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Nathan shrugged. He was looking more like his old self the more Marco worked his magic. It felt strange not having the hair thick and heavy on his head.
“I’ve found something that I’m good at, Simon. People respect me for my hard work and not because of a title. I worked to where I am through my own merit. Nobody else’s involvement. And there’s no need to follow society’s unwritten protocol.” Nathan shuddered. “No warding off girls who think they’re going to be your wife.”
“I thought you liked the ladies.”
“I do, but I hate being seen as a piece of meat everyone wants because of the title.”
Simon burst out laughing. “You, Nathan Reynolds, are a strange man.”
“What’s that saying about you?”
Simon shrugged, but there was a slight strain in his smile. Nathan knew his friend was thinking about his wife. Stella had captured Simon’s attention the first moment he saw her. They were nineteen, Stella was eighteen and starting her first season. Simon had been shy about approaching her, but Nathan had organized it and it became clear that Stella loved Simon as much as he loved her. They had enjoyed three years of happy marriage before Stella died after falling off her horse. Simon had been devastated. Now he kept women at arm’s length. In his mind, no one could match Stella.
Nathan could understand. He wished he could find someone like Simon had found Stella. That might have made his first season a little more bearable. Then again, the girl he fell for would have to deal with Lorraine Brooks. That woman had been determined to have Nathan for herself to the point other women gave him a wide berth. How was he supposed to find someone to be his wife when the one woman who was not appropriate wouldn’t let him be?
Going into the army was the best thing for him. And Nathan didn’t have regrets.
Well, not many anyway.
* * *
Eleanor woke early, as she was prone to do. Even with the little sleep she had gotten, her body naturally had her rising shortly after the sun came up. It was a force of habit that Eleanor couldn’t shake, which was irritating, as Eleanor was still exhausted. It had gone past midnight when she finally crawled into bed, and sleep had been a struggle to grab and hold onto. Now, she wanted to go back to sleep.
Maybe later. Treat yourself to a nap once you’ve done all your chores.
All her chores? It would be well into the evening before she finished those. Eleanor knew she was going to be busy today.
It didn’t help that she was worrying. Worrying about Clarice Newton. While she had been able to assure Sister Cecilia that Clarice would come back, Eleanor wasn’t so sure. Clarice was a troubled child. She had been raised with a family who had been relatively wealthy, and Clarice had grown up with things given to her without her needing to earn it except looking pretty. But then her parents had both died and the rest of her family didn’t want anything to do with her. Eleanor had been shocked at how quickly her grandparents, aunts and uncles, disappeared into thin air when looking around for someone to take her in. Apparently, they either didn’t love Clarice enough or knew how much trouble she was.
Eleanor was betting on the latter. As soon as Clarice came to the orphanage, she had been nothing but trouble. All the children mucked in with chores and their lessons, the nuns working hard to educate the orphans as well as teaching them responsibility and skills needed once they were old enough to leave and get a profession. Clarice just refused to do any of it. She was a very bright girl, and Eleanor knew she could easily do all her schoolwork, but Clarice outright refused. She complained about anything and everything, that she wanted her old tutor to teach her, she wanted to go out and play the piano, she wasn’t going to do her chores as that was something servants did. The girl expected things to be given to her and didn’t understand the concept of earning what she wanted.
Eleanor had met spoiled brats before, but she had never met anyone like Clarice. It gave her a headache. If Clarice had any chance of getting by in life, it faded the more she fought back. It was a shame, too; Clarice’s family’s position meant she could be a member of society and have her first season once she turned eighteen. But if she didn’t have anyone to sponsor her and introduce her to people, that wasn’t going to happen. With her behaviour, Clarice was looking more like she was going to become a servant than a young noblewoman.
It was sad to see a young woman throwing away her privilege and knowing she wasn’t going to realize it until she turned eighteen. Eleanor wished Clarice could get a kick up the backside and know that she was going to be kept at the bottom if she carried on this way. Hopefully this running away would help her discover her way and she would come back prepared to change her ways.
Sure. And hope springs eternal.
Eleanor washed, dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. Once her belly was filled, she began to get on with her household chores. With the limited amount of servants, they had now, Eleanor had to chip in as much as she could. She didn’t mind at all, but she wished they weren’t in this situation because of her father’s gambling and drinking. He just couldn’t keep away from the cards. When he was drinking, he played cards even more.
She knew he had gone out the night before, when he had promised not to go anywhere. Parsons had needed to unlock the door to let Eleanor in and he had said that Edward Heavenly had gone up to his room. But an hour later, as Eleanor was lying in bed trying to sleep, she heard her father banging on the front door. He had gone out without Parsons noticing, and he was very drunk, singing loudly as Parsons helped him up to his room.
Eleanor couldn’t believe her father had lied to her. Again. She wanted to trust him, but it was getting harder to do so. Making him stay sober and at home wasn’t working.
Parsons had been understandably upset when Eleanor had found him shortly after breakfast. He promised that he had never let her father out. They did find out how the Baron had managed to get out of the house, so that did make Parsons feel a little better.
It was midday and Cook was making lunch when Eleanor heard someone thumping down the stairs. Her father had finally risen, and he was surely going to have a headache. Eleanor was going to make sure of that after she had finished shouting at him.
She had trusted him, and he had broken that trust. Edward Heavenly was going to have to face the wrath of his daughter.
Eleanor found her father in his study, slumped in a chair by the window, the broken window he had climbed out of. Edward Heavenly was practically curled up in his chair, a hand over his eyes. Eleanor slammed shut the study door, making Edward Heavenly jump with a loud moan.
“What? Who’s that?”
“It’s me, Father.”
“Eleanor?” Edward Heavenly growled. “Can’t you shut the door a little more quietly? I’ve got such a headache.”
“Apologies, Father.” Eleanor didn’t feel apologetic at all as she crossed the room. “What time did you get in last night?”
