Chapter Thirty-Three
They made love twice more through the night and again the next morning. Afterward, they lay facing each other in the soft lavender of dawn, sated and content.
Though she hated to break the loveliness of the moment, Eleanor knew it was necessary. She took a long breath, during which Phin’s eyes flickered and a subtle furrow formed between his brows, as if he already knew what was coming.
The thought made her smile. The man understood her so well already.
Unfortunately, that thought made her sad, so she spoke quickly to avoid dwelling too long in the unwanted emotion.
“What comes next?” she asked.
His jaw clenched.
“I should try to learn what I can about this Lord…”
“Ackerly,” she provided.
“Right. We need to understand the degree of his involvement and his motivations. Try to verify if he is the man Aadesh described.” Reaching a hand toward her, he smoothed a caress along her bare arm as his expression darkened.
“Assuming they came from him, I don’t like the tone of his notes.
There was an angry possessiveness and entitlement to them that feels… disproportionate.”
Elenor thought the same about how Ackerly had spoken to her recently. It didn’t feel right. And she felt certain there was some key element she was missing.
“How quickly do you think you can gather information on him?”
“I have a few contacts about town,” he replied evasively. “Efficient resources for just this sort of thing.”
“Oh?” she was curious.
He gave a tilted smile. “If you hear any whispers of me attending the infamous Lyon’s Den, I don’t want you to, uh…get the wrong idea.”
Her eyes widened. She’d heard of the Lyon’s Den. Everyone had. It was the most notorious gambling hell in town. It also provided elite, erotic companionship.
“What idea would the wrong one?” she asked stiffly, already imagining him lying in bed like this with a gorgeous, sophisticated courtesan—a woman of experience and imagination and sexual confidence.
He chuckled and scooped an arm around her waist to pull her into his body. “The one you’re having right now.”
His warmth immediately surrounded her and his stare seared through her core. They were still naked and though she was slowly becoming more familiar and comfortable with this kind of intimacy, it didn’t make it any less affecting to feel every inch of him from head to toe.
Her heart fluttered and she tried not to reveal her vulnerability as she looked into his eyes.
“The proprietress of the club is very well-informed about members of society. With the right incentive, she may be convinced to share some information.”
Still uncertain, Eleanor scowled. “What sort of incentive?”
Phin laughed and lightly smacked her bottom. “Not that kind. I thought you understood that I do not use seduction to gain what I want. I’m clever enough not to require it.”
She believed him. With a sigh, she softened, melting against him as she trailed her fingertips up his spine. “I trust you,” she whispered, then tipped her head to press her lips to his.
Her accepted the kiss with a low hum. “Perhaps we’ll discover another way to draw him out.”
“Perhaps…” Eleanor allowed gently. “But if not, the necklace will work.”
His arms tightened around her and his eyes flashed. He growled roughly, “I don’t like it.”
“I know. But we need him to expose his intentions. The way he has behaved recently…I think Lord Ackerly might be losing patience. Our ploy could force his hand.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Phin grumbled.
“I’m not,” Eleanor replied with a soft smile.
He issued a deep sigh. “My brave beauty.”
She warmed in reaction to his obvious admiration. The endearment was growing on her.
“I’m going to keep you safe, love,” he murmured thickly. “I promise.”
“I know.”
They drifted to sleep again and the next time Eleanor awoke it was to his good-bye kiss.
Before she could fully regain conscious awareness, he was gone.
She lay for a while, stretching and sighing into wakefulness.
Reliving the most wonderous hours of her life.
Thinking. Worrying. Realizing a truth she’d much rather deny.
And finally, accepting what couldn’t be changed.
Soon after, she heard Gretchen moving around in her sitting room before coming to wake her.
By the time she dressed and made her way downstairs, she was in an oddly pensive but pragmatic state of mind.
Despite the endless turmoil in her mind, she’d managed to cocoon herself in a calm outward demeanor.
A demeanor that was nearly shattered when she discovered that her parents had returned.
Of course, she didn’t learn of it in the way one might expect to.
No. The duke and duchess wouldn’t have thought it necessary to inform their daughter of their arrival.
She discovered it by way of hearing her father’s voice echoing down the hall from his study and her brother’s voice coming back in reply.
No doubt, her mother was already ensconced in her private suite, where she most enjoyed spending her time while in London.
Curious and perhaps a bit annoyed by the disregard, though she should probably be accustomed to it by now, Eleanor crept toward the study, resorting to her typical method of gathering information—eavesdropping.
She silently approached the closed door and pressed herself to the wall beside it. It took only a moment to recognize the strained tones of a common subject.
“…not be as focused on your duties as you should be,” her father was saying in that subtly accusatory, disapproving way he had.
“You are nearing thirty. I was twenty-seven when your mother and I married, twenty-eight when you were born. It is long past time to look to your future. To the future of the dukedom and the future of the Fairchild family.”
It was rare for Eleanor to pity her brother who had so many more freedoms than she was allowed as a woman.
But this was one of those times. Though expectations for her were certainly high, for her brother they were impossibly exalted.
As the heir, he was expected to shoulder every responsibility and duty of the family without any consideration of his own desires.
As her father continued his frequent and familiar lecture about Ralston’s role in the Fairchild family and his duty to marry and produce an heir, Eleanor thought of Miss Dickson.
Though he’d certainly tried to hide it—deny it, perhaps, even to himself—she couldn’t shake the feeling that her brother was quite taken with the woman.
Unfortunately, there was no world in which Eleanor’s father would ever view Miss Dickson as an appropriate choice for the future duchess. The realization of that truth suddenly made Eleanor rather angry.
She slipped from her spot as easily as she’d claimed it and made her way to the front of the house where her brother’s carriage was waiting outside.
It was long past time that someone spoke a bit of sense in this family. If it had to be her, so be it.
She nodded to the footman standing at the door, then smiled at her brother’s groom before bringing her finger to her lips in a gesture to remain silent before she climbed into the vehicle.
She didn’t have long to wait. Her father was succinct, after all.
As expected, Ralston was not happy to see her waiting for him. But she stopped any protest with a lift of a hand. “I need a quick moment, brother. Just a drive around the block, I swear.”
It was clear he wanted to protest. Their father never put him in a very good mood. It wasn’t that the duke was terrible, really. He just never let either of them forget their obligation to the Fairchild family legacy.
Her brother glared at her for a long moment, but she just lifted her chin and held his stare. Then he gave a short nod and instructed his driver to loop around the block.
Eleanor forced a smile despite the tense silence. “I overheard you and father talking in the study.”
Her brother made a rude sound. “Of course, you did.”
Deciding not to let him annoy her, she continued, “I think you should disregard everything he said.”
Ralston expression turned patronizing. “You do?”
“Indeed. It is not unknown to me, or anyone who bothers to look at you with true curiosity, that you have been unhappy for some time.” When he prepped to protest, she continued firmly.
“I don’t shame you for your unhappiness.
In fact, I’m a bit surprised you’re not more morose considering all that you are forced to endure as father’s heir.
I do not envy you, brother. Not in that, at least.”
Her brother shifted in his seat. His narrowed eyes seemed anxious to look away. “I assume you have a point.”
Eleanor took his irritation as confirmation that she was not entirely wrong in her assessment.
“My point…is that I have noticed the difference in you these last couple weeks. Though your obvious distraction has made you wonderfully remiss as an escort and chaperone, it is clear that whatever—or whomever—has stolen your focus, it has been a good change for you.”
His eyes widened fractionally and his spine stiffened.
“Now, I can see that you are starting to berate yourself for no reason. I’ve been fine.
Bridget and Lydia have been fine. We really are capable of managing ourselves, you know.
Are you capable of caring for yourself, brother?
” Though his expression had grown rather fierce, she realized she had more of his attention than she’d managed to claim in a long while and she was going to make the most of it.
“I have seen you with Miss Dickson. I know something is going on there.”
His sudden tension was palpable. “I suppose the gossips are running rampant with tales.”
“Of course, but that is not why I bring up her name. I have seen you with her, brother. And I have never known you to behave so intently toward another person. When you are with her…you are utterly engrossed by her.” Eleanor lightened her tone. “It’s rather fascinating to witness, actually.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he declared, but she sensed a waver in his denial.
“Am I?” She queried sharply. “My entire life, I’ve known you to be unflappable, totally focused, untouchably committed to your role as heir to the Lindley dukedom and eldest of the many Fairchild cousins.
Don’t think I’m not aware of the weight of responsibility you must carry, brother.
And you have certainly carried it well all these years.
But when you are in the company of Miss Dickson—for the first time ever—I can see that you are just a man. As any other.”
Seeing his internal resistance to her words, Eleanor shook her head and leaned forward. “It’s a good thing. You are just a man, Ralston. Which is to say you are far more than the son of a duke. It’s time you allowed yourself to acknowledge that.”
She could see his internal struggle and wished he’d confide in her what he was thinking and feeling.
Instead, he muttered, “It’s complicated.”
Truer words… she mused.
“It always is, isn’t it. But complicated isn’t impossible.”
Her brother stared at her with dark focus. “When did you become so wise?”
Eleanor snorted. “There is something to be said for preferring to be the observer rather than the observed. I see things, Ralston. And I understand your reluctance. It won’t be easy to claim your own happiness within the structures you are obligated to support.
But you deserve it.” Her eyes caught and held his.
“We all do. And if anyone can handle the unnatural pressures of such a situation, I reckon it is you.” She thought of what she’d observed in the lady in question.
“And…though I cannot claim to know her, I suspect Miss Dickson is not the type of woman to shy away from a challenge either.”
Ralston arched a brow, a barely noticeable smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Wise, indeed,” he murmured.
Feeling warmed and encouraged by his response, Eleanor grinned and gave a firm nod of her head.