Beware Of Virtuous Women. Kasey Michaels
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be curious.”
Eleanor wanted to tell him, tell him everything. Not even her younger brothers and sisters knew the whole of it, but only pieces. Papa knew most of it, of course, but not all. Chance knew quite a bit, because he’d been there with Jacko, had snatched her up when…when it was over. But that was all. She’d never felt an overwhelming urge to confide in anyone else. For Jacko’s sake, she supposed, since Papa cared for him.
Everyone at Becket Hall seemed satisfied that Eleanor was content.
But Jack seemed to know that no matter how happy she was at Becket Hall, there was always that not knowing…that question: who was she? Really? He couldn’t, of course, know the rest. Nobody could. Nobody could even imagine the rest of it in their worst nightmares.
“No, Jack,” she said now, getting to her feet, “I’m not curious. I’m anxious that we proceed as we are, and hopeful you’re right, that these are the men and that we can put a stop to their ambitions. That is why I’ve come to London with you.”
Jack unbent himself and stood up, as well, watching as she distanced herself from him. “Put a stop to their ambitions,” he said to the back of her head, to that bewitching fall of dark hair. “What a lovely way of saying that we wish these three guilty and dead, probably by my hand, now that I really think about the thing.”
Eleanor turned to look at him in surprise. “Kill them? You’re not serious.”
Jack chuckled low in his throat as he shook his head. “What do you suggest, Eleanor? That we politely ask them to stop trying to destroy us?”
“Don’t be facetious,” Eleanor said, almost without thinking the words, and then began to pace, her slight limp not detracting one whit from the enjoyment Jack felt, watching her.
He folded his arms and leaned against the side of the high, wingback chair he’d just vacated. “Ainsley knows, Eleanor. We all do. Ferret out whoever is causing us trouble and eliminate them. You were listening at the keyhole, weren’t you? You heard Ainsley say the word? Eliminate.”
Eleanor stopped pacing. “Yes, but I thought that meant that…” She hesitated, her breath releasing in a quick, hard sigh. “Is there no other way? What if…what if you found ways to ruin them? Socially? Financially?”
“Make them so unappealing even the leaders of the Red Men Gang will turn their backs on them? Is that what you mean?”
Eleanor frowned. “No, that wouldn’t work, would it? Once they’re of no further use to the Red Men, the Red Men have no reason to let them live, and perhaps talk, say the wrong thing to the wrong person.” Then she looked at Jack. “But then you wouldn’t have eliminated them, would you?”
Ah, now he saw her problem. She didn’t seem to want blood on his hands. Or hers, for that matter. “I see. You want me to destroy them—socially or financially—but let the Red Men actually eliminate them.”
“Yes. No.” Eleanor sat down on the low chair in front of her dressing table. “Perhaps I’m not as prepared for this…mission, as I thought I was. Does Sir Gilbert have a wife, children? You said the earl and Mr. Phelps are both married. God, Jack. I’m to be with these women, cultivate them, knowing we could be planning the deaths of their husbands?”
“I don’t know about Gilly. Married? I don’t think so. Phelps? Just his wife, I believe.” Jack stopped, realized what was happening. “Damn it, woman, I can’t be concerned about any of that, and neither can you. A soldier going into battle goes in already a dead man if his mind is full of worries about the enemy’s wives and children.”
“I know,” Eleanor said as she nervously fussed with the handle of a hand mirror on the dressing table. “And I know our first concern is the families we help, and everyone at Becket Hall. I was…I was reacting, not thinking clearly.”
And if I kill any of these three men, you’ll carry the guilt for the rest of your life, won’t you, little fawn, Jack thought, looking at her as she bent her head, avoiding his gaze.
He reached down, putting his hand over hers for a moment, stilling her fingers as they pushed at the mirror handle, then went down on one knee beside her, inches from her face. “Eleanor. I’ll try, all right? Maybe there’s a way to stop them without eliminating them completely, or at least managing things so that the Red Men Gang does our job for us. But I can’t promise anything. You understand that, don’t you?”
He looked so earnest. He was so close to her.
“I should go home, shouldn’t I? I thought I could help, but now I’m being missish, and shortsighted, and definitely not rational. This isn’t a game where we can best them, defeat them, then everyone shakes hands and goes on their way, is it? This is life and death. I know that. I’ve always known that. I…I just never wanted to really believe that.”
Jack watched, fascinated, as tears welled in Eleanor’s velvety brown eyes, even as she kept her chin high, refusing to give way to her emotions. “Please stay, Eleanor.”
“But I’ve been nothing but trouble to you. I’ve made a shambles of your household, and now I’m interfering with your plans rather than helping you with them.” She smiled wanly. “You know, Jack, I once prided myself on how well controlled I am, how in charge I am of my emotions and most any situation. I’ve been deluding myself.”
“No,” Jack said, amazed that he meant every word he was about to say. “Ainsley wouldn’t have allowed you to come here if he didn’t trust you completely, trust your judgment. You’re a civilizing influence, Eleanor, whether you know it or not. We men tend to think in terms that are rather absolute. Kill or be killed, for one. There may be another way.”
Eleanor lifted a hand and cupped his cheek, reacting again, not thinking. “No. There is no other way, and we both know it. Either these men lead us to the head of the Red Men Gang or their own leaders will destroy them for allowing us to even get close. Either way, assuming we succeed, these three men are already as good as dead. When I meet them, I will be speaking to dead men and widows.” She dropped her hand to her lap once more. “Rationally, I understand that.”
Jack put his hand on her cheek, returning intimate gesture for intimate gesture. A sort of bonding, merely physical, that would mean an agreement to so much more than that. “And you’ll be able to live with those consequences?”
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