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Chapter 32
Eloise stood on her tiptoes as she tried to reach the highest shelf of the bookcase, dusting it aggressively. The maids stood aside, their mouths agape, but she didn’t care. It had been two days since the events with Simon had unfolded, and his words had branded themselves in her head, reminding her what a foolish, naïve girl she had been since her arrival at Richmond Castle.
After the scandal following her failed debut, Eloise had promised to never fall for such a ruse again, to never trust a rake. And even after Simon had made it clear their so-called relationship was nothing short of an ‘entertaining wager’ to him, she had fallen for his charms and into his clutches. And perhaps it would be the same with her mystery man. Even as Simon had offered her the list, she held no desire to take it anymore. Soon she would return back to her home and carry on her monotonous life, a wallflower to the ton.
“My Lady. We…uh…” a young maid started, breaking Eloise from her thoughts. “You’re still injured, you can’t…”
“I’m perfectly well,” Eloise said. She was feeling a little light-headed, and her wounds were still relatively fresh, but they paled in comparison to the wounds Simon had inflicted on her. Afraid of what her mind might wander to if she didn’t occupy herself, she stuck to the task at hand.
“My Lady, the doctor said that you need rest,” another maid put in.
“I appreciate your concern, ladies, but I would much prefer to be left alone.”
They both nodded, standing back and continuing to look on nervously. She must have looked insane as she scanned every inch of the library, dusting the highest spots and the neglected books. She hadn’t the chance to spend much time in the Castle’s library, so she might as well make her time worth it before she was to leave.
The all so familiar clattering of hail on the roof and the walls of the castle had ceased over the past day, and so the weather was looking quite better. The worst was over, and it would only be days before she could finally leave this abhorrent place and its equally abhorrent master behind.
Oh, who am I kidding. That’s not how I feel.
The door clicked open, two stubborn heels echoing through the room and inching closer toward her. It was Fenella.
“Lady Ellie,” she said, “I, uh, have some news for you.”
Eloise stopped whatever she was doing, placing the dusting cloth on top of an oak table and straightening her skirts. Whenever Fenella was being vague, it was never a good sign. ‘News’ could mean anything, from the happiest thought she could have to the most dismaying one.
“Someone is here to see you. They’re waiting at the drawing-room.”
And the way this was going, the second one seemed like a greater possibility.
“Oh, I see. My aunt and uncle must have finally arrived to take me…home,” Eloise said with a shudder. She removed the apron she was wearing, setting it to the side. “Please, do guide me to them.”
Fenella nodded, and Eloise followed swiftly behind as they exited the library and walked down the corridor. As they reached closer to the drawing-room, an unsettling feeling crept up in Eloise’s stomach. If it was indeed Uncle Marcus or Aunt Alexandra, why was Fenella being purposefully vague? Would they not have made their presence known?
Had someone else discovered her presence? If word got out that she was here, at the Castle, alone with Simon, her family’s reputation would be tarnished, and they would do everything to rid of her, even if it meant marrying her off to some no-good wretched lordling.
“Are you all right?” Fenella asked. “You look worried. Were you not expecting someone?”
“I am—was. I just don’t know who is here to see me—did you see who it was?”
“Yes, I did. It was a young lord. A very impatient one as well, said he required your immediate presence and ordered footmen around as if he was the master.”
“A young lord?” Eloise whimpered slightly as the only young lord she was more or less acquainted with was James.
Before Eloise had the chance to pry deeper, Fenella opened the door to the drawing-room, revealing the sight of, indeed, James, in all his noble grace. The ever-so-rare sun shined brightly behind him through a window, so the front of his body appeared as an opaque silhouette. And, by way of his posture, she already knew why he was here.
His arms extended in her direction, and he walked closer. His blue eyes were droopy and focused, his thin and dry lips were placed in a tight line, and his usually pale, unblemished skin was slightly red, perhaps from the cold outside. There was disapproval and disappointment present on his face, disguised as joy. Seeing him here, in front of her, stirred her insides, causing her stomach to drop and her muscles to grow stiff.
“Lord James Hackberry,” Eloise said quickly.
But he didn’t wait. He walked up closer, studying her form.
“You worried everyone in bloody London. You worried me too, dear,” he said. His plate-sized hand wrapped around her wrist like toxic vines. “I’m here to take you home.”
His grip was relaxed but firm.
“Right this moment? But what about Uncle Marcus? Is he not coming?”
“Oh, that poor chap, wasn’t he bedridden or something? Well, anyway, I was asked by your Aunt, who informed me of your regrettable situation, and I just had to come at once,” James said.
