Forecastle seems to believe otherwise.’
‘Algernon is an ass. Always has been. Always will be. Hopefully his new wife will make something of him.’
‘He is getting married? Was that something your stepfather envisaged?’
‘I am sure you came here for reasons other than to discuss the terms of my late stepfather’s will or his nephew’s matrimonial status, Lord Whittonstall.’ Eleanor picked up her fountain pen and pretended to make a notation. She’d regained control of the situation now. She’d moved the conversation away from the dangerous shoals of the will and back to the less dangerous one of why he was there and what he wanted. ‘Shall we discuss your business? I am sure it is far more interesting.’
He leant forward. His eyes sparkled with hidden fire. ‘Why did you give my cousin that sword? What was so desperate that you had to see him today? What sort of trouble are you in, Mrs Blackwell?’
‘I explained that at the house.’ Eleanor set down the pen with a shaking hand. It was as if they were fencing again, but this time she was the one with a poor grasp of the rules. She’d given her excuse. He should have accepted it rather than coming here and asking questions. ‘For his birthday. Sir Vivian understood.’
‘His birthday is not for another two months. It is unusual to give such a gift early.’ Lord Whittonstall lifted a solitary eyebrow.
The heat crept up Eleanor’s cheeks. If she kept calm he might ignore the blush. Please let him ignore it. Confessing the whole truth would be a lesson in abject humiliation. The more she thought about it, the more pathetic and naive she had been even to try. She hadn’t understood how wrong it might have gone. What a mistake she’d nearly made. And how could she explain about that moment when she’d thought Lord Whittonstall was going to kiss her? No. Anything but that.
‘I wished him to take it to London,’ she said, when she considered that she’d mastered her emotions. Those few extra heartbeats had helped her to formulate the perfect answer. ‘To show it off. If I had waited for his birthday he would have departed. Gentlemen such as your cousin never stay long in these parts.’
‘Until you gave him the sword my cousin had no plans to quit the county. He’d retired up here with his tail between his legs. A gaming debt. But I don’t think your visit had anything to do with his finances. It had something to do with you and your current predicament.’
She shuffled paper about the desk. Against all reason she wanted to lay her head on his chest and confess. She shook her head. She could just imagine his recoiling from her, and that was a thousand times worse. The last thing she wanted was pity from him.
‘It was a straightforward request, Lord Whittonstall,’ she said briskly. ‘I don’t see why you think it a mystery.’
‘Have you given swords away before?’ he asked, tilting his head to one side.
‘It is a new initiative.’
‘How new?’
‘Very new.’
Eleanor pushed away from the desk, stood up, and began to pace the room, stopping in front of her grandfather’s portrait. The compulsion to confess grew with each passing heartbeat. But she simply couldn’t. It would be opening up a Pandora’s box of questions. And she might inadvertently blurt out how she’d wanted him to kiss her. She bit her lip. How much she still wanted him to kiss her. She couldn’t remember ever being this aware of a man before. And she’d met hundreds during her fifteen year tenure running Moles.
‘A sudden inspiration,’ she said, in a tone that few within Moles would question. ‘I’m so pleased and relieved your cousin agreed to the scheme. It solves a multitude of problems.’
‘How good to know that my cousin was the first to receive your largesse in this manner.’
Eleanor glanced over her shoulder and he gave her an ironic bow.
‘A genuine request from my heart, Lord Whittonstall,’ she said, putting her hands on her hips. ‘I believed when I went to his house, and I still believe now, that Sir Vivian can help this company to succeed. All he needs to do is show off the sword, hold it in combat as I taught you, and the rest will follow.’
She drew a breath. She had told the truth in a roundabout way. Nothing to be ashamed of. She waited for him to concede the point.
‘You were desperate for his help—so desperate you were prepared to risk your reputation. You even challenged me to a duel so that you could remain in that library. Then Viv arrived and you made your milksop request. What did you truly want from him? What were you afraid to ask for?’
Eleanor stopped and faced her grandfather’s portrait. His stern features frowned down on her. She hated the feeling of being judged and found wanting. She had never considered that Lord Whittonstall would be so perceptive.
‘It no longer matters because all I want from him now is to publicise the new sword.’ She turned and smiled triumphantly. Her point was the killer blow.
Lord Whittonstall took a step towards her. Their eyes met and she became intensely aware of him—his long fingers, the way his dark hair curled at the nape of his neck and his scent. Especially his scent. Extract of masculinity. Her pulse increased its speed and she knew her cheeks flamed. But it didn’t matter. She’d won. He’d have to back down.
‘I believe it had to do with your stepfather’s will. You wanted help with the conditions your stepfather has imposed. But once you saw Viv you changed your mind and invented this scheme.’
Eleanor stared at him, astonished. He’d accomplished the verbal equivalent of sending her sword flying through the air. ‘How did you know?’
‘I am far from unintelligent, Miss Blackwell. The truth, if you please. Why did you go to see my cousin? How did you think he could help you? And why did you decide he couldn’t?’
Eleanor stared at Lord Whittonstall. He’d guessed, but he couldn’t know everything. For a wild moment she considered lying but knew she couldn’t. It would only make Algernon’s accusations true. And she had no wish to play those sorts of games with Lord Whittonstall. Only the entire humiliating truth would do.
‘I went to see your cousin to ask him to marry me, but I decided against it once I had met him again. We would not suit.’
‘You would not suit,’ Lord Whittonstall agreed. A dimple played in the corner of his cheek. ‘Why on earth did you think you would?’
‘I was desperate.’ She clasped her hands together and tried to keep the panic at bay. ‘Absolutely and completely desperate. Your cousin had sent a note, begging for the new sword. It fell out of a ledger when I came back from the reading of the will. Serendipity, I thought. I suspect I wasn’t thinking clearly or I wouldn’t even have tried. I am sorry if you were caused any discomfort by my feeble attempt to solve the problem. I should have known better.’
He gave her a sharp glance. ‘What does marrying my cousin have to do with your stepfather’s will? Start at the beginning, Miss Blackwell, and perhaps I will understand.’
‘In his will my stepfather gives me Moles and all its investments provided I marry. If not, everything goes to Algernon. He also left instructions for him on how to challenge any marriage.’
Lord Whittonstall’s eyebrows drew together. He was puzzled more than angry. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘To taunt me and keep me in my place. To create the illusion of keeping his promise.’ Eleanor gave a light shrug to show that she was over the hurt. ‘He knew my feelings on the subject of marriage and the inequities that women can suffer. I’m not very good at holding my tongue, but he tolerated me because he enjoyed the prosperity I brought to Moles and his purse.’
‘You are not overly enamoured of marriage?’ He gave a little nod of understanding. ‘Perhaps he was acting for the best. Most parents want their children or indeed their stepchildren to