Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Eleanor, Miss Huxley," Grant called. "Come and sit with us. You've been whispering together for some time now. Are you conspiring?"

"What on earth could we be conspiring about?" Eleanor shot back. "Are we to think you're conspiring whenever you speak with your friends?"

"Cheeky mink," Grant scolded. "Is that how you speak to your older brother?"

"Shouldn't an older brother trust his sister?" Eleanor shot back.

Grant let out an exasperated sigh and looked heavenward. "Just pack your items and come here," he insisted. "This is a family picnic. We either picnic together, or we don't picnic at all."

Eleanor rolled her eyes and turned to Julia. "He is so demanding, but I suppose he's correct. We should picnic as a family."

They quickly put their food into the basket and dragged the blanket to the others. Grant scooted over when Julia neared him and patted the space beside him. Julia blushed prettily and sat down, tucking her legs to the side. Eleanor looked between them. They were acting rather strangely.

"What were you two discussing so intently over there?" Grant asked.

"Why are you so nosy?" asked Eleanor.

"It wasn't anything to be concerned about, my lord," Julia said. "We were just discussing the usual things girls do. Dresses, parties—that sort of thing."

Grant lifted an eyebrow. "My sister discussing dresses and parties? Aunt Helen has to force her into a decent dress, and she hates leaving the house to socialize. You'll have to create a better lie."

Eleanor stared at her brother in disbelief. He was prying, and she didn't like it. He was never this interested in her conversations with Julia.

"Aunt Helen, would you tell Grant to stop putting his nose where it doesn't belong?" Eleanor said. "He is severing my last nerve of patience."

"Now, now, children," their aunt chided. "There's no need for arguing. Leave the girls alone, Grant. What they talk about is their business. You wouldn't like it if anyone pried into your conversations."

"Precisely," said Eleanor.

"I do not see the issue," Grant mumbled before cutting into an apple.

Eleanor was tempted to poke her tongue out at him, but that would be too childish. Instead, she unpacked the food from their basket and placed it with the others.

"Your basket looks better than ours," Mrs. Huxley remarked. "I see favoritism from the kitchen."

She didn't appear bothered but amused.

"You're right, Mrs. Huxley," said Aunt Helen. "The kitchen servants have a soft place in their hearts for my niece. In fact, I could say the same for everyone who gets to know her. She has a way with people, although she believes otherwise."

Aunt Helen looked at Eleanor with a stern but tender look. Eleanor didn't want to get into another conversation about herself. She just wanted to enjoy the day.

"Isn't this a lovely spring day?" she said. "There's not a cloud in the sky, and it's not too hot. It feels fresh and crisp."

"It is a perfect day," Julia agreed. "I just wish the strawberries were ready. Doesn't anyone own a hothouse in London?"

"I'm certain some do," said Grant. "They're rather expensive to keep, especially depending on the kind of fruit. The more exotic, the more expensive."

"Why do we not have any hothouses?" Eleanor asked.

"Because it's healthier to eat seasonally," Aunt Helen replied. "God created each vegetable and fruit to grow and mature in specific seasons. Who are we to question that by trying to grow things whenever we wish?"

Grant sighed. "You cannot bring God into everything we discuss, Aunt Helen."

Aunt Helen straightened her back and looked down at him. It was quite a feat because Grant was tall even while sitting down.

"Young man, you owe your very existence to the Almighty," she said. "Everything you see was created by Him. The food you eat, the trees that provide you with paper, furniture, shade, and your very body. You should be more thankful."

Grant lowered his eyes. He appeared thoroughly chastised. "Yes, Aunt Helen."

He might be a grown man of twenty-eight, but Aunt Helen knew precisely what to say and what tone to take with him to subdue his rebellious nature. Eleanor smiled, grabbed a bottle of soda water and elderflower syrup, and mixed it in a glass. She liked it on the sweeter side, so she added a little more and put it away while admiring the little wildflowers around them. She often used to pick them and cover her mother's hair until it looked like flowers were growing from the silky gold strands.

"We should do this more often," Mrs. Huxley commented. "Even when we're back home. I think I'll throw a summer picnic party before the hunting season begins."

"That sounds lovely, Mama!" Julia exclaimed. "The garden will be in its last summer bloom before autumn takes over. It will be wonderful."

"I'm sure it will," Aunt Helen replied. "You let me know if you need any help. I like to be involved in party planning."

"Certainly, Lady Bromley," Mrs. Huxley replied.

They fell silent as they enjoyed the food, but it seemed something was still troubling Grant. He kept glancing between Eleanor and Julia like he wanted to say something.

"Oh, just spit it out, Grant!" Eleanor snapped. "I can see you want to say something."

"It's nothing," Grant insisted.

Eleanor shrugged. "If you say so."

A companionable silence fell over them for a minute or two before Grant finally cracked and could no longer keep whatever was bothering him to himself.

"I heard you and Miss Huxley mention something about Lord Richard," he blurted. "He is the man we met at the play, isn't he?"

"Yes, we mentioned him," Eleanor agreed.

"We spoke about him and the duke," Julia added. "They were such charming men. I think Eleanor and the duke got along well."

She smiled and winked at Eleanor, making her blush slightly. She hid her face behind her glass and hoped the others didn't notice. Unfortunately, her brother was observing too much to miss it.

"Do you like the duke?" he asked.

The tone was almost accusatory, which was odd for him. "He's an intelligent man," Eleanor replied. "I certainly don't hate him. You were right there—you saw that we had a lovely conversation."

Grant frowned. "You never speak about men after meeting them," he said. "You barely pay any attention to them. Why this man? Why were you so comfortable to converse with him?"

Dumbfounded by her brother's questions, Eleanor took a while to understand what he was saying or implying.

"You're not making any sense," she said. "You were right there. Why didn't you say anything if you had a problem with it? Are you just trying to pick a fight with me?"

"Eleanor, Grant," their aunt cried. "What is the meaning of this? You seem to be bickering like cats and dogs today. What is going on?"

"Ask your nephew!" Eleanor snapped. She had reached the end of her tether. "Something is wrong with him. He hasn't been himself for days. Ask him why he's behaving strangely with—"

She was about to say, with Julia, but she held her tongue. She didn't need to bring her friend into the matter.

"The duke is twice her age!" Grant exclaimed. "When Eleanor didn't speak of him, I thought he would just be like any man, and she would forget about him. However, she was discussing him today—something she never does. I wouldn't mind if he was closer to her age, but he's not. She's obviously interested in him."

Aunt Helen looked between them in shock. She seemed to be trying to process all the information she had just heard and come to a conclusion.

"Why are you making this into something bigger than it is?" Eleanor demanded of her brother. "This is ridiculous and embarrassing. Mrs. Huxley, Julia, I apologize for my brother's behavior. He isn't normally like this."

She shot an angry look at Grant. This couldn't possibly just be about her and the duke. Something else was on his mind, and he was merely taking it out on her.

"But are you interested in the duke, dear?" Aunt Helen asked. Her eyes were shrouded with concern. "And is he truly twice your age?"

"What do you mean by interested?" Eleanor asked. "And why does his age matter?"

Turning the questions back on them gave her some control over the situation. She hated feeling cornered, which her aunt and brother knew. It reminded her of the day when many girls came together and attacked her with their taunts and turned her into a sobbing mess. Others might not think much of the situation, but it had been a terrible ordeal for her. It left an imprint on her mind that she could never shake off.

"Well, if he's twice your age, that would be unacceptable," Aunt Helen explained. "He is too old for you."

"Thank you, Aunt Helen," said Grant. "I'm glad you agree. Eleanor would make me look deranged for feeling strongly about this. This is the first time she has been interested in someone—why does it have to be someone much older? We have tried to point her in the direction of many suitable men. Why this man?"

"Your brother is right," said Aunt Helen. "If you are finally interested in marriage, your brother and I can help you find someone more suitable."

Eleanor's eyes burned with unshed tears. She felt bombarded. Aunt Helen and Grant were concerned about her, but it felt like they were trying to control her. Julia took her hand and squeezed it gently, showing her support.

"An age difference would not matter if I truly liked someone," she said. "Also, the duke is far better than the men you have deemed suitable. He is the first gentleman who has spoken to me and listened. Of course, I would be interested in someone like that. He—"

"Please, dear," Aunt Helen interrupted, raising her palm. "No more. I cannot hear you speak of this anymore. Just imagine what would be said if you were to court? They would think you were desperate and could not find a better-suited gentleman. I would have failed your parents."

"So, what the ton thinks about me is more important than my happiness?" Eleanor asked. "Is that what my parents would have wanted?"

"They certainly wouldn't have wanted their daughter to marry a man closer to their age," Grant piped in.

Eleanor scowled at her brother. Although she had always looked up to him, she was truly disappointed in his behavior at that moment.

"Grant, dear," their aunt said. "I'm sure you have some men in mind for your sister. Perhaps you can invite them to dinner with their parents. It will allow us to meet them."

Eleanor felt sick to her stomach. They were talking as though her opinion didn't matter at all. She didn't want to get married to just anyone!

"Oh!" Aunt Helen cried, sounding excited. "I just remembered about a ball soon to be held. Lord and Lady Kinsley are hosting it. They're one of the most respected families and always through lavish parties. It would be the perfect opportunity for Eleanor to meet a few young men and to find someone suitable."

"But were we invited?" Grant asked.

"I do not think the invitations have been sent yet," their aunt replied. "But do not worry about that—I will take care of everything."

Eleanor inwardly groaned, dreading the very thought of going to a ball and forcing herself to socialize with others. Her aunt and brother would throw suitor after suitor at her until she was drained from pretending to be someone she wasn't

"That is an excellent idea, Aunt Helen," said Grant. He turned to Eleanor. "You'll see that this is the best way. We only want what is best for you."

Eleanor looked away from him. His words didn't deserve a response from her. She largely ignored him for the rest of the picnic and mostly talked to Julia and Mrs. Huxley. It bothered her aunt and brother, but she didn't care. When they finally packed everything away to return to the city, a silver lining in her dark cloud jumped into her mind. The duke was a respected man —perhaps he would be at the ball. It would be nice to see him again, even if she could never expect anything more.