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“It’s quite all right. Yes, my sister ran away when we were both very young, My Lord. I’ve been looking for her ever since.” Eloise swallowed.
“But you’ve no clue as to where she’s gone?” Lord Kenwood persisted, and Eloise shook her head.
“I know no more today than I did when she first disappeared. It’s a mystery,” she said.
In this, at least, Eloise was speaking the truth. She did not mind discussing her sister’s disappearance, for she knew her memory needed to be kept alive if there was ever to be a chance of finding her.
“They don’t normally turn up, you know,” Lord Kenwood interjected.
He spoke in such a matter-of-fact way that Eloise was quite taken aback.
“Uncle, that’s enough,” Jackson hissed. His uncle muttered something under his breath and turned to shuffle off down the hallway.
“Well, come and have a drink. We’ll have sherry in the drawing room before dinner,” he called back.
Eloise and Jackson exchanged glances.
“I’m sorry,” Jackson whispered.
“It’s all right. It’s all part of the act, isn’t it?” she muttered.
Jackson’s uncle led them into a drawing room, which displayed all manner of exotic artefacts from around the world: oriental vases, tribal masks, strangely colored rocks and an enormous picture of a man pointing up towards a mountain wreathed in clouds and surrounded by a dense jungle. He was wearing a red military uniform, and Eloise could only imagine it was Jackson’s uncle himself.
“Sherry, Jackson,” the Baron said, and Jackson dutifully poured three glasses, offering one to Eloise first.
“What a remarkable painting,” Eloise observed, and Jackson’s uncle nodded.
“That’s right. Painted in the colonies, the scaling of Mount George. Ours was the first expedition, and we planted the king’s standard there,” he boasted.
Eloise smiled and took a sip of sherry as Jackson came to sit next to her.
“Eloise and I enjoyed our evening at the theater, Uncle.” His uncle looked up and made a dismissive noise.
“Frivolity. Watching grown men pretend to be things they’re not. I’ve never understood the attraction of it myself. I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re in love, are you? That now’s the time for your inheritance to come when wedding bells ring.”
His tone was abrupt and direct. He looked pointedly at Eloise and Jackson. This was the first test.
“Well, we’ve only known each other a few days, Uncle. But we delight in one another’s company, and we’ve already spent much enjoyable time together. I wouldn’t have brought Eloise here if I didn’t feel something for her.” Jackson glanced at Eloise, who nodded.
“And I feel the same, My Lord. We’re only just beginning to get to know one another, but I’ve no doubt we’ll soon be on the closest of terms,” she added.
It felt strange to speak in such a way to Jackson’s uncle. Was this a lie or was it the truth? Eloise had meant it only to be a lie. But their walk in the park, their evening at the theater, the cordial manner in which they had conversed, and now this invitation to dine all seemed remarkably real for an act that was supposed to fool everyone. It had certainly done that, but Eloise was beginning to wonder where the line between truth and fiction was to be drawn.
“A strange thing, indeed,” the Baron mused, looking at them both with narrowed eyes.
If Eloise’s father was suspicious of her motives, he was yet to show it, even as he had expressed a reticence as to the Duke’s suitability. But it seemed Jackson’s uncle was already of a mind to doubt the sincerity of the match. Eloise knew she had to try harder.
“Your nephew was most chivalrous at the Mayfair Ball. I was receiving unwanted attention from a most unpleasant gentleman, and it was His Grace who stepped in to save me,” Eloise said.
This, again, was the truth. Jackson’s uncle nodded and gave a sardonic smile.
“Ah, yes, Lord Crawford. He told me all about him. You’ve always been rivals, haven’t you?” The Baron glanced at Jackson, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Well, we were at school together. He was always a bully. I wasn’t about to see him ill-treat Eloise in such a manner. It’s not right, Uncle. Still, she’s escaped his clutches now,” Jackson replied.
“Yes, it’s all very convenient, isn’t it?” his uncle surmised, just as a gong announced the serving of dinner.
The three of them rose, and the Baron led them through a door into the dining room. It was an intimate room, with a table that could have seated no more than eight but was laid for three. The window looked out onto the garden, where the evening sun was casting a golden glow across manicured borders and a rose garden with another statue of a Greek god, this time unidentifiable, at its center.
