Page 54 of Oddity of the Ton
“Would you assist Sir Leonard and Lady Howard, and you”—Whitcombe turned to the second—“please attend to Miss Juliette.”
Then his gaze returned to Eleanor. “I shall take Miss Howard.”
A curl of desire licked through Eleanor’s body at the possessive tone of his voice.
He barked orders to the footman as her parents and sister climbed out of the carriage. Then she found herself alone, with her betrothed, standing in the doorway. He reached out a hand, and she stared at it.
“Why the hesitation, Miss Howard? Were you not expecting me to attend you this evening?”
She continued to stare at his hand—his ungloved hand—and her body warmed at the anticipation of his touch.
Then he curled his fingers around her wrist. “Did you think I’d abandon you because our attachment is a sham?”
Must he remind her so brutally of their arrangement?
“In truth, I didn’t know what to expect,” she said, unable to disguise the bitterness in her voice. “I find myself unwilling to play the role of the happy guest merely for the sake of appearance.”
“You wound me, Miss Howard, if you imply that you’re incapable of enjoying my company.”
“I’m sure you’d say the same aboutmycompany,” she said, “and I understand that.”
The mirth in his eyes died, and he lifted her hand to his lips. “How can you say such a thing, Miss Howard? I’ve been very much looking forward to spending the evening with you.”
“Y-youhave?”
“You think so little of yourself that you find it impossible that I’d find your company agreeable?”
“Most people—”
“I’m notmost people,” he said. “And, before you lay an accusation of falsehood at my door, I give you my word that I shall never deceive you.”
Eleanor’s cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. How in heaven’s name had he known precisely what she was thinking?
Then his expression softened. “You’ve every right to mistrust me, Miss Howard. But over the course of our…arrangement, I shall strive to earn your trust. Now, shall we?”
He helped her out of the carriage. She slipped on the bottom step and fell forward, but he caught her and held her close. Then he issued an order, and a footman ran toward them, holding an umbrella aloft.
“Take my arm, Miss Howard,” he said. “It’s treacherous underfoot.”
Eleanor glanced at the road, slippery with the rain and laden with piles of horse dung, above which wisps of steam arose.
“The horses are insensitive to the guests’ needs,” Whitcombe said.
“Bravo to the horses,” she replied. “Theycan act in any manner they choose without fear of admonishment.”
“Nevertheless, I’d implore you to step carefully. Our equine friends seem to have been overly enthusiastic in depositing their—ahem—gifts.”
She let out a giggle, while he picked a route toward the house. A cry of disgust rang out, followed by a sharp voice issuing a reprimand. A very familiar voice.
“I fear Lady Arabella Ponsford has suffered a calamity,” Eleanor’s escort said. “But, at least, it means we’ll have early warning of her approach, even if we cannot see her.”
“Early warning?”
“The odor of horse dung can be rather pungent indoors. I’ll wager her shoes are smothered in the stuff.”
“Perhaps I should step in a pile, if it’ll ward off company,” Eleanor said.
“Ishall not be deterred,” he replied. “I’d weather anything for the pleasure ofyourcompany.”
