Chapter 8 #3
“I am going to get the countess,” Lizzie said, pale with alarm. “She is with the housekeeper, I think, but she needs to be here now.”
“Sean was here,” Eleanor said.
Lizzie gasped, and Virginia’s eyes went wide. “Eleanor, what are you saying?” Virginia cried, blanching.
Eleanor looked at her in the mirror. “He doesn’t love me. I have been such a fool. Worse, I still love him.”
Virginia bit her lip. “Where is he? Dear God, the troops were here the other day and then just this morning! Devlin has to know that his brother is near!”
“He left last night. He won’t be back—he is going to America,” Eleanor said, as if in a trance.
“I must tell Devlin,” Virginia cried, already racing for the door.
Lizzie took Eleanor’s hand, forcing her to look directly at her. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“He asked me not to,” Eleanor said. “But I told Cliff and Rex.”
Lizzie started; she was near tears. “I have to tell Tyrell. Will you be all right by yourself?” she asked.
Eleanor somehow nodded. “I am not getting married,” she said, “not today and not ever. Maybe I will join a convent.”
Lizzie started. “Stay right here,” she said firmly. “Do not move until someone gets back.” She squeezed her hand and left the room.
And Eleanor was alone. She brushed at a tear, angry to find it crawling down her cheek. At least Sean had a good twelve-hour start on Brawley and his men, or even more, if Brawley had still not picked up his trail.
Even after the way he had treated her and the way he had left, she was glad for him. She was always going to care, she realized, and she was always going to want him to be unharmed and safe.
She suddenly felt that she was being watched. She looked up into the mirror—and found herself looking not at her reflection, but into a pair of intent gray eyes.
Sean stood behind her.
She stood, whirling. “Sean!” Hope blazed.
He shook his head, his eyes filled with anguish. “I came…” He stopped, his tone thick. “I am sorry, Elle,” he said harshly. “I am so sorry for hurting you.”
She wet her lips, her mind racing, but her heart spoke. “I love you.”
He flinched. “Don’t. It was wrong—I hate myself. I am sorry! How can I undo…it? How?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, trembling wildly. She wanted to rush into his arms but did not dare. “All that matters is that you’re back.” In horror, she realized what she had said. “Sean! They’re looking for you!”
“I know,” he said as thickly. His gaze was on her face, her eyes.
His eyes seemed hungry and desperate, as if determined to memorize her every feature.
“They left an hour ago. It’s all right.…
They won’t catch me.” He stopped. His gaze moved over her wedding dress and then went back to her eyes.
“I never…want to hurt you.… Not you. I don’t know what happened… or why. I am…ashamed.”
He was stricken because he had hurt her. “You didn’t hurt me,” she lied. “You can’t hurt me,” she added softly. “Nothing you say or do will ever change the way I feel about you.”
He shook his head. “Don’t.” He fought to speak now.
She started toward him, reaching for him.
He seized her wrist, refusing to let her close the distance between them. “Don’t.”
“No!” Her mind raced. She was going with him—Of course she was. In the end, there was no other choice.
“Sinclair…tonight, Elle, you have to…pretend.”
Suddenly she realized what he was saying. He was referring to her wedding night. “No!”
“Pretend…pain. He’ll never know…he loves you.”
“Stop it!” She wept. “I won’t marry him, I won’t. I can’t!”
“No! He’ll take care of you because…I cannot.” His expression was twisted and his eyes were shining with tears.
She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breathe. Despair choked her.
“Goodbye.” He smiled sadly at her.
“No,” she whispered.
He turned and went into the bedroom.
Eleanor came to life. “No!” She ran after him as he strode to the window, which was wide open now. “Sean, you can’t go—not without me!”
He ignored her, climbing out.
“Sean!” she cried, running to the sill.
He was already climbing down to the next balcony.
“Sean! Take me with you!”
He didn’t look up, leaping from the rail to the oak tree. And he began to scramble down to the ground.
Her mind hardened with resolve. Eleanor turned, lifting her skirts, and ran across the room, flinging the bedroom door open.
A maid was in the hall carrying a tray of refreshments, but Eleanor did not see.
The maid leaped against the wall to avoid being run over, dropping the tray and all of its plates, cups and saucers.
Eleanor ran down the stairs, tripping on her skirts, which she held high with one hand, her other on the railing.
Behind her, her train flowed, an endless wave of satin and silk.
She realized that hundreds of guests were milling about the house. Eleanor didn’t care, ignoring the gasps of surprise and the rising murmurs that sounded as she flew through the hall, amongst the crowd. People rushed to step out of her way.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Cliff flirting with Lady Barton. He saw her, straightened. “Eleanor!”
She was almost at the front door. And she saw Peter’s father, Lord Henredon, the earl of Chatton, staring at her with shock.
“Open the door, fools!” she shouted to the two liveried doormen there.
They obeyed instantly.
“Eleanor!” It was Devlin, somewhere behind her, and it was a command.
Eleanor barely heard him. She ran outside and instantly saw Sean, halfway to the stables, his strides long and rushed. She lifted her skirts and ran. “Sean!”
He started, turning, and saw her. Then he whirled and began to run away.
Eleanor saw a groom leading a horse from the stables toward him. Her resolve escalated wildly. “Sean!” She screamed as loudly as she could. She tripped now as she began to run across the grass.
He leaped astride, the horse rearing, and he looked her way. Two hundred meters separated them.
Eleanor was caught by a sharp stitch in her side and she halted, gasping for air and fighting the lancing pain. She was vaguely aware of a crowd forming outside of the house, the murmurs sharp and excited, and of Devlin and Cliff pausing behind her. One of her brothers cursed.
Cliff said, “Dev. They’re back.”
Eleanor couldn’t remove her gaze from Sean but she didn’t have to. She knew Cliff meant the soldiers. If she looked toward the front of the house, she knew she would see the troops coming up the drive.
Sean spurred the black and galloped toward the woods, intent now on escape.
No. Eleanor lifted her skirts, screaming, and began to run after him. “Sean!” she cried. “Sean!” And she stopped, incapable of breathing now.
Suddenly the huge black reversed direction, so sharply it stumbled, and Sean was galloping at her.
Eleanor held out her hand.
Sean had the beast at a full gallop. He was just meters away, and their eyes met. His were light and bright and fiercely determined. Eleanor was overcome with elation. He was returning for her. He reached down, almost upon her.
Their hands touched, clasped.
And Eleanor leaped for the horse just as he hauled her up and she was astride, behind him. She clasped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his back. Sean whirled the stallion again; cries of shock and orders to halt sounded.
They galloped away, into the woods.