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‘Goodnight, Theophilus,’ she said, suddenly grinning at him. ‘I had better learn to address my betrothed with suitable deference.’ She was through the door before he could respond, although he thought he could hear her chuckle, floating behind her on the air.
Coming down to breakfast required a considerable amount of courage. The flash of amusement that had made her tease Theo evaporated as soon as she was alone in her room, leaving Elinor to toss and turn all night, alternately turning hot and cold with embarrassment.
It had never, ever, occurred to her that she might find herself compromised. Before Theo, men had not wanted to be alone with her for any other reason than to prose on about their translation from the Greek, to argue with her about Mama’s latest controversial paper or occasionally to tell her at great length how miserable they were because their suit of some lady was not prospering.
Now—post-Theo—she did at least have the confidence that she looked well enough, and he had seemed to enjoy kissing her. But that they might find themselves caught, apparently locked in a passionate embrace…Every time her churning imagination presented her with the image of how they must have looked, she curled up tighter in bed and buried her head further into the pillows.
For some reason their exposure that night in a sham, and relatively mild, situation, was worrying her far more than the risk they had run kissing passionately—and very genuinely—in the study when they had been so nearly caught.
At this point Elinor
got out of bed and began to prowl up and down, unable to lie still any longer. Her feelings in the study had been fuelled by ignorance, and the disorientation caused by the havoc Theo had wrought on her body and her emotions. This time they had been caught, and the appearance was everything. And it had just been appearance. He had been pretending; yet for her, even in the middle of that confusion and embarrassment, she had revelled in the feel of his hard body, his quick thinking, the instinctive way he had shielded her.
If Mama had insisted he marry her! She tried to imagine being married to someone she loved and who did not want to be married to her. It was too ghastly to contemplate. Ruin was infinitely preferable—after all, how much worse off would she be in disgrace than she had been before she bumped into Theo in the basilica?
Pride made her pinch her cheeks when she looked in the mirror in the morning and she sent Jeanie off to find rice powder to cover the shadows under her eyes. It was hard to find a manner pitched between shamefaced and brazen when she found the entire party gathered in the breakfast parlour, all apparently determined to make their meal last as long as possible in the hope that the errant couple would make an appearance together.
Theo, deep in conversation with Sir Ian on the subject of horses, got to his feet when she entered, walked to her side and kissed her cheek. ‘Courage,’ he whispered before turning and leading her to the chair beside his. ‘Good morning, Elinor.’
Laure and Antoinette were staring. Elinor smiled warmly at them, making both drop their eyes to their plates in confusion, then extended the smile to take in the rest of the table. ‘I am so sorry we disturbed you all last night, but I know you will all be happy for us—we are betrothed.’
That at least had the effect of taking the wind out of their sails. If they thought she was going to creep around, blushing and humiliated, they had another think coming. Elinor gazed up at Theo and tried to look like a woman in love. It was apparently more convincing than she expected. Lady Tracey gave a sentimental sigh, Mademoiselle Julie looked pleased—presumably because she would no longer take any notice of Leon—and even the countess’s severe expression softened somewhat.
‘When do you intend to wed?’ Monsieur Castelnau enquired.
‘We have not decided—’ Elinor began, but Theo cut in smoothly.
‘It will be a while. Naturally we want my father, the Bishop of Wessex, to marry us and I would hope our cousin the duke will be able to attend, although he rarely travels south. And her Serene Highness, the Grand Duchess of Maubourg, who has recently joined our family, is naturally subject to many commitments.’
‘A large Society wedding, then?’ Sir Ian asked.
‘Huge,’ Theo said expansively, warming to his theme. Elinor sat quietly eating while he talked. If anyone there had not fully comprehended just who Theo was, and how well he was connected, they knew now. And, as his cousin, they must realise this applied equally to her. He was taking out insurance, she realised, making it very clear that anyone who harmed or insulted them would have the entire Ravenhurst clan to deal with.
She allowed herself to fall into a daydream of walking down the aisle of the cathedral on Theo’s arm, as his wife. The organ would be filling the space with joyful sound, the entire family would be beaming, she would be looking beautiful in cream silk with almond trimmings. The scene ground to a shuddering halt at this point, as though the actors had been turned to stone. She was never going to make a fairytale bride, the bishop would never agree to marry them, the family would be aghast at Theo making such a poor match as a spinster bluestocking. And, above all, Theo did not want to marry her anyway and this was all pretence.
To her horror, tears began to well up in her eyes. ‘Oh. Oh, forgive me, I feel a little—’ She bolted from the room, hearing Ana’s voice, rich with mock concern, just as the door closed behind her.
‘I do hope she is not feeling sick.’
Oh my God, she means morning sickness. Elinor found herself in the inner courtyard and sat down, trembling. Well, they’ll see, I’ll be fine every morning after this.
‘Elinor?’ It was Theo. ‘What is it? You were doing so well.’ He sat down and took her hand. The warm, familiar grasp made the tears gather again and she jerked it away, furious with herself.
‘Have you got a handkerchief?’ Wordlessly Theo produced a large white square and she blew her nose.
‘I am just tired and I do not feel very…very…’ She ran out of inspiration and sat twisting the linen between her hands, forbidding herself to produce one more sniffle.
‘Oh, that,’ Theo said calmly. ‘I’ve got sisters, I’m quite used to regular, um, moods.’
He thought she was having her courses! Elinor was not sure whether to simply melt into the ground with embarrassment or seize thankfully on the excuse for her loss of control. Theo seemed to be taking it in his stride, so she decided to simply ignore the whole thing. She blew her nose again, conscious that it had probably turned pink, and folded the handkerchief away. ‘What are you going to do today? We cannot search during daylight hours.’
‘I was going to take advantage of the count’s invitation to browse in his library. There probably isn’t anything there, or he wouldn’t be so open about it, but there might be some volumes of value I might be able to persuade him to sell.’
‘Can you afford it?’ Elinor asked. ‘If you have to repay Lord X, that will be very expensive won’t it?’
‘Very,’ he agreed grimly. ‘I won’t be able to afford a wife, I’m afraid.’
He was joking, of course, despite his very straight face. ‘Well, that will give us a good excuse to break it off,’ she said. ‘I don’t wish to figure as a jilt—not that anyone would believe I would be so foolish.’
