Sin and Sensibility (20 page)

What I intended to say was that I won’t have Stephen forced into kidnapping some other poor girl and forcing her into marriage in order to satisfy his debt to you.”

Valentine sighed. “I suspected you might have some objection to the choices I offered him. Very well. I’ll put in a stipulation that he has one month to settle his affairs, and that if he attempts to marry in that time I’ll make sure that whoever’s in charge of the girl knows about the level of his debt—and his tendency toward being underhanded.”

“That doesn’t sound very…upstanding,” she muttered, realizing that her real objection was to his assumption that some male would be making all of the girl’s decisions on her behalf.

“Blackmail never is, my dear.”

“But how much is this costing you?” She also wanted to know what he might expect in return, but if she asked that question, he would respond. She wasn’t certain she was ready for that.

“No more than I’m willing to spend,” he answered. “In fact, I would be willing to spend quite a bit more to cut into Cobb-Harding’s hide.”

Their pheasant arrived, carried to the table by two waiters and led by the head man. It looked like a parade.

Valentine shooed them away when they would have stayed to watch their customers savor their first mouth-Sin and Sensibility / 171

fuls, and she chuckled at him. “You’ve whipped them into a frenzy. The least you could do is let them know we appreciate their efforts.”

“I’ll let them know when I pay the bill—if the pheasant’s any good.”

He took a bite, chewing and swallowing with such serious concentration that she laughed again. Heavens, she’d known he was witty, but she hadn’t suspected until now that he was also quite funny. “And?” she prompted.

“The poor bird gave up its life for a good cause,” he stated, motioning her to eat. “I’ll reward them for well-executed sycophancy and a very nice wine sauce.”

Eleanor took a bite herself, closing her eyes at the tender, succulent flavor. “Oh, my.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Her eyes met his. The things she imagined in that deep green gaze made her breath come faster, her pulse speed.

He didn’t say any of them aloud, though, and in fact he was the one who looked away first.

“So, Eleanor,” he said conversationally, when they’d both returned to eating, “you were going to tell me which prospective husbands appear on your list.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You might as well tell me anyway, or I’ll simply wheedle it out of you.”

He probably would. “I haven’t thought that much about it,” she lied. Confessing that she’d spent two unsuccessful hours plus endless nights trying to come up with anyone she even wanted on her list would make her sound un-bearably snobbish—and that was precisely what she didn’t want to be.

“Was Cobb-Harding on the list?”

172 / Suzanne Enoch

The question, and the honest curiosity in his tone, surprised her. “Yes. I mean, if on better acquaintance I had liked him, I would have considered him.”

“Odd, isn’t it, that if he’d behaved himself, he might have gotten what he’d planned to take by force,” he mused quietly.

She’d never thought about it that way, but it dismayed her to realize that Deverill was probably right. “I would like to think that I would have realized his true character sooner rather than later,” she said slowly, suppressing a shudder.

“Well, I think we can safely say he’s been crossed off the list now.” He leaned toward her. “So tell me, you must have at least another name or two in mind.”

“Lord Dennis Cranston seems pleasant enough,” she blurted, just so he wouldn’t think she hadn’t found anyone else who intrigued her at all—no one but him.

“Nerriton’s son? Come now, Eleanor. You can do better than that mush-for-brains.”

“He’s handsome,” she protested. “And you said you wouldn’t make fun.”

“I distinctly recall
not
promising any such thing. Who else?”

“Hm. I believe, my lord, that you’re familiar with the saying, ‘Once gullible, twice a fool’?”

Deverill laughed. It was the same merry sound she’d heard before, and it had the same effect on her insides.

By rights no one should be that attractive and at the same time that black-hearted—though she had the growing feeling that much of his cynicism was a defense, a reaction to the self-involved, fawning people of his past. As for the womanizing, she could surmise, but she knew very little about the old marquis, his father. From what Sebastian had said,

Sin and Sensibility / 173

Valentine had nearly been sent down from Oxford twice for having a female in his room. A married female, as she recalled.

“Very well, no potential spouses. What about your adventure, then?” he asked, still chuckling. “Have you given it any more thought? Any direction in particular I should focus my efforts?”

“What would you do, Valentine? If you could do anything, just once, what would it be?”

He cast his gaze to the far side of the street, his jaw working. “I’m not you,” he finally said, looking back at her. “I can’t make that decision.”

“But—”

“I can make suggestions, of course. Riding in a balloon, singing on an opera stage, sailing across the Pacific Ocean, meeting an Indian, journeying to India or to China, riding bare-breasted through Grosvenor Square, flinging a cake into Prinny’s carriage, shooting a weapon in Parliam—”

“Oh, stop it!” Torn between horror and laughter, Eleanor downed the rest of her Madeira. “Nothing like that—though the balloon ride might be interesting.”

“Out of all those suggestions?”

“Most of which would cause me to be arrested, in addition to ruining me,” she pointed out.

“There is that, I suppose.” Reaching across the corner of the table, he took her fingers in his. “Consider what you want, my dear. I’ll find a way to see it happen for you.”

It should have been easy to choose something wild and wicked and free. It probably would have been, except for one troubling fact: She’d told him the truth before—he
was
the adventure she wanted.

Chapter 11

V
alentine sent Eleanor home in a hack again. When she arrived at the front door, the greeting committee looked much like the one who’d been in attendance after the fiasco at Belmont’s—with one exception.

“Aunt Tremaine!” she exclaimed, shaking her mind free of visions of seductive green eyes. Quickly she stepped down from the carriage with Stanton’s assistance and hurried up to her aunt. “We were to have luncheon! I’m so sorry!”

“No worries, my dear. I was only concerned about you, since you didn’t send over a note.”

“Oh, I have abysmal manners, and a worse memory.”

Eleanor took in Sebastian’s still, grim countenance, and gripped her aunt’s arm. “Have you eaten? Should I have Stanton bring some sandwiches? Or would you prefer tea?” she rambled, guiding her round aunt into the house and toward the morning room.

“Eleanor.”

174

Sin and Sensibility / 175

Her spine stiffened at the dark tone of her eldest brother’s voice. “Yes?” she asked, turning around to face him. The expression in his eyes made her shiver.

“My office. Now.”

Aunt Tremaine extracted her arm from Eleanor’s. “I’ll be in the morning room, my dear,” she said. “Stanton will bring me my tea.”

“Of course, my lady,” the butler put in, gesturing a maid toward the kitchen.

So Aunt Tremaine thought she needed to be yelled at, as well. Considering how easily she’d forgotten a luncheon engagement when Valentine had smiled at her, she probably did deserve it. Keeping her expression calm and her gaze steady, Eleanor followed Sebastian into his office.

She couldn’t help flinching when he closed the door, but she hoped his back had been turned and he hadn’t noticed.

“I received your note,” he said, moving to stand at the window.

“I wanted to let you know where I would be, just as you instructed.” Continuing her show of uncaring serenity, she took a seat in one of the comfortable chairs facing the desk.

“We looked for you at the boat races for an hour.

Someone finally said they’d seen you stroll off in the company of Deverill.” He sat heavily in the deep sill. “I was actually grateful you had decided against rowing a scull.”

“Oh, Sebastian, I would never do such a foolish thing.

You know that.”

“No, I don’t. I thought I did, but you’ve lately been challenging most of my notions about you. How did you come to meet up with Deverill?”

“He came looking for me, I think, to make certain I didn’t join Fitzroy in his boat.”

The duke nodded. “And where did you dine?”

176 / Suzanne Enoch

“I don’t have to tell you that.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” For a long moment he sat silently, his gaze on the small garden outside. “I’m surprised that with the risks you’re taking, not only have you arrived home safely after each escapade, but you’ve managed to avoid a scandal at the same time. I think it’s only fair to warn you, though, that even the most proficient gambler loses on occasion.”

“I know that. I’m willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not finished. One of the reasons we—I—allowed you so much freedom when you were a child is that I didn’t know any better. I hadn’t even started at Oxford when I inherited the title, Shay, Zachary, and you. But ignorance, I suppose, is no excuse. And perhaps that makes your rebellion my fault.”

Eleanor stood. “If your solution would have been to allow me less freedom, you would have been doubly wrong.”

“Most female children of noble families don’t go fishing or jumping naked into lakes or riding off on their brother’s horses to break their arms, Nell. And when they grow up, they don’t venture into Vauxhall on their own, and they don’t wander off to have luncheon with hardened rakes without informing anyone first, or even after that.”

“I thought Deverill was your dearest friend.”

“He is. But
you
are my sister.” He blew out his breath.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that if you want to find your own husband, do so. If you want to visit Vauxhall or view the boat races, one of us will accompany you, and without complaint. But don’t…for God’s sake, don’t put yourself into danger. Please.”

Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather Sin and Sensibility / 177

her thoughts so she could finally explain this. “Sebastian, I love you. No, don’t give me that look. I do. But the blood that makes you a leader, that makes you hate limitations and demands that you think for yourself—that blood runs in my veins too.”

“I know that.”

“Then you should also know that until I was fifteen I could…do the same things that you did. And then I couldn’t.”

“Elean—”

“But now, for this moment anyway, if I’m willing to take the risk, I can do those things again. This time, though, it’s my responsibility, my decision. If I break my arm or get lost, it’s my fault. Not yours.”

“That may be how you and I see it, but it won’t be how the rest of London views it. They’ll see—”

“I don’t care what they see. I know that eventually I’ll have to go back to small dreams and small ambitions, and that because of the dictates of Society and the Griffin bloodline I’ll be forced to marry some fool of your choosing, but in the meantime, I
will
have some fun.

Short-lived or not, at least I will have done it.”

“My concern is that when you look back on this moment of yours, you’ll see it as the greatest mistake you ever made.”

“Then at least it will be a mistake that
I
made for myself.”

He let her have the last word. That felt significant, but considering the doubt and worry she still read in his eyes, he remained unconvinced. She’d given the explanation her best effort, and still no one was on her side. No one except perhaps Valentine—and that hardly counted.

178 / Suzanne Enoch

Tears starting down her face, she half stumbled into the morning room, surprising her aunt by collapsing on her shoulder in sobs she hadn’t even realized she was holding in. “I’m sorry,” she wailed, her voice muffled against Aunt Tremaine’s shoulder.

“Oh, dear, and me without a parasol,” her aunt returned, patting her on the back. “You go on and cry, Nell.

It seems as though you need to.”

“I don’t want to cry. I want to punch someone.”

“Not me, I hope. I would guess Melbourne, which I wouldn’t recommend, either. He’s quite muscular.”

“No, not him.” Eleanor wiped her eyes, straightening.

“I don’t know who I could actually punch, anyway. All of this frustration is my fault. But I won’t just give up and do what everyone else thinks I should. It’s not fair.”

Gladys took her hand, leading her to the couch and seating her, before going to pour them each a cup of the tea Stanton had provided. “I think I should refrain from comment until I know what in heaven’s name you’re talking about.”

With a hiccup, Eleanor sipped at her tea. “Oh, yes, I suppose so. I apologize, Aunt Tremaine. It’s just been in my head so much that I—”

“—that you can’t believe no one else could know about it. I understand. But you must tell me.”

“Yes. All right.” Eleanor took a breath and sipped at her tea again. She wanted to tell her aunt. Other than Deverill, she couldn’t think of anyone else she could include. Barbara knew a little, but only Deverill knew everything. Kind blue eyes looked at her as she sipped again. Gladys Tremaine was a perfect lady. She’d loved her husband, despite his lower rank, and before, during, and after her marriage had never even looked at another man, as far as

Sin and Sensibility / 179

Eleanor knew. She’d certainly never been tempted to kiss a rake—but Eleanor hoped she would understand the reasoning behind those unhelpful cravings.

“I made a declaration of independence,” she said.

“So Peep said. What sort of independence?”

“From the Griffins. I announced that I meant to find my own husband without their aid or interference, and that I would act as I chose and associate with whomever I pleased. And I would dress as I liked.”

Her aunt sat on the couch and sipped her own tea.