Page 12 of Oddity of the Ton
Swallowing her apprehension, Eleanor let her gaze follow the contours of his face, until she reached the lines she’d drawn depicting the lower lashes. Then she looked into his eyes.
Though he was a mere drawing, the familiar fear rose within her—as if she bared her soul.
You cannot harm me—you’re only a drawing.
Footsteps approached. Heat warming her cheeks, Eleanor closed the sketchbook and slipped it into the drawer. The door knocked and her father entered.
“Up early again, Ellie,” he said. “Are you visiting the park today? Your mother and sister will want to take their usual walk to meet friends and discuss last night’s party.”
“I’d rather not, Papa.”
He placed a hand on her arm. “I’dlike it if you joined us.”
“Us?”
“I thought, today, I’d indulge in the life of an idle gentleman, given that it’s such a fine day. You’d be company formeif you came. You can show me the trees you’ve been sketching in the park.”
Eleanor’s breath caught, and she met his gaze. Did he know of her illicit dawn visits to the park, to indulge in the scenery unhindered by other people?
His eyes crinkled with a smile.
“Papa—doyoumind that I didn’t dance last night?”
“No, my precious child,” he said. “You’re not suited to the life of a debutante. But you needn’t worry—we have Juliette for that. She can bear the burden of a brilliant match. You can concentrate on being happy.”
“And if I don’t make a brilliant match—or any match?”
“Then we’ll blame the world of young men,” he said. “Truth be told—I never expected you to find a suitable match.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and she looked away.
“You don’t ask why,” he said.
“Is it because I’m inferior to other women? Or because I’m a…” She broke off, unable to say it.
Burden.
Oddity.
“No, my Eleanor,” he said quietly. “You couldneverbe a burden. You see the world with different eyes to the rest of us.” He placed a fatherly kiss on the top of her head. “The reason I never expected you to find a match is that I doubt a young man exists in the world who could ever come close to deserving you.”
At that moment, a metallic clang echoed downstairs, repeating six times, each louder than the last.
Papa offered his arm. “Charles is exhibiting his usual enthusiasm for the breakfast gong. Shall we? I swear I could smell kedgeree earlier.”
Eleanor took his arm, and they exited the box room, making their way toward the breakfast room.
Perhaps there did exist a man out there who would value her as she was, and strive to make her happy. After all, Papa was such a man.
But her rational mind told her that such a man would be the very opposite of the one she craved.
Chapter Four
“Bless me, ifit isn’t Whitcombe!” a voice cried. “Do join us.”
Monty handed his greatcoat to a footman, then approached his friends—Sawbridge, Thorpe, and a recently married Marlow, who extended his hand. Monty took it, and Marlow shook it up and down.
“Good to see you, old chap! How are you?”
