“Honestly, Eric, what's got you so flustered?” Mallory’s earlier boyish demeanor faded, and he leaned forward in his chair.
“I've been preoccupied with the information I sent you.” He conceded. “I know it's not much, but I've had this deep-seated feeling that I’ve missed something important, and I can't shake myself free of it.”
“I've done what I can to search back through the information we had on Pembroke and Lars Janssen, but aside from their connection to each other, I haven't been able to define a concrete connection with Durand or anyone else associated with the smuggling on this side of the channel.”
Eric shook his head. “There's got to be something.”
“I'll continue to do what I can,” Mallory offered, “but most of my resources as you know are tied up in this Rothschild endeavor. I'm afraid I won't be much use to you until after that's settled.”
“Any idea when that will be?” Eric raised a brow
“Soon. The plans are almost final, he's going to send the shipment across within the next few weeks, a month at most. if anything is going to happen, it's going to happen during that time, so we're all on the alert.”
Eric nodded.
“Even so,” Mallory continued, “It's been a year. That's a long time and depending what kind of evidence might form a connection between these people, there’s no guarantee it will still be in existence.”
“I know,” Eric agreed slumping back in his chair and sighing. “Especially given the known people in the equation are now both dead.” He referenced his old neighbor, who'd died in that initial melee which wounded him, and Lars, who'd run out of luck on his end and succumbed to the law. He’d been tried and hanged for smuggling months ago.
“Is there anything else I can do for you while I'm here?” Mallory asked, getting up from his seat.
Eric shook his head. “No, you've already done a great deal for me, I appreciate it.” It wasn't like Mallory to be in a rush to leave, so his movements gave a clear indication of his nervousness regarding his own assignment. Eric mirrored his friend’s movements, rising and moving around the desk to walk him to the door. “I wish you a good conclusion in that case,” he offered, extending his hand.
Mallory accepted with a return of his characteristic half grin. “And I shall leave you to your contemplations which have absolutely nothing to do with a copper haired young nymph whose eyes sparkle, and countenance takes on the appearance of a near swoon every time you walk into the room.”
Before Eric could respond, Mallory pivoted and hurried out of the study in the direction of the front door.
Eric grumbled to himself before returning to his desk. One thing he knew for certain, he had to get Eloise out of his mind. Whatever dreams and fantasies may have begun with her presence in his home were bound for destruction the moment she left. They held no future promise, and as such no good could come of entertaining them.
Flopping into his chair, he opened his ink well, took up a quill, and reached for the estate correspondence he’d set aside when Mallory arrived. Picking up the first letter, he immediately tossed down the quill and sank his head into his hands with a groan. It was the bill for all the blasted dessert ingredients Sarah had ordered. His eyes had fallen on the top two items on the invoice, chocolate and a cherry cordial, and his mind conjured images of feeding Eloise chocolate bites under the mistletoe while dreaming of cherry tinted kisses.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ERIC STARTED AWAKE, his heart thrumming out a dizzying repercussion against his ribs, his skin alive with pinpricks such as one feels when caught too near the center of a thunderstorm. He blinked up into the darkness, his rattled mind requiring a moment to register where he was. Recognition of his bed’s canopy silhouetted against the dark grey ceiling of his bedroom did little to calm his racing pulse or cool his fevered skin. He brought one trembling hand up to drag across his features, letting the weight of his arm settle down over his eyes, but soon realized this tactic would not serve.
The moment his eyes closed, memory brought back remnants of the dream which had woken him. Despite all evidence to the contrary, it was no nightmare causing his distress and current state of discomfort, but a dream of an altogether different nature. One that involved a certain young lady currently residing under his roof in almost complete innocent ignorance of the lurid thoughts hounding him constantly now.
Slamming his arm down beside him, he ground his teeth. This was getting to be a nuisance. He spent his days constantly distracted, a trait he’d never been accused of, and had barely slept a full night in the past week. Shifting to his side, he stared across at his window and the full moonlight spilling in through it. Despite the winter cold, Eric refused to close the curtains. Something about already operating with one sense fewer than most made him reluctant to voluntarily give up another.
Dark outlines of bare branches struck out across the clear star-filled navy sky like cracks in a glass. He sat up, wondering if perhaps a few moments of winter chill might cool his heated flesh. His attempts to calm his breathing boasted little effect. He didn’t care for nightshirts, having developed a distaste for them during the fevered thrashing of his youthful illness when the blasted garments became hopelessly tangled about him and compounded the nightmares he suffered. Reaching instead for a pair of trousers kept habitually at the foot of his bed, he pulled them on and wandered to the window, which was really more of an abbreviated French door.
A small balconette graced the other side, so Eric threw open both panes and leaned out into the bracing air, letting it wash over his bare face and chest like a Nordic ice bath. The jolt worked as he’d hoped, jarring his foggy mind alert and bringing his body back to a reasonable semblance of control, but he lingered, enjoying the sight of a glistening landscape. A light snow cover dusted over the more consistent frost and now sparkled with elegant stillness in the moonlight. A bright sheen reflected off the thin coating of ice covering over the pond just on the other side of the gardens.
He rarely took the time to indulge in the tranquil beauty of his home, for the most part his residence served as a reminder he wasn’t able to carry out the legacy his father and brothers created. On rare moments like these, he was able to appreciate this side of the coin, reflecting on the years of happiness this home and its occupants had brought him. At times he even felt himself unique to his brothers in his ability to appreciate the majesty and resourcefulness of land in a way lifelong seamen often didn’t.
He let out a sigh, his breath billowing out in a puff of condensation before him. This home had also seen his worst moments and there were times he wondered if he shouldn’t try to create something else for himself, set up his own home somewhere. Inevitably, reality would surface, reminding him of the near impossibility of acting as his own agent in such a venture, and many more in fact.
Trapped by perceptions and social stigma. He’d used it to his own advantage well enough when he operated as an auxiliary to other men and causes, but he’d never found a true path to his own independence. His family often failed to understand this sentiment, thinking him content in a gentleman’s life and ignoring the fact his freedoms did not extend past the estate boundaries.
Yet lately he’d felt as though he might have a temporary ally. Another one of his gut feelings with little substance to it, but he wondered if Eloise might understand his frustration. Her familial arrangement kept her unhappily concealed from the world, and her occasional shows of independence made him think she resented that more than she let on. A sharp quake ran through him, his body becoming angry at his prolonged standing in the frigid air. He shook his head at his assumptions about Eloise, knowing better than to rely on them. His own frustration guided him to find a kindred spirit where none existed.
A movement out of the corner of his eye halted his movement when he would have turned back to his room. He brought his eyes back to the landscape before him, roving over the pond and the gardens, expecting to see a rabbit dashing across the open space bet
ween them, or possibly a fox with its winter coat tipped in grays and whites. What his eyes landed upon sent a shock through him worse than any cold tremor and he blinked a few times to ensure his eyes conveyed the truth.
Eloise, clad in nothing but her night shift wandered through the gardens in the direction of the pond. Moving slowly, with an odd stance as though her limbs weren’t fully enthusiastic about the task, she drifted through the garden paths like a ghost, only the glint of her copper hair tumbling down her back distinguishing her from the black and white winterscape.
After staring in confusion for a full minute, Eric snapped to his senses and became convinced something must be wrong. Darting back into his room, he thrust his feet into a pair of slippers and grabbed a shirt, throwing it over his head as he continued toward the door.
ERIC SHIVERED AS A gust of icy wind washed over him the instant he opened the door to the back patio and gardens. Stepping out into the glistening night, he eased the door shut behind him, careful to keep as quiet as possible. Neither the servants’ quarters nor the family rooms were near this entry, but he would rather not take the chance of waking anyone else. Stepping to the edge of the snow-covered patio, Eric laid his hands on a clear segment of the stone balustrade separating the house from the gardens and leaned out slightly to scan the grounds.
Stars shone like so many glittering diamonds in the clear night sky, offsetting the deep midnight blue of the heavens and winking down at a slumbering world while a full moon shone over the expanse, casting a surreal glow over the bejeweled flowers and grass. The specter he saw from his balcony had disappeared. For a moment, he doubted his senses, wondering if he’d been too quick in his haste to come out to the garden. Perhaps his worried thoughts and restless sleep had conjured the sight of Eloise when in actuality she lay warm and content, asleep in her bed.
His eyes continued to scan over the gardens a moment longer, but to no avail. About to give up the endeavor, convinced his mind had been playing tricks on him, a flash of color invaded his periphery. Off to his right, something moved in the distance. He squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the shape to no avail.
Heading down the steps, he skirted the gardens in the direction of the pond. The recent frosts and snow had iced over a portion of the pond, but temperatures had not been low and consistent enough to solidify the body of water. Though he and his siblings often skated over the pond in the winter months as children, the winter never promised that treat.
The pond lay in the dip of a small hill, making the expense of water temporarily invisible on the approach until the observer crested the hill and was able to take in the full scene. Within steps of that eventuality, the cold creeping ever deeper into his bones, he berated himself for a fool for having run out into the snow on a midnight delusion. He would scan over the pond, then return to his room. Cresting the hill, no rabbit or fox or other fauna met his gaze. Instead, that same otherworldly apparition, walking slowly, clad in white with burnished copper hair floating at her back met his gaze. Eloise.
Eric's heart sank. What was she doing out here? Picking up pace, he trotted toward her, attempting to get close enough to call her without the sound carrying over the still night. Within seconds his heart took on a panicked pace as he closed the distance and realized Eloise was not walking toward the pond, but on the pond. She had reached and exceeded the frozen outer edges of the water, yet she continued to walk forward in peril of stepping through the thin ice.
Wanting to call out to her, but not wishing to alert the rest of the household, Eric dashed up to the edge of the pond and did his best to catch her attention from there.
“Eloise,” he called in a sedate shout, hoping his voice carried well enough that she heard him but not well enough to reach the house. She paused, there was something strange about the way she was walking, listless and without active direction. She moved slowly and quietly, her arms relaxed at her sides. She showed no concern for the cold, barely clad as she was, her only additional clothing a pair of soft slippers not meant for the outdoors and barely more than the thickness of stockings on her feet.
“Eloise,” he tried again, unsure why she didn't respond to him, she must hear him at this distance. He brought his own slippered foot to rest tentatively on the edge of the ice, but feared cracking it with his weight. To his great relief, she began listing toward him, turning back in his direction. He gave a slight sigh, glad she would walk back to him without incident. But his brief happiness faded when she took a step and faltered. His eyes focused on her small feet gliding over the ice. Where her foot sat upon the frozen water, a two-tone change appeared in the ice. A crack.
He fended off lightheadedness as his blood attempted to drain out of him. As he watched, a thin line emerged from beneath her foot spreading slowly outward. His eyes darted up to her face, again not comprehending why she stood there so calmly and what had brought her out in the first place. He leaned toward her, squinting to recognize her face and features. Then his eyes went wide, and all the breath rushed out of him. Her eyes were closed. Eloise wasn't awake. Which meant he had to take care in encouraging her or finding a way to get her back onto land. If he woke too suddenly, she might swoon or become frightened, increasing the likelihood of her falling through the ice.
Taking a breath, he took a tentative step out onto the edge of the ice. The portion of ice nearest the shallows ought to be solid enough to bear his weight. He hoped. He had to get closer to Eloise and attempt to guide her back to solid ground. He stepped out gingerly, taking measured steps, trying to gauge the thickness of the ice, his heart pounding in his chest with every small step bringing him nearer to Eloise. Almost within arm’s reach after what felt like hours, his hand began to reach for her, but his next step halted him. The texture and consistency of the ice beneath his foot altered as he placed weight on it. Looking down, he saw a spiderweb of small cracks spreading out from where he’d placed the ball of his foot.
Taking in a breath, he remained still, reaching his hand out, but Eloise stood just outside of his grasp. “Eloise,” he pleaded, knowing his voice sounded barely above a whisper, “please, come this way.”
He had no way of knowing if she heard or understood him, had only his hopes and prayers at his disposal. To his amazement, those prayers appear to be answered when she shifted in his direction and took a small step toward him. “That's it,” he encouraged, “come this way, give me your hand.”
Another small step in his direction and her hand waved at her side. Even if she had no knowledge of his presence, her subconscious at least attempted to follow his directive.
“Give me your hand, Eloise,” he repeated in a stronger tone. “Her hand floated up just out of reach. She took another step, but good fortune deserted them as the ice shifted beneath her foot, sending a deep crack racing through the ice, shattering stability. An instant before the ice gave way completely, her eyes shot open with a gasp. Clear blue eyes full of fright and confusion met his an instant before he dove to catch hold of her hand, grasping at small, frozen fingers as she disappeared into the black depths of the pond.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CONVULSIVE SHIVERS wracked Eloise as cold night air slammed against her drenched and numb body. She pressed in close to the one source of heat the night provided, Eric. He ran toward the house for all he was worth, carrying her in his arms. He managed to grab her hand just as she fell but became half submerged himself in pulling her out of the water.
The fright she’d experienced on waking surpassed anything she’d known to that point. The instant cold, the disorientation and rapid beat of her heart. Only the fleeting glimpse of Eric helped to calm her to some degree as she fell through the ice. She saw him reach for her, his legs and muscles coiling in anticipation of propelling himself in her direction. She needn’t thrash wildly as the shock of ice water engulfed her, only to reach back, stretch her hands toward the man she trusted to save her.
She hadn't sleepwalked in years, thought those days were l
ong behind her, and never anticipated any danger of recurrence. If she had, she might not have accepted the invitation to Heathermoore. Even so, she suspected her uncle would have forced her to it no matter her preference.
Reaching the back steps of the house, Eloise surrendered to a deep gratitude for the strong arms surrounding her, carrying her as though she weighed nothing. There might exist something more comforting or innately protective in the world, but Eloise doubted it.
As Eric shifted her weight in his arms to open the door and close it again behind them, her teeth chattered so loudly she worried she might wake the entire household. Eloise hardly noticed which direction they went and gave no thought to their destination until they passed through another door and Eric deposited her onto a chair in the corner. The dunk in the icy waters worked well to wake her from her wandering, but it took her mind and her body several moments yet to comprehend and understand her surroundings. He’d brought her to a bedroom, that much she saw immediately in the silhouette of a large bed against the opposite wall. He hurried over to the bed, grabbing a blanket from the foot board and throwing it around her before he turned his attention to the embers in the hearth, working to swiftly build a raging fire.
The more she woke to her surroundings, the deeper and more poignant the flood of embarrassment that raged through her. They must be in Eric’s room; it bore no resemblance to hers. A desire to dash out the door, find her own room, and pretend she’d never left it gripped her, but harbored no hope of such a plan coming to fruition. For one thing, her frozen limbs would not support her. For another, Eric completed his task and marched toward her with a deep scowl of concern offering no argument. He picked her up again, blanket and all, depositing her on the rug beside the fireplace.
The warm glow shone welcoming and bright, orange and yellow flames licking the brickwork and exuding a glorious heat. Chilled through to the bone, lungs burning from gasping in frozen air, Eloise reveled in the sensation. Kneeling in front of her, Eric fixed her with stern observation, taking in her shivering and color. He must not have liked what he saw, because he pressed his lips together into a thin line and darted off to a small cupboard in the corner, opening the door and retrieving a small bottle. Also from the depths of the cupboard emerged a small glass. He splashed a measure of the liquid into the glass and returned to her side, bringing one arm around her shoulders as he held the cup to her lips.
To Love in Silence (Currents of Love Book 3) Page 9