Eleanor sighed inwardly. So coldly formal. Whatever the problem, it still troubled him. And the rift between them was as wide and as bottomless as it had ever been.
‘To be sure.’
He looked at her, a searching glance that revealed nothing of his thoughts. Then, with a curt bow of the head, he turned and walked away from her, as she knew he would.
She had no right to call him back.
Edward Baxendale’s bitter accusations against Eleanor refused to be banished from Henry’s mind. Had she indeed trapped Thomas into an unwanted marriage with a child conceived out of wedlock? Without doubt, it would not be the first time that such a ploy had been used by an unscrupulous woman to gain a foothold into a noble family. But Eleanor? Never! And yet, how could he possibly discover the truth of it, if only to put his mind at ease. He could hardly ask Eleanor herself. Had she after all rejected him with the sole purpose of luring his brother into a far more advantageous union? Henry had decided that it no longer mattered, his love for her was absolute, no matter what had driven her to turn her back on him. But if she had used the child to spring the trap on his brother? He shook his head in disbelief. It simply did not fit with his image of her.
But sharp-edged doubts assailed him and refused to let up, and a far sharper edge that he should even contemplate questioning her honesty. He cursed himself for harbouring such doubts—but they remained. And there was no doubt, he knew in his heart, that Eleanor’s doting mama would be prepared to take any step that would ensure the well-being of her daughter. He had heard such words from her own lips. How could he forget her almost unseemly delight over Edward Baxendale’s fall from grace and Eleanor’s social reinstatement?
He paced the morning room, self-disgust riding him with sharp spurs, his unfinished letter to Nathaniel Bridges lying forgotten on the desk as he wrestled on the one hand with his conscience, which insisted that Eleanor’s honesty should not be questioned, and on the other the distrust created by Baxendale’s vicious and well-aimed words. He loved Eleanor. By God, he did, beyond all thought and reason. But it might be that he had at last learned the truth behind her failure to join him on his voyage, committing her future irrevocably to his. Who could he possibly ask to gain further enlightenment? Whatever happened, he must do nothing to create more scandal, to spread any further shadow over Eleanor’s name.
His head came up as he heard Nicholas’s riding boots echo on the tiled floor of the entrance hall. Here was the only member of the family with whom he could share his thoughts. And even then, not totally. He opened the door and stepped out.
‘Hal.’ Nicholas swung round. ‘Are you coming after all?’
‘No.’ He grimaced. ‘Much as I would like to. Too much neglected business. Nat Bridges will write me off as dead!’
‘Well, if you will sully your hands with buying and selling and the acquisition of something as common as money! By the by, I would not say it in front of the ladies, but…congratulations!’
Henry’s brow arched in silent query.
‘On burying the Baxendale plot so effectively…and without any fuss.’
‘I would have dearly enjoyed burying Baxendale himself!’ Henry smiled wryly at the prospect. ‘You will never know how difficult it was to keep my hands from his throat when he tried to throw the blame in any direction but on himself, his own greed and ambition.’
‘I expect it tapped the depths of self-control. Not something you used to be famous for!’
‘It did. It was still hard. A sharp right to the jaw would have been much more in my line. Or even the use of a riding whip across his shoulders. He deserves far worse for what he did.’
Nicholas continued to head to the door, picking up whip and gloves from a side table.
‘Nick…’
‘Hmm?’
‘Tell me…tell me about Eleanor and Thomas. Were they happy?’
‘Now there’s a strange question.’ It stopped Nicholas in his tracks and he swung round to face his brother. ‘Yes. To my knowledge. They seemed so.’
‘Why did Thomas marry her?’
‘An even stranger question!’ He slanted a quizzical glance at Henry’s face, but was unable to read the shuttered expression. ‘I don’t know. Speak with Eleanor if it matters. I don’t advise it, though. Nell is a very…a very private person.’
‘No. I wouldn’t, of course.’ He followed Nick to the door, unable to let the matter drop. ‘It’s just…’
‘Something Baxendale said?’
‘Yes. You are amazingly astute, little brother.’
‘I am always astute, if you did but notice. But it’s simply a matter of logic. Was it simply mischief-making?’
‘I expect so.’
‘Want to tell me about it?’
‘No. I am not proud of my doubts! It will be best if I keep his poisonous words to myself, I think.’
‘To share them could draw the poison. I can be a willing listener.’ Nick angled his head, waiting for the reply. He had not often seen his brother so troubled.
‘But not if it causes pain and even more hurt.’ Henry frowned at the problem.
‘True.’ Nick shrugged slightly. ‘Then you must perforce bear the burden alone. Do you want my advice?’
‘I think I can guess.’
‘Then forget it, Hal.’ Nicholas for once was deadly serious. ‘His intentions will have been malicious, for sure. How could you expect him to tell the truth about anything? You should not waste one moment’s thought on any accusations he made. And certainly not anything concerning Thomas and Eleanor. Baxendale would be overjoyed if he knew that he had been successful in destroying your peace of mind. Don’t let him!’
‘Sage advice.’ Henry turned as if to retrace his steps to the morning room, then with second thoughts, looked back. ‘Was it a love match?’ he asked bluntly.
‘Well, if we are returning to Nell and Thomas…’ Nick huffed out a breath and thought for a moment. ‘Yes. They were attracted. The marriage was certainly arranged quickly. Perhaps not a grand passion, I would have thought. But they were happy enough together. They talked to each other, laughed together. You know.’
‘And the child?’
‘That’s easy.’ Nick smiled, a little sadly, as the memories crowded in, of happier times before his brother’s death. ‘Thomas doted on him. Very proud. As he should be. He was already planning when to teach him to ride and to shoot duck on the lake at Burford Levels, even though he was barely a year old. I never thought of Thomas in a paternal role, but it suited him. Why?’
‘Nothing. I simply wanted to know.’ Henry decide there was nothing more that he could ask.
‘Problems?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Good.’ On a decision, Nicholas stalked across the hall and took his brother by the arm. ‘Come to the stables. Leave your letters for the afternoon—they will still be there tonight! Time you had some light relief.’
‘Very well.’ Henry smiled a little wearily, gave in and allowed himself to be led, grateful to have his mind taken from the suspicions that beset him. Perhaps Nicholas’s remedy would push everything back into perspective for him and then he could be at ease again. At ease with Eleanor. ‘Forgive me, Nick. I seem to have got into the habit of questioning everybody and everything—looking for shadows when they do not exist.’
‘And very uncomfortable for us all it is, too. You need a drink and some convivial company.’
‘True.’