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“Two hundred, seventy-four thousand and one.”
She blinked and simply stared at him.
“Before you think I am a bit boring, and no longer the dashing hero, I not only like just mathematics. There are one or two mystery books in this stack, but I was also assured there would be blood, gore, murder, an ominous castle, damsels to be rescued and much more.”
Eleanor smiled. “An enquiring and intelligent mind is never boring,” she whispered, staring a bit at him in wonder. “There might be a way to make money here. Dazzle the crowd with your skills for a coin here and there.”
He laughed, the low sound rumbling through her entire body, flushing it with warmth.
“I am the financial mind of our family business. The money is already being made from it.” He said tapping the side of his head.
“A family business?” she curiously asked. “So you are not a gentleman in the traditional sense?”
“Some would say I am not a gentleman at all,” he said, his eyes hooded, his long, elegant fingers steepled atop his thighs. “Tell me, Miss Ellie, what are some of the things you like to do.”
She looked down briefly at her gloved hands clasped together. “I enjoy reading and sculpting. Though I tend to fancy gothic romances over other genres.”
“And you have sisters.”
She hesitated. “I do.”
“I have two brothers and a sister as well,” he said, “they are some of my favorite people in the world.”
“As they should be,” she said with a light laugh, noting his tone had held an aggrieved sort of fondness.
Eleanor relaxed against the squabs thinking this was the second most unusual conversation and encounter in her life. Of course the first was with this very same man. She wrinkled her nose, wondering if this was the kind of discourse ladies shared with their gentlemen suitors as they strolled down the pathways of Hyde Park or when they twirled with each other across the ballroom dance floor.
He handed her one of his books, and she traced her finger over the title stenciled in the leather.Ivanhoeby Sir Walter Scott.
“I would invite you to try this one. Perhaps when we meet next, we might have a discussion. Then I shall lend you another, perhaps one with mystery and murder.”
He had a teasing smile about his mouth and her pulse quickened. “You believe we will meet again?”
“Yes.” His mouth tipped in a lopsided grin. “Considering we are both wondering…surely we will happen upon each other again.”
“Serendipity?” she murmured with a small smile.
His eyes gleamed. “Why not?”
Eleanor stared at him, admitting that she wanted to see him again. “I am to be at Lady Belgrave’s ball in a few nights; perhaps I shall see you there.”
“Perhaps,” he murmured a bit enigmatically.
She wondered if she had misspoken, but a quick assessment of his suddenly reserved expression gave her no clue as to his thoughts. A quick look outside showed they were back at the place he had picked her up. “My brother’s townhouse is one of those in this street. If you would let me off here, I will be able to make my way home safely.”
He stared at her for a moment in silence, almost causing her to fidget on the carriage seat.
“I do not want any speculation from my grandaunt should she see me exiting from this carriage,” she said with a sheepish grin.
“Of course,” he said smoothly, with no inflection in his tone.
In truth, he sounded so distant and polite she wondered exactly what he understood. The newness and oddness of their connection prevented her from saying anything more. Looking down at the book he had loaned her, she glanced up at him to find that he still watched her.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I will start reading tonight. How do I return it to you when I am finished.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a card with his name neatly printed in block dark letters and an address in St. James Square.
“You may instruct your servant to see it delivered here to me.”
