Sin and Sensibility (6 page)

That should make your search a bit easier.”

“Melbourne—”

At the doorway the duke faced into the depths of the library again. “Keep her out of trouble, Valentine. That’s all

Sin and Sensibility / 43

I ask. I’m putting my trust in you. I’m putting my family’s honor in your hands.”

Valentine favored Sebastian with a two-fingered salute as the duke left, and then sank back to polish off his whiskey. That hadn’t gone well by any stretch of the imagination. Because of that damned note, he’d just become embroiled in a family dispute, something he’d managed to avoid since he’d been eighteen and his father had finally succumbed to oblivion.

Sebastian had to be desperate, to come to him. Even so, and even with the qualifications the duke had listed, he was fairly certain that he wasn’t the wisest choice to become anyone’s chaperone. And although a week ago he would have considered the favor vaguely annoying, since yesterday it had become much more troubling than that. “Talk about sending a fox to guard the henhouse,”

he muttered, rising to have his horse saddled.

The problem was, this fox now had a prestigious family’s honor, a friend’s honor, in his hands. And so Eleanor Griffin would have to remain safely out of his reach, no matter what he might be considering in private.

Chapter 4

“I
still don’t understand how you managed it,”

Stephen Cobb-Harding said, as he angled the sporty, high-perch racing phaeton into the shade of some oak trees.

Across the driving path a group of mamas had gathered, likely to discuss marriage matches for their sons and daughters. Eleanor couldn’t imagine her austere brother Melbourne in such a gaggle, but neither did she think he’d never discussed her matrimonial future with anyone.

“As I said, His Grace and I have an understanding. I prefer not to discuss the details of it.”

“Very well. Far be it from me to ruin the day with sticky questions.”

His charming grin made her smile in return. “That’s very diplomatic of you, Stephen.”

He shrugged. “I have the feeling that a lack of strife might be a pleasant change for you.”

Her smile deepened. Shame on her brothers for keep-44

Sin and Sensibility / 45

ing her from such pleasant exchanges—for heaven’s sake, speaking with Mr. Cobb-Harding didn’t mean she’d end up married to him. It only meant she could laugh and feel carefree and have a bit of fun for a few hours. Of course, she could consider the matrimonial portion of her declaration if she wanted to. “Diplomatic and perceptive.

My goodness.”

“And in need of something cool. Would you care for a lemon ice?”

“That sounds delightful.”

Under the circumstances it also sounded impossible, though she didn’t say so. Free or not, she wouldn’t have joined Stephen without a chaperone if he’d arrived for her in anything but a high-perch phaeton. As the saying went, a racing phaeton was the friend of a girl’s good name—mostly because once a driver took the ribbons, he couldn’t let them go unless a groom was present to hold the team, and there was no room for a groom on board. It did ensure his female companion’s virtue, but at the same time made it impossible for the driver to dis-embark for the purpose of procuring lemon ices, for example.

Mr. Cobb-Harding glanced at the ribbons in his hands, then over at the ice vendor. “You seem like a lady who enjoys new experiences,” he said, facing her again. “Have you ever held a phaeton?”

“Really?” A delighted giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Not since I was fifteen. Are you certain?”

He handed her the reins. “They’ll try to pull forward.

Hold them hard.”

“I will.”

He jumped to the ground. The bay pair immediately took a step forward, pulling so hard that Eleanor slid for-46 / Suzanne Enoch

ward on the narrow seat. She leaned back, hauling against them, and they settled down again.

“First that dress, and now horses,” a low drawl came from her left. “You’re becoming a Gypsy, aren’t you?”

A low flutter of amused excitement started low in her chest. “Lord Deverill. Whatever are you doing out and about before noontime?”

The marquis, mounted on his prime and infamously bad-tempered stallion Iago, tilted his beaver hat at her.

“Good God, is it that early? I must be ill.”

“The daylight will do you good.”

“That remains to be seen.” He sent a glance toward the shaved ice vendor. “Stephen Cobb-Harding,” he murmured. “Interesting choice of companion.”

Eleanor frowned, her pleasure at seeing the marquis dissipating. “Don’t tell me
you’ve
become stodgy.”

Both dark eyebrows lifted. “‘Stodgy’?” he repeated.

“You wound me. My only complaint is against his poor choice of coat color. What is that, puce?”

“Ah. His coat color. Very likely.”

The marquis chuckled. “I suppose his dress is tolerable.

I was just surprised to see you here in his company, and without a Griffin brother in sight.”

“I told you yesterday that things would change.”

“So they have. And for—”

“Here you are, Lady Eleanor,” Stephen interrupted, setting a pair of ices on the seat and clambering up beside them. “You did well. I think driving lessons may be next.”

“I’d love to,” she blurted.

Her escort’s attention, though, had already turned to Deverill. “Good morning, my lord.”

“Cobb-Harding. That’s a fine-looking pair.”

“Yes. Thank you. If you’ll excuse us?”

Sin and Sensibility / 47

The marquis touched the brim of his hat again. “Of course. Good day to both of you.”

Eleanor watched Lord Deverill ride off toward the north part of the park. She didn’t know anyone who rode as well as Valentine Corbett—or any man who looked as fine in a rust-colored coat and tight buckskin breeches.

“I’ve always been surprised,” Stephen said into the silence, “that your brothers could be so protective of you and still allow Deverill into Griffin House.”

“Deverill and Melbourne attended Oxford together, and they inherited at nearly the same age. They’ve always been quite close—well, as close as Deverill gets to anyone.

And the marquis has never been anything less than respectful toward me.”

“I meant no offense, Lady Eleanor.”

She smiled at him. “None taken.”

It was a question she’d asked herself from time to time anyway, considering how differently Melbourne and Deverill viewed the world. Mostly, though, she was just thankful for the marquis’s occasional visits. He always felt like a breath of fresh air, a contrary breeze in the face of her brothers’ harsh north wind. She’d even conjured his image when she’d written her declaration. There were certainly a few things about his style of living that she wanted to emulate, though the majority of them would see her married or in a convent.

There were other things she’d imagined about him too, about what she would do if those deep green eyes turned in her direction with more than mild amusement. And she’d imagined kisses, and warm hands, and pleasures she couldn’t put a name to, but could only guess about.

And the odd thing was, since he’d run into her outside Madame Costanza’s shop yesterday, she’d sensed a change

48 / Suzanne Enoch

in those eyes. A change that made her heart thud, and that made her recall her young girl’s fantasies all over again.

“How’s your ice?”

She shook herself. “Very refreshing. Thank you.”

“You know, my lady, I would very much like to escort you to the Hampton Ball tomorrow evening, if you would permit me.”

Oh, Melbourne would have an apoplexy if the same man escorted her twice in two days. “If you will come by at eight o’clock, I will be happy to have you escort me.”

Stephen nodded. “Splendid.”

As they passed between two rows of hedges, he leaned closer. Before she could move, he flicked the tip of his tongue along the left corner of her mouth. “What are you—” she stammered, shocked at the startling intimacy.

“Lemon ice,” he said easily. “Even sweeter, melted upon your lips.”

Eleanor spooned up another mouthful of lemon ice and tried to regain her breath. No man had ever dared to be so forward with her before now, and for a brief moment she’d been offended. This was what she’d wanted, in a manner of speaking—not some man she barely knew licking her mouth, but the freedom to have something out of the ordinary happen, with no one to chastise her for it later.

“You’re being very quiet. I haven’t offended you, I hope.”

“No! No. You only surprised me.”

One fine eyebrow lifted. “And you don’t like surprises, Lady Eleanor? I’m sorry if I’ve erred in my assessment of your charac—”

Sin and Sensibility / 49

“You haven’t, Stephen,” she said quickly, frowning.

Heavens, the last thing she wanted was for Mr. Cobb-Harding to think her timid or prudish. Not after she’d finally won the opportunity to be anything but. “I love surprises. And you may call me Eleanor.” If he kept calling her Lady Eleanor, neither of them would be able to forget her family’s large shadow.

The smile touched his mouth again. “I am very glad to hear you say that, Eleanor.”

After another pleasant hour spent chatting as they meandered about the park, Stephen returned her to Griffin House. As they turned up the drive, she could practically feel three pairs of frowning eyes glaring at her from the upstairs windows, and she sent a frown back in that direction just for good measure.

“Good afternoon, Lady Eleanor,” Stanton greeted, as he opened the front door for her.

“Stanton. Where might my brothers be?” She supposed she might as well get the argument over with.

“His Grace has gone to the House of Lords for a meeting. Lord Shay and Lord Zachary were to have luncheon at the Society Club, and they haven’t yet returned.”

“They—oh. Thank you. I’ll be attending to some correspondence in the morning room.”

“Very good, my lady. Shall I send in some tea?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

Her brothers weren’t even there? That didn’t make any sense at all. Melbourne had hounded her for better than twenty minutes before Stephen had arrived this morning, questioning the soundness of her mind and demanding to know what she hoped to gain from spending time with a fortune hunter—as if every single gentleman with a lim-50 / Suzanne Enoch

ited income was a fortune hunter. And yet now they couldn’t even be bothered to see whether she arrived home safely or not.

She seated herself at the writing desk, and with a sigh pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer. So they weren’t home. She hoped that meant they were finally taking her declaration seriously, and had realized that she wasn’t to be trifled with.

The morning room door flew open and she jumped, immediately steeling herself for a fight. “You might at least knock,” she said, wishing she’d begun her letter so she could protest being interrupted.

“I forgot,” Penelope’s small, sweet voice came.

Eleanor scowled.
Wonderful
. Now she was scolding little girls. “I’m sorry, Peep. I didn’t realize it was you.”

She turned in her chair to face the doorway. “What might I do for you?”

“Mrs. Bevins said I may have a tea party,” the girl replied, prancing up to stand beside Eleanor. “I wish to invite you to attend.”

From her careful diction she’d memorized that last bit.

“Well said, Peep. And I would be delighted to join you.”

“Thank you.” Peep took her hand to pull her to her feet.

“Uncle Zachary was going to attend, but Uncle Shay made him leave for luncheon.”

“‘Made him?’” Eleanor repeated. Now
that
sounded interesting.

“Yes. Uncle Shay said Papa told them to vacate. What does that mean, anyway?”

It meant several things, and mostly that Sebastian was up to something. “It just means he wanted them to leave the house for a little while,” she explained.

Sin and Sensibility / 51

“Oh, good. I thought it might be something worse, because Uncle Zachary said some bad words before he left.”

“Well, that’s Uncle Zachary for you.” Eleanor held on to her young niece’s hand as they climbed the stairs to the nursery. “Should I wear my bonnet to tea?”

Peep gave a dismissive wave of her free hand. “Miss Hooligan and Buttercup don’t have their bonnets on, so you don’t have to either. Besides, I don’t like to wear bonnets. The ribbons scratch my chin.”

“Mine too. I hadn’t realized your doll and your pony were attending as well. Am I dressed appropriately?”

“Everyone wears whatever they want to my tea parties,”

Peep declared. “I’m not stuffy.”

Heavens, Eleanor could remember those days, when she’d been six and hosted tea parties for her brothers and ridden horses astride and jumped into the estate’s lake wearing only her shift. It hadn’t even occurred to her then that in a few short years all of that would be taken away.

She squeezed Penelope’s hand. “This will be a very nice tea party.”

“A
splendid
tea party,” Peep amended.

Eleanor smiled. “Yes, a
splendid
tea party.”

If Melbourne expected Valentine to render twenty-four hours of constant surveillance on his sister, the duke was going to be sorely disappointed. The marquis leaned forward in the saddle, hands crossed over the pommel, and watched as Eleanor left Cobb-Harding on the front drive and vanished into the depths of Griffin House.

He counted to ten, then decided he’d done his duty for the day and turned Iago toward Jezebel’s. If he could get 52 / Suzanne Enoch

some light wagering done, at least the outing wouldn’t be completely wasted.

Obligations. He hated them, and rarely found himself on the paying end—with one glaring exception. In truth, though, he’d thought if Melbourne had ever intended on calling in his favor, it would be for something more…nefarious than keeping an eye on a virtuous female.

Or perhaps Eleanor was a bit less virtuous than he’d previously thought. From his vantage point along one of Hyde Park’s riding trails, he’d seen Cobb-Harding kiss her. She hadn’t fainted or screamed or fled, but instead had taken another bite of her lemon ice. Calm and collected or not, though, Nell had best be careful if she wanted to avoid ending up in some gossip sheet.