by Bree Wolf
“I wish we could invite my cousin Corinne. However, when my great-aunt died recently, she received a nice inheritance and is now travelling Europe as she’s always dreamed to do.” Eleanor shook her head, realising how much she missed her cousin. “Let’s not make this too big an affair.”
“You’re right.”
Eleanor’s hands tensed. “I can only hope most will accept our invitation. What if they already have plans?”
“We shall see,” Diana mumbled, then rose to her feet. “Come, we shall write the invitations immediately and have them sent out today.”
As they stepped up to the desk in the corner, the drawing room door swung open and Eleanor’s brother walked in, a large smile coming to his face as his eyes fell on his sister. “I have just received word from Mr. Waltham,” he said, his grey eyes dancing with merriment. “He has gratefully accepted our invitation to stay at Sanford Manor.”
“Oh, Arthur, thank you!” Eleanor exclaimed, throwing herself into her brother’s arms and hugging him tightly.
“You’re very welcome,” he whispered, brushing his hands up and down her back, the same way he had when she had been little. “Anything to see you smile.”
“We have decided to hold a house party,” Diana remarked, her head already bent over the first invitation as her nimble fingers guided the quill across the sheet of paper. Then she looked up and met her husband’s gaze, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Arthur laughed, “Would you change your plans if I did?”
Rising from the chair, Diana smiled. “Definitely not; after all, you couldn’t possibly have a reasonable argument for your hypothetical objection.”
A smile on her face, Eleanor stepped back as Diana approached her husband and their eyes locked, the usual teasing banter flying from their lips. As she sat down at the desk Diana had just vacated, Eleanor hoped with all her heart that one day she and Henry would have an equally happy marriage.
“So, you do not object?”
“Not at all,” Arthur assured his wife as his arms came around her, pulling her closer. “However, I’d advise you to tread carefully regarding Mother. She may refrain from causing a scene in public, but that does not mean she will not retaliate in secret.”
“Retaliate?” Diana asked with a frown. “You make it sound like war.”
Arthur laughed, “I’ve come to think of it as a suitable comparison.”
Eleanor sighed, knowing her brother was not wrong. However, if her mother could indeed be considered the enemy, then she truly needed to learn all she could about her reasons for her refusal. Why indeed did her mother object to Eleanor marrying Henry? Could it truly only be because of his brothers’ reputations? Or that he was merely the fifth son of a baron? Or was there another reason?
In any case, since Lady Stanhope had so far refused to name it, it was highly unlikely that she would do so if asked.
There had to be another way.
***
Despite the relatively short distance from London as well as his eagerness to reach their destination, Henry abandoned his idea to ride ahead to Sanford Manor on horseback as Nick was in no shape to keep himself securely in the saddle…and despite his original threat, Henry had no intention of tying his brother to his horse.
Sitting in the carriage as it rumbled along country lanes, Henry watched his brother as he sat slumped in his seat, his eyes glassy and unfocused, a flask in his hands that he refused to relinquish. “Do you plan on drinking like this for the foreseeable future?”
At the sound of Henry’s voice, Nick’s head snapped up, his clouded gaze barely focusing on his brother’s face. “I told you I would be poor company,” he slurred, running a hand through his unkempt hair, “but you insisted.”
Henry sighed, “Yes, I’m beginning to doubt the wisdom of that decision.” Once they reached Sanford Manor, he would make certain to hide every bottle of liquor in the house as well as instruct the servants not to provide his brother with anything in that regard.
Nick would be furious, but it could not be helped. After all, was it not Henry’s responsibility as Nick’s brother to protect him? Even from himself?
“I’d appreciate it,” he began after a while, “if you would remain sober when in company.”
“Company?” Nick snorted. “Is that how you refer to yourself these days?”
“I’m not talking about myself,” Henry snapped, watching his brother through narrowed eyes, “although I admit I would appreciate your restraint. However, I was referring to Eleanor as well as her family. As I’ve mentioned before, I wish to make a good impression.” On second thought, inviting his brother might have been a monumental mistake.
At Henry’s words, Nick’s features darkened, and he grumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” Henry enquired.
As his brother’s red-rimmed eyes met his, Henry could not help but shudder at the pain resting in them. Once again, he wondered what had happened to put it there? “Women are nothing but trouble,” Nick forced out through gritted teeth. “You’d do well to forget about Eleanor before she forgets about you.”
Henry drew in a deep breath, watching his brother intently. “You sound as though you speak from experience.”
At his observation, Nick dropped his gaze and his hands clenched into fists. Then he glanced at the door, a desperate need in his eyes, and Henry knew that he wanted nothing more than to run away from the pain that haunted him.
“Who was she?” Henry asked, knowing very well that his brother would not answer him.
Nick refused to look up and once more turned to the numbing drink in his hands. “It does not matter,” he growled after taking a long swig. “They’re all the same.”
“Not Eleanor,” Henry stated, remembering the deep glow in her eyes whenever they met as though his mere presence lit up her world…as hers did for him. “She is one of a kind.”
Nick snorted, shaking his head. “Believe what you wish, but don’t pretend I did not warn you.” For a long moment, his brother looked out the window at the passing landscape. At first, his eyes seemed unfocused, unseeing. However, as time passed, they seemed to take in the wide expanse of forest in the distance as well as the small stream trickling through the meadow framing the road on one side. Ever so slowly, his gaze began to narrow, and his hands gripped the flask more tightly.
Dragging his eyes from the passing landscape, Nick swallowed and met his brother’s confused gaze, his cheeks pale as though he was about to be ill. “Where are we going?” he asked, his voice hoarse, sounding almost strangled.
Stunned by his brother’s unusual reaction, Henry frowned. “Sanford Manor. It's a neighbouring estate to Stanhope Grove,” he said, and the remaining colour drained from his brother’s face. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”
Nick swallowed. “We need to turn around.”
“What? Why?”
“I changed my mind,” he huffed, a slight tremble shaking his shoulders. “I’d rather stay in London.”
“Tell me what's going on,” Henry insisted, annoyed with his brother’s secrecy.
“Nothing!” Nick snapped, a touch of panic in his eyes. “Turn the carriage around! Now!”
“I will not,” Henry insisted, realising now more than ever that his brother needed help. “Whatever happened to put you in such a state, it’s been going on for too long. You’ve been alone with this for too long.” Leaning forward, he met his brother’s eyes. “I will not stand idly by and watch you destroy yourself. You’re coming, and that is final.”
Defeated, Nick slumped down in his seat, the expression in his eyes one of unimaginable pain and terror as though he had been placed in the cart that would take him to the gallows and his own execution.
Shaking his head, Henry wondered once again what had happened to his brother and who had broken his heart.
Chapter Four − Honourable Intentions
The moment Eleanor stepped over the
threshold at Stanhope Grove, a sense of nervous expectation seized her. Her skin hummed with what lay ahead, and she constantly felt as though her breath caught in her throat. Her thoughts were focused on the house party to take place within a fortnight, and she prayed that her friends would accept and help her ease the tension that was surely to arise with Henry’s arrival.
“You need a change of scenery,” Diana declared that morning and then sent Eleanor upstairs to change into her riding habit.
With the wind whipping through her hair and brushing over her face, Eleanor followed her brother and his wife across the meadow to the south of Stanhope Grove. Her gaze glided over the different shades of green dotting the countryside, and her ears rejoiced in the soft birdsong echoing across the expanse. The smell of wildflowers reached her senses, and she felt herself relax with the rhythmic sway of her horse’s gait.
As they neared the forest, a lone rider approached from the other side, and Eleanor’s heart stopped as she took note of his dark-brown hair and bronze skin. A delighted smile rested on his lips that reached his eyes, which seemed to see only her.
Forcing air into her lungs, Eleanor halted her mount next to her brother’s. “Henry,” she whispered, barely noticing the indulgent smile on her brother’s face.
“Good day, Mr. Waltham,” her brother greeted him, a rather unfamiliar touch of humour in his voice. Marriage truly had changed him! “What a surprise to run into you here. Quite unexpected I must say.”
Forcing his gaze from her, Henry met her brother’s eyes, an answering smile playing on his lips. “Quite unexpected indeed,” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice.
“I do not find it unusual at all,” Diana interspersed, her eyes twinkling with delight as she glanced at Eleanor. “After all, it is such a beautiful day. My lord,” she turned to her husband, a rather imploring look in her eyes, “I think I saw a lovely patch of bluebells not too far from here. Would you escort me so that I may collect some?”
Understanding her intention, Arthur drew in a slow breath. Then he glanced at Eleanor, a hint of indecision in his eyes.
Smiling, Eleanor nodded almost imperceptibly.
For a moment, her brother gritted his teeth before his gaze turned to Henry. “We shall return momentarily,” he said, emphasising each word carefully.
“I assure you, my lord,” Henry said earnestly, “your sister will be quite safe with me.”
Arthur nodded. “I would not leave if I did not believe so.” Then he kicked his horse’s flanks and followed his wife down a small slope toward the field of bluebells she had indicated. However, the tension in his shoulders told Eleanor that he only did so reluctantly.
After urging his horse closer to hers, Henry dismounted and came toward her. “May I help you down?” he asked, unadulterated hope shining in his dark eyes.
“You may,” Eleanor replied, her voice a mere whisper as her heart hammered in her chest. Swinging her right leg over the pommel, she turned to him as he came to stand before her, his hands lifted to her waist.
Swallowing, Eleanor held his gaze as she allowed herself to slide off the saddle and into his waiting arms. The moment his hands touched her waist, she drew in a sharp breath, and her heart felt as though it was about to jump from her chest.
Except for a rather chaste kiss under the mistletoe last Christmas, Henry had never touched her beyond acceptable courtesy. Admittedly, every now and then, he had taken her hand when it had not been necessary. However, Eleanor could count on one hand how often that had happened.
Resting her hands on his upper arms, Eleanor found her breath once more caught in her throat when Henry did not merely lift her down and set her on her feet, but allowed her body to slide down his, his arms holding her tightly, not releasing her once her feet touched the ground.
Gazing up into his eyes, Eleanor felt her body tremble with what she saw there.
Gritting his teeth, he swallowed as though fighting for control as his gaze dipped lower and touched her lips. While one arm was still wrapped around her middle, holding her firmly against his body, his other hand rose to touch her face, gently tucking a strand of her chestnut tresses behind her ear. The tips of his fingers touched her earlobe, grazing her skin, before they travelled down the side of her neck, his thumb gently skimming over the line of her jaw. Like never before, Eleanor felt her knees grow weak.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her skin. “These last few days have been too long.”
A deep smile came to her face as his words warmed her heart. “I’ve missed you as well,” she returned his gift, wanting him to know that she felt the same way.
As his gaze continued to burn into hers, Eleanor felt a touch of panic well up in her chest. Never had they been alone like this before, and suddenly the weight of their endeavour was too much. Swallowing, she searched for something to say, anything, to escape the weight of his stare. “We decided to hold a house party,” she blurted out the moment his head lowered toward hers.
Taken aback, he blinked, then cleared his throat, the ghost of a smile playing on his features. “Yes, I received your invitation. That was a good idea.”
“Thank you,” Eleanor replied, feeling rather silly at her own nervousness. “We thought if we invited you as a guest among many, Mother would not see you as such a threat to…”
“Her daughter?” he asked teasingly, his hands tightening on her back as he drew in a deep breath.
Feeling her cheeks grow hot, Eleanor averted her gaze. “I am merely hoping that this will be an opportunity for her to see that you are a decent man.”
Henry drew in a deep breath, and his chest rose and fell under her fingertips. “Do you truly believe that your mother might change her mind?” he asked, trying to look into her eyes.
Unable to meet his gaze, Eleanor kept her eyes downcast, knowing in her heart how little hope she had. Had anyone ever been able to change her mother’s mind?
***
Looking down at her bent head, Henry swallowed. “Eleanor, look at me.” When she did not comply, he gently took hold of her chin, feeling a slight tremble go through her body at his touch, and tilted up her head. “Look at me, Eleanor.”
Swallowing, she took a deep breath before raising her eyes to his, and in that moment, he knew that despite her plans and encouraging attitude, she had very little hope that they would ever be allowed to marry.
His heart sank, and despair began to rush through his body like a poison. She would never be his. Although he held her in his arms in this precious moment, she would not be allowed to stay. Her mother’s opinion could not be changed, and Eleanor would have to marry a man her mother deemed worthy of all she had to offer.
In answer to these dark thoughts, Henry felt his arm tighten around her possessively. If only he could hold on to her. If only he did not have to let her go. “Why is your brother’s consent not enough for you?” he asked in a moment of weakness, instantly regretting the harsh tone in his voice as well as the dilemma his question forced on her.
Holding his gaze, she drew in a deep breath. “Even if I could explain, I doubt you would understand,” she whispered, deep sadness clouding her beautiful eyes. “It is something between a mother and daughter that…” She swallowed. “You must understand that she is not withholding her consent out of spite. She is only doing so because she seeks to protect me.”
“Protect you?” Henry ground out as his blood ran cold. “From me?” He drew in a deep breath at the hidden insult. “Do you believe that my intentions toward you are anything but honourable?” His voice rose with every clipped word leaving his mouth, and his muscles tensed reflexively, yanking her against him.
Eleanor gasped, and her eyes widened in surprise.
Instantly, regret filled his body, and he forced his arms to loosen their hold on her. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, barely able to meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” How could he have lost his temper? Had her mother seen something in hi
m that he himself was not even aware? Did he pose a threat to Eleanor?
“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, her eyes seeking his. “I never meant to imply that your intentions were not honourable. I know they are, but my mother does not know you the way I do.” Licking her lips, she swallowed. “I do not know the reason for her objection. However, I do believe she has one.”
“My low rank?” Henry ground out, unable to check the anger that coursed through his veins. “My brothers’ reputations? I’m not good enough for you?”
For a moment, Eleanor remained quiet, a distant look in her eyes. Then she shook her head. “I know she has said so, but I doubt that these reasons would bring such anger, such pain to her eyes.” Again, she shook her head. “No, there must be something else. Something we are not aware of.”
Hope began to blossom in Henry’s heart as he looked at the determination that came to her face. “Do you truly believe so? Do you truly believe that there is…hope?”
Smiling up at him, Eleanor nodded. “I want to with all my heart,” she said, biting her lip as she inhaled deeply. “I will speak to her again.” Taking a step back, she glanced over her shoulder at the patch of bluebells in the distance where her brother and his wife stood by their horses, picking flowers. “I suppose we should return,” she said, once more meeting his eyes. “I shall see you at the house party. You will come, will you not?”
The hopeful tone in her voice brought a smile to his face. “Not even your mother could keep me away.”
Laughing, Eleanor patted her horse’s neck.
“Do you mind if I invite my brother along?” Henry asked, knowing only too well that it would probably not help his intentions. However, over the last few days, Nick had grown more and more erratic, and Henry felt as though he were standing up on a ledge about to fall at any moment.
“Your brother?” Eleanor asked, surprise on her face.
“Yes, my brother Nick. He’s been out of sorts lately, and I fear for him. Maybe all he needs is a distraction.” Henry doubted that it would be enough, but at least, it might be a start.