Chapter Five

L ord Rex, Duke of Smythington

I entered the breakfast room with shoulders aching from sitting at my desk last night in my office at Parliament. The select committee I was leading for the Russian delegation had run later than I liked, and I stretched my sore back. The maid on duty curtsied to me, and I returned her smile. The next two days contained back-to-back meetings until Thursday, my day to tackle the ducal duties which had managed to pile up over the past month. I was tired simply thinking about the amount of work on my plate.

Eleanor was at the breakfast table in the sunny room, my favorite in my London residence. She didn't look up when I entered but kept her head down, a letter clutched in her hands. Her smooth brow furrowed, she scanned the missive with intent.

"Is something amiss?" I lowered my head to press a kiss on her forehead in affection like I did most mornings. Whoever had written to her had bold handwriting with precise strokes.

She twisted her neck at the last second, my lips landing on the top of her head. With a scowl, she lowered her lashes. Ten days had passed since our anniversary. I had high hopes things would continue to spark between us, but instead, they seemed to fizzle. Her cool reception to my kiss of affection was out of character, which only cemented my suspicion that something wasn't quite right with her.

"Rex, you startled me." She tucked the letter into the folds of her skirts, clearly flummoxed. A blush stole up her cheeks, and she avoided looking directly at me.

My stomach sank, and I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because Eleanor wasn't easily flustered, which meant whatever was in that letter had disturbed her. "Something is amiss."

"Amiss? No, nothing is amiss," she said, the flush deepening. "I, you, well, you startled me."

"Apparently so." I took my customary seat, glancing down at the crisply ironed pages of the newspaper awaiting my perusal. The only news I was interested in was my wife's welfare. Usually the only time she was nervy had been around her family. The Marquis had passed away, relieving a huge burden from her shoulders. Perhaps something was wrong with her brother. "Did you receive bad news from Phineas?"

"No, no Phineas is fine." Trilling a high-pitched laugh that was totally unlike her, she picked up her cup and sipped from the porcelain. The shake to her hand was more pronounced.

My alarm climbed higher, and I tried to tamp it down. Chances were I was overreacting. When we first married we shared everything with each other. Today proved that was no longer the case and it pained me to admit how much we had grown apart. "The letter you were reading. Was it bad news?"

"No, it wasn't bad news. Rather good news." She lifted a scone from the plate in the middle of the table and cut it with a butter knife.

I waited for her to expound. She remained mute, still not looking directly at me. "Would you like to share? After last night, I could use some good news." I had been working with the Russian ambassador on a rather delicate negotiation. I had thought we were close to an agreement until last night when he had voiced his reservations over the entire deal. After a month of negotiation, we were back to the beginning.

Her hand stilled, and she visibly swallowed. "You worked rather late." She worried her lip, a sure sign she was nervous. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You were sleeping soundly, and I didn't wish to disturb you." There was a time when she would have waited up to talk about our days. Harry required much of her time, as did Anne and Atticus. With Anne coming out this year, Eleanor was exhausted, and I didn't have the heart to wake her. I tapped my thumb on the table, hurt that she was shutting me out. She usually shared everything with me. "You said the letter brought good news."

"It is merely an invitation for, um, for a musical event I wish to attend on Thursday."

It looked rather long for an invitation, more like a letter. Short of asking to see it, I couldn't say for sure nor was I certain why I was obsessing over the letter. She obviously didn't wish to share the contents and I had to respect her privacy.

"Thursday is my day at home. Perhaps I can attend with you." I had been neglecting her of late because of my duties to the crown. It would be nice for us to have an outing, just the two of us.

"I am sorry. It will be a ladies' guild function at the Stratham, thus only ladies will be allowed. Except for the wait staff, of course, who are men. They employed a new waiter. His name is Guy, and he is French." Eleanor placed her hands in her lap. She still had the mysterious letter and from the sounds of it, she was refolding it. The blush continued to give away her discomfort.

" Guy ." I compressed my jaw at the sound of the name. Eleanor talked in her sleep, and she had uttered the waiter's name several times that week. I never put much store in the gibberish. This was something new and my alarm continued to grow.

"Well, I suppose it is pronounced Gee, where we say Guy. I think the French pronunciation is much more interesting." Shrugging, she lifted the scone to her lips with a shaking hand.

"You seem very captivated with this Guy fellow." I wasn't the jealous sort on most occasions, yet her admiration for the man pricked my temper. She was a desirable woman, and the upstart had best not overstep his bounds with my wife.

"I simply happen to like his name. Nothing more sinister. Of course, Guy Fawkes Day is every year—remember, remember, the fifth of November..." She released a nervous laugh. "I never really considered his name until I met the French waiter named Guy."

"You speak about him with much familiarity. How many times has he attended you at the Stratham?" I was drilling her and unable to stop. She was acting very deceptively, and it frightened me to think she might be interested in another man.

She frowned at my inquiry and pressed her lips together before shifting in her seat. "He has waited on me once. Needless to say, I will be occupied with ladies' guild business Thursday."

"I see." I fiddled with the edge of the newspaper, trying to tamp down my unease. This was the first I had heard about the ladies' guild as well. "What exactly is the business of the ladies' guild?"

Her lashes lifted, panic lit her eyes before she lowered them. "Ladies things."

"I assumed that from the name." Like a dog with a bone, I was resolute to gain some answers. Eleanor had never been a very good liar.

A tense silence rested between us until she met my direct gaze with one of her own. "It is a charitable organization, of course. We donate money to various worthy causes, like scholarships to the Kensington Music Conservatory, for instance."

Music was a considerable part of Eleanor's life, and I loved listening to her play.

"It sounds like a very worthy cause." My suspicions lessened at her answer, and I stirred milk into my coffee. She had been involved in philanthropic endeavors throughout the years. Many ladies of her station supported a whole host of charities. Since Eleanor was passionate about music, it seemed fitting that she championed the conservatory.

She paled and tilted her head, studying my face for a long moment. "Then you approve of me supporting the conservatory?"

I had never put any restrictions on her spending. She tended to be frugal, regardless. Thus, her defensiveness added to my apprehension. "Of course. Helping others learn their craft is a noble endeavor."

"Yes, of course. Of course." She glanced over her shoulder at the door as Anne rushed in.

"Papa, Mama." Anne beamed at us, her light brown hair still in rag curls. Petite with a cheerful air, my daughter was a comely girl. She held out a note, her hand trembling. "Papa, Nigel has requested an audience."

"Has he indeed?" I had been waiting for this day with anticipation and dread. The children—well they were no longer children—had been insistent that they would ask for the announcement to be made when they were both ready. That time was at hand, and although I had expected it, my heart rested in my throat. With a teasing grin I wasn't feeling, I said, "What, pray tell, does he wish an audience for?"

Anne clutched the note to her chest and jumped up and down in her exuberance. "He wants to formally propose! Finally, we're getting married. Isn't it romantic?"

I glanced at Eleanor to gauge her reaction. Jeweled blue eyes were lit with unshed tears. A trembling smile curved her mouth. "It is very romantic."

"When does he want this audience?" I asked.

Anne rolled her eyes at me and wrinkled her nose. We had the same sense of humor and often played off each other. "Immediately. He's waiting for you in your study."

The knot in my stomach tightened, yet I couldn't let her see my upset. I wouldn't put it past Nigel to be waiting. Eager young pup. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time in my schedule. "Is he here right now?"

"No, of course not. If you ask a silly question, expect a silly answer. He wants an audience on Thursday afternoon. Say you can see him, please, Papa." Anne plopped down in the chair beside me and laid her hand on mine. Burn marks puckered her hand and forearm, scars from a childhood accident involving a lamp.

"I am sure your father can see him next week," Eleanor said.

"According to his secretary, Papa is scheduled to be at Parliament until the end of the month and the only time he can truly spare is on Thursday when he sees to his ducal duties. Thus he must carve out a time for Nigel." She bit her bottom lip, glancing from Eleanor to me. "Lord Flynn will be back from the country by then and we want to get married in a fortnight. There is a ship leaving for Greece that our friends have booked travel on and we would like to join them."

Eleanor stiffened, the color hueing her face during our earlier conversation draining. Panic entered her eyes, her breathing turning erratic. "I understand you are eager to marry. Nigel asking your father for your hand is merely a formality. We can start planning the wedding with or without the proposal, and Nigel can ask next week."

"Mama, it's not the same." Anne's face fell, and she stared at me with pleading eyes. Of the two of us, I was the most vulnerable parent because I had a hard time saying no to my children, especially Anne. My daughter had a set idea in her head, and like Harry, once she made up her mind, there was no dissuading her. "We discussed my plans in detail, and you agreed that when the time was right, we would celebrate with the family."

"I have somewhere I need to be on Thursday." Eleanor brought her bottom lip between her teeth and lowered her lashes. There was something definitely off about her behavior, and I suspected it had to do with that mysterious letter. "The ladies' guild is depending on me."

"What time did you schedule our meeting?" I asked Anne, trying not to jump to erroneous conclusions about Eleanor's continued avoidance.

"The proposal is at four," Anne said with a thankful smile, appearing as confused as I was by her mother's odd behavior. Eleanor was a devoted mother who was usually enthusiastic about celebrating every milestone our children had.

The fact she tried her best to dissuade Anne for the sake of a guild luncheon was suspect. "That should give you enough time to dine with the ladies. Anne can plan the supper celebration if that will lighten your burden."

"What about Atticus? He has classes until Friday. Perhaps we can arrange the event for Saturday so the entire family is here?" Tightness rested around her mouth, and the tears she had been suppressing drifted down her cheek.

"Actually, he doesn't have class this Friday, so he will be here on Thursday afternoon to celebrate with us." Anne had a determined gleam in her gaze. My daughter rarely gave up when she had her mind set on something.

"Then it is settled." I leaned in and placed my hand on their combined ones. This was a momentous occasion for our family, and I didn't wish for unfounded suspicions to cloud it. "Indeed, we will all be blessed by this union."

Anne leaned her head against her mother's sleeve, and Eleanor slipped her arm around her daughter's shoulder. "Are you sure you wish to marry so soon?"

"Nigel and I discussed it and we agreed on a small ceremony in a fortnight's time with our family in attendance." Anne lifted her head and straightened, the moment of tenderness eclipsed by her excitement. "The ship to Greece will be a great lark with our friends."

"It sounds very lovely." I sat back in the seat, my smile dimming somewhat. I could practically read Eleanor's mind, and my earlier suspicions toward her were shaming. Like me, the enormity of the proposal was a bit overwhelming, which would account for her unusual reaction to the news. While we expected it, it still carried a hard punch. Except there was still the matter of the letter she hid from me, added to her muttering another man's name in her sleep.

I tried to shake off the doubt, yet it had implanted itself in my mind. Could Eleanor be having an affair? And if so, with whom? Obviously, some man named Guy.

Or I was totally off the mark. Either way, I had to find out.