Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ELEANOR PAUSED on the threshold of the gold salon, trembling. Peter was the only one present in the room and he was seated before the fireplace, staring into the flames. He was clearly brooding.
It was late the same afternoon. Eleanor hesitated.
Her intention had been to remain in her rooms for as long as possible, ostensibly to rest, in truth to avoid Peter.
But she could not rest, not when Sean was imprisoned just a few hours from Adare, his life hanging precariously in the balance.
To make matters even worse, she was acutely aware of Peter’s presence in her home and how unfairly she had treated him.
She owed him more than an explanation—she owed him an apology. She had begun a letter to that effect, and had quickly realized that was the coward’s way out. She had to end their engagement, once and for all. “Peter?”
He leaped to his feet, stunned to see her.
She wanted to smile, but she simply could not. She meant to come into the room, but her feet would not obey her mind and her legs did not move.
Peter rushed to her side. “Eleanor! Why aren’t you upstairs, resting? At least until the doctor arrives and has thoroughly examined you?”
She bit her lip. “I can’t rest.” She hesitated again, wishing he were not so kind and caring, then she walked past him into the room. “We need to speak, Peter.”
He stood frozen at the door.
She slowly faced him, her hand lingering on the back of a tasseled chaise. “I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did on our wedding day.”
He was pale. He closed the door. “I understand, Eleanor,” he said hoarsely.
She was surprised. “How can you even begin to understand? May I explain?”
He came forward, his cheeks having turned pink.
“I understand that Sean is your stepbrother. I have heard that you doted on him as a child. I also heard he was incarcerated in prison for two years and no one in your family knew if he was dead or alive. How terrible that must have been for all of you!”
Eleanor could not believe that he would be so sympathetic. “My family came to the conclusion that he was dead, but I never really believed it,” she whispered.
“I am so happy that he is not dead,” Peter declared.
Eleanor had to sit down. She felt faint.
He sat down on an ottoman facing her. “I know the character of the woman you are,” he said fiercely. “I know you would do anything to help those you love and hold dear.”
Eleanor could only nod. When was he going to accuse her of infidelity, disloyalty, deception? Wasn’t he going to demand an explanation for her behavior?
“Your family insists Sean is innocent. I am soon to be a part of this family, too, Eleanor, and I would ally myself with all of you.”
She remained stunned by his gracious behavior.
She studied him, trying to find an accusation in his eyes.
There was none. Did he mean that he still intended to marry her?
She would not tell him any more lies. “When Sean appeared, Peter, I was overcome. Until he told me the truth, I had no idea he’d been convicted of treason and sent to prison.
When I realized the authorities were searching for him, intending to hang him, I had to go with him.
Foolishly, perhaps, I was determined to help him escape the country in any way that I could. ”
“I understand,” he said simply. “But the authorities must never know.”
“How can you understand?” she cried, leaping to her feet. “Why don’t you hate me? I left you standing at the altar! I jilted you, Peter, or so it appears. And that was not my intention!”
He took her hands. “I understand because I love you,” he said.
Eleanor froze. When she could breathe, she said, “How can you love me now?”
“How can I not?” he returned quietly.
She pulled her hands from his and turned away.
Peter’s anger and accusations would have made her task much easier.
She did not know what to do in the face of such loyalty and trust—both of which she did not deserve.
She realized she was going to have to tell him the entire truth. “I love Sean,” she began slowly.
He instantly stepped around to face her. “Eleanor! I know you love all of your brothers! I know you love Sean. And I have sent my father to London to aid your father in obtaining a complete pardon for him.”
For one instant, her mind could not comprehend such generosity. “Lord Henredon is a cousin of the Prime Minister.”
“Yes, he is.” Peter took her hands again. “My father will do everything in his power to secure Sean’s pardon. He is well connected and I am optimistic.”
Eleanor had to sit. She gazed up at Peter, trying to understand. “Why are you doing this?”
He didn’t quite smile. “You are soon to be my wife. Your troubles are my own. If Sean is your brother, he is my brother, too. When will you realize that I would do anything—anything—for you?”
Tears came to her eyes. “You still wish to marry me after I jilted you at the altar?”
“You left me for a noble cause!” he cried, flushed. He knelt before her, taking her hands again. “You are a woman of honor, Eleanor, and of great loyalty, and I admire that as much as everything else. I trust you. How could I not? And I will do anything to take you to wife.”
Eleanor felt her cheeks flame with guilt even as she wondered at his use of words and his fervor. “Peter,” she began quietly, still determined to tell him everything, “you should not—”
He leaped to his feet, interrupting her. “When we receive news of Sean’s pardon, we will marry immediately, but this time, without such a spectacular fuss.”
Her heart slowed, but beat in a peculiar manner, hard and thick. She stared at Peter. She had no doubt now that he loved her, but she wondered if he knew the truth about her love for Sean. There was some-thing so unnaturally fierce in his desire to trust her and believe in her.
“Sean will be pardoned, Eleanor. My father is never thwarted in these matters. I am sure we will hear of his pardon soon, and then we will celebrate our union.”
She was still. The room had become still.
Peter’s message was suddenly resounding.
He had sent his powerful father to London to help Edward in his quest for amnesty, and he expected their marriage to proceed after it was obtained.
In that moment, she felt trapped and outmaneuvered. But was that his intention?
Was he offering her a trade? Was Peter purposefully bartering her hand in marriage for Sean’s liberty and life?
If not, what would he do if she told him that she would not marry him? Would he recall Henredon from his mission?
“Eleanor, I thought you would be pleased with my news,” Peter said stiffly.
She stood, managing to smile. She was trapped after all, but then, this was a small price to pay for Sean’s freedom. “I am very pleased. Peter, thank you. Thank you for all that you have done on my stepbrother’s behalf.”
He did smile. “You need not thank me, Eleanor. You need only promise me that, this time, you will not jilt me at the altar.”
She thought he was making a jest, yet she also wondered if he meant his words, too. “Of course not,” she said. “You need only set a new date, and your bride will be there.”
He beamed, and she saw relief in his eyes. “Then let us share the good tidings with your family.”
Eleanor nodded. He seemed satisfied and she knew that their unspoken bargain was sealed.
ELEANOR HAD TO KEEP reminding herself that this turn of fate was as fortunate as could be.
Sean was going to attain his freedom, and all she had to do in return was marry a nobleman who loved her.
They found the countess in the music room, sitting at the piano, her fingers on the keys, but making no effort to play.
She looked up, her gaze wan, and managed a tired smile.
“There is hope,” Eleanor said softly, leaving Peter’s side. She went to her mother and sat down beside her on the upholstered piano bench. “Peter’s father is in London, and he is also seeking a pardon for Sean. There is great hope.”
The countess put her arm around her. “I am too afraid to hope.”
Eleanor bit her lip. Then she glanced at the threshold of the room, where Peter stood. “Peter and I are marrying the moment we receive the pardon.”
The countess started and her gaze went to Peter. He smiled at her and bowed. “With your permission, of course, my lady.”
Mary turned a confused regard on Eleanor. “Darling?”
Eleanor simply smiled at her, the expression forced. “I wanted to share our news with you, first.” She kissed her mother’s cool cheek and stood. “I am going back to my rooms to rest.”
Mary nodded, apparently speechless.
In the corridor, Eleanor was about to excuse herself from Peter when she heard a ruckus in the front hall.
Tyrell’s commanding voice sounded—and her heart leaped uncontrollably.
Peter took her arm. “In light of the absence of your father, perhaps we should inform your brother as to what we now intend?”
Eleanor barely heard. Was Sean all right? Had Tyrell seen him and spoken with him? And what about Reed? She managed to nod as they hurried through the house and into the front hall.
Tyrell was disappearing into the library by himself as they entered. “Ty!” Eleanor ran after him.
He turned. He had shed his jacket, and his boots and breeches were muddy and wet. Even his ruffled white shirt was spotted with mud and rain. His gaze went from Eleanor to her fiancé. “Why aren’t you in your rooms, resting?”
Her spirits sank. He was so terribly grim. “I can’t rest. I am too excited.” She managed a wide smile. “Peter has forgiven me for my very lacking behavior and we will soon wed.”
His expression did not change. His gaze held hers and Eleanor knew he suspected everything. “I am pleased,” he said carefully. “Peter, I am more than glad to have a celebratory drink with you. Eleanor, why don’t you excuse us?”