She looked tired, drawn and pale, as though she hadn't slept the night. Obviously whatever had kept her awake had not been a pleasant thing. He could only hope it had nothing to do with him.
Had one— or all— of her sisters chastised her for dancing those three times with him? Had one of the guests said something to offend her? Perhaps she had decided on her own that it had been a mistake? That didn't make sense. She wanted him, he knew that. Most decent women were not in the habit of trysting with men they would not marry if given the choice.
Of course, there was no way he could ask her what was wrong with the others present. He would have to wait. Her behavior would be his only indication.
She made an attempt at cheeriness when she bid them all good morning, and when she came to the table, her plate was almost as heaped as Brahm's had been. Either she had a healthy appetite or she was the kind who ate when she was upset.
Eleanor seated herself across from her sister, which also ended up being the chair on Brahm's immediate right. Did she realize what she was doing? The three dances last night would have practically sealed their fate, but her sitting next to him would only strengthen the gossip. Either she was telling him that she wanted him as well, or she simply felt too awful to care what people thought of where she sat.
"Did you sleep well, Lady Eleanor?" he asked, sipping his coffee.
She turned her head to meet his gaze. She looked so tired, so sad. "Thank you for asking, Lord Creed. No, I did not sleep well. I am afraid the excitement of the evening kept me awake for many hours after the house fell quiet."
It was a simple enough answer, and Lord Birch offered his sympathies. Apparently it had taken him some time to drift off as well. Brahm didn't give a damn about Birch. There had been something in Eleanor's tone when she referred to the "excitement" of the evening that made him wary. Something
had
happened that had nothing to do with their three dances, but involved him all the same. Since there was nothing he could do about it now, he sipped his coffee and felt the patience slowly drain out of him as the minutes ticked by.
More guests joined them as the morning waned. Finally Eleanor excused herself to go for a walk. Brahm waited a few moments before following her. If his suspicion that she wanted to talk to him was correct, then he knew exactly where her walk would lead her.
She was waiting in the orangery.
"What happened?" he demanded.
Eleanor rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. Her expression was distraught. "Tell me that you did not seduce my sister."
Not quite what he'd been expecting, but not totally a surprise either. "What happened?" He wasn't telling her anything until she answered his question.
"Lydia came to my room last night."
Christ. He should have known that Lydia would try to cause trouble. Women that unhappy always had to try bringing others down with them. "And said that I seduced her?"
Eleanor nodded.
Of course Eleanor believed her sister. Were the situation reversed and it was Devlin who told him such nonsense, he'd believe it as well. He wouldn't want to, but why would a sibling lie? "When did this alleged seduction take place?"
"That night."
"That night?" Frowning, his chin tilted downward. "You mean over a decade ago?"
Another nod. She looked so very torn. She wanted to believe them both and knew there was no way both of them could be telling the truth. For a moment he was tempted to allow her to believe her sister, just to spare her the pain of the truth.
But what was the truth? He didn't want to believe himself capable of seducing Lydia any more than she did, but he had been drunk and remembered practically nothing of that night.
"I already told you that I believed Lydia to be you. I might have been capable of seduction, but what I remember equates to a few moments and then nothing."
It was impossible to tell whether that answer satisfied her or not.
Her arms folded across her chest, an age-old gesture of self-protection. "She said you were attentive to her during your visit."
Ah. So Lydia led her sister to believe that there had been more than just that one night. "I had no interest in Lydia whatsoever. Not then, and certainly not now."
Her countenance was so hopeful, it was heartbreaking. "So you did not have an affair, then?"
She already knew the answer to that. He had told her. "What do you think?"
She shook her head. "I do not want to believe it."
She didn't quite trust him, and that was all right. She didn't quite trust Lydia either. Once she saw the truth for herself, it would be easier for her to know where to put her belief. It was a difficult thing realizing that a sibling had lied. Wynthrope used to lie to him on a regular basis. He had lied to them all by hiding his past, but that didn't stop Brahm from loving him. Eleanor wouldn't stop loving Lydia either, even though the wench deserved a good thrashing. "What does your heart tell you?"
"She is my sister." She raised pain-filled eyes to his, her tone plaintive. "And my heart tells me to believe you. Is my heart wrong?"
"Eleanor— "
"Please!" She held up a hand to cut him off. "I do not care if you have been dishonest or not. I beg you, tell me now the honest truth and I will never ask again."
She truly had herself worked into a state over this.
Brahm set his palms on her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. If he could take this away from her he would. "I did not have an affair with your sister. Any relationship we might have had was restricted to that one night. I do not know what happened, but Lydia came to me, a fact which you unfortunately already know. She was not invited, nor was she welcome. Had I been sober nothing would have happened between us, but I was not sober, and that is something I have to live with."
There was nothing more he could say. He had nothing else with which to defend himself, nor was he prepared to continue defending himself. Either Eleanor believed him or she didn't.
She turned her face away, the shadows highlighting the mauve shadows beneath her normally bright blue eyes. She looked so fragile.
"Lydia lied to me," she realized aloud, her voice a soft whisper. "Why would she do that?"
A number of reasons occurred to Brahm, none of them overly charitable. "I do not know."
Again her expression was heartbreakingly hopeful. "Perhaps she truly believes herself the injured party. Perhaps she believes you will break my heart and only wants to protect me."
Brahm nodded, biting his tongue to keep from blurting what he thought. "Perhaps."
Eleanor's shoulders sagged beneath his hands. "Or perhaps she is so very unhappy in her own life that she cannot bear to see anyone else happy."
That was more like it. He kept his tone carefully neutral. "Perhaps."
Her gaze was sharp as it locked with his. "Has my sister tried to renew your…acquaintance?"
Did he lie or tell her the truth? He had promised her honesty, but this honesty would only hurt her more. "Do you suspect her of being jealous?"
"I do not know what I suspect," she admitted on a sigh. "I do not want to suspect her of anything, but to believe her I must doubt you, and my heart tells me that you are truthful."
Well, at least he had that. Poor Eleanor, she had not seen much of the harshness of life, save for his betrayal. Until now it had been his betrayal alone. Now she had to face the fact that her sister had betrayed her as well— and might be trying to betray her once more. It was not a lesson anyone should have to face.
"I am sorry."
She looked up with a quizzical gaze. "For what?"
"For my part in this debacle." He smoothed a hand over his jaw. "Had I been in control of myself that night, none of this would have happened."
Many people would have tried to comfort him, or ease his guilt by telling him it wasn't his fault, but that would be a lie and they both knew it.
She smiled. It was sad, but it was sincere. "Thank you."
Silence fell between them. He removed his hands from her shoulders, and she took a step backward, then another, until there was several feet of space between them.
Was this it? Had Lydia's interference destroyed whatever chances he had of winning Eleanor's heart? No, he refused to believe that.
"You asked me to be honest with you," he reminded her. "Now I ask the same of you."
Her arms were no longer across her chest, but loose at her sides. She was no longer on the defense. "Of course."
Brahm took a step toward her. This distance between them was unbearable. It was stupid and senseless. "Do I have any chance of winning you? Or should I give up now and return to London?"
A becoming flush blossomed along her cheeks, doing much to erase the pallor of fatigue there. She even went so far as to shy away from him. Certainly after all the kisses, conversations, and caresses they had shared, she wasn't about to go missish on him?
"No," she replied, and his heart faltered as she turned around to face him once more. "Do not return to London."
Elation replaced dread. For a moment he had thought she was rejecting him, but now he could see her acceptance of him in her eyes. She had not decided against him.
As though she wanted to prove to him just how good his chances of winning her were, Eleanor came to him, stepping into his welcoming arms without hesitation. She laid her cheek against his shoulder like an infant seeking solace. Brahm cradled her to him, closing his eyes in silent thanks to the Almighty for giving him such a gift.
"Why do you want me, Brahm?"
"I do not know. I only know that you make me feel as though I have found a part of me that is missing."
"But we have only been reacquainted for a fortnight. Surely that is not enough time for either of us to feel this way?"
He smiled down at her upturned face. Did she always have to question everything? Why could she not just accept what felt right?
"Perhaps
you
are what I have been missing these past years. Perhaps you have been missing me as well. I do not know the whys, Eleanor. I only know that I go outside for a breath of air and I smell you on the breeze. I try to sleep and you haunt my dreams. And it has been this way for quite some time. My heart has never forgotten you."
She stared at him, her eyes wide and damp. Perhaps he shouldn't have made such a flowery admission to her, but it was how he felt. Her hand came up to touch his cheek, the softest brush of heavenly fingers. "Nor mine you."
He kissed her then, pressing his lips against the soft sweetness of hers, his heart pounding with desire and joy. Eleanor was his, and she would be his forever if he had his way. He would continue to court her, to make his claim public, and when he was certain marriage was what she wanted, then he would go to her father. He would do things the right way. He would not have his chances ruined as before. The only person who would keep him from marrying Eleanor this time was Eleanor herself.
* * *
When Eleanor and Brahm returned from the orangery, Eleanor went up to her room to rest. It was amazing what simply talking about things had done for her state of mind. She was no longer plagued by confusing thoughts or doubts. She knew the truth. She believed Brahm.
That didn't mean she wholly disbelieved Lydia. Perhaps Brahm was right and her sister had actually convinced herself that her own version of events years ago was the truth. Or perhaps
she
was right and Lydia simply sought to protect her from a man she believed to be the lowest kind.
It hardly mattered what Lydia's motives were. Eleanor and Brahm understood each other. He cared about her, and she about him. Feelings from years before had lingered, masked on her side by hurt and anger, but even she had to admit that she had often thought of him over the years, and held every man she met up against the impression he had made. It had been easy for those feelings to return because neither of them had ever let them truly leave.
How odd it was to realize that those feelings for him had remained alive inside her for so long. Cloistered and sheltered she might have been as an unattached lady, but she was still the daughter of an earl, and she had met many gentlemen over the years. She'd never wanted one of them the way she wanted Brahm.
He was so flawed, so imperfect, and yet that was what made him so perfect as far as she was concerned. He was a man who would not expect her to mother him. He was strong and independent. He was someone she could lean on when she needed support. He knew the truth was not always pretty and yet he preferred it, both to say and to hear.
He also had fought a tremendous battle and won. Her reading taught her just how difficult it could be for someone caught in the clutches of strong drink to break free. Oftentimes their minds and bodies would rebel against them. They would see things that weren't there, shake and tremble violently. The idea of Brahm suffering such awful things in the course of shucking off the demon that drove him broke her heart. And he had been all alone when he did it. His brothers had no doubt helped him, but they could not be there for him all the time.
