CHAPTER THREE THE FIRST LESSON
By the time Eleanor informed the Society of Scandalous Ladies that Gabriel St. Clair had agreed to teach her seduction, Frances Pembroke had already poured herself a second glass of wine.
“For fortification?” Catherine asked.
“For concentration,” Frances replied. “The distinction is important.”
Eleanor stood at the end of the narrow table in Arabella’s hidden library with the written terms of her arrangement resting before her.
She had anticipated surprise, caution and perhaps an argument concerning propriety.
She had not anticipated that seven women would study her with varying degrees of fascination, concern and poorly concealed amusement.
Beatrice, seated beside Catherine, looked delighted enough to make Eleanor regret saying anything.
“You put the rules in writing,” Beatrice said.
“Yes.”
“And Gabriel signed them?”
“He initialled them.”
“That sounds like Gabriel. Full signatures imply emotional commitment.”
Amelia, who had taken possession of the paper, read the conditions with a deepening crease between her brows.
“Nothing will occur without explicit agreement. Either party may stop at any time. No details will be shared outside the Society unless safety requires it.” She lifted her gaze. “These are sensible.”
Frances leaned across the table. “Does it specify what the lessons include?”
“No.”
“An unfortunate omission.”
“It was intentional.”
“Even more unfortunate.”
Arabella reached for the document. The dowager duchess was dressed in bronze silk, her silver-threaded dark hair arranged in the severe knot she favoured when presiding over matters she considered potentially disastrous.
Eleanor had seen that expression when Beatrice announced she intended to break into Lord Wexford’s study.
She had also seen it when Frances proposed training a monkey to carry coded messages.
The fact that Eleanor’s plan appeared to occupy the same category was not reassuring.
Arabella read the terms in silence, then set the paper beside her wineglass. “Where will these lessons occur?”
“Here, when possible.”
“In the hidden library?”
“No. Gabriel said the rooms must suit the subject being taught. The first lesson will take place in the private ballroom.”
Frances brightened. “There is a settee in the private ballroom.”
“There are also chairs,” Amelia said.
“Chairs possess less educational promise.”
Arabella ignored them both. “Barlow will remain within call, and one of us will be in the house during every meeting.”
“Agreed,” Eleanor said.
“No locked doors.”
“Agreed.”
“No wine beyond one glass.”
Frances looked offended on Gabriel’s behalf.
Eleanor inclined her head. “Agreed.”
Beatrice turned toward Arabella. “You are behaving as though Eleanor intends to conduct anatomical experiments.”
Arabella’s expression did not change. “I have met Lord Ashcombe.”
“So have I. He is perfectly capable of restraint.”
“He is perfectly capable of making restraint appear less desirable than surrender.”
Catherine’s mouth curved faintly. “That may be the source of his reputation.”
Eleanor had spent the hours since Gabriel left the publishing office attempting not to think about his reputation.
This effort had been unsuccessful. She remembered his thumb resting against the pulse inside her wrist, the warmth of his hand and the look in his eyes when she approached him as he instructed.
She remembered the way his voice changed when he described the Mercury Club, becoming low and intimate until she could almost feel his hand at her back and his mouth near her ear.
Most troublingly, she remembered his final words.
Your first error is believing I am the only one in danger of misunderstanding these lessons.
Eleanor had repeated the sentence in her mind while undressing, while lying awake and again over breakfast as her father complained that his coffee had cooled.
Gabriel was attracted to her. The possibility should have been absurd.
Gabriel was desired by women whose beauty altered the atmosphere of rooms. He had been linked to actresses, widows, countesses and one foreign princess whose husband had challenged the wrong man to a duel after confusing two sets of initials.
Eleanor possessed none of those women’s brilliance of appearance. She had never inspired a duel. Most men required reminding that she was present before passing the sugar. Yet Gabriel’s pulse had been no steadier than her own.
“Do you truly believe you will remain unaffected?” Catherine asked.
The question drew Eleanor back to the library.
Catherine watched her without judgement.
Of all the Society’s members, she possessed the gentlest manner and perhaps the least gentle understanding of human nature.
Widowhood had taught her the distinction between affection freely given and dependence constructed through marriage. Eleanor looked down at the agreement.
“No,” she said.
The answer surprised everyone except Sophia.
Beatrice’s brows lifted. “No?”
“I do not believe I will remain unaffected. The lessons would be useless if I did.”
Frances raised her glass in approval.
Amelia frowned. “There is a difference between learning confidence and becoming emotionally entangled with a man who has spent his adult life avoiding attachment.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Eleanor met her gaze. “Gabriel believes women frequently mistake desire for promises. I have no intention of doing so.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“No,” Eleanor said. “It is the answer I can give.”
Amelia looked as though she wished to press further, but Sophia spoke first.
“What do you want from the lessons beyond access to the club?”
The room became quieter. Sophia sat near the concealed entrance in her plain brown gown, hands folded loosely in her lap.
Society still saw a governess when it looked at her, which allowed Sophia much the same freedom Eleanor had cultivated through silence.
The difference was that Sophia had known what it meant to survive without a respected father’s name or a protected place in society.
Her questions were rarely careless. Eleanor considered the answer.
She could have said information. Proof. Access to the upper gallery. Those things were all true, but none explained why Gabriel’s refusal had angered her or why the memory of standing inches from him had felt less like danger than possibility.
“I want control,” she said.
Clara stopped arranging the coins she had placed in neat columns beside her elbow. Eleanor continued before doubt could make the explanation smaller.
“My father controls whether my work is published. He controls which manuscripts I may see, which scholars will receive my notes and whether any payment reaches me. The law permits him to control most of the money in our household, and society allows him to control the name beneath which my work appears.”
Beatrice’s expression lost its amusement.
“I have spent years making myself unobtrusive because being overlooked is useful,” Eleanor said.
“Men speak freely before women they consider unimportant. They leave papers upon desks. They repeat arguments they would never risk before someone they considered an equal. I chose invisibility because it gave me knowledge, but I no longer wish it to be the only power available to me.”
Arabella regarded her steadily. Eleanor placed one hand upon the written terms.
“Men are taught how to move through rooms, how to command attention, how to judge desire and how to protect themselves from it. Women are warned against the subject and then blamed for not understanding it. I want the education I was denied.”
Silence followed. Frances set down her wineglass with unusual care. Amelia’s expression softened. Catherine looked toward the fire, perhaps remembering lessons of her own that had arrived too late. Arabella folded the agreement once, precisely.
“Then you may use the ballroom.”
Beatrice smiled. “I knew you would approve.”
“I did not say I approved.”
“You are allowing it.”
“I have discovered that disapproval is more effective when conducted at close range.”
Clara picked up her pencil. “There are still practical considerations.”
“Such as?” Eleanor asked.
“The statistical likelihood of discovery increases with every lesson. If servants observe Gabriel arriving repeatedly, the pattern may be noticed.”
“Barlow can stagger the entrances,” Arabella said.
“The larger risk is emotional error,” Clara continued. “Lord Ashcombe has maintained a reputation for inconstancy for more than a decade. Miss Finch has no comparable history. Their assumptions regarding consequences are therefore unequal.”
Frances stared at her. “Have you calculated the likelihood that Eleanor will fall in love with him?”
“Not yet.”
“Could you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Clara looked irritated. “Because emotion is not an annuity.”
“Pity. It would be much easier to manage if it produced quarterly returns.”
Amelia returned the agreement to Eleanor. “Does Gabriel understand that you are not a game?”
“He understands that I am necessary to the investigation.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No,” Eleanor said. “But it is a beginning.”
Beatrice leaned back in her chair. “Gabriel is not careless with women.”
Arabella gave her a look.
“He is frequently careless near women,” Beatrice amended. “That is different.”
“An excellent defence,” Catherine murmured.
Beatrice ignored her. “He allows society to believe he is shallow because shallow men are underestimated. Julian trusts him.”
“Julian also threatens to throw him from windows,” Frances said.
“Trust takes many forms.”
Eleanor gathered the papers. “The first lesson is dancing.”
Frances sighed. “A disappointing use of a private ballroom.”
“Every education requires foundations.”
“I have always preferred advanced study.”
Arabella lifted one brow. “Which explains why you have escaped three engagements.”
“Four.”
“The fourth man escaped you.”
Frances considered this. “Then we both demonstrated excellent judgement.”