by Naomi Boom
“You are in a rush today, Ellie,” Logan said as he caught up to her.
She smiled, and it felt as if a ray of sunshine peeked through the clouds just for him. “I have business to conduct, and we both know how much I enjoy horses.”
“Ah, mailing a letter to your cousin?” He grinned when a stunned expression overtook her. “I must say you surprised me back there. It almost seemed as if you defended my lack of higher title.”
She turned her face from him but not before he saw an alluring blush rise to her cheeks. The crisp morning air brought out the color in her cheeks but not nearly as much as her embarrassment. She returned her gaze to his and muttered, “Think nothing of it.”
Logan would not allow such an important matter to drop, so he said, “I thought you would always defer to the higher title in any situation. What happened?”
“Yes, well, that was before—” She caught herself on a sharp intake of breath.
“Before what?” He focused his gaze on her and tried to compel her to answer.
Her horse continued forward as she sat immobile. Not that he was more mobile. Her eyes could mesmerize him no matter what happened around them.
She continued to stare at him, and he prompted, “Before?”
She sighed and dropped her gaze from his. “Before I came to care for you.”
A rush of unadulterated joy overtook him as his heart swelled. In social settings, she was the gregarious sort, yet in matters of the heart, she was the shyest lady he had ever met. Her demureness had given him pause when he plotted his conquest of her heart. He had worried she would never admit her feelings, even if she did possess them.
He rode closer to her and took her hand in his. He placed a gentle kiss on its back and said, “I care for you also, quite possibly since the moment you landed on me in the mud.”
Ellie blinked as a smile spread across her face. A twinkle appeared in her eye, and she said, “I am just glad you were the one that fell in the mud, not I.”
She was so mischievous when she allowed herself to be. In fact, every part of her was intriguing to him. Mind, body, and soul. He wanted her, and sooner or later, she would be his.
They continued to chat the rest of the way to the village where they stopped to post the letter before riding back. Logan inquired after her painting, which she had finished the previous evening. Ellie seemed to glow whenever he remembered personal details about her, so he made sure to bring up such details in conversation regularly.
“Why do you choose fairy tale creatures?” he asked with his gaze trained on her. Each detail of her personality was important to him. He wanted to know all.
She paused to consider his question and then turned her sapphire blue eyes to his. “They symbolize an ideal to me. One of a world of purity which still allows for magic. I do not think I can fully explain how I feel, but an enchanting scene becomes so much more with their addition.”
Logan nodded in understanding. “Sometimes it is necessary to have a simpler world to escape to. One set in black and white.” His smile turned playful and he said, “Or whatever shade you choose.”
“Yes, it doesn’t matter how perfect a person’s life may seem. There will always be something to escape from.” They shared a mutual look of understanding as they neared the stables. “Thank you for accompanying me,” Ellie said.
“It was an honor.” He swung off his stallion and helped her dismount. His hands circled her waist, and he grinned when she emitted a small gasp. Her body responded to him every time he touched her. It was a promising sign.
He handed the horses off to the groom, then extended his arm to her. “Shall we?”
Logan led her into the house and stopped at the base of the staircase. “Thank you for the pleasant ride.”
He bowed low and kissed the back of her hand. Her dainty, gloved hand trembled in his, whether from the exertion of her ride or his presence. He preferred to believe the latter.
“You made my ride surprisingly tolerable.” Her voice sounded strong, and her gaze held fast, yet her hand still shook.
“Only tolerable?” He gave her a mocking smile and shook his head. “I shall do better next time.”
She smiled. Her eyes twinkled, and without her uttering a sound, he knew she would not mind a next time. She turned from him and slowly ascended the stairs. He watched until she disappeared.
He still felt the effects of his conversation with Ellie and would seek out Reuben. The fact that both he and Ellie had declared a mutual attraction and now shared their feelings was exhilarating and well worth imparting to his friend.
Upon entering the house, his butler directed him to the library where Reuben sat with Opal. The pair looked quite comfortable perched together on a settee in front of a crackling fire.
“Ah, Logan.” Reuben and Opal began to rise before he stopped them.
“Do not stand on my account,” he said as he shut the door behind him, in the off chance Ellie drifted by. “I have wonderful news to report.”
“Let me guess,” Opal said with a devious grin. “She professed her undying love for you?”
“Not exactly, but close enough.” Logan went to stand by the fire and leaned against the wall, inhaling the rich aroma. It was nice to be home. The servants knew to use cherry wood, as he appreciated the scent as it burned.
“What did I tell you, Reuben?” Opal asked her husband. “I knew it was but a matter of time. She practically salivated over him at dinner last night, you know.”
Logan was surprised to hear that. All he noticed was the attention she gifted Charles.
“Of course you were right, my dear,” Reuben murmured as he patted her hand. “But none of this matters unless she agrees to marry Logan without realizing he is a duke.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Failure was not an option, especially when she gave him hope as she had earlier.
“I don’t know,” Reuben said as he pulled out a snuff box and took a pinch. “Lord Thornwick seemed awfully cozy with her last night.”
Logan rolled his eyes and scoffed. “She sees right through him.” He ended with a laugh, recalling the way Ellie rebuffed Charles that morning.
“But he claims to be a duke,” Reuben said as he placed his snuff box back in his pocket. “I had a hard time keeping a straight face when he said he was you, I might add.”
“As did I.” Logan scowled. It was too early to drink, but when he remembered the previous night, he wished it wasn’t. He had been positive as the night wore on that Ellie would spurn him for his cousin, but that morning had shed a new light on the situation, one that should allow him to sleep that night.
“Well, I for one think Lord Thornwick has done you a favor. What better way to test her than place a genuine duke before her?” Opal shifted so she could recline her head against Reuben’s shoulder. She yawned and scowled. “My condition is the most exhausting phenomenon. I am afraid I require another nap.”
Reuben patted her head as if she were a dog, and she tilted her head to smile lovingly up at him. As much as Logan approved of his friend’s love match, sometimes it was sickening to watch.
Opal turned back toward him and said, “I do enjoy watching Miss Ashford around you, though. She remains silent in your presence, and whenever she looks at you, she blushes profusely. She seems like a different person around you.”
Reuben nodded in agreement as he appeared lost in thought. “Now that you mention it, my dear, she does seem quieter. More subdued.”
“My guess is she doesn’t know how to handle her feelings for him. The change in her is remarkable though.”
Logan quirked an eyebrow at Opal’s deduction. He would not admit it, but Opal’s observation raised his spirits and filled him with renewed vigor. In his heart, he knew Ellie loved him, even if she had only confessed to caring for him.
He straightened from the wall. “Maybe she is just more relaxed here. Either way, I can promise you we will have an understanding by the time she departs. Mark my words.”
****
Eleanor changed into a pastel yellow gown in order to arrive in time for lunch, the exchange between herself and Logan replaying in her mind all the while. She had told him she cared for him, and that was difficult enough. Imagine if she had confessed her love for him? Having never expected to develop feelings for someone, she had not realized how vulnerable a declaration would leave her. She was faintly comforted that he returned her feelings, but a certain awkwardness remained within her.
The more time spent with him only illustrated what her future could hold. Growing old with a gentleman who valued her personality had never been important to her, but now she feared she could not live without that requirement.
As she sat in front of her mirror, she gazed unseeingly at her reflection. In every childhood dream, she had envisioned a titled gentleman sweeping her off her feet into a marriage like the one her parents bore with their cold, quiet dignity, but now her dream had transformed into a vision of Logan. Once married to a baronet, her circles would not be as wide as if she were married to an earl. After all, her husband would not have a seat in parliament, and without a seat in parliament, who was to say Logan would even want to journey to London for the season every year?
Olivia added the final touches to Eleanor’s hair and asked, “Is everything to your liking, my lady?”
Eleanor jumped. She had forgotten Olivia was there. Her gaze focused on the blonde ringlets framing her face. With a critical eye, she noted her hair was utter perfection with every curl placed in exact location to appear messy. She turned her head from side to side in an assessing manner and said, “I love it. You have done a tremendous job, Olivia.” Olivia’s eyes widened in surprise, but Eleanor continued to speak. “Tell me, what do you think is most important in life?”
Olivia swallowed and stuttered as she said, “Umm, I would have to say family, my lady. Earning a living is also important, but money won’t keep one warm at night.”
“If you are a man, it will.” Eleanor laughed at her crude joke and then waved her hand. “However, I think you may be right.” She stood and said over her shoulder as she exited, “I hope someday you find that happiness for yourself.”
Eleanor stopped by her chaperone’s room where Mrs. Westfield waited, ready for lunch. They strolled downstairs and were greeted by the enticing view of cucumber sandwiches with strawberries and cream for dessert. The meal was light but perfect for a sunny spring day.
The guests exchanged pleasantries while dining, and Eleanor tried her best to act like nothing had transpired between Logan and herself. She even managed to ask Logan how the horses fared and was proud of herself for not blushing when his eyes met hers. Clearly, it was just a matter of mastering her response to him so she did not make a spectacle of herself.
At a lull in the conversation, Mrs. Westfield turned to the duke and said, “Your Grace, I hear you just returned from the continent. Was there a specific reason, or did you miss home?”
The duke sent a sly smile to Logan before answering, “I decided it was high time to marry.”
Mrs. Westfield’s eyes took on an anticipatory gleam, and she leaned in to ask, “Oh, is there anyone in particular? Or will you go to London for the rest of the season?”
“Well, I already offered for one lady’s hand, but she declined.”
Logan stiffened, and Mrs. Westfield leaned in again. Any further and she might very well topple over. Eleanor could only shake her head. The duke had not been serious when he asked her to marry him. Why would he get her chaperone’s hopes up now?
“How tragic, Your Grace. Maybe the young lady will see reason given time.”
The duke shook his head as a wounded expression graced his countenance. “I fear I will have to travel to London and face the hordes.”
Mrs. Westfield’s palpable excitement receded, and she returned to her food. Even a simpleton would be able to ascertain who the duke referred to, and Mrs. Westfield was far from a simpleton. Now, Eleanor would be forced to refute the idea that a duke had asked for her hand. How ridiculous.
As the luncheon drew to an end, Lady Gammon stood and addressed the group. “I have not been feeling the best of late, but today, I feel like my old self. I suggest we all adjourn to the parlor for some cards. Does anyone object?”
When no one negated the suggestion, she smiled and clasped her hands together in front of her bosom. “Marvelous. We need something to celebrate His Grace’s timely recovery, and this should be just the thing.”
Eleanor stood and managed a few steps before Logan stopped her. “My lady, might I have the honor of escorting you?”
“I would like nothing better.” She smiled up at him as her stomach performed a somersault. His smile was overpowering. Their gazes locked in a moment of shared solitude, and the world around them disappeared.
His fingers grazed her cheek as he brushed an eyelash away from her skin. She shivered and looked away, unable to face the intensity of mutual feelings. Logan patted her hand and turned to escort her in an unhurried fashion to the parlor. They were the last of the group to enter the room, and only two seats remained, on a small Chippendale-style settee.
They sat, and Eleanor tensed when their thighs brushed. The barest whisper could be heard from the contact, but she swore it sounded as loud as a bell pealing in a quiet room. No one else noticed, and she scooted as far from him as discreetly possible. Her attempt at distancing herself left the barest of spaces between their legs. She kept her thigh tightly pinned in place, and if she relaxed at all, she would touch him. The knowledge that she was so near him was excruciating and exciting all at once, and she would never be able to focus now.
She sneaked a surreptitious glance at Logan, only to find him smiling at her obvious discomfort. He could move further from her if he chose, but his smirk suggested he was well aware of that and would not oblige her.
Lady Gammon shuffled the cards in a single adept move and said, “I thought we might play vingt et un. I shall deal first, unless someone objects.” No one disagreed, and she dealt everyone a card.
Eleanor enjoyed parlor games, but she feared she might not concentrate properly with Logan at her side. She glanced at her card and exhaled. It was an ace, which was one of the best cards to be dealt in a game such as this.
“Charles,” Logan said as he eyed his card. “How was your ride this morning?”
The duke appeared disinterested as he viewed his own card. “I was a bit chilled, but otherwise, not notable.”
Lady Gammon leaned toward the table and admonished him with a stern frown. “Now, now, Your Grace, you must be careful so you don’t return to your sickbed.”
“Yes, that would be unfortunate indeed,” Logan said in a neutral tone.
Eleanor raised her brow. She could have sworn Logan claimed to be friends with the duke, but the more she saw, the more she concluded he lied. The two did not get along and seemed to butt heads endlessly.
Lady Gammon dealt everyone another card. Eleanor received a six. She shook her head and eyed Logan. “I thought you said you two were friends?”
Charles raised his somber eyes to her and shook his head. “We are, my lady, but Logan disapproves of the way I act as of late.”
“Only as of late?” Logan asked until he looked at Eleanor and blanched. “Yes, until recently, he has been above reproach.”
“It is true,” Opal said with an impish grin, “they practically grew up together. I am sure you could ask one anything about the other, and he would easily tell you.”
Eleanor’s pulse quickened as everyone stopped to look at her. She knew very little about Logan’s childhood, aside from cursory information about his past. “Well then, Your Grace, tell me of Logan’s family.”
The duke’s gray eyes lit with amusement and he smiled. “Well, my lady, Logan has very few family members still with us. His uncle is a marquess, and he has two cousins who are as different as night and day. His favorite cousin is Lord Thornwick. Have you heard of him, by chance?”
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The color drained from Mrs. Westfield’s face and she gasped. “No! And you claim Lord Thornwick is Sir Logan’s favorite cousin? Why, he is barely tolerated!”
Logan could have at least mentioned his relatives were members of the peerage, and one was Lord Thornwick, no less. If one believed the gossips, Lord Thornwick’s behavior had been poor since before his majority. If it weren’t for the fact he was an earl, he would have been barred from polite society completely.
Lord Gammon snickered at Mrs. Westfield’s outrage, and Lady Gammon asked Eleanor as she indicated her card, “Are you content, or would you like another?”
“Another, please.” She waited to see which card she would receive and forgot about her leg. Her knee skimmed Logan’s before she jerked it back into place, but the contact was enough to make her feel as if she had been burned. Lady Gammon dealt her another card, while everyone’s eyes went to hers. Her cheeks heated. She must have gasped when she made contact with Logan. She needed to work on her control.
Her eyes settled on the three cards in front of her. She now had an ace, a six, and a jack. If she played her ace as a one, she had seventeen points, and if as an eleven, she would exceed twenty-one and automatically lose. She stared at her cards and made up her mind. She might as well go for another card. She signaled Lady Gammon and received a five. She frowned as she did the math in her head. She had lost.
The duke hit twenty and inclined his head at Mrs. Westfield. “Lord Thornwick has quite the reputation, but I think all here would agree he has many redeeming qualities, doesn’t he, Sir Logan?”
Mrs. Westfield shook her head and gave Logan a reproachful look. Logan smiled back in polite deference. “Yes. I only wish he were here with us now.”
Lady Gammon revealed her other card. She had reached nineteen, which meant that everyone at the table lost but His Grace and Logan as they both had twenty.
Lady Gammon glanced about the table and asked, “Did we name the stakes? And did anyone else care to deal? I like dealing, so if no one objects, I will continue.”
Logan waved his hand and scoffed. “We are playing as friends here. There is no need to place wagers.”