Chapter Nine

E leanor crept downstairs, wondering if the meal would even be set up this early. Perhaps she could bother someone for a cup of tea, at least. She hated to make a fuss. But as she approached the corridor, she heard the sounds of a whispered argument.

She didn't know what she should do—she certainly didn't want to be accused of eavesdropping, but she also didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of walking into a fight. Perhaps it was merely two servants having a disagreement over where to place the chafing dishes. Eleanor squared her shoulders and continued on to the breakfast room.

"—oh! Miss Piper, you've arrived!" Tristan swanned over, all smiles, his hand outstretched.

Eleanor's stomach flipped, knowing that he would soon be courting her properly, and they would have a chance for yet another kiss. But she looked behind him, seeing only Ophelia. In fact, it was only the two siblings in the room. They were the ones arguing? She hoped they weren't arguing over her. Did Ophelia object to Eleanor joining their family?

"I have wonderful news, by the by. Oh, where are my manners? Did you sleep well?" Tristan looked at her with such joy he was radiating.

"I did, thank you." Eleanor allowed him to guide her to the table.

"Do you take tea or coffee or chocolate in the morning? This seems like something I ought to know."

"Tea, please. And you?" Eleanor sank into her chair, feeling her head might be spinning a bit. He was so very much, right here. She thought she would have a moment to sip at a cup of tea and stare out the window, but instead he was barraging her with questions and information and looking like Apollo.

"Oh, tea, of course. Can't call oneself a proper Englishman if one doesn't support tea. Coffee is for the Americans, the unruly blowhards."

Was he referring to Prudence? Eleanor would never be so cruel. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know, the Boston Tea Party? Dumped the tea in the river? Not a part of Britain any longer after that stunt?"

It was too early to be assaulted by history. "Oh, yes. Of course. Forgive me."

"Eleanor isn't a morning person, Tristan. Let her have a moment." Ophelia sat down opposite, studying Eleanor's face.

"Oh, is that what it is? You do seem a bit stunned." Tristan pulled back from her.

"Did you not notice when we spent an entire week together in the woods?" Eleanor managed.

"I thought that was just because we went running first thing in the morning," Tristan said, frowning. "You seemed fine after that."

"I was anything but fine, but it was barely morning after we were done." Eleanor accepted the small pot of tea from the footman, relieved to have the balm for her slow mind at the ready.

"Touché," Ophelia said, accepting her own cup. "So you see, Tristan, Eleanor is fine for running, that isn't a concern."

"Is it a concern?" Eleanor asked, feeling as if the rug was pulled out from underneath her. She hadn't known that there was a problem with her performance. She'd improved towards the end of the week. Even went on that extra run. The one where Tristan kissed her—not because he was bored or restless, rather because he wanted to.

"Don't worry about it," Tristan said. "It'll all work out."

"Will it?" Ophelia challenged.

Tristan gave his sister a hard look. "Yes. It will."

Eleanor had a feeling a discussion was being had in front of her, and she didn't like it. Shades of her childhood were projected here, and she wasn't having it. "I'm sorry, I would like to know what's happening here."

"Yes, Tristan, why don't you tell Eleanor what you asked me." Ophelia crossed her arms.

Now Eleanor was very confused. It didn't sound like Ophelia was against Eleanor at all. Rather that she was defending her.

"I'd rather wait until everything has been figured out," Tristan said, his voice firm, but no match for his sister.

"No, no. This is quite important. Eleanor needs to know."

"Needs to know what?" Eleanor asked, looking between the two siblings.

Tristan looked down at his hands, so Eleanor looked to Ophelia.

"He's asked me to take you off the expedition."

Disbelief settled into Eleanor's mind. "That can't be right. Tristan, tell her what's really going on."

"Yes, Tristan, I would hate for Eleanor to be kicked off the team for a misunderstanding." Ophelia's voice was flat and unforgiving.

Eleanor couldn't believe what she was hearing. She worked so hard for this. Maybe she wasn't very good at running, but she believed that once on the mountain, she could push herself as well as the other women.

"I did ask her to release you from your obligations to the expedition." Tristan kept looking down, not meeting her eye.

Eleanor looked in her own lap, his words reverberating in her head. She couldn't believe it. Why would he ask to court her one night, and then kick her off the expedition the next day? There was no explanation. He was toying with her. Tears formed in her eyes. Who would be so cruel? She stood up.

She wasn't the sort of person to have a waspish thing to say, or a slap to the cheek for impudence. The only grace in a moment such as this was dignity. She turned to leave, but he grasped her arm.

"Don't go," Tristan said.

She looked back at him, not knowing what was going on. Tears were about to fall, and she certainly didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of such a display in front of him. Not when it was his cruel sport that caused them. "Why?"

"Because you must understand why I asked you to be off the expedition. It isn't for whimsy. It's because you must be off the expedition. So that I may court you. Properly. As you agreed."

Ophelia gasped.

Justine and Prudence walked into the breakfast room at this moment. Spying Tristan's grip on her arm, and Eleanor's tear-filled gaze, they must have concluded something quite big was afoot.

"I didn't know I had to choose one or the other," Eleanor said, straightening herself. She could handle this with dignity.

"Why didn't you just tell me, you nincompoop?" Ophelia asked.

"I still need to speak with our father and her father." Tristan searched Eleanor's eyes.

"Why did you ask me last night? I had the very devil of a time sleeping because of it!" Ophelia said. "And why does she have to choose? Why not both?"

Tristan threw an exasperated look at his sister, giving Eleanor a moment without his intense gaze on her. She blinked hard, trying to will away the tears. She didn't want to choose.

"Because this expedition must be above reproach! You can't have a courting couple on a remote mountain. That's scandal, and then you won't be able to make a decent match, nor Miss Brewer, and if you think women's mountaineering can survive upper class scandal, you haven't been paying attention."

"What are you even talking about?" Justine asked, her arms crossed.

"The queen wants to bar mountain climbing all together, thanks to the death of Lord Francis Douglas. Throw in some ruined young noblewomen, and you've set back mountaineering for decades."

"I don't believe you," Justine said.

Tristan got to his feet. "You can't possibly not have thought about this."

"About what?" Ophelia said.

Tristan gripped his palms together, his frustration palpable. Eleanor didn't like it. Most of all, she could understand his point. The women who had gone before them, who'd climbed lesser peaks, had done so with respectability intact. There was discussion of all-female teams for this very reason.

"You want to continue mountaineering, yes? After the Matterhorn?" Tristan asked Ophelia.

"Of course. Climbing mountains is the only thing I want to do with my life." Ophelia stood now as well.

"You won't sell any books or guides or essays if you are thought of as a ruined woman. Men won't take you seriously because you are a woman, and women won't take you seriously because you are ruined. The only way to make this gambit successful is if you maintain the expedition's pristine reputation."

Eleanor looked at Ophelia, her expression stunned. Then she shifted over to Justine and Prudence. It was sinking in. But Eleanor suddenly knew her mind. All of what Tristan said was true. But if she had to choose, she would choose the mountain.

She might be lonely, she might never marry, but her father would settle money on her so that she'd never want for anything. And when she was an old and doddering spinster, she could at least point to her footnote in history. She could say she was a part of the women to first climb the Matterhorn. That was far more important than being a wife.

"I choose the mountain," Eleanor said, enunciating each word clearly. She didn't want to be misheard or have to repeat herself.

"What?" Tristan rounded on her. "But you agreed with me."

Justine chuckled softly, and Ophelia hissed his name in disapproval.

"No one yet knows you've asked to court me, so we shan't mention it. And no one needs know. I trust everyone here can keep a secret?" Eleanor looked at the other women, who all nodded. Justine had a devilish smile on her face.

"We can, but he can't," Justine said, pointing her finger.

"Then it will be on his head if his sister's reputation is ruined." Eleanor looked at him coolly. She didn't want to marry a man who would take her hard work from her. To live a life smaller in scope seemed not just unpalatable, but impossible. To give in to men like that awful Mr. Fulk was beyond comprehension.

She thought swiftly through the consequences. If they married before Ben Nevis, there would be scandal that Eleanor was pregnant, which would be the reason for the fast marriage. If they married after Ben Nevis, he could, in his husbandly wisdom, forbid her from going up the Matterhorn. She hadn't thought that last night, but his betrayal this morning certainly proved otherwise.

"But—" Tristan's hurt and disappointment was writ across his face.

She couldn't bear to witness it. She fled the room, hearing Prudence advise everyone to leave her be. The American seemed to be the wise one after all.