Chapter 9
“He did not dance with me.”
Eleanor looked at her cousin. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you are thinking about Lord Finchley, might I also remind you that he did not dance with me either? His brother did not know where he had gone, for I did ask him.”
Her face heating, Eleanor turned her head away as they meandered slowly through the London street on their way to Gunters. “I was not thinking of him.”
“No?”
The light twist of doubt in her cousin’s voice shamed Eleanor.
She was not speaking the truth; she was well aware of that, and yet she did not want to bring herself to even say his name at present.
There was so much of him in her heart and in her mind, she could not seem to think about anything else.
After they had spoken, Eleanor had thought she would be relieved, glad now to know that the Marquess had not abandoned her as she had thought, having taken his amusement from her.
Instead, she had found that his explanations had not been satisfactory, for she had seen how he had prevented himself from sharing all.
And my heart still yearns for him.
That was the crux of it all. If she did not have any warm feelings for him, then setting him aside would be simple indeed. The fact that she did, however, still have a desire to be near him suggested that her heart was not yet willing to set him aside for good… and that was somewhat frustrating.
“You have not said a word in the last fifteen minutes, my dear Eleanor.”
Eleanor closed her eyes briefly. “Forgive me, Catherine. I am not good company, it seems.”
“But you do not want to share with me what is on your mind?” Catherine asked, gently. “I can tell that there is a good deal troubling you, and no doubt it is to do with Lord Finchley.”
“You saw me go after him.”
Her cousin nodded.
“Your mother was not pleased with me, and she had every right to be upset with my improper manner, but I could not simply let him walk away, not without finding out some of the truth from him.”
“And you have done so?”
Eleanor swallowed tightly. “I think so. There is more he would not say to me, but I can certainly understand now why he ended our connection in the way he did. It was not right of him, but there was a justification for it.”
“And that still does not content you?”
With a shake of her head, Eleanor let out a slow breath. “That will be frustrating for you to hear, I am sure, but there is more going on than he told me.”
Her cousin’s eyes flickered. “That boy with the note in the alleyway – did he explain that?”
Eleanor shook her head. “And whilst it might well have been that the reason for his absenting himself last evening was because of our conversation, I do not think it was.” Seeing her cousin’s frown, she quickly explained.
“He spoke of our dancing later that evening and did not indicate that he would not dance or that he may need to depart without warning. Given what I have endured from him already, I do not think he would have done so lightly.”
“So there may well have been something else that took him away from it – and from you,” Catherine murmured, as the heat in Eleanor’s cheeks returned. “I must say, Eleanor, I do not think that Lord Finchley has lost any of his feelings for you. I saw the way he looked at you when you first met.”
A dry, broken laugh cracked from Eleanor’s lips. “He was flustered, as was I.”
“Yes, but there was more than that,” Catherine said, practically. “It was as if he could not take his eyes from you, even though he wanted to do so. When he mentioned your waltz having already been taken, his jealousy could not have been more apparent!”
Eleanor blinked. “You think he was jealous?”
“That another gentleman was dancing your waltz?” Catherine smiled at her as they entered Gunters. “Of course!”
“Then why take yours?”
With a quiet smile, Catherine released Eleanor’s arm so they could sit down. “Why, to cover up his jealousy! He had to try and hide it somehow, did he not? He had already embarrassed himself by mentioning your waltz, so this was a way to cover that embarrassment a little.”
Eleanor did not know what to think, surprised at just how easily her cousin had been able to offer an explanation.
Recalling the way Lord Finchley had looked at her as they had spoken, Eleanor licked her lips, wondering if the darkness in his eyes had been from something other than the difficulty with his sister.
What if it had come from a deep regret, a longing to return to what they had once shared?
A longing that he feared would never be fulfilled?
Permitting Catherine to order their ices, Eleanor considered all that she felt for Lord Finchley.
Yes, there was that curiosity to discover what else it was that troubled him at present, but did that not stem from a desire to return to his arms?
Had not her hope blossomed now that she had learned the truth of his absence from her?
But if he had wanted to rekindle our connection, then would he not have said such a thing to me last evening? Her lips flattened, tugging to one side. So does it not mean that this difficulty, the one he would not speak of, might now be setting the two of us apart even still?
“Lady Eleanor, good afternoon! What a pleasant delight it is to my heart to see you here.”
Eleanor looked up, a little startled to see Lord Ashworth beaming at her as if, somehow, she had brought him a great deal of joy simply by being present in Gunters. “Lord Ashworth, good afternoon.”
“And to you also, Lady Catherine.” With a nod to her, he then quickly returned his attention solely to Eleanor. “Might I ask if you are present in this part of London for long? I thought a walk through these busy streets might be quite delightful.”
Exchanging a look with her cousin, Eleanor put a light smile on her face. “We thought to go to the bookshop, Lord Ashworth.”
“And you have no chaperone with you?”
“We have our maids,” Catherine said, a hint of censure in her voice. “That is chaperone enough.”
This, for whatever reason, seemed to make Lord Ashworth all the happier, given just how broadly he smiled. “Capital! Then would you permit me to accompany you both to the bookshop?”
Catherine blinked. “We have not yet begun our ices, Lord Ashworth.”
“I shall wait!” he declared, looking only at Eleanor, even though Catherine had been the one speaking. “I look forward to your company.”
As he walked away, back to his own table, Eleanor let out a slow breath as she shook her head. “Alas, I fear that my father will be greatly pleased with Lord Ashworth’s interest.”
“Oh?”
Eleanor’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Father studied my dance card very carefully last evening, declaring to me which gentlemen were, in his eyes, deemed suitable and which were not. Lord Ashworth was considered to be most suitable.”
Catherine’s eyes widened. “He did not say anything about Lord Finchley?”
Eleanor shook her head. “He said something about being near Lord Finchley’s estate, but that he had never met the gentleman himself.
Whilst his title was suitable enough, my father seemed to favor Lord Ashworth.
Seemingly, he – that is, Lord Ashworth – went to introduce himself to my father purposefully. ”
“Then his interest in you is genuine.”
“It would seem so,” Eleanor answered, with a sigh. “I am not in the least bit interested in his company, however, although I will admit that he is certainly suitable.”
Catherine smiled gently. “Because you are still in love with Lord Finchley.”
“Desperately so,” Eleanor admitted, with a soft smile, although her heart twisted at the very same time.
“But I am also well aware that my feelings might come to naught regardless of the fact I now know the truth about his stepping away from me… and that is something I do not think I can bear to endure all over again.”
“You may have to,” Catherine said, speaking very quietly as if she did not want to injure Eleanor with her words. “I shall pray that it will not come to that, however. I will pray that you will find happiness with Lord Finchley and that this time, that happiness will linger on into your future.”
Eleanor put one hand to her heart, tears beginning to burn in the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, cousin,” she said, her emotions stealing away the strength from her voice. “That is my prayer also.”
“I must say, I do prefer books such as these.” Lord Ashworth picked up a book and opened it. “Books that delve into practical things rather than foolish novels.”
Eleanor reached out one hand, turning open the first page. “This one speaks of improvements made to shipbuilding?” It was not a subject that in any way captured her interest, but when Lord Ashworth tugged it away, her brow furrowed. “Lord Ashworth, I was not yet finished – ”
“Oh no, my dear Lady Eleanor!” He stepped back, looking a little horrified.
“I could not permit you to delve any further into this book! It is a book for gentlemen only, you understand. Young ladies need not worry their heads about such things as this, for that would put you on the path towards becoming a bluestocking, and I am sure that you do not want that!”
Eleanor had no interest in becoming a bluestocking, but neither did she like Lord Ashworth’s insistence that he knew what was best for her and would, therefore, take the book away from her.
Biting the inside of her cheek so that she did not give him the sharp response that shot into her mind, she forced a smile.
“Do excuse me for a few minutes, Lord Ashworth. I must go and look at some of those foolish novels, as you called them, and I am certain you will not want to join me there!” She turned her back on him before he could protest and made her way quickly to the staircase, climbing it swiftly with her lady’s maid following quietly after her.
The bookshop was large enough that Eleanor could easily lose Lord Ashworth’s company entirely, and, given the way she had been able to scurry from him, Eleanor hoped she would not have to be in his company again that afternoon.
“What is the meaning of this?”
A loud voice, a yelp of surprise, and the clattering of footsteps caught her by surprise, swiftly followed by a young girl half-throwing herself down the stairs and knocking into Eleanor as she went.
Eleanor cried out in fright, gripping the banister with one hand as she flailed, only for a strong hand to catch her arm.
“Eleanor, are you quite all right?”
It took her a few moments to catch her breath, looking up into Lord Finchley’s face and seeing his wide-eyed concern. “I – I am.”
“I am terribly sorry,” he said, his hand loosening now but still guiding her upstairs to the next floor of the bookshop. “I did not mean for that to happen.”
Eleanor looked up at him as he took his hand from her arm, but then threw it through his hair, giving him something of a wild appearance as he began to pace, his eyes darting this way and that. “Who was she, Finchley?”
Stopping his pacing, Lord Finchley looked back at her. “I cannot tell you, Eleanor. Please, do not ask me.”
“Why can you not tell me?”
His eyes closed. “There is more to my situation than I expected, more than it first appeared. I dare not bring you into this. It is not your duty nor your responsibility, given that we are nothing more than acquaintances.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that how you see me?”
His hands spread out wide. “What else can there be, Eleanor?” he asked, his voice quiet indeed now. “I cannot be to you as I once was. I – ”
Coming to him, Eleanor put one hand on his chest, hearing his swift intake of breath as she did so.
This bookshop floor was quiet, with no one else but her maid present, and Eleanor took the chance to speak – and to act – with boldness.
“Why can you not be to me as you once were? I am sure that your heart still holds an affection for me, just as mine does for you. Why must you continue to push back from that?”
Lord Finchley’s face went pale, only for color to rise in his cheeks. He said nothing, holding her gaze for a long moment, seeming to battle within himself as the silence between them grew.
Then, as he closed his eyes, he began to speak again.
“It is because I will be ruined, Eleanor,” he rasped, stepping back from her so there was distance between them again.
“I cannot draw you near when you could easily be thrown into shame and disgrace, simply by being close to me. Your father would never permit it either, and though I do not like it, it is something I can well understand. So no,” he continued, opening his eyes and looking back at her again with a heaviness in his expression and a tightness in his jaw that had not been there before.
“I cannot be to you as I once was, no matter just how much I might long for it.”