Chapter Eight
Eleanor walked along the path through Hyde Park, Bridget on her left, Lydia to her right.
Since they were small, they’d arranged themselves this way, with Eleanor in the middle, flanked by the stronger, more confident girls.
Throughout all their years together, her cousins had never required any explanation for how she felt out in the world.
They’d just always known, instinctively, that she required a certain buffer between herself and others, and had readily stepped in to fulfill that role.
Lydia with an attitude that projected a blatant, bored annoyance that quickly put off many who considered approaching.
And Bridget with a gift for enthusiastic distraction, always willing to take focus upon herself.
Over the years, the trio had settled quite comfortably into their chosen positions, which is how Eleanor managed to truly enjoy a walk through the park, even though the exceptionally lovely weather had drawn out more than the usual crowd.
In truth, there seemed to be people everywhere—strolling, trotting along on horseback, and rolling by in open carriages.
If not for her stern-faced older brother insisting upon providing escort when a groom would have done just as well, it might have been a perfect outing.
“Oh, look,” Bridget exclaimed softly. “Is that Lady Delia?”
With a tremor of subtle alarm, Eleanor followed her cousin’s gaze to a small clutch of people gathered slightly off the path.
She’d come to understand that where his young niece was, Lord Waring was sure to be nearby.
It took a moment to see Lady Delia chatting happily with a few young gentlemen.
Her mother, Countess of Byrne, stood nearby with the Countess Henmere whose niece, Miss Dickson, was another few steps away in conversation with the viscount, himself.
Though a bit older than most debutantes, Miss Dickson was also enjoying her first London social season.
Eleanor didn’t know much about her beyond the fact that she was very new to town.
It had taken only one glance to notice Miss Dickson possessed the kind of self-assurance Eleanor could only dream of having.
Finally, allowing her gaze to slide toward Lord Waring, Eleanor noticed with a sharp jolt to the center of her chest that he was already staring in her direction, observing her approach with pleasure curving his lips.
She quickly averted her gaze, doing her best to act as though she hadn’t seen him. But she couldn’t shake the certainty that he and Miss Dickson had been discussing her.
Indignant embarrassment burned through her veins.
She knew people talked about her, gossip being one of the haute ton’s favorite pastimes, but that didn’t make it a pleasant experience to witness it happening.
As the two groups converged and paused to chat a while, Eleanor was determined to avoid acknowledging the viscount.
She and her cousins joined Lady Delia and the young gentlemen.
Though Bridget and Lydia spoke easily with the other young people, Eleanor stood silent, putting all her effort into keeping her awkwardness firmly managed.
Unfortunately, because she was not fully engaged with the others, there was nothing she could do when the viscount stepped up beside her and gave a short bow.
“Lady Eleanor, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “As previously promised, I won’t even mention how this rare bit of sunshine becomes you.”
Instantly thrown off balance by the rich, intimate tenor of his voice, the sparkle of undeniable admiration in his eyes, and his obvious teasing, she struggled to find a proper reply.
It didn’t help that the sunshine undeniably agreed with him as well. The man made an unnaturally dashing impression in his more casual day attire.
His skin, bronzed by what had to have been significant prior exposure to the warm rays of the sun, contrasted nicely with his loosely tied white cravat and buff-colored coat.
Combined with the way his hair had been slightly mussed by the breeze, the overall effect was carefree and rakish.
The subtle wickedness in his smile and the twinkle of humor in his light eyes, which the sun now revealed to be a rather unique hue of blue-green, only added to his brazen charm and cocksure handsomeness.
Her low belly gave an odd tumble and dip before she gathered herself tightly together.
She did not want to think him handsome. She did not want to enjoy his smile or the way he looked at her.
She had seen that look before, in the eyes of gentlemen who approached her in admiration only to walk away in distress and disappointment when she failed to meet the exalted expectations they’d conjured in their minds about what she should be like.
She’d grown to hate the moment when people realized she had nothing to offer but awkward tension and stuttering silences.
Heaven forbid that a woman with a fashionable face wouldn’t have a perfectly sparkling personality to match.
Eleanor clenched her back teeth. The viscount was still smiling at her—with frustrating patience—as though he were fully aware that he disconcerted her. He probably even recognized that he annoyed her. But he wasn’t at all bothered by it.
Instead, he quirked a smile. “Now, you may compliment me, if you wish. Or make some answering reference to the loveliness of the day,” he added, turning to gesture toward the spacious lawns of the park.
She arched a brow. “You think I need advice on how to engage in small talk?”
His chuckle was warm and low and rolled through her like a warm zephyr. “It was just a suggestion. We could discuss something more consequential, if you’d like.”
Meeting his bright stare, she said, “Does it occur to you that I may not wish to engage in conversation at all?”
“It did. But I immediately discounted it.” The look in his eyes was impishly wicked. “Ladies love to engage with me.”
Eleanor’s belly twisted. She got a sense he was talking about more than conversation.
She’d never been spoken to with such boldness.
It disconcerted her, leaving her at a loss.
She opened her mouth to say something chastising, realized there were no words readily available, shut her mouth again, then glanced stiffly away.
But he didn’t allow even that escape. His warm voice murmured, “You can let yourself enjoy it, you know.”
She turned back to find him standing closer than he should be. “Enjoy what?”
He grinned. “Our playful, provocative banter.”
Eleanor nearly sputtered. “Provocative? I assure you, I’ve no intention of provoking you.”
He tilted his head. “I know. But you do it anyway.”
Though her body warmed to his tone, Eleanor suddenly realized he was doing it all intentionally. He was trying to throw her off balance. He wanted her to forget herself and reply to him with the same irreverence he employed.
Straightening her posture, she angled her chin. “It was a valiant attempt, my lord, but I won’t do it.”
The smile slid from his mouth and his brows furrowed. “Do what?”
“I won’t allow you to unravel me so I embarrass myself.”
His expression darkened into a true frown. “My lady, it is not and has never been my intention to embarrass you.” His sincerity was undeniable. It sparked in his steady gaze and threaded through the lowered vibrations of his voice.
She stared back at him, tense and uncertain. From their first encounter, she’d felt herself on uneven ground. The man simply continued to act in a way she’d ever experienced before.
“Then why do you insist upon approaching me?” she finally asked. “Surely, by now you understand that I’m not the most pleasant company. You cannot deny the awkward tension of our interactions. What is it you want from me?”
There was a long pause as he stared back at her. Though he no longer frowned, there was a watchfulness in his gaze. “It bothers me that you are so distrustful, but I do not fault you for it. Experience has taught me that people who are so guarded typically have cause to be.”
“Indeed. And I cannot help but notice you did not answer my question.”
“About why I insist on approaching you?”
She lifted her chin expectantly.
The man shrugged and offered an easy smile. “Because I find you interesting and I thought I might be able to provide you with a welcome diversion.”
“Diversion? From what?”
His gaze swept a circled around their current position. “All of this,” he replied simply.
Eleanor shifted her weight, unnerved by his insight. Was her discomfort so obvious to him? Even worse…his tactics seemed to be working. She wasn’t the slightest bit aware of anyone else at the moment.
Disturbed by the revelation, she was swiftly overwhelmed with a need to shift the topic to something less personal. Without thinking it through, she asked bluntly, “Does this have to do with the necklace?”
Though she hadn’t intended to bring up the subject so directly, she was rather glad she did when she noted his reaction. In a blink, he suddenly became more alert, his body drew taut, and his expression shifted into something…much more focused. His eyes met and held hers with a probing focus.
“So, you did recognize the image in my drawing?” he asked in a low voice.
Suddenly wishing she hadn’t said anything, Eleanor shook her head and slid her gaze to the side. “I didn’t say that.”
He chuckled at her terrible attempt at denial. “You didn’t have to.” His voice dropped further as he took another step toward her. “But if you do know something about it…”
When he didn’t finish his sentence, Eleanor turned back to meet his stare. It was intense, bright, and piercing.
“I would be very interested in hearing about it,” he said in a compelling tone.
A shiver coursed through her. The roguish charmer had completely disappeared. In his place was someone quite different. Someone focused and direct.
The change in him was…riveting. For some reason, the man suddenly seemed much more himself.
“How did you come by such an image?” she asked, her voice a near whisper.
He hesitated. It was only a second, but she saw the moment he paused in indecision before replying. “I drew it.”
Her eyes widened before realization dawned and she scoffed. The man was lying. “That’s impossible.”
He narrowed his stare. “Why do you say that?”
“You couldn’t…” she stammered. “It’s not…”
“I assure you, it is,” he replied, his voice steady and earnest.
“But how could you…” She paused to gather herself, fearful she might be revealing something she shouldn’t in her reaction. “How did you imagine such an elaborate design?”
“I didn’t have to imagine it.”
“You mean you copied someone else’s rendering of the necklace.”
There was a long pause as his eyes continued to bore into her. Then he replied quietly. “No. That is not what I mean.”
Fearful that she may have been wrong in suspecting he’d been lying and what that could possibly mean, Eleanor glanced around before asking, “You’ve actually seen it…with your own eyes?”
“I have.”
Shock rippled along her nerves and an odd breathlessness came over her as she stared wide-eyed back at him. “That’s not possible.”
He lowered his chin to mutter in earnest. “I assure you, it is. But why do you think it isn’t? What do you know about it?”
Several thoughts flew rapidly through her mind in that moment.
One was that this man was much more than he seemed on the surface.
The devil-may-care rogue had become a man of purpose and fierce intent.
She could see he was eager to hear how she’d recognized the necklace and what information she had on it.
She very quickly made a decision not to tell him anything.
The history of the necklace belonged to her family. She couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten his hands on a fair likeness of something that had been lost for generations. It didn’t matter. The truth was, it didn’t belong to him. The necklace’s story didn’t belong to him.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she finally replied.
The frustrated disbelief that flickered through his stare was surprisingly satisfying.
He took a breath and slid a brief glance to the side before shoving a hand through his hair.
When he brought his focus back to her face, she could see that he wanted to argue with her, convince her, or perhaps…
manipulate her into acquiescing. No doubt that was what his teasing seduction had been about all along.
The thought triggered a pang of disappointment, but she held herself firm, staring back at him with a steady gaze.
Finally, he lowered his chin and gave a short nod.
“Perhaps that is best,” he muttered then.
The words confused her, but before she could think on them further, he gave a bow of his head. “I shall bother you no further.” One of his roguish smiles slid across his lips. “On that matter, anyway.”
Before she could reply, the man walked away from her yet again. This time, however, she couldn’t keep from watching him with an odd feeling settling in her stomach. And she couldn’t help but feel like she’d made some massive mistake.