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Against her will, her thoughts hurled themselves back to the first time she met Mr. Glendevon and the strange feeling in the pit of her belly and the ease at which he made her heart race.Oh, dear. Was it that excitement to which her mother referred?
A rare smile appeared on the dowager’s face. “You are blushing, my dear.”
“I…”Only at the thought of Lucien Glendevon and that kiss.
She spent an hour meeting with the dowager countess and her mother. By the time Eleanor excused herself, she felt exhausted, simply because she had to shore up her enthusiasm for a courtship that left her feeling empty of all expectations. That emptiness scared her profoundly. What would it mean for their union if she should marry Mr. Hayford, knowing of the antipathy in her heart?
Upon leaving the drawing room, she was greeted with a large bouquet of flowers sent by Mr. Hayford. This seemed to delight the dowager countess, and Eleanor dutifully handed them over to a servant to be set in a vase.
“Miss Eleanor,” the butler said, coming up to her as she left the dining room where she had arranged for the flowers to stay.
“Yes, Orwell?”
“A package was delivered for you just now, Miss Eleanor.”
She reached for the package wrapped in plain brown paper and noted an envelope. “Thank you, Orwell.” Eleanor went into the library, glad to see that it was empty and sat in a high wingback armchair by the fire. First, she tore open the brown paper wrapping, gasping when she saw a book. A copy ofClermontby Regina Maria
Roche
. Eleanor’s heart started to pound, and her hands shook when she opened the letter.
Dear Miss Fairbanks,
First, do not be alarmed.
“That is very easy for you to say, you rogue!” she softly cried, then surprised herself by smiling.
It was rather easy to ascertain the address of the Earl of Celdon, and I do hope this note finds you in good health.I wanted to thank you for the mathematical treatise you sent me. It was a riveting and absorbing work on a method of solving geometric problems algebraically and algebraic problems geometrically.
My sister Genevieve complained bitterly that I ignored her for several days because of this, and I must make amends soon. I have enclosed for you another book that I read this week. Miss Roche is not very popular in some circles; however, I find her work gripping. If you have readClermontalready, please let me know; I shall select another for you.
Your friend,
L.G.
Eleanor read the letter at least five times before she worked up the courage to sit before a writing desk and withdrew a sheaf of paper.
Dear L.G.,
Your note and gift were a great surprise, enough that it almost sent me into a faint. I was pleased to read you enjoyed the book I sent you. I shall start readingClermonttonight, and I thank you for the thoughtful gift.
Miss E.F.
Eleanor dithered for a few minutes, wondering if she should say more. There were so many things she wanted to know, and here was the opportunity, yet she hesitated. Instead of adding more to the quick note she would send back to him, she quickly folded it for delivery and sealed it. After ensuring it was sent off with a footman, she went to the music room to join her sisters, who were laughing and playing the pianoforte and the beautiful harp in tandem. The very next day, a letter was delivered. This time she went into the privacy of her room to read.
Dear Miss Fairbanks,
I dare not believe you a lady who would swoon so easily. Not after the ingenious way you rid yourself of two ruffians and then urged me to flay away. I daresay you are a lady of remarkable wit and courage. Please tell me all tales in which you found yourself succumbing to a dead faint. I am intrigued.
Your friend,
L.G.
Dear L.G.,
I admit to swooning only once in my life, but it is hardly a story to inspire any sort of intrigue. I enjoy long walks in the wood, and one day while taking a shortcut through the forest to the milliner in Penporth, I encountered a rather irate cow. Yes, you read correctly, a cow. For some reason, I have yet to comprehend why that dashed cow chased me for quite a long time. At the end of it, I was rescued by a kind farmer driving his cart to the market, and to my mortification, after the excitement died down, I promptly swooned. My sister Penny has reminded the family of the tale every Michaelmas.
Yours.
