Page 32 of A Secret Consequence for the Viscount
* * *
Lady Eleanor Huntingdon looked flushed.
She was trying her hardest to appear normal, but her knuckles were white as she clenched her fists; the small blue artery in her throat beating at twice the usual rate.
His recent life had taught Nick to read the signs of high emotion in people and she looked more than agitated.
It was his dinner invitation. She had been flustered ever since he had issued it. Perhaps she was regretting her decision to help him and was wondering now how she could turn him down politely and leave him in this mire of non-memory?
As he finished his tea he saw the leaves in the bottom arranged in a pattern.
‘Leaves like this can be read, I think,’ he said, pleased when he saw that had caught her attention. ‘Once a travelling woman in Richmond told my fortune from a pile of sticks she carried. I imagine it is the same principle for the leaves.’
The corner of her mouth turned up. ‘What did she say?’
‘She assured me that I would be rich, famous and more than happy, though she warned there was a valley of emptiness between me and my dreams. At the time, running from town to town without a clue as to who I was or why I was there, her words meant very little, but now...’
‘Your memory. A valley of emptiness? I did not expect you to be one who would put much stock in the world of the occult?’
‘Amnesia does that to one, Lady Eleanor.“There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”’
When she laughed out loud the tension was replaced only by warmth.
‘You used not to quote Shakespeare either, Lord Bromley.’
‘Another difference, then, Lady Eleanor.’
‘You remember nothing of this? Of Gunter’s? Of the outing?’
He shook his head and wished it were otherwise.
* * *
The bells of St Martin’s could be heard in the distance counting out the night hour of eleven o’clock. Rose snuggled into her husband’s side in the ducal bed as the prevailing winds came in from the south-west, shaking the fragile glass panes with their force.
‘Do you think Eleanor seems changed lately, Jacob? Happier, I mean?’ She whispered this into his chest and liked the way his arm curled about her, holding her close.
‘She went with Nicholas for an outing today. To Gunter’s. He came in his carriage and picked her up.’
Her smile came unbidden. ‘The tea shop with all its fussy food is a place I can barely imagine Viscount Bromley being comfortable in.’
The shake of his chest told her that he had held the same thought.
‘Perhaps my sister wants to help Nick become reacquainted with the ways of London life.’
‘Like a small rabbit might aid a hungry fox, you mean?’
At that he turned, his eyes, pale in the fire flame, full of question. ‘What are you saying, Rose?’
‘Nicholas Bartlett gives the impression of such danger and distance that I would have imagined Eleanor to be running the other way and yet she is not. You said she has been lonely for such a very long time, but perhaps we might be hopeful for an ending to her solitude?’
Jacob laughed. ‘Matchmaking is a precarious occupation, Rose.’
‘I know, but they suit each other in a way that is surprising. At the ball when they danced I thought they looked completely right.’
‘I doubt Nick would appreciate words on the subject from me, but I suppose a relationship could be possible.’
Rose ran her finger down across his cheek to his lips and then her touch fell lower. ‘Which is exactly why we shall only watch from a distance, Jacob, but with hope in our hearts.’
He turned at that and pulled her down beneath him, his dark hair burnished by candlelight. ‘You are both wise and beautiful, my love, and I thank God every day that he allowed us to find each other.’
‘Show me,’ she whispered and wrapped her nakedness about him. As he blew out the scented flame Rose had the distinct impression of strength tempered with gentleness, and the sheer beauty of Jacob Huntingdon, her husband, warmed her heart.
