Page 84 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
She let out a laugh, and Eleanor followed. But Spencer noticed that it did not reach her eyes. He filed that observation away for later, wanting to ask her about it.
“Charlotte, do you recall Lord Grimsby?” Eleanor suddenly asked, covering her mouth as she laughed.
“Lord…” Charlotte’s brow creased until recognition struck her. “Heavens, Lord Grimsby!”
A loud, raucous laugh burst from her lips as she bent over the table. Spencer merely looked aghast at her reaction. He glanced at his aunt, who looked impatient to know the reason behind such mirth.
“Do get a hold of yourself, niece, and tell us the story,” Katherine chastised lightly.
“Oh, I cannot,” Charlotte answered, her voice strained. “He was an absolutely horrid man! He must have been at least sixty-five, and he approached every lady in the ballroom, asking for a dance.”
“At first, Charlotte felt rather sorry for him,” Eleanor pitched in, “so she accepted his offer when everybody else turned him away.”
“I did!” Charlotte nodded earnestly. “I truly felt sorry for him. It must be hard, and we cannot understand such things. He was old, with no heir, possibly no surviving family, and knew that no lady would accept his suit.”
“Yes, but he was awful. He was… greasy.” Eleanor shuddered.
Spencer found himself relaxing as he started picturing the younger versions of his sister and his wife. What the two of them had shared before Eleanor was sent to St. Euphemia’s.
How could he have ever denied her claims of their friendship?
He watched her as she recounted watching Charlotte dance with the old lord and how his hand had brazenly traveled too far, resulting in him being escorted out of the ballroom.
“I believe he settled down in the end,” Charlotte murmured. “About a year ago. An old widow took a liking to him.”
“Ah, well, it seems that more happy endings are to be found than sad ones.” Eleanor smiled at her. “And then there was the other man whose hair was…”
Charlotte mimicked a very long ponytail with her hand, and the two of them burst into more giggles.
“Where were you during these dances, nephew?” Katherine asked, drawing Spencer’s attention.
He tore his gaze away from Eleanor and cleared his throat.
“Well, Spencer was not present for my first debut,” Charlotte hurriedly said, giving him a tight smile. “However, there was no shortage of other strange suitors when I reentered Society.”
“I never knew what truly happened to make you disappear, Charlotte,” Eleanor noted.
But Charlotte only lifted her wine glass and murmured, “Likewise, Eleanor.”
For a moment, they only laughed, and then Charlotte shrugged off the whole inquisition before reminding Eleanor of a hopeless gossip who had been shamed out of thetonfora most uncouth pregnancy rumor.
“You must have been there for these stories at least, Spencer,” Katherine pushed, trying to get involved.
She always had, always afraid to miss out on her nephew’s life when he had distanced himself.
Spencer stiffened. “I am certain I was… there, watching. Perhaps I was distracted for a moment.”
Eleanor tried to make eye contact, but he purposefully averted his gaze, not wanting to cloud his mind with darker thoughts.
He dug his fork into the meat on his plate, pushing it all away. He deserved that. He deserved to simply sit with his family, watch them, and know that they were safe.
He had done well by them. His sister was smiling, his wife was laughing, and his aunt watched on fondly even as she attemptedto tell the women off for their unladylike snorts.
An unexpected warmth bloomed in his chest. For a second, he did not recognize it.
He chewed slowly, thoughtfully, digging his focus into that warmth.
“Spencer?”
