Charles, a frown marring his normally good-natured face, “Rowena is right. You should have told us of his presumption at once so that I might have addressed the matter properly on your behalf, as is my duty. I am most distressed that you did not come to me.”
She bowed her head meekly. “I did not wish to burden you with so trivial a matter when you were already so worried. Rowena was indisposed, if you remember, which—”
“I’d just learned that I was enceinte,” interrupted Rowena softly, smiling at her husband. “Remember?”
The look he shot her was one of pure adoration. “I do indeed.”
“Which was why you escorted me to that particular party,” finished Eleanor. “Regarding the reverend, the matter is now moot. The gentleman has married.”
Charles settled back in his chair. “Married or not, if the blackguard should attempt to make a nuisance of himself again, you must promise to tell me at once.”
“Yes, of course.” The promise was completely unnecessary. The reverend had not so much as looked at her since the incident.
“Goodness me, Eleanor,” said Caroline with a weak laugh. “I’ve known you for many years, yet I should never have imagined you so bold as to strike a man with a closed hand.”
“Yes, well, I suspect the injury to the good reverend’s pride was far worse than the one to his eye,” Eleanor mumbled, hoping she would drop it and move to a different topic. No such luck.
“Had I been in your place, I would not have known what to do,” breathed Caroline, her eyes wide. “I should have likely fainted, or at best screamed in the hope that some brave soul might come to my rescue.” She cast a smoldering look at Sorin.
But to Eleanor’s delight, Sorin wasn’t looking at Caroline. “For my part, I’m very glad your courage did not fail you,” he said, the warmth in his eyes reaching down into her. “I am appalled that a man charged with acting as a shepherd would be so sorely lacking in self-control. I believe you did his flock a great service by teaching him the error of his ways. One can but hope the lesson was henceforth reflected in his conduct and not merely in his sermons.”
Though his tone was dour, the twinkle in his eye instantly restored her spirits. She had no doubt whatsoever that he, too, was remembering his clandestine instruction on proper punching technique. She smiled at him fondly. “One can but hope.”
Damn me for a thrice-blind fool. Sorin tried—and failed—to look away, to ignore the pull of that smile. He reminded himself that the tenderness in her eyes was at best nothing more than sisterly affection. Charles cleared his throat, and he realized he’d been staring and that an awkward silence had fallen. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, he stood. “By George, it’s very nearly noon. I’m afraid I’ve lingered here far too long.”
“You’re leaving?” blurted Eleanor, half rising from her seat. Almost at once, she sank back down, a faint blush beginning to stain her cheeks. “My apologies, I meant no imposition. It’s just that we’ve been so long deprived of your company,” she amended lamely.
His heart leaped at the knowledge that she had missed him, but it was too late to change his mind now. “I regret having to depart as well, but I must return. I promised Mother that I would go over the accounts with her today.”
“Of course,” agreed Charles, standing. He, too, appeared crestfallen. With visible effort, however, he brightened. “And there’ll be plenty of opportunities to visit now that you’re back to stay. You are of course welcome here at Holbrook any time—no invitation necessary, just as before.”
