It was time to take control of the conversation and press his own suit. "You said you would give me a second chance."
"I gave you one."
"No you didn't." If she thought she was going to turn her back on him now and dismiss him because of a stupid book, she was in for a rude awakening. "You have not given me a chance at all. You admit to not reading for yourself what Fanny wrote about our affair, yet you judge me."
She recoiled in defiance. "I do not judge you."
He pointed the spine of the Pepys at her in accusation. "You took what little you heard and made me a villain."
Her arms folded across her chest. Brahm would have had to be much angrier than he was not to cast a glance at her cleavage as she did so. "I have not!"
"Then why are you avoiding me? Why have you become so cold?"
"Because— " She stopped, her expression changing to one of horror.
Brahm had never seen anything like it and it drained the anger and frustration from him. He almost felt sorry for her. "Because what?"
She looked away, the last vestiges of a sunset behind her haloed her profile. "Because I have resented you for so long, it is difficult for me to trust in you now. No matter how badly I might want to believe you, a part of me insists I would be a fool for doing so. There, does that please you?"
"Of course not. In fact, quite the opposite." What did she expect, that he'd find her admission humorous?
But she wasn't done just yet. "When Lady Dumont read that woman's book to us today I was embarrassed for you, but then I began to wonder why you had not paid to be kept out of the book like any decent gentleman would have."
Now
that
statement was humorous. "Decent gentlemen do not often find themselves the victims of blackmail."
She nodded, her mouth tight. "Perhaps not. But you could have kept your affair private by parting with what I'm sure would have been a pittance to a man such as yourself, but you did not. You deliberately allowed her to make public your relationship. Do you take some pleasure in knowing that people can read such awful things about you?"
Brahm scowled. "Awful? What, did she claim that I beat her, that I was cruel to her?"
"No."
"Then what was so awful? Surely not the bit about my 'massive maleness'? I rather liked that. Had I known she was going to be so verbose in her praise, I would have paid her to say more."
Her face contorted with distaste. "I cannot believe you find this amusing."
He shrugged. "Well, she could have been a lot less flattering."
"You are not embarrassed?"
Should he be? He supposed from her perspective he should. Women viewed intercourse in an entirely different manner than men. He had been taught that conquest was good. Eleanor, on the other hand, had been taught that to be such a conquest was bad.
"I'm not pleased, but there are a lot worse things that can happen to a man than to have his prowess publicly praised. I was a good protector to Fanny, and I will not be embarrassed or ashamed of having treated her decently." He had read more of her memories— Fanny had not spoken ill of his treatment of her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off before she could issue a sound. "If you want to be offended on my behalf, you are welcome to it. But I do think you should read the entire chapter about me before you pass judgment. It is the Christian way." It was petty of him to throw her words from the other night back at her, but he was fighting for his chance of making amends with her— although at the moment he was having a hard time remembering why he wanted her forgiveness so badly.
Eleanor swallowed. He could see the slim column of her throat tighten. "I have to go," she whispered just before she bolted from the room.
Brahm watched her go. What the hell? There was obviously only one way to stop this idiocy once and for all. He had to make Eleanor see that he was not the shameless libertine she thought he was.
He had to find Birch and get Fanny Carson's damn book.
* * *
He thought she believed him a liar. He thought she was angry because she thought he bedded every woman he could get his hands on. And he in turn was angry because she didn't know all the facts.
Eleanor didn't want to know all the facts, and thank God the truth had never occurred to him. She had come so close to admitting her jealousy to him. She didn't judge him— not now, and she wasn't about to make him a villain. She had done that years ago.
How could he not be humiliated to have such private details of his life offered up for public scrutiny? He must truly not care what society thought of him. Or perhaps he knew from experience that scandals come and go, and eventually society would forget about Fanny Carson and her book and move on to something else.
He thought she was upset because she believed him to have been with many women. She was upset, but not in the way he thought. She was upset because she wasn't one of those women! What was wrong with her that she would have such shameful feelings? How could she admit to them, even to herself?
And how could she have them about a man who had betrayed her so terribly? And why was she beginning to feel sympathy for him? Drinking had been a sickness for him, and she would feel sorry for anyone who had been so terribly ill.
Modern doctors and essayists had begun to discuss the dilemma of alcohol consumption in England; that she knew from the books in her father's library. Through the years she had done a bit of reading on the subject in an effort to learn more about why Brahm lived the way he once had.
Profuse drinking was not an affliction limited to the wretched. Many of Eleanor's own set imbibed to excess such as Brahm had. It was only in the upper circles that drinking was considered a sport among gentlemen. In fact, there were those who believed excessive drunkenness to cause a kind of brain fever. Eleanor would not blame anyone for sins committed while in the grip of such an affliction. Should she not extend the same compassion to Brahm? He told her he had not known it was Lydia who came to him that night, and perhaps he truly had been too drunk to know better.
He'd also said that sometimes drink made him unable to perform sexually— just the thought brought a blush to her cheeks. Dare she hope that he had been struck by such a malady that night? No, there was no point. The image of Lydia beneath Brahm was enough to constrict her heart until it felt as though it was being ripped from her body. It burned in her mind, made her so very, very angry. But now that anger was directed more toward her sister than Brahm. That would not do. Lydia hadn't known about Eleanor and Brahm; she was innocent in this.
Was she? How could Lydia have not known about Eleanor's infatuation? Everyone seemed to know that Brahm intended to ask for her. How could that have escaped Lydia's notice?
She would not think these things, not now. The first thing she had to do was further educate herself on the subject of excessive drinking.
Her father had books on the subject in the library, such as Thomas Trotter's essay on drunkenness and the effects it had on the human body. She would begin there. In fact, she was so determined to begin that she turned on her heel and headed back to the library. When she arrived she found the room empty. Brahm was gone. It was just as well. She did not want him to know what she was doing.
She found the book she was looking for, along with several others. She took just the Trotter for the time being. This time when she exited the library, it was with more of a purpose than simply escaping Brahm and her jealousy.
She hurried down the corridor and up the stairs. Before she could enter the quiet sanctuary of her bedroom, she was stopped by Arabella.
"Ellie." Her sister's soft voice held an element of pleading. "Might we talk for a moment?"
Arabella was still dressed in her evening clothes, and from downstairs Eleanor could hear faint laughter and music. The guests were still entertaining themselves. No doubt Phoebe, Muriel, and Lydia were assisting them. Had Arabella been waiting for her all this time?
Eleanor nodded. "Of course, would you care to come in?"
"Can we talk in my room? I need to lie down."
Eleanor frowned as she nodded. "I do not want you endangering yourself or the baby, Belle."
Her sister took her hand and squeezed it. "I am fine. Just tired."
They went to Arabella's chamber. "Is Henry with the others?"
Arabella nodded. "I told him I wished to have some private time with you. He respects that."
Henry was a good man— the best. Arabella deserved such a man. She believed her other sisters deserved good men as well, but Lydia would destroy a good man. Phoebe and Muriel had made good matches, but both were too strong-willed to have marriages that always ran as smoothly as Arabella's.
"What book are you reading?" Arabella inquired as she closed the door.
Eleanor's gaze drifted around the blue and cream interior. This had been Arabella's room since she left the nursery. Eleanor always loved this room— it was just as comforting and soothing as the woman who claimed it.
"It is a book on drunkenness." She admitted to Arabella what she would to no one else.
Her sister merely nodded as she removed her earrings and dropped them on the vanity. "You wish to better understand Lord Creed."
Even though it was not a question, Eleanor answered as such. "Yes."
Arabella removed her pearls. "Lydia seems to think he plans to injure you again."
Perhaps Lydia couldn't stand the fact that Brahm had come back for Eleanor and not her. Lord, how long was she going to jump back and forth between wanting to declare Lydia innocent and wanting to declare her guilty? "What do you, Phoebe, and Muriel believe?"
Arabella turned her back to her. "Come undo my hooks, will you, dear? We do not completely trust him, but we will respect any decision you make where he is concerned."
What did that mean? Eleanor began loosening the back of Arabella's yellow gown. "I appreciate that the four of you wish to protect me, but I do not need it." She didn't add that her sisters could not offer the kind of protection she did need against Brahm. No matter how much they might want to, her sisters could not protect her heart.
Arabella was silent until her gown was completely unfastened, then she turned to Eleanor with a gaze that shone with warmth and love. Her hands cupped Eleanor's shoulders as they stood eye to eye.
"I am sorry if we embarrassed or angered you earlier. We confronted Lord Creed because we love you."
Eleanor nodded, her throat tight. "I know."
"It is your own fault," Arbella chastised lightly. "If you had not been so wonderful to us while we were growing up, we would not love you half so much as we do."
Eleanor's eyes burned. Wonderful, now she was going to cry. "I love you too."
Her younger sister laughed and pushed her toward the door. "Go away before we both start to bawl. I am a highly emotional pregnant lady and I need to rest."
As Eleanor left the room, a smile touched her lips. There was such comfort to be found in her sisters, especially Arabella. They had always had the closest bond. It was one of the things in her life she was most thankful for.
She strode down the corridor, the sconces lighting her way. The sun was down, and night was finally upon them. Soon the days would begin to shorten once more, and before long winter would come, trapping her here with her thoughts and books.
She didn't want to be spend another winter alone with her thoughts and books. As much as she loved her father, she wanted to share her long nights with someone else— someone who would share her thoughts and books as well. The odd thing was, she hadn't known she wanted this until this very moment.
Perhaps she would find a husband among her father's guests. Perhaps she would not be alone this winter.
Perhaps she and Brahm Ryland would get it right this time and end up husband and wife as they should have years ago. The thought shook her right down to her toes. An hour ago she had thought him the worst of men, and now she was thinking of him as a husband? It had finally happened. She had gone mad.
How lucky she was that they hadn't married then. She probably would have blamed herself for his drinking. She would not have known how to live with his behavior. She would not have been able to give him what he needed, nor would he have been able to see to her needs. But now…
Was it foolish of her to harbor such fantasies for him? Was it stupid and girlish to hope that he really had changed and that they might have their happy ending after all?
Lord, but it was so tiring questioning her feelings all the time! There was something about her that would not allow her to be impulsive, to give in and do exactly what she wanted. She was so reserved, so unsure of herself. It was terribly vexing.
Eleanor entered her room to find the lamp near the bed already lit. Her maid, of course, was absent, as the girl would not come until Eleanor called her. It was early yet, so Eleanor didn't bother ringing the bell. Instead she took her book and went to her bed to start reading.
