Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (31 page)

"I must have your promise," said Eleanor.

There was a further implacable silence that amounted to a battle of wills. In the end he surrendered and gave his word. "Though I should probably just tell Nicholas what you have said so far and let him deal with it," he sighed.

Eleanor chose her words carefully. If Francis knew nothing, she did not want to reveal the treason to him. "I have been given to understand," she said, "that Nicholas is involved with Madame Bellaire not merely amorously but in certain matters of international significance."

She watched his reaction. He was shocked.

"How did you know about that woman?" he demanded angrily.

"Really, Francis. All London knows, and that is the least of our problems." As she said it, Eleanor realized it was true. At the moment she was not concerned by her husband's attachment to the other woman except insofar as it endangered his life.

"Very well," Lord Middlethorpe admitted uneasily. "What you say is true. But how did you find out? It is vital that I know and tell Nicholas."

"But I have your word," she said.

He groaned. "Eleanor! If you know what is involved, then you know it extremely important. This is no time for girlish whims."

"That is unfair, Francis," she protested sharply. "It would be very easy to shelve my responsibilities, but I will not do it. Give me the facts and I will make my decision. But," she added desperately, "I can't understand how he can have been so mad as to have involved himself. Are you too entangled?"

"No, no. I'm not," he assured her. "Or not directly. Nicholas said it was too risky for me, as I am the sole reliance of my mother and sisters."

"And is he not my sole reliance?"

He placed a comforting hand on hers. "He became involved before your marriage, Eleanor. And he knows you could always turn to his brother."

Eleanor abandoned an unprofitable side issue. "So it is true." She frowned up at him. "Francis, are you saying you approve of what he is doing?"

"Approve is too strong a word," he said. "But I understand his motives, yes. I also admire his resolution."

Eleanor sighed and shook her head. She would never understand men. "And I thought I knew you both. I think you're both mad, but Nicholas is my husband and I suppose it is my duty to support him, no matter how foolish the matter."

She rose and pulled on her gloves. "I must go. You may tell him, if you wish, that my brother plots mischief toward him. It would be best, of course, if he came to his senses and abandoned this business before it ruins him, but otherwise he may want to watch Lionel carefully. Do not, under any circumstances, tell Nicholas I know anything. I have your word."

She was aware when she left him that he looked worried to death. It only seemed fair that the world share her anxiety.

Strangely, Eleanor found that this new, terrible burden relieved the other stresses that had oppressed her. That her husband should be a dreamer, chasing a mad ideal to the exclusion of other normal interests, seemed in many ways a change for the better. At least he was not just a lust-sodden libertine. The need to make the right decision, however, was overwhelming, and he could not be applied to for advice.

With these thoughts swirling in her mind it was very disconcerting to find Nicholas in the house when she returned, and to hear he wished to see her in the study as soon as possible. Had Francis told him? Impossible so soon.

She found him at his desk busy with a pile of papers. He hardly glanced at her. It was, perhaps, a blessing, for she would not know how to handle a moment of tenderness just now.

"It suddenly occurred to me, Eleanor," he said casually, "that it would be convenient for you to have your own key to the safe. You may require the jewels when I am not available." He handed her a key. "Just look after it, my dear."

This was so unexpected, and so pat to her problem of taking the pearls, that Eleanor was thrown into confusion. "Why, I don't... You know I rarely wear jewels... Thank you." She gathered her wits. "I had meant to ask, Nicholas. The pearls must be very valuable. I fear to lose them, I must confess."

He looked up in faint surprise. "They are, of course. More to the point, they would be hard to replace. But they are intended to be worn. It's said pearls lose their luster if they're left in the box too long." He shrugged with genuine indifference. "If they're lost, they're lost. It would be no blighting tragedy."

It put the matter in perspective. What were the pearls compared to a man's life? "You put my mind at rest," she said. "I will try to wear them now and then."

She hesitated. She would like to say something to bring some warmth to the moment, but he had returned to his papers and she felt she had no choice but to leave him in peace.

He must have left the house again for she dined alone, which finally gave her ample time to think. She decided she would give the pearls to her brother. It was a paltry price to pay for her husband's life.

Her only alternative was to tell Nicholas the whole. He would inform his fellow conspirators and they would kill Lionel. If Lionel had truly left letters of evidence then all would be lost. But even if he had not, Eleanor balked at signing her brother's death warrant, especially to rescue a cause she found despicable.

Pushing her half-eaten food away, she raged at Nicholas for having embroiled them all in such a fiasco.

Chapter 11

The next day Eleanor walked out as usual with Jenny in attendance. When her brother approached her she handed him the soft bag that contained the pearls. He peered inside and smiled widely with gratification.

"So sensible! In fact, you move me to further generosity, Nell. I'm afraid that coming events may make it necessary for me to leave London precipitately, and so I have sold the house. There are still some belongings of yours there. If you wish, you may come and choose any items which take your fancy. There is Mother's sewing box, I believe."

"Yes, I would like that," said Eleanor, genuinely pleased. "It would be kind if you would send it over."

He appeared to consider the matter. "I could, of course, but there may be other things you would want in the attics. Why do you not come over and take your pick?"

"I have no desire to enter your house again, brother."

"How or why would I harm you now, Eleanor? You did not used to be so chickenhearted. Bring an escort, bring a footman. You will want someone to carry away what you choose. Tell me in advance when you wish to come and I will make myself scarce. But within days or it may be too late."

With that he sauntered off, wracking his brain for a way to get her in his power if she did not take the bait. But at least, if he had to flee his erstwhile friends, he had a little something to keep the wolves at bay.

Eleanor was eating lunch and considering this new, very minor decision when Nicholas came into the room. It was so long since he had eaten in the house—to her knowledge, at least—that there was no place laid. She reached for the bell but he stayed her.

"No, don't ring. I just wanted to speak to you."

"Oh." She felt a tremor of unease. Had Francis betrayed her? Did Nicholas know what she had done?

"I've finished," she said. "Should we go into the study?"

As she sat in one of the big, comfortable chairs she noticed again how tired and drawn he looked. His golden health was dull and tarnished from long nights of debauchery and insufficient exercise.

She spoke her mind. "Nicholas, you look dreadful."

"Do I?" he queried absently. "Well, I'm certainly looking forward to a long rest in the country." He turned to her and there was nothing dulled in his perceptiveness. "Eleanor, I know you have been meeting with your brother. Can you tell me what business you have with him?"

Surprisingly, there was no pressure in the question, no threat. It was a request only, but still it threw her into a panic that was hard to conceal.

"The meetings have not been of my choosing. He talked of his marriage. The girl has cried off and he thought it might have been my fault."

"Was it?"

She was relieved to have a safe subject for the moment. "Yes. It was his fault for being such a toad, but I exposed him to the Derrys. I could not let him marry a young and innocent girl."

"I agree. I doubt he is feeling well-disposed towards you."

"No. But that's no change. He has some new scheme in mind," she added idly, twiddling with a quill from the desk. "Some new way to make his fortune. He even speaks of going abroad."

"Do you know what his scheme is?"

"No." Eleanor remembered Lionel saying she was a poor liar. This time she must convince. She looked up and met his eyes with what she hoped was a frank smile.

She saw from his face he was not deceived.

After a long silence he sighed. "I'm sorry, Eleanor. We've drifted far apart, haven't we? You accused me a while ago of not trusting you. I fear it's the other way about. I recognize it is entirely my fault. You have always acted irreproachably. I am very grateful for that."

Something in his voice made her afraid—for him, not for herself. "Irreproachable sounds very cold, Nicholas. Too close to unapproachable, maybe. Is this farewell?"

He looked up quickly, eyes wide. "No! For heaven's sake, Eleanor, don't think that. I just wanted you to know you are not unappreciated. As for unapproachable," he came over and took her hands, "you are certainly not that."

Harshly he added, "You must know by now about Madame Bellaire."

"Yes."

"I was a fool to ever think I could keep it from you." Her hands were abruptly released and he turned away. "You see then why I couldn't come to you with professions of love."

She could think of nothing to say. Her heart cried out,
I would have been grateful for the pretense
.

With his back to her he spoke again, his voice strained. "Eleanor, if this affair was over and I came to you, would you receive me and try to make something of our life together?"

Oh, my heart, need you ask?
"I have never turned you away, Nicholas," she replied calmly.

"But... No, that is unfair." He went to lean against the window frame, staring out at the trees in full summer leaf, birds fluttering from branch to branch. "Tell me, Eleanor, if you could turn back the clock, would you rather none of this had ever happened?"

"No," she said firmly to his tense back. "My life was so unpleasant that any change was for the better. Nicholas, what are you trying to say?"

He laughed then and turned. "Heaven knows. I'm sorry, my dear. It must be tiredness. I always seem to be coming to you without any sleep." He crossed the room and took her hands to pull her to her feet. "You don't dislike being kissed, do you? You see, I no longer even know that."

Eleanor blushed and shook her head. What had suddenly broken through his detachment? And what should she do? Unpleasantly, the idea come to her that he might know what she had done and be attempting to woo her into supporting his mad plans.

She looked up at him. "I have been kissed so few times," she remarked coolly.

She saw no dismay on his face at her hard tone, only genuine amusement. "Showing your claws? A deserved rebuke. But you are very kissable." His lips brushed over hers lightly.

As her body and spirit responded to his flirtation, Eleanor felt frantic. "Are you drunk?"

"Must I be drunk to desire you?" he said with a twisted smile. "Perhaps I am lightheaded."

Suddenly he pulled her close and his lips came down more strongly, soft and warm against hers. She felt one hand in her hair, holding her there, but she did not try to escape. She could not. Instinctively she opened to him and his tongue made magic, creating flickers of excitement that ran through her body. Then his lips moved to play against her neck.

"Eleanor, my dear," he murmured. "What a mess this all is."

She pushed back, bewildered. "What?"

Sherry brown eyes smiled down at her. "It's a mess. Don't worry about it, though. It will soon be over."

"But you are in danger!"

"No, of course not," he said, obviously surprised. He was smiling, and his hand came up to stroke gently down her cheek.