Page 64 of A Secret Consequence for the Viscount
With that he moved forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Then the carriage will be at your disposal and Rose will watch over Lucy. I will leave it to you to give the driver his instructions. Whatever you choose those instructions to be, they will be no one’s business save your own. If you are not home tonight, then I will see you on the morrow. I have every faith that you can make this right.’ Then he was gone.
* * *
Nicholas moved a pile of books from one desk to the next in his upstairs sitting room.
He had a roaring fire and good wine. Dinner would be served in an hour on the small table here. For the only time in his life he had asked the cook if he could peruse the menu.
He was nervous. He admitted this to himself as he paced the room. If this went badly...
‘No.’ He shook his head and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. The scar blazed red on his cheek and his nose was swollen from the carriage incident last night.
A noise from further afield told him Eleanor had arrived. He could hear her voice through the silence and then footsteps coming up the staircase. Tonight he had given all the servants, save for a few, the night off.
‘Lady Eleanor Huntingdon, my lord.’ Browne was the soul of discretion and formality.
She stood very still in her cloak, a dark woollen sheath that enveloped her completely. She did not speak at all as the door closed, but simply stayed there looking at him.
‘Thank you for coming.’
She nodded at that, both hands tightly clasping the brocaded edges of her apparel.
‘It is warm in here,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I could take your cloak?’
Her eyes went to the fire and she tugged at the fastening at her neck. Tonight she was in yellow, a dark yellow that picked up the lighter strands in her hair and the curve of her figure. The frothy cream lace at her throat suited her as did the way she had done her hair. It was not fussy. She had pulled the mass of it into a loose pile at the back of her head, the curls that had escaped making her look younger. More uncertain. Beautiful.
The kiss from this morning still simmered in the air around them and he made sure he did not touch her, not yet, not until they had spoken of their daughter for there was so very much he wanted to know.
‘We need to talk, Eleanor. About Lucy.’ When she nodded he waited.
‘I am sorry for the way you found out about her existence. It was unacceptable.’ The crisp sound of the word rolled from her tongue in a way that only she could say it.
Unacceptable. To her?
The frown line between her eyes was deep, her lips pursed in on each other in consternation.
‘In my defence I might say that your coming back was indeed a surprise and that I was caught in uncertainty.’
‘Does Lucy know that I am her father?’
‘No.’ He saw her swallow back emotion and saw her flinch, too, when he used her name.
Turning away, he poured them each a drink, handing a glass to her with care.
He wished he had not asked the question so baldly. He wished he could take it back and say it differently. She had been here only a few moments and already the barriers between them were rising.
‘I bought her something today.’ Crossing the room, he took out a small burgundy box and then placed it in Eleanor’s outstretched palm.
‘For Christmas?’
‘No. For ever.’
At that she half-smiled and, opening the lid, brought out the small gold locket in the shape of a heart that he had purchased from the jewellers Rundell, Bridge & Rundell in the early afternoon.
‘Perhaps it is not something a small girl might want...’ He stopped.
‘She will love it.’
Her hand reached out to touch his arm in reassurance and he felt the heat of it physically, the same punch of lust he was becoming used to in her company.
