Page 32 of Scandal of the Season

“I don’t doubt it. Ellie can be quite persuasive.”

“Persuasive? She pulled a bloody lion out of that room and brought a lamb back in. I’d like to know how she performed such a miracle. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to ask her?”

He hated to crush the man’s hopes. “Eleanor has never been one to prattle, and no amount of questioning will make her surrender that which she does not wish to reveal.”

“A rare woman.”

Indeed.

“I don’t suppose we’re really going hunting in the morning, are we?” asked Marston wistfully. “I’m afraid I failed to pack the proper attire for such an excursion.”

“Why not?” Sorin answered. “I would not mind bagging a few more birds before leaving for Town. We’ll find some clothes for you and you can have your pick of my rifles. As for the meat, it’s been a hard winter here and I’m sure there are some families in the village that will appreciate a gift of fowl.”

“When you put it like that, how can I refuse?” said Marston with a wry laugh.

“You cannot.”

The men rode in companionable silence the rest of the way to Holly Hall at which point they parted for the night. Upon reaching his room, Sorin at once penned a note to Charles explaining the situation between Marston and Caroline and asking for his and Rowena’s aid and discretion in managing the matter. Giving it to his valet, he ordered that it be delivered first thing in the morning.

As he lay awake, he thought, as always, of Eleanor. She had grown into an astounding woman in so many ways. Her ability to quash her friend’s temper had been most impressive, yet he wondered how long the armistice she’d brokered would last. He also wondered if the women’s friendship would survive once he began openly courting Eleanor—if indeed it ever came to that.

Chapter Nine

A pounding headache greeted Eleanor the following morning. She’d hardly slept for fretting about Caroline. And then there was Sorin. He’d left so abruptly, and his good-bye had been so formal and cool. She hadn’t expected it.

“Lady Eleanor?”

She turned to answer the servant’s inquiry. “Yes?”

“Her Grace has requested your presence in her sitting room.”

No doubt to give me a good tongue-lashing for my conduct last night. “Thank you. Tell her I shall come as soon as I’m dressed.” Sighing, she rose and rang for Fran. Going to the wardrobe, she grabbed the first serviceable gown she saw and prepared to don it. There was certainly no point in fussing over her appearance today.

When she arrived, Rowena wasted no time getting to the point of her summons. “I think taking Caroline with us to London would be a mistake. I plan to write to her parents today and tell them that we find ourselves unfortunately short of space.”

Eleanor blinked in surprise and took a moment to steady herself. “You deserve an explanation for last night. In all honesty you need to know the truth in order to prevent any further incidents, but please wait until you hear what I have to say before you write to her family.”

“I am already aware,” interrupted Rowena, cutting her off. She rose, her long skirts hissing angrily as she paced the room. “She knew he had been invited,” she said, her voice low and hard with suppressed fury. “Why did she not tell us? It would have saved everyone a great deal of discomfort!”

“She was too embarrassed,” Eleanor said in her most soothing tone. “She truly thought she could be civil to him.”

“Civil? She all but gave him the cut direct!”

“She was unprepared to learn that he was such close friends with Sor—with Lord Wincanton,” Eleanor continued, desperate to calm her down. “When she saw them talking, she assumed the worst and thought Lord Marston was speaking ill of her to him. It upset her terribly.”

Rowena sat on the edge of a settle and passed a hand over her pale, pinched face. A moment later, she withdrew a folded piece of paper from her pocket and held it out.

Taking it, Eleanor unfolded the missive, instantly recognizing Sorin’s neat hand. Her heart sank as she quickly scanned the lines.

When she was done, Rowena took it back and began to refold it. “You realize this means I cannot invite Lord Marston to any of our at-home events in London. We cannot have that kind of tension in the atmosphere without it causing talk and endangering your chances.”

“My chances? What of Caroline’s?”

“She is not my primary concern.”

“Neither am I,” Eleanor retorted. “I don’t intend to marry—and I wish you would stop trying to force it on me! Besides, the matter is irrelevant, anyway.”

“Irrelevant?” said Rowena, her voice rising. “The whole purpose of taking you to London is to—”

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