Page 58 of A Marriage of Convenience with a Rake
“Good evening,” Eleanor said formally. She curtseyed to her stiffly, and likewise to her son, and then straightened up, feeling relieved. Even the difficult guests were polite.
The people wandered past, and Eleanor curtseyed and wished them well and held the mantle tight around her, her right hand, which clasped it, becoming colder as she stood there, the breeze from the front door of the manor icy and cold as it gusted in with regular icy blasts.
The hall was almost empty, and Eleanor curtseyed to the remaining guests, her vision swimming with weariness. The butler wandered up behind her.
“There, my lady. That’s all of them.”
“Thank you.” Eleanor gazed up at him gratefully. She leaned back against the big doors that he had just shut, her feet aching, her back weary from standing for so long.
The butler looked at her with compassion. “I will supervise the tidying up, my lady,” he said gently. “You go and rest.”
“We can organise the tidying tomorrow,” Eleanor saidfirmly. “I think we should all retire to bed.”
“Of course, my lady.” He looked decidedly less weary, like the thought of being able to go to bed a little earlier had restored him. “The kitchen staff will tidy away the food remains, and then we will all make our way to bed.”
“Good. Grand,” Eleanor managed to say. Her words seemed to drift through her brain slowly, making little sense even to herself. She had been sifting through her stock of polite phrases, bringing them out randomly with the guests as they departed. She did not realize how tired she had become until she tried to walk through the hallway and up the stairs. Every step felt as though her feet were leaden weights.
The footmen in the front entrance-way were tidying up after the guests, closing the big doors and sweeping the floor. Eleanor gestured to them.
“We are all going to bed,” she informed them. “Let the rest of the tidying wait until tomorrow.”
“Thank you, my lady,” a footman said gratefully. He was the one who had handed her the mantle. She smiled at him, and he reddened, looking away.
She went up the stairs to her chamber.
As she wandered down the hallway, she paused outside the drawing room. Someone had left the lamps burning and she went in, thinking that she could fetch a book to read and blow out the lamps. As she reached the mantelpiece, she stiffened. Jonathan was there.
“Brother,” she said flatly. He stood up stiffly, a book in his hand. His expression was defensive.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said at once.
“Go to bed,” Eleanor said tiredly. She felt so exhausted that her thoughts seemed to drift through a thick mist in her brain. “I will see you at breakfast.”
“I shan’t sleep,” Jonathan said tightly.
“You can try,” Eleanor told him, a little more gently. “I know it is hard. I am sure you’re worried for Rachel and the children.”
“Don’t mention them,” he snapped. “I don’t want to remind myself of my worry for them.”
Eleanor swallowed hard. “They matter to me, too,” she said softly. “I know I’m only their aunt, but I worry for them too.”
Jonathan looked at her, his green eyes tight at the corners with tension. “They should be fine,” he said stiffly. “If Glenfield can do aught to help me, like he said he would.” His voice was hard.
“He is riding to London as we speak,” Eleanor said tightly. “I am sure he will do all he can.”
“He ought to. His father promised. He didn’t keep his promise.” Jonathan was pacing now, and Eleanor’s heart twisted.
“He’s doing his best,” she whispered. “He rode off without hesitation and in the middle of a ball.”
“He would not have had to if his father had done as he promised,” Jonathan countered defensively.
“That is true,” Eleanor said, anger at her brother making it hard to force the words out. “But you did arrive unexpectedly in the middle of a ball. And it did make things difficult for him. And me,” she added, cheeks flaring. What had people thought when she disappeared in the middle of a ball? Were they whispering about her? It seemed as though the guests were reacting respectfully, but it was not possible to say what rumors might be flying about in the countryside now that they had all carried their thoughts home with them.
“Don’t think you need to worry about his reputation,” Jonathan snapped. “It can’t get much lower.”
“What?” Eleanor whispered. Her heart almost stopped. She stared at him. She had heard something like this before—more than once—but nobody had said anything further.
“Of course it can’t,” Jonathan repeated, cheeks reddening as though he already wished he hadn’t said it. “Everyone knows about it.” He shot her a hard look, as though daring her to ask him what he referred to.
