Chapter 15

The night was softly dark, like black velvet, the shadows dense. Eleanor opened her eyes, hearing footsteps in the hallway.

She was tired, her eyesight blurred with lack of sleep, but in a second, she was instantly awake. Sleepiness faded instantly and she was alert, every nerve thrumming as she heard someone tiptoe up to the door and a hand closed around the door handle.

She lay utterly still, curled up on the bed. The fire in the grate opposite the bed had burned low, so that only a soft glow remained, and the room was in utter darkness. She held her breath, hearing someone walking light-footed but swiftly across the room. This was Sebastian's chamber, and he could find his way to the bed in utter darkness, accustomed to where everything was.

She lay stiffly as she heard him undressing—the soft whisper and rustle of fabric as he removed his coat and then sat down on the chair by the bed to remove his boots. She had her eyes shut and she heard as he sat down on the bed, feeling the soft motion of the mattress under her as he lowered his weight and then turned, swinging his feet up onto the bed. She clutched the eiderdown a little tighter round her—it was the most comfortable of beds, the sheets crisp and clean, the coverlet silk-covered and thick, keeping in every inch of heat. She held her breath as he reached for the covers and drew them over himself. His body was just two inches away from hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his skin. She felt her heart pounding loudly and she could barely breathe.

He drew the pillow closer, tucking it under his head. She felt him nestle closer under the bedclothes and her heart started to race. His leg was right next to hers and she tensed, not sure if she should risk moving or if she should lie as still as she could. It felt strange to be so close, so intimate. So strange. Oddly good.

She lay where she was, her heartbeat slowly returning to normalcy as he lay still. Slowly, she heard his breaths lengthen and she realized that he had fallen asleep.

She opened her eyes.

The moonlight that fell through the window illuminated the soft strands of his hair. His form was hunched up in the bed, the blankets drawn up to his shoulder.

He looked so vulnerable when he slept, and she thought of the prince in her story, shut away in his castle.

She shut her eyes again and lay very still, listening to his breathing. Slowly, the thoughts of the prince wandered into thoughts about castles and the estate, and gardens, and the thoughts became less and less coherent as she drifted into sleeping.

The sound of someone opening the curtains woke her abruptly. She blinked, confused for a moment as to where she was. She had slept so deeply that she thought for a moment that she was in the guest chamber, but then the sunshine was falling through the window behind her and that was not the case there, and then she recalled, suddenly, where she was and blushed red.

"Good morning," Sebastian greeted her. He was wearing his trousers, his shirt half-buttoned. His hair was ruffled with sleep.

"Good...good morning," stammered Eleanor shyly. She sat up. Her hair tumbled in disarray around her shoulders. It had come loose from the tie that held it back from her face as she slept. Her cheeks blushed even more furiously as she realized how very underdressed she was.

He grinned. His eyes seemed to shine when he looked at her, a glow of tenderness kindling there. She looked down at her hands, feeling impossibly awkward. It was, she had to admit, not an altogether uncomfortable feeling. Her stomach knotted with a sort of delicious embarrassment; her entire body flooded with heat under his gentle stare.

"Shall we take breakfast outdoors?" he asked lightly. "It is such a pleasant morning. It would be nice to enjoy it."

"Yes," she stammered, making herself meet his stare. "It would be nice."

"Good." He smiled at her. "I will inform the butler. I will go and see that Papa is resting well, too," he added. "You must take as much time as you wish to get dressed."

"Thank you," she murmured. She felt a tension she hadn't known she held relax as he went to the door and strode out into the hallway, shutting it softly behind him.

She sighed and slipped out of bed. She wore her long nightdress, which covered her body down to her ankles, but it still seemed very intimate. It was loose and shapeless, and she wore nothing under it—no shift or chemise. She had asked Amy to bring her clothes into the main chamber for her. She dressed herself hastily, feeling impossibly shy. Everyone in the household would know.

She glanced at herself in the looking glass. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, the yellow gown bringing out the hazel tone of her eyes. She looked softly pretty, and her eyes glowed, her cheeks pink. She felt her heart glow.

Let them speculate, she thought with a grin. She was happy.

She went to the small nightstand and took her hairbrush, brushing her hair slowly. She was adept at making an informal bun by herself and she pinned it up swiftly, then slipped on her shoes and walked slowly down the hallway. The terrace that he meant them to use was the upper terrace, she guessed—the big one outside the dining room and ballroom was still shaded, but the upper terrace caught the morning sunshine. She tiptoed up the hallway shyly and paused in the doorway next to the breakfast room.

"Good morning," Sebastian greeted her again. He was sitting at the white-painted table on the terrace, sipping tea. Before him was laid out a simple meal of pastries of different sorts. Eleanor felt her stomach twist with hunger, and she walked over. He beamed at her, making her blush.

"This is a pleasant breakfast," she murmured, drawing out her chair.

"I find it so," he said, his gaze lingering on her.

She swallowed hard. Her heart thrummed with a mix of shyness and happiness. She reached for the teapot.

"Good morning," a voice called from behind them. "Good morning, Miss Eleanor. Son! You're up too early."

"Papa!" Sebastian was on his feet even as Eleanor, whose back was to the door, tried to stand. "You should be in bed."

"Lord Ramsgate..."

"Now, I'm just fine," Lord Ramsgate argued with them both gently. He walked slowly over to the table, drawing out a seat beside Eleanor, across from his son. "It's time I got some movement in these old legs, or they'll seize up altogether, and I'll be bound to stay abed."

"My lord," Eleanor objected, but he smiled at her.

"I'm fine, my dear. You have been a good nurse. But it's time I got on my own feet and started doing things again. It's too tempting to lie there and let you baby me for the rest of my born days."

She giggled as he smiled.

"Papa, at least you should keep out of the breeze," Sebastian countered.

"No, son. I'm quite well. I haven't got a fever. I think the fresh air can only do good. Not so, Miss Eleanor?"

"Well..." Eleanor blushed. She didn't want to argue—Sebastian was right, he ought to stay out of the cold. But if he insisted on coming outside, she could not very well tell him not to.

"Good. I'll just sit here awhile, then. Do me good, it will. Some tea?"

"Oh. Of course," Eleanor said hurriedly, pouring a cup of tea for him. He took it from her, sipping slowly. He smiled contentedly.

"That is good."

"Not too much, Papa," Sebastian warned. "The physician said that anything that could alarm your nerves is not good."

"My old nerves need some alarming, young man!" The Marquess grinned, and reached for his cup, sipping with enjoyment.

Eleanor struggled not to chuckle with delight. The older man was clearly fully recovered, and he was helping himself to pastries with a relish. She was happier than she could say to see him back in full health.

"Papa..." Sebastian countered, but it seemed he, too, had not the heart to say his father could not enjoy a full breakfast on the sunny terrace. He sighed and leaned back, watching as the Marquess tucked into a jam-filled pastry.

A chilly breeze ruffled the leaves of the late-flowering creeper that bloomed on the terrace wall. Eleanor shivered and stood up.

"I'll return in a moment," she said, and hurried indoors. She went down to Sebastian's bedchamber, where she had her shawl, and, more importantly, where she had noticed a small, fluffy rug of the sort one could use to warm one's knees in a coach. She lifted it off the back of the chair where it reposed and carried it outside with her.

"Here," she said to the Marquess, throwing it over his knees and settling it to cover his legs. "It's too cold outside."

"Oh, you are a dear," the Marquess said with a chuckle. "Sebastian! This young lady needs something to be a mother to. She'll turn me into an enormous baby if we give her a chance. She needs some children of her own."

Eleanor looked at her hands, her cheeks flaming with awkwardness. She knew it was natural for him to assume that she and Sebastian had...had...but still, after the night they had spent sleeping side-by-side, it was a little too uncomfortable.

She risked a glance upwards, and Sebastian's grin lit her heart. He was smiling at his father, nodding with evident amusement.

"Yes, Papa. I agree. She does."

Eleanor swallowed hard. She had thought Sebastian might be angered by his father's inappropriate comment, and she glowed. He wanted that too! Or, even had he not said it directly, he certainly had not gainsaid it.

She reached for her teacup, desperate for a distraction.

Beside her, Sebastian reached for a pastry, his hand moving close to hers.

"Would you like to go for a walk about the grounds after breakfast?" he asked her softly. His gaze was warm, and her heart raced. "I would like to see how the garden has progressed."

"I would be pleased to have a walk later," she murmured softly.

"Good."

Eleanor blushed as he gazed at her. He was sitting very close, his hand resting beside hers on the table. She recalled his closeness at night, the warmth of him under the covers. She glowed with a delicious feeling of naughtiness, and she heard a chuckle.

"My son, dear Miss Eleanor," the Marquess addressed them smilingly. "I have breakfasted well. I think I will retire to my chamber for a moment. I wish you a pleasant turn about the grounds."

"Papa..." Sebastian murmured, but the Marquess was already standing up.

"I'll see you two before luncheon," he replied, walking slowly and carefully to the door. "I might take a turn about the grounds as well. I want to see this garden for myself."

"Good," Sebastian said with a smile.

"We will see you soon," Eleanor added.

The Marquess grinned and walked slowly out.

At the door, he turned. "You know," he said, looking at both of them. "I had a thought. It's high time we had a celebration here at Ramsgate. It has been far too long since merriment was heard in these halls. And besides, you young ones haven't had a ball here yet. Something must be done to introduce you both to all the local families. No, we shall simply have to have a ball. And it's up to you, young lady, to organise it." He beamed at Eleanor.

"Me...?" Eleanor flushed. She did know it was the lady of the house who would organize any such celebrations, but she had never had to organize a ball before. Despite Papa's wealth, Woodford was not a large house with an expansive ballroom, and, even had it been, her parents were reluctant to hold balls and parties, not being themselves of the nobility.

"I would help you," Sebastian said instantly.

Eleanor beamed at him. "That's very kind," she said softly. She flushed as his gaze held hers. Ever since the night she had slept beside him, she had found it hard to look at him without her heart racing or her body flushing with heat. Sharing the intimacy of dinners and luncheons together was one thing, but they had entered a new sphere of intimacy by sleeping in the same room and she felt awkward and filled with a delicious shyness each time she looked at him. He smiled back, his eyes warming, and she swallowed hard. She could not tear her gaze away.

"So," The Marquess commented from the doorway. "That's settled. We must celebrate your union. Now that it is a real union, so to speak. We must celebrate."

"Papa..." Sebastian reddened, his face flushing with indignation. Lord Ramsgate beamed.

"I will see you at luncheon, young fellows."

Eleanor went bright red. Had he been speaking to the servants? They were the only people in the household who would know that she had not slept in the chamber she was using in the guest-quarters that night. How else did he possibly know? She glanced at Sebastian, but he was laughing.

"My father," he sighed. His eyes sparkled. "But he does have a point."

"Sebastian!" Eleanor shrieked, laughing with shy delight. "Well...I suppose. But I will be very tired over the next few days. I have a ball to plan, you know. And that's a great deal of hard work!"

Sebastian chuckled and she beamed, holding his gaze. The look they shared was closer, more intimate, than anything they had shared before.

Her heart flooded with warmth. They sat for a few moments longer, just staring at one another, and then stood. She went to the door, hearing his footsteps as he went out a second later. They walked next to one another down the hallway, not speaking. Eleanor could feel his closeness, aware of his presence next to her as she had never felt aware of anything.

They walked down the stairs together and into the garden.

They went to the lawn, where Eleanor had prepared the flowerbeds that she wanted to plant with bulbs for spring, but her thoughts were not with the garden as they strolled about, but with Sebastian and with the task before her of organizing the best ball—hopefully—in the countryside outside London.