Page 90 of The Duelist for the Ton
Perhaps Eleanor’s house was the best place to have given herself to Stephen—and to announce their engagement. For they were among friends, and half a day’s ride from London Society and all its judgment of those who placed love over propriety. When Stephen announced their engagement, their friends would express genuine pleasure and celebrate their love.
Her head held high, she strode toward the breakfast room, and the murmur of chatter interspersed with the laughter of her friends. As she entered, the chatter stopped and Eleanor rose to greet her. Portia cast her gaze about the breakfast table—to the empty space between Henrietta and Beatrice.
Where was he?
A knot of apprehension twisted in her stomach and she glanced across the table toward her brother.
“Is the colonel not joining us for breakfast?” she said, flinching inwardly at the tightness in her voice.
“The poor colonel was called away urgently last night,” Eleanor said. “Is that not right, my love?”
Whitcombe nodded. “A messenger from London arrived shortly after dawn,” he said. “He’s downstairs now, taking tea while my man’s tending to his horse.”
“And…the colonel?” Portia said, aware of her brother’s dark gaze on her.
“He left shortly after receiving the message,” Whitcombe replied. “My valet attended him and he asked him to convey his regrets and to say that he hoped to see us all again in London.”
“Did he say—”
“He said he’d pay us a visit,” Adam interrupted, and when she met his gaze, he nodded, his expression softening, as if conveying his reassurance.
Have no fear, sister.
“It’s all rather mysterious,” Lord Hardwick said, reaching for his teacup. “Dashing off in the middle of the night. What is he running to?” He let out a chuckle. “Or from? Soldiers retreat as well as advance, do they not?”
“I fear the weather will not be kind for the journey back to London,” Eleanor said. “Lord Hardwick, are you returning to London or will you be taking Beatrice directly back to Hardwick Hall?”
Hardwick tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in question. “Duchess?”
“You wouldn’t want dear Beatrice to endure more carriage rides than necessary,” Eleanor continued. Then she turned to Whitcombe and smiled. “Do you not recall, Monty, how our carriage went into a rut and you feared it would bring about my confinement there and then?” She turned her attention to the rest of the guests. “My poor husband not only feared that he’d be present at the birth, but that he’d be forced to deliver the child himself!”
A ripple of laughter threaded through the guests, and the conversation turned to the hazards of riding a carriage on poorly maintained roads. Eleanor met Portia’s gaze, and Portia dipped her head in a nod.
Thank you,she mouthed.
How Eleanor had understood Portia’s distress was a mystery—as were so many aspects of Eleanor’s insight. There was little point in attempting to understand her ability to look deep inside a person’s soul, but every reason to be thankful for it.
As the party gathered at the front of the building to say their goodbyes, Eleanor approached Portia and linked her arm through hers.
“He really was called away,” she said, lowering her voice. “Monty’s valet said he was most agitated, and he particularly wanted to convey his regrets to you and say that he’ll call on you as soon as he settles his business in London.”
“How did you…?”
“Know that he’s in love with you?” Eleanor said with a smile. “By the way he looks at you, and”—she glanced toward Adam, who was issuing orders to the footmen placing their trunks on the back of their carriage—“by the way your brother looks at him. Mark my words, when you return to London, you’ll find a message awaiting you—either that, or you’ll find the colonel waiting on your doorstep, begging forgiveness.”
I hope so…
“Iknowso,” Eleanor said, with a smile, as if she’d read Portia’s mind. “Have no fear, it’s only three hours to London—less than that if your brother hurries your driver, and I suspect he will. I’m sure you can wait that long. After all, you’ve waited your entire life to find the one man capable of deserving you.”
“Are you coming, sister?” Adam said, approaching. He took Eleanor’s hand and kissed it. “Duchess, a pleasure, as always, but I trust you’ll understand my eagerness to return to London.”
“I understand it perfectly, Foxton,” Eleanor said.
He offered his hand. “Sister, shall we?”
Portia took it and let him lead her into the carriage. After it had set off and Rosecombe was no longer in sight, he spoke.
“Reid’s agreed to marry you.”
