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“Likewise,” he reciprocated, and Eloise was not certain if he meant his words affectionately or with regret at what he had encountered.
When he left the dining room, Jackson heaved a sigh of relief and crossed his arms.
“I’m sorry, Eloise. He can be the most difficult of men.”
“But we held our own, didn’t we? He’s convinced by what he saw?” Eloise hoped.
It had been hard to tell what impression she – and her relationship with Jackson – had made on the Duke’s uncle. Was he convinced of their ruse, or did he have his suspicions?
“I think so. But we’ve still got a lot of work to do,” Jackson replied.
Eloise nodded. She had known the evening would be her greatest test so far in this strange situation that had developed between them, but now her thoughts turned to the Midsummer Ball, as the two of them retired to the drawing room where coffee was to be served.
“The Midsummer Ball, you know it has a certain reputation, don’t you?” Eloise said as she sipped her coffee.
“I’m counting on it.” Jackson nodded.
CHAPTER9
It was growing late, and the servants had long since retired to bed. Eloise and Jackson were still sitting talking in the drawing room, and the clock on the mantelpiece was edging towards midnight. There was no awkwardness between them, no long silences, nor moments when they failed to find words or topics of conversation. It was as though they had known each other forever, and Eloise felt entirely at ease in his company.
“I just heard my uncle go to bed. He sits up late in his study, but you know he’s gone when the key turns in the lock. He won’t disturb us now.” Jackson rose to his feet.
Eloise watched as he poured himself a glass of brandy from a crystal decanter, and she was surprised when he poured a second and turned to hand it to her.
“I’m not used to drinking brandy,” she protested, and Jackson smiled.
“I’m not used to pretending I’m soon to be married. Drink up,” he countered, raising his glass to his lips.
Eloise sniffed at the wide brim of her glass. The aroma was heady, and it made her eyes water as she took a sip.
“Ugh! Oh, it’s horrible!” she exclaimed, for she had never tried brandy before. Her mouth was filled was an unpleasant burning sensation that hit the back of her throat and made her gag.
Jackson chuckled and shook his head.
“A sherry then, perhaps? It’s an acquired taste, but one I rather like,” he said, taking the glass from her.
Eloise shook her head. She had already drunk a considerable amount of claret at dinner and was feeling somewhat lightheaded.
“No, thank you. Nothing more. I should be getting home. It’s late, and my father… well, actually, I suppose he won’t be wondering where I am. It’s not like he cared where my sister went,” she sighed.
Her father would be in bed, and she wondered now whether he would care at all if she, too, simply disappeared without a word.
“I’m sure he’d be anxious to know where you were. But I’m in no hurry for you to leave.” Jackson came to sit next to her on the chaise lounge by the fire.
Eloise smiled at him. The room was lit only by the crackling firelight and candles now burning low in sconces around the walls. He returned her smile and set down his glass.
“It’s been a lovely evening,” Eloise murmured, as he took her hand in his.
His touch sent a shiver running down her spine, and his fingers traced a trail along her wrist and across her bare arm, giving her goose pimples as he fixed his gaze on her.
“It has. I’m glad we got through it. I don’t think he suspects anything. He’d treat anyone with the same thinly veiled disdain. Actually, I think he rather likes you.” Jackson shook his head and laughed.
If the way the Baron of Loxbury had behaved that evening was an example of his liking someone, then Eloise feared to think what the opposite might be like. Nevertheless, she was glad to have made a good first impression and to know their ruse was still to be maintained.
“I’m glad. I want this to work as much as you do, and…” she began, but she paused as Jackson’s fingers continued to trace a delicate trail along her arm.
“You look very pretty this evening, Eloise. You really do,” he whispered, and Eloise blushed.
