Kerani, of course, had been raised to be a woman of leisure in India, not a governess. It was only because she was so eager to earn her way in Eleanor’s household after they had rescued her that Eleanor had given her the task of looking after the children. At first, of course, they had been young enough that a teacher was not required, and Kerani had studied hard to learn both English and a better grasp of numbers than she’d had before. She had been able to teach them the basics, and there had been the added benefit of her teaching both her charges to speak Hindi, Kerani’s native tongue. It was not, perhaps, the most useful skill, but there was always a chance it might come in handy in the children’s future.
However, it was clear that Eleanor now needed to hire a tutor for the children. The problem, of course, was how to do so without hurting Kerani’s feelings or making her decide that she no longer had a place in the household. She could still look after the children when they were not in class, but even that position would grow less and less necessary as the years passed.
It would all work out, Eleanor thought, if only she could persuade Zachary to make a push with Kerani. But there were times when Eleanor despaired of ever getting the conservative Zachary to do so.
She was idly thinking about the problem later that afternoon when one of the footmen announced that a visitor had arrived to see her. Eleanor glanced at the card the man held out to her on a salver, and her eyes widened in surprise. Lord Neale.
Whatever was he doing here?
“Send him in,” she told the servant, standing up, her heart pounding and her mouth suddenly dry. She straightened her skirts, then hurried to the small mirror on the wall for a last-minute look. She was not sure what she was feeling. A veritable storm of emotions was welling up inside her—excitement, embarrassment, uncertainty. But one thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to look her best when she faced him.
Just yesterday, Eleanor had thought that she would never see him again. And that, she had told herself, was for the best. The man was a boor. He had been rude and insulting to her the other night—and, truth be told, on every other occasion when she had seen him. He disliked her. She disliked him. Their lives would doubtless be much more pleasant if they never had to see one another.
In fact, it would probably have been much better if she had simply refused to see him. He should be made to realize that he could not just walk in and be received, given what he had done. But it was, of course, too late to follow that course.
Still, she could hide from him how much turmoil his arrival had caused in her. He did not need to know that eagerness warred with indignation inside her. So she carefully schooled her expression into one of polite indifference and sat down again in her chair, folding her hands demurely in her lap.
Anthony strode into the room in his usual way, his steps rapid, his face alert, as though he were charging into battle. Eleanor looked up at him, her face faintly questioning, even a trifle annoyed.
“My lady.”
“Lord Neale.” She inclined her head but did not hold out her hand to him. She gestured toward a chair a few feet away and kept her voice cool as she said, “Pray sit down.”
He did so, though he perched on the edge of it as though he might jump back up at any second. He looked, Eleanor thought, distinctly uncomfortable, and that fact allowed her to relax a little. At least he was not confident of his reception.
“I confess, I am somewhat surprised to see you here today,” she began after a long moment of silence.
“I rode up yesterday afternoon after you left,” he explained tersely. “I needed to talk to you.”
“Indeed?” Eleanor raised her eyebrows. “I would have thought we said everything necessary yesterday.”
“I did not.” He popped up out of his seat and began to pace. “I discovered some things after you left.”
Eleanor frowned, puzzled both by his words and his demeanor. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. What things? Something about Edmund? The money?”
He shook his head impatiently. “No. No. Nothing to do with that.” He faced her squarely, looking a little as though he were facing a court about to sentence him. “The fact is…I came to apologize.”
Nothing he could have said would have surprised Eleanor more. She just barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping open. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am offering my apologies,” he said in a brusque way that did not sound terribly apologetic. He paused, then gritted his teeth and went on. “I must apologize for the way I have behaved to you from the moment I met you. I realize that I misjudged you. I leapt to conclusions. False conclusions. You were right. I should have thought more of Edmund’s happiness and welfare. I made judgments about you based only on supposition.”
“I must say, I am somewhat surprised.”
Anthony’s statement, honest and bald and obviously difficult for him to force out, spoke to Eleanor in a way that a smooth, flowery, compliment-strewn apology never could. She believed him. He had discovered that he had been wrong, and he regretted it.
“I am sure you are surprised,” Anthony told her. “No doubt you think I am a hardheaded, misguided fool.”
“Well, yes,” Eleanor admitted, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “But I must confess that I misjudged you, as well. I assumed that you were interested only in Edmund’s money.”
He cast her a rueful look. “I guess that makes us a rather suspicious pair, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps we have both had reason to be suspicious,” Eleanor said, unbending a little bit more. “I have spent a good many years fending off fortune-hunting men.”
“Yes, well, I have had a bit of experience with adventuresses, as well,” he agreed. “But it doesn’t excuse my behavior to you, especially the other night. I was rude and…and…”
“Boorish?” Eleanor offered.
“Yes.” He came closer to her, looking down intently into her eyes. “I acted like a cad. I can only hope that you believe me when I tell you that I am not usually so.”
“Perhaps it is something I bring out in you. I find that you seem to bring out the worst in me.”
“You were a guest in my house. It was bad enough that I failed to protect you from an intruder. But then to…to force my attentions upon you…”
Eleanor did not point out that he had not had to use any force. She had been quite eager to accept his attentions. Indeed, it was that fact that had humiliated and angered her the most. She certainly was not about to remind him of the matter.
“I think the less said about it, the better,” she replied. “I accept your apology.”
He nodded, looking relieved. “Good. Thank you.”
Anthony stood for another moment, silence stretching awkwardly. Then he said, “I have come upon another matter, as well.”
Eleanor eyed him warily. Had the apology been only an excuse after all?
“I am here to offer you my protection.”
Eleanor stared. Was he daring to ask her to be his mistress? “I beg your pardon?” The ice was back in her voice.
He looked at her, surprised; then his face cleared, and he said hastily, “No—I did not mean…bloody hell…I am making a regular hash of things. What I am saying is, I think you are in danger. I am offering you my help.”
“You, too?” Eleanor murmured.
“What do you mean?” He scowled.
“Dario was preaching the same gospel to me all the way home,” Eleanor said. Why was it that men were much more interested in a woman if they thought she needed protection? “I will tell you, as I told him, I am not a fragile flower in need of protection. I am well able to take care of myself.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” Anthony shot back.
Eleanor stiffened, crossing her arms in front of her and arching an eyebrow. “I am not stubborn. I am simply not being hysterical. No harm has been offered me. And whatever the fellow was after, I would think that he has already gotten it by taking the locket, or he has realized that I do not have
it and he has given up.”
“You cannot be sure,” he argued.
“I have taken the necessary precautions,” she assured him. “We have set up a guard at night. And I am keeping a pistol on my bedside table.”
He grimaced. “I should not be surprised.”
“No, you should not,” she agreed. “I am accustomed to thinking and doing for myself.”
“It is only sensible to accept help.”
“Help generally comes with conditions attached, I have found…especially from men.”
“I have no conditions,” he grated out. “Blast it, woman, why won’t you let me help you?”
“I think what you mean is, why won’t I do as you say,” Eleanor corrected.
He gazed at her for a long moment, then exclaimed, “Oh, the devil with it!” He turned and started to walk away, then stopped and looked back at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and finally said in a clipped tone, “Good day, my lady.”
“Good day.” Eleanor watched Anthony go, not sure whether to be more annoyed or amused.
He was not accustomed to not getting his way. That was clear. But then, she was just as unaccustomed to giving in to anyone. She ran her life as she pleased, and she was not about to start doing any differently now, no matter how easy it was to get lost in Anthony’s gray eyes.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, as did the one that followed it, enlivened only by a visit from Dario, who again pressed his invitation to return with him to Italy.
Eleanor politely refused, adding, “Are you planning to leave soon, then?”
Looking almost as irritated as Lord Neale had the day before, Dario replied darkly, “No. I cannot leave you like this. I will stay and see this thing through.”
It was Eleanor’s opinion that he was in for a long, boring wait, as once again that night there was no sign of any intruder. She was more and more certain that she was right in thinking that the thief had either found what he was looking for or realized that whatever he was searching for was not in her house.
The children went to fly kites in the park with Kerani the next afternoon, and Eleanor decided to go along. She had found the last few days that she seemed to have more difficulty than normal concentrating on business matters. Her mind kept going to the fact that Lord Neale had not called upon her again since his offer of an apology the day before yesterday. She wondered if she had offended him so by her refusal of his offer of protection that he had decided not to call upon her anymore.
Claire and Nathan ranged ahead of Eleanor and Kerani as they strolled along a path through the trees, heading toward a larger open area where they could fly their kites. Claire’s dark brown curls were warmed by the sunlight, and her face was animated as she chattered to Nathan.
Eleanor smiled as she watched her. She had found Claire two years earlier, begging on the streets of Paris, a thin little waif with eyes that were much too large in her hungry face. She had been set to begging on the streets by her uncle—her mother, a prostitute, had died two years earlier. Eleanor, touched by her plight, had taken her away from her uncle—his protests had been quickly stilled by the payment of fifty gold guineas she had offered. Claire had been quiet almost to the point of silence at first, shy and restrained, but it had not been long before she warmed up to Nathan, despite the difference in language. Over the last year, her true personality had begun to shine through.
Nathan, of course, Eleanor reflected with a smile, had never been anything but loquacious. It had been his talkativeness and his quick sense of humor that had brought him to Eleanor’s attention in the first place. He had worked with his mother in a factory Eleanor had once visited in New England. She had been considering buying into the business but instead had come away with a healthy dislike of the owner. However, during her tour, she had been drawn to the boy, disturbed to see a child of that age working in such a place. His quick answers had amused her, despite the sadness she felt as she looked at the mother and child, both far too thin, their fingers red and chilled as they worked at their jobs. The mother had paused now and then to cough, trying to hide it as best she could.
Eleanor had learned their address and taken them a basket of food, as well as the services of a physician. The doctor had confirmed Eleanor’s suspicions about the mother’s health. She was in the grip of pneumonia and not long for this world. Nathan’s mother had taken Eleanor’s hand in a viselike grip and pleaded with her to take care of her son. Eleanor had been reluctant, never having been around children much, and certainly not having anticipated taking one on, but she had been unable to resist the mother’s pleas. She had made his mother as comfortable as possible, paying for coal to heat their rooms and providing them with blankets, food and medicine, but it was too late for her. And when she died a week later, Eleanor had taken Nathan into her house. She had never regretted it.
Nathan, almost ten years old, had been with her for four years now, and Eleanor was sure that she could not have loved him more if he had been her own son. Claire had crept into her heart in the same way.
They reached a large grassy area, and the children stopped. Nathan put down his kite and went to help Claire with hers. Eleanor walked toward them to help.
Suddenly a man moved quickly past Eleanor and straight toward the children. Eleanor watched, astonished, as the man bent and wrapped an arm around Claire’s waist, picked her up and started to run away with her.
CHAPTER NINE
ELEANOR LET OUT a wordless shriek and ran forward, afraid that she would not be able to catch up with the man. Fortunately Nathan, who was much closer, was quick to react, and he threw himself at the ruffian, managing to grab the tails of his coat. Nathan clung to him, screaming, and the man had to stop to reach around and try to pull the tenacious child off him. Claire was squirming and kicking, screeching at the top of her lungs.
As the stranger struggled with the two children, Eleanor reached him. Raising her parasol, she brought it down as hard as she could on the man’s head. He let out a bellow of pain and frustration, letting go of Nathan and raising his free hand to protect himself from Eleanor’s blows. Nathan dropped down, wrapping his arms around the man’s leg and hanging on. Then he sank his teeth into the man’s calf.
The man squealed and dropped Claire as he reached down and pried Nathan off his leg. He looked up, saw a man running across the park toward them, yelling, and he quickly took off.
Eleanor knelt and took Claire into her arms, and the little girl wrapped herself around Eleanor as if she would never let go. “Are you all right? Oh, sweetheart, I was so scared! Nathan, you were superb.”
“Are you all right?” the man who had come running to their rescue asked and when Eleanor nodded, he took off after their attacker, who was charging into the trees.
Eleanor watched him, and soon both men were gone from sight. She did not have much hope of the second man catching their assailant, who had gotten too much of a head start.
Nathan popped up, grinning. “I stopped him, didn’t I?”
“You did indeed. I am so proud of you. And you, too, Claire. You were my little tigress.” Eleanor hugged the girl even more tightly to her.
Kerani fluttered around them, babbling in a broken combination of English and her native tongue, and emitting little cries of distress, hugging Nathan, patting Claire’s back, and brushing at the grass and twigs that had attached themselves to the bottom of Eleanor’s skirts.
“Who was that man, Miss Elly?” Nathan asked. He was jiggling from foot to foot, unable to stand still. “Why’d he try to take Claire?”
“I don’t know. But thank heavens he was not able to. Nathan, pick up your kites and let us go home.”
Nathan did as she bade, and the four of them walked home in a tight little group. Eleanor carried Claire almost half the way before the girl decided she was no longer afraid to let go of Eleanor’s neck. But even then, she walked with one hand in Eleanor’s and the other in Kerani’s.
Eleanor’s mind was ra
cing as they walked. While she had no idea who the man had been who had tried to steal Claire, she had a pretty good idea as to why he had done it. She was sure that it was not some random act; the man had plainly targeted Claire. But it was Eleanor herself, she was sure, who was the ultimate target. And it had to do with the thing in her house that someone wanted and obviously had not yet found.
She was scared, more scared than she could ever remember being. This had been far worse than waking up to find the stranger in her room, for this was a threat to her loved ones. Eleanor had always been ready to stand and face danger. But the prospect of danger to either of the children filled her with terror.
When they reached the house, Eleanor went straight up to the nursery with Kerani and the children, where she checked the windows to make sure all were tightly closed and locked. Leaving Kerani with Claire and Nathan, she went downstairs and sent for Bartwell and Zachary.
Her terse explanation of what had happened in the park brought consternation to both men’s features.
“Miss Elly!” Bartwell exclaimed. “What is going on?”
“I have no idea. But clearly I am going to have to do something about it. I want a footman outside the nursery door at all times.”
“It’s done,” he assured her gravely. “And I’ll put two footmen on patrol at night. We may have to hire extra help.”
Eleanor nodded. “Whatever is necessary.”
“I am going up there myself,” Zachary said tightly. “I will stay with them.”
“Good.” Eleanor nodded. “Bartwell, have the carriage brought round.”
He looked at her, startled. “Where are you going, miss?”
“For help,” Eleanor replied succinctly.
THE FOOTMAN at Lord Neale’s door looked startled to see an unattended female standing there, seeking entrance. Eleanor suspected that his first instinct was to turn her away, but the haughty glance he sent her took in the quality of her clothes, and he hesitated, visibly torn.
“Tell Lord Neale that Lady Scarbrough is here,” Eleanor said briskly, stepping forward so that the footman was forced to step back and allow her into the hall. “Lady Eleanor Scarbrough.”
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