“All right. I will join you.” He paused, then added, “If I may.”
“Of course you may.” Eleanor smiled at him. At the moment, quite frankly, she preferred to have Anthony here with her at all times.
She carried the list to the safe room, a small locked room beside the butler’s pantry. Only she and the butler had the keys to this room, as its shelves contained all the expensive silverware, and silver and gold serving dishes, epergnes and so on. Also in the room was the squat heavy iron safe in which she kept important documents and her expensive jewelry. Eleanor stashed the list of names, as well as the original sheet music, inside the safe and relocked the outer door. The list was now as secure as she could make it.
It was time to get ready for dinner, and Anthony had to return to his own house to put on his more formal clothes. Eleanor found herself surprisingly reluctant to let him go. She strolled with him to the door. In front of the waiting footman, there was no possibility of any exchange of kisses or tender words, so she simply smiled and offered him her hand, as she would any gentleman of her acquaintance. But the look in his eyes as he bent over her hand warmed her.
She bathed and dressed for dinner, choosing, in a burst of happiness, to wear a deep blue dress that was one of her favorites. It was not really suitable for half-mourning, but she decided to ignore that fact. The dress was one in which she looked her best, its vivid color emphasizing her blue eyes and its wide scooped neckline showing her white shoulders to advantage. Pearls adorned her ears and throat, and dotted her black upswept hair.
Lady Honoria’s lips set in a disapproving line when she saw Eleanor’s gown, but Eleanor scarcely noticed. She was too busy looking at Anthony, whose eyes had widened appreciatively when she entered the room.
He came to her, taking her hand and bowing over it in a courtly manner. His back was to his sister and niece, blocking the fact that his lips lingered softly on Eleanor’s hand. He looked into her eyes, and she smiled up at him, her mouth softening in a way that was unconsciously sensual.
Dinner was an agonizingly slow affair. Eleanor could think of little except Anthony and their lovemaking that afternoon, and whether there was any possible way for them to sneak away from the others. She kept glancing at him, only to find him watching her in a way that made her blood hum. He seemed as unable as she to contribute to the dinner conversation, so it was dominated by Lady Honoria and her usual litany of complaints and melodramatic statements.
The meal finally ground to a halt, and they rose to leave the room. Samantha was usually sent up to bed after they ate, and Honoria generally retired, also, but tonight she perversely decided to join Eleanor and Anthony in the drawing room, allowing Samantha to stay, as well.
Eleanor gritted her teeth and resigned herself to another hour of Honoria’s company. She played draughts with Samantha, taking turns with Anthony. Then, much to her surprise, Honoria decided that they should play whist.
“What?” Eleanor stared at her in consternation. She had absolutely no desire to while away the rest of her evening playing cards.
“There are four of us,” Honoria pointed out.
“But Samantha doesn’t play whist,” Anthony countered, shooting Eleanor a flickering glance that told her he was as little interested in an evening of cards with his sister and niece as she was.
“We shall teach her,” Honoria replied brightly. “It’s time she learned. Please, Anthony, I am so dreadfully bored here.” She turned her limpid blue gaze on her brother, looking pitiful. “At home I am accustomed to playing quite often. Here I have nothing to do except knit and read.” She sighed.
“Well, perhaps you can return home soon,” Anthony told her, his voice revealing a little of his impatience.
“Oh, no, please…” Samantha pleaded. “Not until after the balloon ascension.”
“No.” He smiled at his niece. “Definitely not until after we see the balloons.”
“Let us play cards,” Samantha went on, looking from Anthony to Eleanor. “Please? It would be ever so much fun. I’ve never done so.”
Finally Eleanor gave in, and they repaired to the card room. Eleanor sat across from Samantha, being her partner, and Anthony and Honoria took their places opposite each other. They sat down and began to play, explaining it to Samantha as they went along.
Eleanor felt something brush her leg. Startled, she looked up from her cards and turned her head toward Anthony. He was studiously examining his own cards, but he shot her a little sideways glance from beneath his lids. Again she felt the brush against her leg, longer and slower this time. It was, she realized, his knee touching her.
Heat blossomed between her legs as he slowly, rhythmically moved his leg against hers. Eleanor swallowed, her mind wandering far from her cards.
“Eleanor…”
She looked up to find Honoria staring at her in irritation.
“I’m sorry. What?” she asked a little breathlessly.
“It is your turn,” Honoria told her as if she were a trifle dim-witted.
Quickly Eleanor apologized and made her play. She shot Anthony a fulminating look, but he only smiled, keeping his gaze on his cards. Her mouth tightened. Two, she thought, could play at this game.
She folded her cards together and held them against her, the tops of the cards slightly above the neckline of her dress. The cards rested against the swell of her breasts. She trailed the fingers of her other hand slowly down her throat and over the smooth, white expanse of her chest. Gently her finger skimmed across the soft curve of her breast till it reached the neckline of her dress. She paused for a moment there, then drew her finger back up the same path.
She cast a sideways glance at Anthony and was pleased to see that he looked a trifle slack-jawed, his eyes glazing over. He straightened, clearing his throat, and shifted a little in his chair. He studied his cards, his forefinger at his lips. His finger tapped against his full lip, then moved slowly one way, then the other. Eleanor found herself watching his finger trail across the soft, sensitive flesh. She could almost feel his touch upon her.
Her breasts were full and heavy, the centers tightening, and her loins melted still more. Anthony looked up from his cards, his eyes raking her hotly. Eleanor watched as his eyes fell to her breasts, and she knew he must see the hard buttons of her nipples thrusting against the cloth of her dress. His nostrils flared, color tinting the high line of his cheekbones.
Pleased that he was no more immune than she to the teasing play between them, she crossed her legs beneath the table. Her foot found the side of his calf and slid insinuatingly up it. The look he shot her was fierce, a promise and a challenge all in one.
They continued to tease one another throughout the evening with looks and touches, flirting and arousing without a word spoken between them. By the time Lady Honoria delicately covered a yawn with her cards and declared herself done for the night, Eleanor was so warm she had to ply her fan, her blood singing through her veins and her loins pulsing with longing.
“I suppose it is time for you to leave us, Anthony,” Lady Honoria said. “Will you be calling on us again tomorrow? You have been unusually attentive, I must say. It is quite a pleasant change.” His sister looked at him a little quizzically.
Anthony cleared his throat. “Um, well, yes, I will be here tomorrow afternoon, in fact. I am glad that you have, uh, noticed the difference in me. I, ah…” He cast a glance around as though seeking inspiration.
Honoria let out a little tinkling laugh and waggled her fan at her brother. “You cannot fool me, you know. I am aware of what you are doing.”
“You are?” he asked, startled.
“Oh, yes.” Honoria nodded sagely. “I suspect there is some woman behind this behavior.”
“Really?” Anthony’s gaze flickered almost imperceptibly to Eleanor and back.
“Oh, yes. There must be a young woman fresh to the marriage mart, whom you are doing your utmost to avoid.” Honoria cast him an arch glance.
“Hono
ria, you astonish me,” he said with a smile.
His sister smiled. “Of course. Now, good night, my dear. Shall I walk you to the door?”
She stood up, and Anthony rose, as well, saying, “No. That is…there is, um, something in Lady Eleanor’s office. Something she said she would give me.” As his sister continued to gaze at him blankly, he finished, “Isn’t that right, my lady?” He turned and looked at Eleanor.
“Yes, of course,” she responded brightly, getting to her feet. “I had almost forgotten about it. Of course, it is rather late, and I am not sure where I put it,” she added, sending Anthony a teasing glance. “Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow.”
“Yes, Anthony, that sounds much better,” Honoria added.
Anthony glared at Eleanor. “Lady Eleanor, I am sure it will not be much trouble. And my need is rather…urgent. I would appreciate it if you would take the time for it now.”
Eleanor smiled, her eyes twinkling at him mischievously. “Very well. Why don’t we go to my study and look for it? I am sure it will not take us too long to find, um, what we want.”
“I am certain of it,” he responded in a heartfelt tone.
Eleanor turned and bade good night to a somewhat puzzled-looking Honoria and her daughter, then swept out of the room. Anthony followed on her heels, their steps growing quicker and quicker, until at last they reached Eleanor’s office. They slipped into the room, and Anthony closed and locked the door behind him.
“Vixen,” he told her huskily, reaching out and laying his hands around the column of her throat. “You delighted in torturing me this evening.”
He slid his hands slowly downward, spreading his fingers as they moved over her chest. His eyes followed the movement of his hands, feasting on the white expanse of her skin, the swelling fullness of her breasts.
“No more than you,” Eleanor responded saucily. “And you deserved every moment. You began it.”
“And I shall end it,” he said thickly, sliding his hands inside the low, wide neckline and cupping her breasts, lifting them up and out of her dress. “God, you are beautiful. I could barely sit still all night, I wanted so much to hold you. Kiss you.”
He bent and kissed each breast, tasting and teasing with his tongue and lips until he felt as near to bursting as she, aching for fulfillment. He clutched her skirts, bunching them up with his hands, until at last he could reach under her petticoats. Splayed, his hands moved up the sides of her thighs and cupped the round fullness of her buttocks.
Eleanor’s head lolled back, a long, shaky sigh of pleasure escaping her, as his fingers dug into her flesh, squeezing and stroking. Slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her pantalets, he shoved them down in one swift movement, exposing her to his intimate touch.
His mouth came up to take hers in a long, deep kiss as his fingers slid between her legs, caressing and arousing her, sending the heat already there flaming into an inferno. Eleanor moaned, wrapping her arms around him and pressing into him. She ached to take him inside her once again, to feel him fill her in a way so complete that she could want nothing else.
“Anthony, please,” she murmured against his lips.
He let out a low growl, his hand going to the buttons of his breeches. He pulled her up and set her down on the edge of her desk. His face, only inches from her, was fierce with hunger as he thrust her skirts up roughly and opened her to him. Eleanor wrapped her legs around him eagerly, urging him to her.
He sank deep within her, his eyes closed, his breath ragged in his throat, his face stark with a pleasure that was almost pain. She buried her face in his neck as he thrust into her again and again. They teetered on the edge of dark oblivion, desire lashing them further and further beyond where they had gone before.
Eleanor let out a cry, stifling it against his skin, her teeth sinking into his flesh. Anthony groaned, holding on to her desperately, as they tumbled blindly over the edge.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE MORNING DRAGGED for Eleanor. It had taken her some time to fall asleep after Anthony left. She had lain in the darkness in her bed, all too aware of the vast emptiness beside her. Her body was soft and faintly sore, her flesh still awash with pleasure. Yet at the same time, she was aware, in a way she had never been before, of how very alone she was.
She awoke late and therefore found herself alone at the breakfast table, a state she welcomed after a week of breakfasts spent listening to Lady Honoria’s litany of complaints.
Accounts awaited her in her office, but she found it difficult to concentrate on them. She kept thinking about the list in the safe down the hallway. It would be a relief when Dario came and she was able to hand the thing over to him. Then her duty to Edmund would be done, and she would, she hoped, be free of the men who wanted it.
She endured a light lunch with Honoria, then returned to her office to work until Anthony arrived for their appointment with Dario. Her head was bent over her work when she sensed that someone was at her door. She looked up, and her heart rose into her throat when she saw the man standing there.
“Conte di Graffeo.”
Eleanor rose to her feet. How had he gotten in here? No servant had announced him. She had not even heard his footsteps in the hall.
“I am sorry,” she said, admirably quelling any tremor in her voice. “I did not realize you were here.”
“I told the maid I would show myself in,” he said easily, coming into the middle of the room. “I hope I am not disturbing you, but I had some matters of importance I wished to discuss with you.”
“Of course.” Eleanor mustered a faint smile and stepped around her desk to sit in one of the chairs, gesturing toward the chair across from hers. “Please, sit down.”
She could not help but wonder if the count had somehow found out about their discovery of the coded list. It seemed bizarre that he should show up the very morning after they had found it, yet she did not see how he could know what they had done. She and Anthony had told no one about it.
Di Graffeo sat down across from her, flashing her his urbane smile. “I am a straightforward man, Lady Scarbrough. I do not wish to engage in a round of accusations and lies. Let me begin by saying that I know you are in possession of the list of the members of L’unione.”
“Conte, really, I have told you before—”
“Please, my lady, no more subterfuges.” The count held up a hand as if to stop her. “You think that I do not know what goes on in this household? I have had an employee among your servants for some time now. I know everything that happens here. I know that you and Lord Neale were celebrating, jubilant, last night. That you were talking about the list and how you decoded it from Sir Edmund’s music. A clever ploy on Sir Edmund’s part, I must say.”
Eleanor’s mind flashed to the maid she had seen standing in the doorway last night. At the time, her only concern had been embarrassment that the girl had seen her and Anthony kissing. But now she wondered exactly how long the maid had been there and how much she had heard, as well as seen.
She stood up, eyes flashing. “You dare to bribe my servants to spy on me? I think it is time you left now.”
“Don’t be so hasty, my lady,” he said, also rising. “You should hear me out.”
“There is nothing you could say that I wish to hear.”
“I am prepared to pay quite handsomely for that list,” he went on.
“I would not dishonor my name nor my husband’s memory by selling it to you,” Eleanor told him flatly.
“Your husband was wrong. It is no dishonor to admit that someone behaved foolishly.”
“Acting on one’s convictions is not ‘behaving foolishly’,” she retorted. “Edmund believed in what he did, and I would not in any way undermine his actions.”
“Not even to save your good name?” he asked. His voice was a lazy drawl, but his eyes were sharp and bright as he gazed at her. “I know a great deal about you, you see. I am aware that you and Lord Neale are engaged in an affair.” He tsk-tsked
in an exaggerated way. “I do not think English society would approve, do you?”
“I don’t give one bloody damn what English society would approve or not approve,” Eleanor retorted, her hands curling into fists and her eyes blazing with fury. “You can spread your dirty little secrets all over London, and it will not make me give you those names. Now, get out of my house, or I will call a servant to throw you out.”
She started toward the bell pull to summon one of the footmen, but the count reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. She swung around, furious, to face him, and saw that he held a pistol in his hand, leveled at her heart.
“I am not fool enough to come unprepared, my lady,” he said quietly. “I did not expect you to immediately see the sense of my suggestion. Now…I suggest that you give me the list.”
Eleanor’s mind was racing. Anthony was supposed to join her, and they were going to talk to Dario about the list. She had sent Dario a note asking him to call upon her at two o’clock. Anthony, she thought, would arrive before that time. If only she could keep the count occupied, Anthony might arrive before di Graffeo could take the list and leave.
“I suppose I have little choice,” she said, wishing that she could see the clock. It was not in her line of sight, and she feared that turning her head to look at it would make the count immediately suspicious. “Unfortunately, however, I do not have the list. I gave it to Lord Neale.”
Di Graffeo’s lip curled up in a sneer. “A nice little fabrication, Lady Scarbrough. But, you see, I know that you and Lord Neale put those papers in your safe last night.” He motioned impatiently with the gun. “Now, please, let us go retrieve them.”
Eleanor turned and walked to the door. She thought about what she could do. There was certainly a possibility that there would be servants about as she walked to the safe. Would the count hesitate to shoot her in front of a witness? Or would she only be putting the servant in danger, as well?
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