He watched as she rose to her feet. "I'm sorry."
Her smile was so very sad as she glanced down at him. "I know. So am I. Good night, Brahm."
He watched her leave with her shoulders braced and her spine straight. How much had this night cost her dignity? He should have known better than to touch her. He should have had more strength, but as he had realized earlier, he wasn't a strong man.
If he had been, Eleanor would have married him years ago.
Chapter 19
S
o much for Brahm being at her mercy.
Eleanor watched him with his brothers, laughing and chatting as the group of them sat out in the back garden eating luncheon alfresco. It was one of those fine, late summer days in which the sun wrought just the right amount of warmth and the breeze just the right amount of cool.
She was thankful for the cool. Memories of last night in the drawing room kept her skin at an infuriatingly scorching temperature. She had been the one to find release and yet she burned as though unfulfilled. What was Brahm suffering?
She cast a glance at him as she chewed thoughtfully on a grape. He looked calm and collected, not like a man driven by lust. Was it possible that his ardor for her had cooled? Had she ruined any chances of making things right between them?
No. She refused to believe that. He was simply not going to make it easy for her.
"He will come around."
At first Eleanor thought she had imagined the voice, but then she realized it came from outside her head. She also realized that Brahm's sisters-in-law were watching her.
"He will," Blythe assured her. It had been her voice Eleanor had heard before. "You only need to be patient."
Octavia snorted. "Patient, while he wreaks havoc with her reputation?"
"It was my decision to take that risk," Eleanor reminded her, knowing there was no point in playing dumb with these women. She didn't want to play dumb. She wanted friends, and she wanted women who had experience with the Ryland pride and stupidity to guide her. And since the men were too far away to hear what they were saying, there was no harm in speaking candidly.
Moira smiled at her, a gentle madonna. "Of course it was. You love the fool. You would not be here if you did not."
Was it that obvious? Eleanor must have looked horrified, because Blythe laid a comforting hand on top of hers. "It is only obvious to those of us who have been through it with a Ryland of our own."
"I think I have ruined everything," she confessed, her voice embarrassingly tight.
Octavia shook her head, her pale cheeks flushed with color. "No, you have not. Brahm believes he is doing you a service by resisting you."
"How do you know that?" Eleanor was practically breathless. Had Brahm said something?
Octavia's expression was droll. "North did the same thing to me."
"Devlin too," Blythe chimed in with a nod.
Moira held up a delicate hand. "Wynthrope as well."
The three women shared a chuckle while Eleanor watched with a sense of something that was as hopeful as it was fearful. "What should I do?"
Blythe raised her teacup to her full lips. "Make him realize he's doing the both of you a disservice."
"It is quite easy actually," Octavia continued. "Once you know what to do, that is."
When she didn't immediately elaborate, Eleanor raised her brows. "And that is?"
The three of them laughed. It wasn't a mean sound, but rather made Eleanor feel as though she had finally been accepted into a kind of sisterhood.
"You give him what he thinks he wants," Moira explained with a bright smile. "Make him think he has succeeded in convincing you that you would be better off without him."
How was she supposed to do that? After last night, he had to know that he was the only man she wanted.
The question must have been plain on her face, because Octavia handed her the answer. "Tell him you are leaving."
Leaving! But what if he let her? What if he held the bloody door for her? What then?
Moira calmed the pounding of her heart. "He won't let you go, dear."
"No," Blythe agreed. "In fact, he'll probably seduce you into staying."
There was a collective sigh. "I love that part," Octavia murmured.
Eleanor's laugh was full of disbelief. "That's it?"
Moira shook her dark head. "No. Afterward he'll have a fleeting moment of stubbornness, and you'll have to tell him to stop being so ridiculous."
"The important thing to remember," Octavia told her, "is that you must take control of the situation."
Blythe spoke her agreement. "Make him realize that it is hopeless to fight. You know he loves you and you will not let him go."
"But I do not know that he loves me."
There was that laughter again, as though they knew so much that she didn't.
"You would not be here if he did not," Octavia told her. "He would have tossed you out."
"He tried."
"No." Blythe shook her head, indicating that Eleanor didn't understand. "He would have succeeded if he truly wanted you gone."
"He loves you, Eleanor." It was Moira who spoke this time. "We all know it, even if Brahm hasn't admitted it to himself. He has always loved you. Why do you think he accepted the invitation to your house party?"
"He said he wanted to make amends." Her gaze flitted between the three of them. "He wanted to prove to me that he had changed."
Octavia tilted her head in contemplation. "I wonder why it meant so much that he prove that to you when he's never given a flying fig what anyone else thought of him?"
"His brothers and you," Blythe remarked. "The only opinions that ever mattered to him."
Then why had he waited so long to come for her? Why so long before he decided to try wooing her once again?
He hadn't believe he was ready. The answer was as clear as day. He had waited for his courage, and for his faith in himself. Unfortunately her own courage had failed. No wonder he was so reluctant now. Octavia was right, she would have to take full control of the situation. She would have to force him to admit that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
"Pardon me, I hope I am not intruding."
Eleanor looked up at the familiar voice. "Belle!" Leaping out of her chair, she seized her sister in a fierce embrace. "Oh, it is so good to see you!"
"I hope you do not mind. I was in the area and thought I would pay a call."
"Of course not!" Releasing her sister, Eleanor bade her to sit and introduced Arabella to her three companions. They had caught glimpses of each other at social functions before, but had never been properly introduced.
"We will give the two of you some privacy," Blythe announced ten minutes later, after Arabella had been made to feel welcome.
"Please do not leave on my account," Arabella insisted.
Blythe dismissed her anxious frown with a gentle smile. "We are not, I assure you. I need to go check on my son."
"And I need to lie down." Octavia stretched, sticking her round belly out even farther. "I cannot believe how much energy this child takes just to carry."
"I am going to see if Cook has any pie," Moira mused. "I have a sudden craving for apple."
"Oh," Arabella agreed. "That sounds delicious."
Moira's gaze dipped to Arabella's own gently rounded belly before lifting back to her face. She flashed a conspiratorial grin. "If I find any I will have her send a piece out to you."
Eleanor and her sister watched the three of them go with amused smiles.
"They seem very nice," Arabella remarked once they were alone.
"They are," Eleanor agreed. She took another glass from the tray and poured her sister some lemonade.
Arabella flashed her a grateful smile as her hand closed around the cool glass. "They will make you good sisters."
Eleanor sighed and took a sip from her own drink. "If I can convince Brahm to marry me."
Arabella looked surprised. "He hasn't proposed again?"
"No."
"Dearest, this is not good." Arabella's brow wrinkled as her voice filled with trepidation. "Your reputation…"
"I know." Eleanor silenced her with a firm tone. "Do not worry about me, dearest. I will do all I can to protect you and the other girls from the taint of scandal."
"Hang scandal! I am concerned about you."
"I will be fine." She smiled assuredly. "Trust me. I am not finished with Brahm just yet. Now, we will not discuss any more of that. You must tell me all the news."
"The party ended very smoothly, although I think Lord Locke was very upset by your departure."
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "As though Lord Locke ever stood a chance of marrying me, the arrogant swine."
Arabella wrinkled her nose. "No, he is not much of a catch is he? His connections might be good, but the rest of him is terribly unfortunate."
Enough of Lord Locke. "How is Papa?"
"Wonderful." Arabella sipped her lemonade. "You know, your decision to come after Lord Creed seemed to do wonders for his health." She frowned. "One would expect it to have quite the opposite effect."
Eleanor chuckled. "But I'm only doing what Papa wanted. He has always wished that Brahm and I would reunite."
Arabella didn't look completely comforted. Eleanor knew her sister wanted nothing more than her happiness, but she was worried about Eleanor's reputation, and found it odd that their father wasn't equally so.
Of course, their father had much more confidence in Eleanor than she or Arabella had.
"How is Lydia?" As much as she hated to ask, she knew she must.
Arabella's gaze fell to the table. "She did not take your leaving well. In fact, she demanded that Papa go after you. When he refused she threw a fit. The next morning she packed up and left."
Sadness crept over Eleanor. Would things ever be good or comfortable between her and Lydia again? Somehow she doubted it. Lydia was so unhappy, she couldn't stand the thought of Eleanor's achieving something she had sought and lost. Why her jealousy chose Eleanor as its target and not Arabella, who had already achieved a happy marriage, Eleanor did not know. Perhaps it was because Lydia had thought Brahm the answer to her sorrow, and blamed Eleanor for that not being the case.
"Don't you dare put Lydia before your own happiness." Arabella's tone was strong— stronger than Eleanor had ever heard before.
She smiled at her sister, though it was a little sad given the topic of discussion. "I shan't. I promise."
As they chatted about other things, Eleanor's gaze drifted every once in a while to the man standing in the sunshine, ribbing his brothers as they played at lawn bowling. The breeze carried his laughter to her ears. How keenly she felt that laughter. How she wished she had been the reason for it. She wanted him to smile at her like that, to show such unrestrained joy in her presence.
As though sensing her stare, his gaze turned to hers. His smile faded a little— just enough to twist at her heart, but he did not look away. Eleanor smiled and raised her hand in a wave. Brahm hesitated, then waved back.
Did he love her? Moira claimed that he did, that they all were aware of his feelings even if Eleanor herself wasn't.
Well, she was certain of her own. She might have been foolish enough to let Brahm slip through her fingers once— twice— but she would not be so foolish again.
Yes, it was time she took control of the situation.
* * *
"I will be leaving in the morning."
Brahm's heart froze as he stared at Eleanor. In the golden lamplight of the drawing room, she looked like a mythical goddess wrapped in a shimmering halo. She looked so beautiful that he hadn't expected her announcement to be so awful.
"What?" He didn't care that the others exchanged glances at his agitated tone.
Was that amusement he saw so briefly flicker in her blue eyes? "I am leaving. Tomorrow."
This was what he wanted, he told himself, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted to demand that she stay exactly where she was. And if that didn't work, a part of him was prepared to beg.
"You should send word to your father first," he suggested.
"Oh, there is no need," she informed him blithely. "I am staying with Arabella and Henry for a few days before returning to the country."
London. She was going to be staying in London for a few days. So close and yet so far. It would be a worse torment than having her under his roof. At least while she was under his roof he knew where she was and that no other men were sniffing around her. Now, with her reputation injured as it was, she would be considered fair game for every lowlife and libertine in London. She might even fall prey to one. After all, she had succumbed to him.
