The Complete Regency Surrender Collection. Louise Allen
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to England.’
‘Plans can change.’ His father nudged him and nodded in Eleanor’s direction, where she was bidding farewell to some of her guests. ‘It looks like you’re in a fair way to fixing your interest already, you sly young pup—way ahead of the other bucks hanging out for a rich wife. She’d be a good match for you, worth a tidy fortune. She’d not be to everyone’s taste, mind, too tall and robust for most, but a pretty enough face, I’ll grant you. And that fortune will be more than enough to compensate. It’s good to see the years away have given you some good sound common sense.’
Fuming, Matthew clenched his fists. Even his own father thought he would court Eleanor purely for her wealth. No longer thought a cheat, but now labelled as a fortune hunter.
* * *
The next day a frustrated Eleanor gazed at the clock in the drawing room, watching the minute hand creep past the six and tick its way up towards the hour again. It was already past half past two.
Where is he?
Hugo was out and Eleanor had declined to accompany Aunt Lucy and Sir Horace on their visit to friends because Matthew was due to call.
The clock struck three; she paced the floor.
Where is he? It would serve him right if I wasn’t here when he arrives.
But still she waited, increasingly annoyed—not only at Matthew for his tardiness, but also at herself for staying meekly at home, awaiting his arrival.
She looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. Five past three. She wandered to the window and craned her neck to peer up and down the street below. A discreet cough drew her attention and she turned to see Pacey at the door.
‘A message has been delivered for you, my lady.’ He held out a folded and sealed sheet of paper.
‘Thank you, Pacey.’
She did not recognise the writing so it was not from Matthew. She broke the wax seal and smoothed the single page, which was covered in a cramped and hurried script.
My dearest Cousin Eleanor
Our recent conversation about my Troubles gave me such comfort and I would beseech you to come to my Aid. I am in such turmoil about your Cousin James. You are the only person I can turn to in my Distress and I must plead with you to come to me without Delay whilst he is from home.
I shall be at Home all afternoon and I hope and pray that you will attend me here without Delay, for I shall be unable to answer to the Consequences if you do not come.
Please do not Fail me. It must be Today, before your Cousin returns.
Your Desperate Cousin
Ruth
Eleanor frowned as she finished the letter, then re-read it carefully, wondering what had caused Ruth to write such a hasty and muddled missive. The ‘troubles’ she wrote of suggested her agitation at her lack of a family. But her insistence that Eleanor attend her before James came home... Could Ruth have discovered something about the attacks?
Eleanor considered her options, eager to hear what Ruth had to tell her. If she waited for Aunt Lucy—out shopping, with Sir Horace as her escort—to return, she would surely insist upon accompanying Eleanor to visit Ruth. Whilst that might be the sensible thing to do, would her aunt’s presence prevent Ruth from being completely honest?
Also, the longer she delayed her visit, the more likely it was that James would return whilst she was there. Therefore, the sooner she went to Ruth, the better.
She could send word to one of her ‘guardians’, but the same objections to Aunt Lucy’s presence applied equally to them. Ruth would be unlikely to speak openly in the presence of anyone else, particularly a man.
Which left Eleanor to rely upon her own resources, much as she had done for the past three years.
She would go in the carriage, right to the front door. She had her footmen. She would take her pistol. With James away from home, what possible danger could there be? Her mind conjured up the image of the stranger she had seen watching her. She had not seen him since that time outside the house. And Ruth would be there, after all.
She made up her mind. She would go and, if she sensed the slightest threat when the door was opened to her, she would simply refuse to go inside. She rang the bell.
‘Pacey, I am going out in fifteen minutes. Can you send for the carriage and ask Lizzie to attend me upstairs, please? And tell three of the footmen—whoever you can spare most easily—they are to accompany me.’
‘May I know where to, my lady?’
‘To call upon Mrs Weare,’ she replied. ‘When Lady Rothley returns, please tell her where I have gone and what time. And tell her not to worry, for I have protection with me.’
Pacey hesitated. ‘My lady, should you not wait until—?’
‘Now, Pacey.’ The butler bowed and withdrew.
Eleanor went to her bedchamber to change into her sprigged-muslin walking dress and to load her pistol. If James was the culprit, and he returned home unexpectedly, she would be ready for him. Lizzie helped her into her pomona-green spencer and bonnet, and she carefully placed the pistol into her matching reticule, ignoring Lizzie’s gasp of horror.
‘Come, Lizzie, fetch your coat, please. I wish you to attend me on my visit to my cousin’s house.’
‘Very well, milady.’ Lizzie was stiff with disapproval.
As they trod down the stairs to join William, Timothy and Peter, who were awaiting them in the hallway, Eleanor pushed her qualms aside.
Instead, she chose to focus on her satisfaction that the decision of whether or not to continue waiting for Matthew had been taken from her hands.
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