Page 65 of Snowbound Surrender
Eleanor had thought to cloister herself in Warlock and lick her wounds, not socialize. “Everything I have is mourning wear.”
Her sister made a dismissive sound. “Are you still mourning his loss?”
Eleanor shifted uncomfortably. She should be, shouldn’t she? But she didn’t miss James. Their marriage had not been what she had hoped and dreamed. It was more that she was mourning the loss of the well-tended, easy path of her life. “Well… not really.”
“Then it is time to come out of mourning. Six months is long enough. I’m busy with commissions from other ladies, but I canfind the time to modify one of my dresses for you. It’s a good thing we are still of a size.”
The thought of shedding the heavy black and gray dresses lightened the yoke that had become more burdensome with every passing day. No matter what happened next, coming north to her sister had been the right decision.
Charlotte set her chin on her hand and leaned closer to Eleanor. “Now, tell me about the strange tension between you and Callum Paxton.”
“What strange tension?” Eleanor asked.
“There was a familiarity between you that I wasn’t aware of. You must have met him when you last visited.” While it wasn’t a question, it was obvious by her raised eyebrows that Charlotte was interested in the details.
“Yes, we met.” Eleanor averted her gaze.
“And?”
“And… nothing much happened.” A glance over at her sister made Eleanor huff in surrender. “Some walks. A kiss. Maybe two. But he made it clear it was only a flirtation for him, and he ended it rather abruptly.”
“Was it more than a flirtation for you?” Charlotte had lost the tease in her voice.
“I enjoyed his company. Until I didn’t. I expect there is a lady wife who keeps him occupied.” Eleanor hated the prim hurt in her voice.
“Actually, he has not married, much to the consternation of the mothers in Warlock. He is quite the catch. There are not many eligible bachelors, especially tall, good-looking ones from fine families.” Charlotte ran her finger around the edge of her glass. “It was tragic what happened, of course.”
“What happened?”
“He was promised in marriage to a local girl basically from birth. Their land abutted the Paxton farm. The young ladytragically died of a fever at the same time his father passed.” Charlotte sent Eleanor a quick glance. “Callum is a baronet now.”
Eleanor’s thoughts swirled in disarray. He had been promised to another. Did that explain why he had acted infatuated with her and then had thrown her over so easily? Had he amused himself with her while promised to another?
Men seemed to think they could use and manipulate and discard women at will. Or perhaps she attracted such vermin. Never again would a man take advantage of her in such a way.
CHAPTER 2
Two days later,Eleanor ventured into the village to retrieve ribbons for Charlotte, who was hard at work detailing several gowns before the solstice festival. She smoothed her borrowed red-wine-colored skirts. It was a bit tight at the bust but hadn’t needed alterations.
Even so, she felt uncomfortable. Although they were ugly, she missed her widow’s weeds. Missed them like a knight might miss his armor.
She entered the general merchandise store. A tinkling bell that she had triggered brought several sets of eyes swinging in her direction. Her face heated, waiting for the disdainful looks and whispering that had accompanied her appearance in London.
Most dropped their gazes after an offered nod or smile of welcome. One woman was bolder. She approached, albeit with the skittishness of a horse. As she drew closer, she offered a smile. “Might I hazard a guess that you are Mrs. MacGrath’s sister?”
Eleanor tried not to tense with the expectation of being cut. “Yes, I am Mrs. Denholm.”
“It is lovely to meet you!” The woman’s voice had become more forthcoming and friendly. “I am Lady Westhorpe. Fernlow, the Westhorpe estate, isn’t far. It’s our first winter in Warlock, and we are hosting the solstice festival on the grounds. I do hope you plan on coming.”
Eleanor had never met Lady Westhorpe during the season in London, but that was not surprising. What was surprising was her casual way of speaking and the warmth of her demeanor toward Eleanor. “It’s all my sister can talk about. She says it is great fun.”
“Indeed. The last hurrah before winter truly forces us inside to huddle by our hearths.”
“I’m surprised you do not retreat south for warmer climes.” Eleanor skirted the questions she really wanted to ask. How much time had Lady Westhorpe spent in London, and did she or her husband know of the scandal muddying Eleanor’s reputation?
“My lord and I are very unfashionable, I’m afraid, and prefer Fernlow over London. I am a lepidopterist.”
“Oh.” Did that mean she was a leper or studying lepers? She appeared healthy enough. “I’m sorry?” Eleanor said with an uncertain lilt.
