Page 87 of To Bed the Bride
“Of course, Your Lordship,” Hamilton said, nodding. “It will be as you wish.”
She glanced at Michael. “What makes you think that I’ll change my mind, especially after all the things you’ve said to me?”
Aunt Deborah stood and approached her. “You silly girl. How can you be so foolish?”
“I can’t marry him, Aunt Deborah. He’ll destroy Hearthmere.”
The slap was hard, stinging, and unexpected. Her aunt had never struck her before. She placed her hand against her cheek and stared at the older woman.
“You’ll do as you’re told. We’re not in Scotland anymore, Eleanor. You don’t get to dictate to others.”
She never had. She never would. Yet her aunt was beyond any kind of convincing. She grabbed Eleanor’s upper arm with talon-like fingers and nodded to Hamilton.
He left the drawing room only to return in moments with the majordomo and two footmen.
Eleanor might’ve been able to pull away from her aunt’s grip, but she was powerless when both footmen each grabbed an arm and dragged her up the stairs. Instead of her own room, she was taken to one of the guest chambers. It wasn’t until they closed the door behind her that she realized why. This door was equipped with a lock.
She was well and truly a prisoner. In nine weeks she’d be released, but only for another jail: either Michael’s townhouse in London or his country estate.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Logan waited all Wednesday afternoon, but Eleanor never came. He stood at the window, watching every carriage coming into the square. None of them were hers. None of them pulled up in front of his steps. The door didn’t open; she didn’t emerge.
At his feet Bruce whined. He glanced down at the dog and said, “I know. I’m waiting, too.”
Mrs. Campbell was worried and didn’t hesitate to let him know.
“She’s never missed a day. She cares for the wee one as if he’s her own bairn. She wouldn’t miss a Wednesday without sending word.”
He only nodded, not trusting his voice. Bruce spoke for him with one solitary bark, as if agreeing with the housekeeper.
It was obvious to him that Eleanor regretted what had happened between them. That’s why she wasn’t here. Yet her affection for Bruce wasn’t feigned or false. Would she give up seeing the dog out of pique? She also knew that Mrs. Campbell prepared for her visit. Would she simply stop coming without some kind of notice?
That didn’t sound like Eleanor.
He made some excuse to Mrs. Campbell, but he didn’t feel comfortable about the situation. Perhaps he should send word to her, ask her point blank if she was returning. Or should he go even further and appear on her doorstep?
His appearance at the Richardses’ home wouldn’t be welcomed. Nor did he want to make the situation worse for Eleanor. Instead, he pushed his concern to the back of his mind.
He made it through the next week, keeping himself occupied with new legislation and assisting Disraeli. The next Wednesday he worked from home deliberately.
When Eleanor didn’t appear, Mrs. Campbell came to him.
“You know I’m not the sort to see omens and signs. It’s a feeling I’ve got, though, and you need to hear. I think something’s wrong. She’s a dear girl and she wouldn’t be doing this to Bruce unless she had no choice.”
He nodded. He had the same feeling. “Even if we’re right, I’m not sure what we can do about it.”
“Then I think we need to figure out something,” she said.
“Aye.” He smiled at his housekeeper. “That we should.”
Eleanor walked to the window. In the past two weeks this room had become her prison. The view overlooked part of the roof and beyond to the small lawn in the back of the house. From here she could see the path that she’d taken to Queen’s Park. She could almost see the girl she’d been months earlier with Bruce at her side, eagerly escaping through the gate, waiting for Logan, her heart beating fast in excitement and eagerness.
He’d loved her and she’d gloried in it. Perhaps she should feel some regret. Society had labeled it sinful to love without restraint, to feel that much for a man. If she had the chance she’d do it again and never feel a pinch of shame.
The memory of that afternoon was the only thing keeping her sane.
She’d tried screaming the first day, only for Deborah to bring a footman in to bind her wrists and jam a gag in her mouth. A day of that was enough for her to agree not to make a sound if the gag was removed. She doubted anyone could hear her anyway. This room was on the end of the block of townhouses with no nearby structures.
