by Fanny Finch
The memories hit, taking him back to that dreadful night in Finchester.
His head rammed with questions. What were they doing there? In such a secluded area? Why did they look so intimate? This could not be what he was thinking, could it?
Could it?
“Your Grace, I am certain it is not what you think.”
He heard Alexandra’s words, but not really.
“There must be an explanation for this.”
Manson’s hands moved from Eleanor’s cheeks to tuck a stray strand of hair, and back to her cheeks.
Tumultuous emotions swirled inside of Charles. Shock, betrayal, disappointment, anger. He startled when he felt a hand on his arm. That was when he looked at Alexandra.
“We should return to the ballroom.”
“No! I want to walk up to them and demand an explanation. I want them to know I saw them.”
“You are not in the right state of mind. You are livid. In this anger, you would cause a scene. I pray thee, return with me. Then you shall take a drink to calm your nerves. When they return, you can ask them.”
He saw the truth in her words, and as much as he did not want to, he knew turning around in that moment would be the best. So, he did.
He refused to look back as they walked away.
Yet, his mind would not let him rest. Apart from all the shattered feelings… there was something else. Something fighting to be let out.
He took a deep breath and reached for it. There, there it was.
Reasoning.
Eleanor was not Elise. Eleanor was not Elise. She would not hurt him in such a way. She would not hurt him, period.
He knew this. He had to know this. He had to trust her. After all, wasn’t what this was all about? Trust?
If he walked away now, believing the worst, how would that make things better if he turned out to be wrong?
Once again, he would ruin what they had by this single act of mistrust. Whatever the truth was, Eleanor deserved the benefit of doubt.
Mind made up, he spun to return to the woman he loved. This time around, the sight that met his eyes, had him marching forward, his blood boiling with his anger.
***
Eleanor
They had been dancing when Peter began to cough incessantly. Naturally, they had gone to seek a cup of water for him.
That had aided the coughing. But by the time the bout had stopped, Peter had been red in the face.
He had casually mentioned how some fresh air would help. And as they stepped out of the ballroom, they decided to take a walk.
Eleanor had been anxious to get back to Charles, but she had been more worried for her friend.
There was also the truth that she felt bad for all that had happened. Peter had seemed truly hurt to learn of her courtship with Charles. She could not help but feel that in some way, she had given him hope and he had held on to it.
He refused to show it, nevertheless, she saw it. She saw that he was broken, that she had dashed his hopes. It made her feel like a terrible person.
This could not begin to right things, but she had known that at the very least, it would mean something to Peter.
This was the reason why she had come out here with him in the first place, but she was not beginning to feel very comfortable.
At first, he had begun to plead desperately that she ended things with Charles, to be with him.
Try as she had to make him understand that was asking for the impossible, he would not hear it.
Then, he had begun to get too close. When he had caressed her cheeks and lingered, she had used all of her power to keep herself from telling him to withdraw his hand, lest she sounded too rude.
Then, he had touched her hair, and returned that hand to her cheeks?
That was when she had known that enough was enough. Her decision to walk away had been made when he tried to caress her arm.
As politely as she had been able to, she had said, “You are beginning to make me uncomfortable, Peter. I am sorry I hurt you. However, nothing can be done. I cannot leave Charles. I am in love with him, and you, I only ever considered you a friend. Please, understand this. I wish to return now.”
She had stepped away from him and made to leave, but he had simply held her back.
Now, his fingers wound tightly around her left wrist, and his other hand held her arm. He was hurting her, she had told him firmly, but he wouldn’t budge.
She had never been more afraid of any man in her entire life.
What had she gotten herself into? What would she tell Charles? She would cry for help, but she did not want to cause a scene.
“Peter, I would ask you one last time. Let me go. What do you think it is you are doing? How do you hope to get away with this? My brother would come for you and so would Charles. You would not be able to make it out of here, before they do. Let me go now, and I may choose to forget this.”
“Why? Why should I let you go? You dare reject me for that man who discarded you like a piece of rag? Why? Because he is a duke and I am a nobody?”
“That is ridiculous! Let go of me, Peter. What has come over you?”
It was useless to struggle. His grip was tight and it only made her hurt all the more.
“How pathetic are you? I’m gone for only a few days, yet the moment he comes running back, you take him with open arms.”
She truly was shocked by this man. This man in front of her. This was not the Peter she knew. Courteous, charming Peter who could never hurt a fly had disappeared.
“Peter, you are delusional. Nothing was ever going to happen between us two. I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression. Now, I shall ask one last time. Let go of me.”
“Never!”
“Let go of her in this instant, Manson. Right this moment, or we both shall not like what will happen here tonight.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened as she turned to see Charles, standing tall in all his glory, his eyes fierce with his anger. His shoulders were stiff, his body taut. Yet, he had never looked more handsome.
Her hero! How had he known to look for her? How had he found her?
Peter hesitated, and Eleanor saw him look back and forth between Charles and his lock on her arm.
She knew he was afraid. He was a coward after all. Now, all that was left for him to do was to figure out how to make certain he got out of this without suffering any consequences.
When it appeared he was taking too much time, Charles marched forward and yanked him away. Instantly, his grip on her loosened, and she pulled free.
She cradled her wrist as she tried to rub the ache away. Thankfully, she looked up just in time to stop Charles from hitting Peter.
“Charles! No! He’s not worth it. Not at all!”
Charles’s fist hung in the air and she feared he would ignore her pleas and strike all the same. She had never seen him so angry. In a frantic bid to save the situation, she went to him and threw her arms around his body.
Her eyes shut tight, she cried out. “Don’t, Charles. Don’t.”
She felt him soften and his hands came to encircle hers. A wave of relief flooded her and for the first time since Peter grabbed her, her heart began to slow down from its thumping state, until it receded into a calm beating.
When she finally opened her eyes and let go of the man she loved, clapping and cheering erupted around them.
She turned around to see that they had caused a scene regardless, and a small crowd had formed around them. As she looked around the faces, she sighted the redhead, and her own parents.
Then, her family and Charles’ came pushing through. It was her brother who first crushed her in his embrace.
“Eleanor, are you alright? Did that scoundrel hurt you?”
“No, Edwin. I’m fine.”
Edwin held on to her for a little while longer before releasing her. Then he took her wrist. When he saw that it had gone red, he swore.
“I’ll challenge him to a duel, and God help me if I do not take
his life.”
She grabbed on to his shirt. What was it with the men in her life and their tempers?
“You shall do no such thing. I shall not have you have blood on your hands on my account. I am fine. It’s only a small bruise.”
Edwin hugged her again, kissed her forehead as he released her, then walked over to seize Peter so that the man would not escape.
It was Rachel who hugged her next, and after Rachel the Dowager Duchess. Thomas simply cupped her cheeks and muttered that he was sorry. Frances came last.
As she hugged her future sister-in-law, she felt herself finally crumble beneath her courage.
“We became worried when we could not fight you or Charles. You two had been gone too long. We had just decided to start a search when we noticed a commotion out here and a crowd gathering. It was the Dowager Duchess who recognized you first. What happened?”
“Yes, Eleanor…” the Dowager Duchess spoke. “Tell us.”
And so she did. As loud and clear as she could. Everyone listened as she told her tale. When she finished, Charles came to stand by her side.
“That’s strange. I could swear something identical happened to me. Too similar to be ruled off as coincidence.”
“What is that?”
He too told his story, from the moment Peter whisked her away and he bumped into Alexandra. When he finished, it was quite easy for everyone to put two and two together.
Eleanor turned around to face Peter.
“Is he right? Was this some sort of a plan to come between Charles and I?”
Eleanor had never felt so much anger. Frustration, yes. Sadness and all of those things, absolutely. But the anger that flowed in her veins in that moment, it was new and it was raw.
When Peter would not answer immediately, she snapped. “Speak now, Peter, I have run out of patience.”
He jumped out of his skin, but her brother ensured he remained in place. Panic filled his eyes and as secrets swirled in them, Eleanor knew they were about to be revealed.
Chapter 37
Peter
He was a poor man. Growing up, he had never deluded himself into thinking he was privileged. No. He had always known exactly where he stood in society.
He had always known that he was not allowed to make the mistakes a noble man would make.
No one would forgive a poor man like him half of the sins they would forgive a man like Charles. So, he had always acted in his best interest. Minded his business and stayed out of trouble.
Sadly, like any man, if he would fall, it would be for one of two things: greed or women. For him, it was both.
All was over. He could not afford to not say the truth. Yet, if he did, he would suffer for it. As it were, it was either the devil or the deep blue sea.
He looked at Eleanor, and from her, his gaze went to Alexandra and finally came to rest on Lady Wimbledon. The woman who had dragged him into the mess.
She shook her head at him almost imperceptibly, asking him to remain silent and, right before his eyes, she begun to slip away.
No, he would not have it. If he was going to be destroyed, they all would all be destroyed together. So, he began to talk.
“Do not leave, Lady Wimbledon. If you do, how would my story be completed? If the truth is to be known, then I ought to start at the very beginning, ought I not?” He paused to shake his head.
“After all I have done for you, terribly unfair for you to leave me to take the fall now, isn’t it? Where shall we start from, Lady Wimbledon? This season? Or the very beginning?”
Murmurs arose, and everyone turned to look at Lady Wimbledon. She quit pleading with her eyes. People backed away, leaving her and Alexandra in the open.
“You believe this… this peasant? Have we ever met in our entire lives? What nonsense do you speak? If anyone has put you up to this, it’s best you speak the truth right away.”
Peter chuckled. He was surprised by her reaction, but not disappointed. He could not expect less from a woman like Sarah Wimbledon.
He nodded. “From the beginning, it is. For me, I got into this because of greed. For Alexandra, her reason was the good ol’ jealousy. The spite of a spurned lover. As for Lady Wimbledon… she has several reasons: spite, greed, envy, hatred.”
People murmured once more, but quieted down soon enough. So, he went ahead to tell them everything.
He had met Lady Wimbledon at a very young age. The first service he had rendered her, had been to help a certain man and woman elope.
He had later come to learn that the woman was her daughter, and the man had been promised to her step-daughter.
His second service had come years later. It had been odd and distasteful, but he had done it anyway.
He had filled the streets with whispers about said step-daughter, about how everyone who she loved left her because of her ill luck.
He had told people the words Lady Wimbledon had put in his mouth, that Eleanor had been the one to go after her sister’s lover.
He had made certain that she would be blamed for her husband’s death, and for her mother’s.
He had been the one to start calling her with the name her step-mother had chosen for her: the Night Rose, the poisonous flower.
He had been rewarded handsomely for all that. The money had quieted his guilt.
Then, when he had finally met Lady Grenshire, when he had come to see the depth of her beautiful soul, he had been hopeless against loving her.
He had fallen in love with her, and had hoped to right his wrong by cherishing her for the rest of their days.
Of course, her fortune had also played a huge role in his affections. It was why he had been livid when he had received news of Charles and her.
It was why he had been unable to let go. The plan tonight had been to lure the both of them away, and have Charles catch her in a compromising situation.
It had worked… just not in their favor. And now, he would face the consequences of his actions.
As he finished telling it all, gasps of awe filled the air.
The truth was finally out. Surprisingly, he felt a sense of peace, despite all. He looked at Eleanor.
“You did not deserve any of this.”
She shocked him by her response. “Take him away. Take them all away.”
Charles agreed. “They will answer to crimes constituting fraud and slander. As for Manson, assault shall be added to his count.”
His head fell, but he knew he could not expect any less.
The authorities came for him. Slander was not a ground on which to hold a respectable woman such as Lady Wimbledon in custody. She would have to attend the hearings from her home.
Alexandra had only been involved for her heart. Peter was the deceiver, and the assaulter. The one who would suffer the most.
***
Eleanor
The scandal changed everything. The wedding dates, moving back to the country, but everyone had been willing to wait. As Peter rotted in custody, other charges against him arose.
Reports came from a number of people he had deceived in the past. With all the accusations against him, he was finally sent to prison.
Sarah was asked to pay a satisfying sum of money as compensation for the slander against a countess’s name.
Eleanor had simply requested that the funds be put into seeing that a shelter is secured for children on the streets - children like Olivia.
She wished that they had a place where they would sleep, eat, and dream. A place where they would be protected from the cold and the heat.
She was more than willing to contribute whatever she had into seeing that dream come through. Her brother, Charles, and Thomas had declared that they were too.
As for Alexandra, she had fled town the day after that night of revelations, too ashamed to show her face any longer. Though, she had been decent enough to leave Charles a letter asking for forgiveness.
That was between Charles and her. Eleanor refused to concern herself with that busin
ess.
Alexandra had done her no wrong. She had never had any sort of affiliation with the woman. The woman had not owed Eleanor any sort of loyalty whatsoever.
All that mattered was that she had failed, woefully, and she was gone, never to return. She would never bother them. Never again.