Page 84 of A Rogue to Resist
The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating—a feeling Drake recognized from his most significant business ventures. The greatest risks often preceded the most worthwhile rewards. And what reward could be more worthwhile than the possibility,however remote, of a future with the woman who had come to mean more to him than Greythorne itself?
As Lady Eleanor took her place before him, her face a perfect mask of polite inquiry, Drake felt the weight of the decision before him. Whatever came next would irrevocably alter the course of at least three lives—his own, Lady Eleanor’s, and perhaps, if he dared to hope, Katherine’s as well.
~~~~
The following afternoon, Drake called at Fairfield House with a heavy heart. His brief conversation with Lady Eleanor at the ball had only confirmed his worst fears about the foundation of their engagement, but he needed to address the matter more directly in private.
The butler informed him that Lady Eleanor was in the music room, practicing her pianoforte. As Drake made his way through the familiar corridors of Fairfield House, he found himself hoping that perhaps, in private, she might reveal some warmer sentiment toward their engagement despite his own ambivalent feelings.
He paused at the doorway of the music room, arrested by the sight before him. Lady Eleanor sat at the pianoforte, but her attention was clearly not on the music. Instead, she was engaged in animated conversation with a young gentleman Drake didn’t recognize—a conversation that had brought a glow to her cheeks he had never observed during their own interactions.
“That’s Viscount Harrington,” came a quiet voice at Drake’s shoulder. He turned to find Lord Fairfield approaching, seemingly unaware of his daughter’s animated state. “Excellent family. He and Eleanor have known each other since childhood.”
Drake watched as Lady Eleanor laughed at something the viscount said, her face lighting up with genuine pleasure. It wasa complete transformation—from the polite, demure young lady he knew to someone vibrant and truly engaged.
“They seem... well acquainted,” Drake observed carefully.
“Oh yes, quite devoted to each other as children,” Lord Fairfield continued, apparently oblivious to the tender looks being exchanged mere yards away. “Eleanor was quite distraught when he went on his Grand Tour. Though naturally, she understood her duty when your proposal came along.”
The word ‘duty’ struck Drake with fresh force. He found himself studying the interaction more closely. The viscount leaned forward to turn the pages of Eleanor’s music, and their fingers brushed. The look that passed between them was brief but unmistakable—tender, familiar, filled with an affection that had clearly developed over years.
It was everything Drake’s engagement to Lady Eleanor lacked.
“Harrington has recently returned to England,” Lord Fairfield added. “I believe he’s in the market for a wife himself, though I doubt he has the fortune to make an advantageous match with someone of Eleanor’s standing.”
Drake felt a sudden, sharp understanding. Lady Eleanor had accepted his proposal out of duty to her family, but her heart clearly lay elsewhere. He was not providing her with an advantageous alliance—he was trapping her in a dutiful marriage when her heart clearly lay elsewhere.
As if sensing his observation, Lady Eleanor looked up from the pianoforte. For a moment, guilt flickered across her features at being caught in such animated conversation with another gentleman. But it was Viscount Harrington’s expression that told the true story—the way his face fell as he registered Drake’s presence, the careful distance he immediately put between himself and Eleanor.
Here was a man in love, forced to watch the woman he cared for prepare to marry someone else.
“Eleanor, my dear, your betrothed has come to call,” Lord Fairfield said, moving into the room.
Lady Eleanor rose gracefully, her social mask sliding smoothly into place. “Lord Greythorne,” she greeted him with a perfectly practiced curtsy. “How good of you to call.”
But Drake had seen enough. The contrast between her natural joy with Harrington and her dutiful politeness with him was impossible to ignore.
“Viscount Harrington,” Eleanor said quietly, “may I present my betrothed, the Earl of Greythorne? My lord, Viscount Harrington is an old family friend.”
The two men bowed to each other with scrupulous correctness, but Drake could feel the tension radiating from the younger man. Here was no mere social caller—here was a rival who had already lost the battle for Lady Eleanor’s affections to duty and family pressure.
As the viscount made his polite excuses and departed, Drake found himself watching Lady Eleanor’s face. The light that had animated her features dimmed perceptibly as Harrington’s footsteps faded away.
“Shall we take a turn in the garden?” Drake suggested, suddenly needing air and privacy to process what he had witnessed.
“Of course,” Lady Eleanor agreed, though he noticed her gaze lingered on the doorway through which Harrington had departed.
As they walked through Lord Fairfield’s formal gardens, Drake found himself seeing his betrothed with new eyes. Here was not a fortunate young lady grateful for an advantageousmatch, but a woman sacrificing her own happiness for her family’s advancement.
Just as he was sacrificing his own happiness for the sake of Greythorne’s entail.
The realization was both humbling and illuminating. Perhaps breaking their engagement would not destroy Lady Eleanor’s prospects after all—perhaps it would restore them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Her sister-in-law gave her a knowing look. “You don’t have much time.”
Katherine’s hand trembled as she reached for the teapot, the fine porcelain rattling slightly against the saucer.
