Chapter Nineteen

"Eleanor, are yousure you wish to go?"

Eleanor's father sat in his wing-backed chair beside the fireplace, holding a letter in his hand bearing the Whitcombe crest, while he stared at her over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles.

"Of course she's sure, Leonard!" Eleanor's mother cried. "What a ridiculous thing to say."

"A fortnight's a long time."

"A fortnight?" Eleanor winced as her mother let out a shriek. "Well done, Eleanor! Imagine that, Juliette! You'll have suitors queueing at the door when you return."

"Grace, my love—"

"Oh, Leonard!" she interrupted. "I know it means missing the Granleighs' ball—and Lady Moss's dinner party, such a shame—but a stay at Rosecombe will do more to further Juliette's interests. You've no objection, do you, Juliette?"

"Of course not, Mama," Juliette said.

"No, I mean Eleanor alone has been invited," Papa said.

"She's what?" Mother cried. "That won't do! Eleanor, how could you?"

"Forgive me, Mother," Eleanor said, "I—"

"I must chaperone you. And it's unfair on Juliette to invite yourself but exclude her."

"Eleanor didn't invite herself," Papa said, an edge to his voice. "The invitation came from the duke."

"It's most improper. Eleanor cannot go without a chaperone."

"And she won't. His Grace writes that Lady Marlow is to chaperone Eleanor. They'll be traveling in her carriage."

"Lady Marlow!" Mother scoffed.

"A viscountess is a fitting chaperone," Papa said.

"I'm sure you'd prefer that to a fortnight with me in the country, Mother," Eleanor said.

Papa shot her a warning look.

"That's not the point, child," Eleanor's mother retorted. If you knew an invitation was forthcoming, you ought to have ensured that the whole family was invited—don't you agree, Juliette?"

"Yes, Mama," Juliette said, sweetly, though she shot Eleanor a look of dislike.

"We're all invited to dine at Rosecombe at the end of Eleanor's stay," Papa said.

"Leonard, it's at least a day's ride."

"Grace, my love, do you wish to dine there, or don't you?"

Eleanor's mother huffed. "I suppose dinner at Rosecombe is better than nothing."

"And you were looking forward to Lady Granleigh's ball, weren't you?" Papa said.

Mother nodded. "I suppose I was. Her invitations are highly sought after—she's a friend of Lady Jersey, you know—and we weren't invited last year. I wouldn't want to be seen to snub her, not if there's a chance she might secure me a ticket at Almack's. Very well—Eleanor can go to Rosecombe on her own. I doubt Lady Granleigh would miss her."

Eleanor exchanged a glance with her father, and he winked.

"Have you already secured dance partners for Lady Granleigh's ball, Juliette?" Eleanor asked her sister.

"At least two. The Duke of Dunton and Mr. Moss. Colonel Reid asked me in Hyde Park yesterday, but, of course, I refused."

"Why?" Eleanor asked. "He seems amiable to me."

Juliette rolled her eyes. "Because I've refused his hand, of course. It's a waste of a dance card to fill it with a man in whom I have no interest. If he wishes to continue chasing me, then he's a fool."

"Perhaps he's still in love with you," Eleanor said.

"Your sister can do better," Mother said. "Reid might be the son of an earl, but he's only a younger son. Now, about your gown…"

Father stood—somewhat abruptly, but talk of gowns and frippery tended to result in him making a swift exit.

"Eleanor—would you accompany me to my study?"

"Of course, Papa." Eleanor rose and followed him out of the morning room.

Once inside the study, he settled behind his desk, while she took her usual seat opposite.

"I take it the invitation to Rosecombe was not a surprise."

She shook her head. "He invited me last night—he's offered to let me study a painting. A Stubbs."

"A Stubbs, eh? And it takes a fortnight to study one?"

"Is it too long to stay?"

"I'm only teasing, Eleanor love. You're to be mistress at Rosecombe, so there's no impropriety in your visiting. Though, of course, your mother and sister are disappointed."

Eleanor felt her cheeks warming under his scrutiny, and she lowered her gaze.

"Never mind," he said. "I'm sure they'll recover. But can I ask you something?"

She nodded.

"Do you really want to go? You're betrothed, so it's not unexpected—but it all seems to have happened so quickly. You're usually so careful when making decisions. This is the most important decision of your life—perhaps even your last decision."

"What do you mean, my last decision?"

"We live in a man's world, child," he said. "When a woman marries, she surrenders her freedom of choice."

"Did Mother surrender her freedom of choice when she married you, Papa?"

He gave a smile of resignation. "That question is best left unanswered. But I'm hopeful that you'll fare better in your marriage than others have. Whitcombe may seem a rather cold sort of fellow, but he has one redeeming feature."

"Which is?"

"He always speaks highly of you."

"H-he does?"

Papa nodded. "He approached me last night and said you possessed the kind of intelligence that existed to further your mind rather than to give the appearance of accomplishment—and that set you apart from every other woman in the world. To hear such words from a man such as he—a man with no reason to utter a falsehood…"

He leaned forward and caught her hand, and she curled her fingers around his. "Perhaps you will be happy with him, my sweet girl. But I would caution you before you go to Rosecombe without your old Papa to watch over you."

Eleanor's heart swelled at the love in his voice. "What would you have me do, Papa?"

"Guard your heart, Eleanor," he said. "You're not like other young women. You don't take love lightly. When you do fall in love, I fear you'll fall in so deeply that you'll give yourself wholly to the one you love to the exclusion of all else, including your own heart." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I would not see my darling girl unhappily married to a man she loved, and who didn't love her in return."

He patted her hand with fatherly affection, then released her, and she exited the room. But rather than return to the morning room, she slipped upstairs and sought refuge in her bedchamber.

Poor Papa—if only he knew of her deception! And now she was faced with the prospect of his fears having come true.

Because she feared that she had fallen in love with a man who was incapable of loving her in return.