‘I would ask a favour from you, Hal.’
Now she looked at him.
‘Anything in my power.’ He found himself stretching out his hand to her across the table, the lightest of touches on her fingers, a symbol of unity with her. Her reply astounded him, showing the lengths to which she was prepared to go to fight for her good name.
‘Will you drive me around Hyde Park this morning? At a time when most of our acquaintance will be there? You said that we should be seen, and I wish to do so. The scandal has to break some time and I believe it will be soon rather than late.’ She took a breath. ‘I do not know how bad it will be, but I fear it. I cannot allow that fear to dominate my whole life. Will you drive me?’ Her eyes pleaded with him, holding his until he would give her an answer. He could not but respond to such anguish, but she misread the brilliant glitter, the firming of the lines around his mouth as he was driven to acknowledge once again his love for her. She drew back a little and looked away. ‘If you do not wish to, of course, Nicholas might.’
‘You mistake me, my lady.’ He kept his voice low. ‘I am always at your service.’ It was as much as he could say. Then a smile lightened his expression as he saw the possibilities of her plan. ‘I will drive you round Hyde Park with great pleasure. And I think that we should go out of our way to make an impression. I will take Thomas’s high-perch phaeton, which is sure to draw all eyes. Fine feathers indeed! It is in the stables at Faringdon House with some suitable bloodstock. Will that suit your intention?’
Eleanor shuddered, bringing the equipage to mind. ‘If I must. An impression indeed! I…I will not let you or your family down, whatever the reception from the haut ton.’
‘No matter. I will support you, Nell, whatever the outcome. You should know that.’ Standing, he walked round the table, took her hand to urge her to her feet. ‘You are not alone in this battle, you know.’ He kissed her fingers with grave respect, holding her fingers still within his warm clasp.
‘Of course.’ Her words might be politely non-committal, but she returned the pressure of his hand, compelled by the instant warmth in the region of her heart.
Henry felt it and was satisfied. ‘If you have the courage to visit Octavia, then I suppose that tonight I must join Nick in the gaming hells of Pall Mall!’
Two hours later, Eleanor presented herself promptly on the front doorstep of their house in Park Lane as Lord Henry manoeuvred the high-perch phaeton to a halt at the curb before her. Eleanor eyed it askance, but was forced to admit the excellence of Henry’s scheme. In this carriage they would without doubt draw attention to themselves, as Henry had predicted. The woodwork gleamed glossily. As did the well-groomed coats of the pair of bays with their glittering harness. They pawed the ground with restive impatience, eager to be off. The huge hind wheels and the seat that overhung the front axle had been picked out with elegant simplicity in dark blue. Eleanor chose not to contemplate its height from the ground.
But it would suit their purpose. They wished to be seen and noticed. They could hardly help it.
And Henry himself had risen to the occasion, she was quick to appreciate, in the height of fashion with more care than was his wont. He was now sporting the palest of biscuit pantaloons, highly polished boots, a coat of dark blue superfine, which fit to perfection, and a discreetly striped waistcoat. His neckcloth might not be as extreme as some, but the folds were precise, tied by the hand of a master and secured by a sapphire pin. The whole ensemble was covered by a caped greatcoat, which hung negligently open with casual grace.
Eleanor found herself staring. With his striking good looks, he would draw any woman’s eye. What hope was there for her poor heart when faced with his dark splendour? What chance to persuade herself that she did not care and that her heart did not beat faster merely at the sight of his dark hair and arresting features? She would have as much success in persuading herself not to breathe! And it was made even more impossible by knowing that his sometimes hard exterior hid a depth of kindness and understanding. Not to forget the burning kiss to remind her of what they might have meant to each other. She flushed and bit her lip as he reined in and leapt to the ground with fluid agility.
He looked her over critically.
‘Excellent! A smile would help.’
And she did. It might be a trifle brittle, it might not quite reach her eyes, but it illuminated her face and would fool those who did not know her or did not choose to look closely enough.
Henry did both and felt his heart stir with compassion and longing.
She had completed her outfit with a close-fitting, highwaisted spencer in black silk. It added the perfect touch of sobriety to the silver grey of her gown. Her grey silk-covered bonnet tied beneath her chin with long ribbons, its brim framing her lovely face, the silk flowers in shades of violet and amethyst, detracting from the severity of the whole. A pair of flat slippers, grey kid gloves, a neat reticule and a silver grey parasol—and she was ready for the ordeal. She had exquisite taste, he acknowledged. Elegance and sobriety, layered in perfect harmony, not full mourning, but quiet and respectful. He could not fault her. And he was struck anew by her beauty as she turned her head to look at him.
He handed Eleanor up into the high carriage, mounted himself and waited as she arranged her skirts and unfurled her parasol.
‘Ready?’ He closed his hand momentarily over hers, knowing exactly what was going through her head, the pain of the anxieties that gripped her with fierce claws. ‘Do we not look splendid?’ His smile was wry. ‘And highly respectable, of course! Not a whisper of scandal between us!’ The groom swung up behind them as Henry took up the reins and the longhandled whip.
Before they could pull away, Nick appeared from the front door to stand beside them on the pavement, dressed to take a turn in Bond Street or stroll through Piccadilly, a quizzical expression on his face as he surveyed his brother.
‘I am impressed, Hal.’
‘So you should be. I hope the Polite World in Hyde Park will say the same.’
‘Can you manage those bays? They can be lively. Perhaps I should offer to drive Eleanor round the park, for her own safety. You must be out of practice. Or do they have such sophistication in the colonies these days?’ His lips curled in gentle mockery, hoping to drive away the strained shadows in Eleanor’s face.
‘I can manage. If you remember, I taught you to drive—to my cost! For your sins, you could find yourself a mount and come and ride with us.’
Henry’s expression held a silent message. A show of force in the face of the gossips would not come amiss. Eleanor would welcome it.
‘Very well. I will join you in the park—so don’t crash the carriage before I arrive!’
A superior smile from Henry was the only answer.
‘Thank you. You are very kind.’ Eleanor’s soft murmur told him that she was perfectly aware of his intent. He smiled reassuringly at her, before turning his attention to his horses.
In spite of Nicholas’s barbed comments on his brother’s expertise, Eleanor found herself in no danger at Henry’s hands. He drove carefully through the crowded streets, skilfully avoiding a multitude of carriages and heavy wagons that thronged the centre of the city. He had the horses well in hand. She was left with the freedom to watch and admire his skill, the clever strength of his hands, with their broad palms and long fingers. They looped and wielded the reins and whip with casual and confident ease. She knew the gentleness of their touch for herself. And their power. She turned her face away in dismay.
Meanwhile, as Nicholas made his way to the stables at Faringdon House to acquire a suitable hack, his thoughts were taken up, not with the complications and, probably, repercussions of the Baxendale claim, but with the teasing matter of Eleanor and his brother. There was some past history here. The more he watched them together, the more he was certain