Page 154 of Oddity of the Ton
“Then perhaps you should return home, and plague her no more.”
“I’ll leave only if Eleanor wishes it,” Montague said.
“And she does wish it. She said so herself.”
“She said nothing of the sort, reverend. Must I silence you?”
“Try it, sir—and see where your attempts to cow me will leave you.”
Their angry voices stabbed at Eleanor’s senses, and a wave of pain rippled through her head.
“Please, stop—both of you!” she cried. “The last thing I want is for you to fight.”
“What do you want, Eleanor?” Montague asked.
“I-I want it all to go away.” She shook her head as the world tilted out of focus. Then the aroma of spices broke through the fog and a firm hand took her wrist, slipping her bracelet off before placing it in her hands. He curled her fingers over the bracelet, and she clung to the smooth metal as the fog in her mind dissipated.
“There,” he said in a gentle whisper. “Is that better?”
Her vision cleared as she looked down to see Montague’s hand over hers, guiding her fingers around the edge of the bracelet. She glanced up and met his gaze—the pure blue of his eyes sparkling with warmth as they creased into a smile.
“H-how did you know?” she asked.
“Do you not recall the day after I asked you to marry me, Eleanor? I saw how your maid tended to you when you became a little overwhelmed.”
“And you remembered?”
He nodded. “Why would I not? I have committed to memory every waking moment that we shared together—each precious moment of pleasure that I have relived in my dreams, and each moment when your distress has wounded my heart.”
“A-and you came here to tell me that?”
“No, my darling,” he whispered. “I came here to bring you home.”
A ripple of fear threaded through her, and she tried to pull her hand free, but he held firm.
“Unhand her, sir,” Mr. Staines said. “You may outrank me, but that doesn’t give you the right to force her to bend to your will.”
“Is that right, Eleanor?” Montague asked. “Am I forcing you against your will?”
“I-I can’t go home,” she said. “Not after what happened. My father…”
“Your father loves you, Eleanor. And he misses you.”
So, that was how he’d found her. By bullying Papa—as he was bullying her.
He released his grip and raised his hands in an act of supplication.
“I’ll not force you to do anything if you don’t wish it, Eleanor.”
“But you forced my father to tell you where I was.”
He shook his head. “I tried to persuade him, but your father stood firm.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “He gave me a shiner for my troubles.”
She caught her breath at the thought of his pain, and lifted her hand to place it on his cheek, but his face was unmarked.
He placed his hand over hers. “It’s faded now.”
“When did you see Papa?”
