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Charlotte fixed her with a knowing look. “Need or want?”
“A little of both perhaps,” Eleanor admitted.
Her sisters had brought down criminals and discovered fraud all on their own. She could not deny the thought of solving this by herself appealed greatly.
Well, almost by herself. She had Oliver’s help she supposed but for how much longer? She’d already effectively told him they could no longer be seen together. She could not claim to know much about men but from her limited experience, most of them gave up quickly when it came to someone like her. She was not worth the effort and derision, she suspected.
“I shall do what I can and send word if I find out anything,” Charlotte promised. “But I would not hold out hope.”
“I know, and thank you.” Eleanor glanced over the row of perfectly round crumpets, able to feel the warmth still emanating from them. She nodded toward them. “Could I...?”
“Of course!” Charlotte swiftly wrapped two and handed them over.
The fragrance teased Eleanor’s nostrils and she all but groaned when she gripped the soft crumpets in her hand. She fished into her reticule and clasped two coins between her fingers.
Charlotte shook her head vigorously. “Oh no, don’t you dare.”
“Charlotte, you must!”
Folding her arms in response, her friend shook her head again. “Having the duke’s daughters as my most valued patrons is more than enough for me. Do you know how many people come through my doors purely because I serve your father’s house?”
“But—”
Charlotte put her hands to Eleanor’s shoulders, twisted her around, and shooed her toward the door. “No buts. I will not take your coin.”
“But Charlotte...”
“No.” Charlotte gave her one big shove out of the door. “I’ll be in touch,” she said with a grin before shutting the door firmly on Eleanor.
Chastity approached and lifted an eyebrow. “What was that about?”
“She refused to let me pay.” She lifted the crumpets.
“But of course.”
“Want one?” Eleanor offered a crumpet to Chasity.
Her sister grinned. “But of course!”
∞∞∞
“I’m going to become a recluse,” Oliver muttered.
Blake swung a look his way. “Pardon?”
“Not a thing.” Oliver pushed away from the drink’s cabinet on which he’d been leaning and took a long sip of lemonade. “At least the lemonade is pleasant here.”
“Damned right it is. What did you think? That my mother would let me serve sour lemonade?”
Oliver ignored his friend in favor of glancing at Eleanor for the hundredth time that afternoon. He really did need new friends. He’d known coming to the garden party at Blake’s house would ensure he ran into Eleanor, of course he did. In fact, he’d even looked forward to it. However, the blasted stubborn woman had been skirting his attention all afternoon, and he’d yet to snare a moment alone with her.
At the very least he wished to apologize for his mother’s behavior.
And then spend all afternoon with her.
He shook his head to himself. Becoming a recluse was the only way to save himself from this madness. Now how exactly did one extricate themselves from society?
“Speaking of bitter,” Blake said, glancing Oliver up and down.
