My Bargain with the Unyielding Viscount (The Season’s Five Debutantes #2)

Chapter 1

"Iassure you, Lady Morton, that I have never seen such a display outside of London."

Miss Eleanor Whitcombe smiled as though she cared about what she was saying.

It was a smile, however, that did not quite reach her round, blue eyes.

As a girl, she had expected events to be joyous, but she had eventually found that they were only as fun as they were novel.

Lady Morton, the hostess for the evening, laughed politely.

"Thank you, Miss Whitcombe. I must admit that events outside of London are typically less interesting. I await the beginning of the next Season so that I will be titillated once again."

"Do you not enjoy the country?"

"I do, and I appreciate the quiet here as much as anyone else, but you must admit that there is a certain adventure that is lacking here."

Eleanor nodded in agreement, blonde curls bouncing slightly, though she had been in the room scarcely half an hour and had not yet decided whether she found it charming or suffocating.

The ballroom was bright with candlelight, the air warm with conversation and music, and yet there was something about it that felt smaller than it ought to.

"It is a different sort of amusement," she said. "Perhaps it requires patience."

"Or resignation," Lady Morton replied.

Eleanor smiled again, though this time it was easier.

The lady seemed pleased with that and continued speaking, though Eleanor had already begun to withdraw from the exchange in small, polite increments.

She shifted her weight slightly, allowed her gaze to move just beyond her companion, and waited for a natural moment to excuse herself.

"You must forgive me," she said after a while. "I promised to find a friend of mine, and I see her nearby."

She moved through the crowd, every outward sign suggesting that she belonged exactly where she was. That was the advantage of the practice she had had. She had learned how to step into a space and appear as though she deserved to be there.

She paused briefly near one of the tall windows and allowed her gaze to sweep the room with greater care. It was all familiar enough, and yet she felt the distance. She may have taught herself how to look as though she belonged, but that did not mean that she always felt it.

She smoothed her glove at the wrist before catching herself and stilling her hand.

"Miss Eleanor Whitcombe."

She turned at once.

"Good evening, Lord Harrowby."

There was no hesitation in the recognition, and certainly no need for introduction. He stood a few paces away, exactly as she remembered him. Time had not altered him so much as it had sharpened him. He nodded slightly, the gesture correct but not particularly warm.

"I had not expected to find you here," he said.

"Nor I you," she returned lightly. "Though I suspect the fault is mine. I ought to have inquired more carefully into the guest list."

"There is still time to regret the oversight."

"How kind of you to offer me an escape."

"I offer nothing of the sort," he said. "You may stay where you are while regretting such a tragic error."

Eleanor could not help but laugh softly.

Lord Harrowby was a perfectly respectable gentleman, but there had always been something about him that she was uncertain of.

Granted, there was a presence about him that most would find intimidating, but Eleanor was quite convinced that it was not that.

His features were rather dark; his hair a deep brown and his eyes a cold gray-green, but he was always impeccably neat.

There was nothing even remotely rugged about Julian Harrowby, neither in his looks nor his demeanor.

Strictly speaking, he was harmless.

"Of course," she replied. "You would not wish to be thought helpful."

"It would be misleading."

"You have not improved, then?"

"I was not aware that improvement was required."

"It is in most cases," she pointed out. "Everyone could do so, I would argue."

"I shall endeavor to remain an exception."

She regarded him for a moment, considering whether that was worth challenging, then let it pass.

"You did not answer my question, by the way," he said.

"I was not aware that you had asked one."

"What are you doing here?"

There it was, plainly put, with no attempt to soften it. Eleanor tilted her head slightly, wondering whether or not he had asked her such a thing. If he had, she did not remember.

"I am attending a house party, I believe."

"You do not enjoy house parties."

"You seem very certain of my preferences."

"You have made them sufficiently clear in the past."

"People are permitted to change," she replied, her fingers tensing at him remembering such a thing. "You seem rather determined to find me inconsistent."

"I prefer it when people live honestly. That is all."

They remained there for a moment. His attention remained on her, assessing in a way that would have unsettled a less practiced speaker.

Eleanor met it without difficulty.

"If I wished to discuss my movements," she said, a touch more lightly, "I would have written to you in advance."

"I would have been very surprised to receive such a letter."

"As would I have been to have sent it," she said. "Which makes it fortunate that I did not."

Something shifted at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, though close enough to suggest the possibility of one.

"You are unsuited to the countryside," he said after a moment. "You require more activity than it offers."

She glanced around the room, where conversation flowed easily and music had begun to gather strength again at the far end.

"I see no lack of it."

"It is not the same. You will find it dull."

"And you will find it disorderly," she returned. "We must each endure our disappointments."

"I shall have you know that I am rarely disappointed."

"That is because you arrange your life so carefully that nothing has the opportunity to go wrong."

"It is an effective method."

"It sounds exhausting."

"Then it is fortunate that you are not required to adopt it."

She smiled at that, though there was something rather biting to it in a way that had not been there before. He had always been an orderly man, one that planned everything months in advance. It was the main way in which they differed, but he had never been unkind about it before.

"Yes," she said. "Fortunate."

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. The music swelled, couples began to form more distinctly across the room, and the space between them seemed to narrow without either acknowledging it. Then, Eleanor turned slightly, as though to move past him and rejoin the wider company.

"Enjoy your evening, Lord Harrowby," she said.

He shifted just enough to prevent her easy escape. Eleanor paused, her brows lifting slightly. His grin reappeared, and she wondered for a moment if he was mocking her.

"I had intended to," he replied.

"Then I must apologize for the interruption."

"Actually, you must do more than apologize."

"That sounds suspiciously like a demand."

"It is a request."

There was something in his tone that drew her attention more fully than his words.

She followed his gaze without thinking, and then she understood.

The young lady crossing the room did so with purpose.

Her smile was already prepared, her direction unmistakable.

Eleanor glanced back at him, unimpressed.

"You are being pursued, it would seem."

"I am aware."

"And you expect me to intervene. Is that what this is?"

"Initially, yes. You seemed to me like the lesser evil, and so I thought it best to ask you to dance with me."

Eleanor folded her arms loosely. She did not like that she was his means of escape, but fortunately for him she found it all rather humorous.

"You ought to learn to endure the consequences of your own charm."

"I do not possess charm," he said with a faint chuckle. "Do you think I am charming?"

"That is what she appears to believe."

"I am not concerned with her opinions."

She looked at him for a moment, considering.

"You are remarkably direct about people. Some might find that rather cruel."

"I find it saves time."

"And yet here you are wasting mine."

"She is nearly here."

Eleanor followed his glance again. The distance had closed considerably. With a sigh, she turned back to him.

"You are insufferable," she said.

"I have been told several times, and mostly by you."

"And yet you have learned nothing from it."

She exhaled, shaking her head, though there was the faintest hint of amusement beneath it.

"You will owe me for this," she said.

"As you wish."

She held his gaze for one more second, then placed her hand in his. He did not hesitate. The moment her hand settled in his, he turned and led her toward the dance floor.

They took their places just as the music began. Eleanor cast him a sideways glance.

"You do realize," she said, "that you could have chosen any number of ladies for this."

"I do."

"How flattering. I am selected as your shield."

"You were the most capable option available."

"That is not the compliment you believe it to be."

"It is the only one you will receive."

"I shall treasure it accordingly."

The dance drew them into motion before she could reply further. His hand settled at her back, guiding her into the first turn. Eleanor followed without hesitation, her steps precise and her balance effortless. He noticed it immediately.

"You move well," he said.

"I always have," she replied. "You need not say as much for the sake of it."

"I say what I see."

"And yet you have spent years overlooking it."

"I was not observing you closely then."

She glanced at him again, though there was something different in the way he looked at her. She wished that he would continue as he always did, for his sincerity unsettled her.

"And what prompted that change?"

"Necessity."

"Of course," she said. "Everything with you returns to necessity."

"It is a reliable principle to have."