Stephen Damerel stood waiting for his father, with an anxious frown that cleared as he caught sight of Eleanor.
‘Good evening, Lady Ashby,’ he said, with an elegant bow. ‘I apologise for our tardy arrival.’
‘I am delighted you could both attend.’ They exchanged a conspirators’ smile. ‘Good evening, Lord Rushock. I trust you are well?’
‘Harumph!’ Rushock’s chest expanded. ‘Yes, well enough, I suppose, although—’
‘Father, you do wish to mend your fences with Matthew, do you not? Think of Mama.’
The older man subsided. ‘Yes.’
His brevity surprised Eleanor. He had appeared an inveterate blusterer, but mayhap it was all show.
‘Would you like to come through to the parlour?’ she said. ‘Mr Damerel, if you would be so kind as to—?’
‘I’ll go and get him.’
‘Thank you. Pacey will show you which room.’ And Aunt Lucy and Hugo had been primed to forestall any guests who might notice that both Eleanor and Matthew had disappeared.
They waited in silence in the parlour. Eleanor, full of trepidation now the moment was close, was unable to make small talk. Lord Rushock paced the room, hands clasped behind his back.
The door opened to admit first Matthew, then Stephen, who closed it and leaned back against it in a nonchalant manner; only the tight line of his mouth revealed his tension.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Matthew’s ice-blue gaze speared Eleanor. He turned to leave. ‘Let me pass.’
‘Not yet, little brother. Not until you and Father have a proper conversation. It is time you thrashed over the past and set it behind you.’
‘We’ve talked. There is nothing left—’
‘For your mother’s sake, if not mine.’ Rushock gripped Matthew’s shoulder. ‘Please, son.’
Matthew’s indrawn breath was audible. ‘Very well. Just family.’
It was as though he stabbed her in the heart. It could not be clearer that she did not belong. Eleanor walked to the door, trying not to show her hurt.
‘I will see you later,’ she said in a low voice to Stephen as he opened the door to let her pass.
Matthew searched the room for his hostess. Ah...there! She could not help but stand out, with her burnished curls piled high, topping every other woman in the room by half a head. He strode across the room to where Eleanor stood with Lord Vernon Beauchamp and his sister, Lady Cecily. Her awareness of his approach was exposed by the sudden flush of her cheeks, despite her determined attempt to keep her attention on her companions.
Beauchamp...rake and darling of the ton. Resentment scraped at Matthew’s insides. It mattered not that Stephen had assured him none of the gentlemen watching over Eleanor was hanging out for a wife...and why Stephen had even thought it necessary to tell him such an irrelevant fact, he did not know...! Grrr! He’d lost his train of thought. All he knew was the sight of Eleanor anywhere near any of these so-called gentlemen burned in his gut.
And the memory of her interference scoured his insides even more. How dare she? What business of hers was it if he and his father were estranged? If he had any doubts over not courting her, her interference had consolidated his decision. She always thought she knew best. She was a stubborn, managing tyrant.
And an utter peach.
His anger subsided—a little—as she shot him a wary glance through her thick lashes. A tremulous smile hovered for an instant on those full lips before she settled her focus back on Beauchamp.
As the conversation ebbed and flowed he thought back to the interview with his father. It had been awkward. Both men—he recognised from a distance—had been wary of offering too much, in case the other rejected that degree of conciliation. Thank God for Stephen and his patience and diplomacy in brokering their deal. For that is what it had reminded Matthew of. A business deal. With sky-high personal stakes. They had left the parlour with a new understanding and, in Matthew, the joy of knowing he would shortly be reconciled with the rest of the family. Claverley would be furious. That made the reward even sweeter.
Gradually, Eleanor’s conversation with the Beauchamps drowned out his introspection.
‘I am arranging a day out to Richmond next week,’ Lady Cecily was saying. ‘I do hope you will join us, Eleanor, with your aunt. I will send you an invitation.’
‘Thank you, Cecily. I should be delighted.’
‘And you, Mr Damerel? Might I persuade you to join our number?’
‘If I am still in town, I should be delighted, my lady.’
‘Are you planning to leave London?’ Was that a hint of panic in Eleanor’s question?
He summoned up every last vestige of his resolve. ‘I am. As soon as you are in no further danger, my lady, I plan to visit my family.’
‘Then you and your father—’
‘Have reached an understanding.’ He should thank her for her help, but his anger at her unasked-for interference was too raw. It was an uncomfortable clash of feelings and it was simpler not to give vent to either. Maybe when he had calmed down a bit... ‘I am very much looking forward to seeing my mother and sisters again.’
Her eyes glittered. ‘There is no need to remain in London on my behalf,’ she said. ‘Hugo is here and I am sure the other gentlemen who have been so kind in watching over me will continue to do so for as long as necessary. Is that not so, my lord?’
‘Indeed,’ Vernon said, in his rich, cultured voice. ‘We are at your service for as long as you need us.’
‘So, there is nothing to prevent you going home tomorrow, if you so wish,’ Eleanor said, her tone indifferent although the faint crease between her brows told its own tale.
He could not blame her...he was not the only one with pride.
‘I will finish what I started,’ he said. ‘I shall call upon you tomorrow, at two o’clock, if that is convenient, to discuss your protection over the next few days. Alastair, as I understand it, has a long-standing commitment tomorrow so, if you need to go out, I shall be available to escort you in the afternoon.’
Eleanor nodded. ‘Very well. I shall see you at two tomorrow. Now, if you will please excuse me, I have guests to attend to.’
* * *
A short time later, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
‘Well, my boy—’ his father’s voice boomed in his ear ‘—I am pleased we have buried our differences.’ He chuckled. ‘We are too alike, that is the truth. Proud. Your mother would say stubborn, too, but I will not admit to that.’
‘I am pleased to put the past behind us too, Father,’ Matthew said. ‘Although I must tell you again that I shall not give up my business interests. Quite apart from that pride you mentioned, I actually enjoy what I do. I could never live an idle life.’
‘You won’t be idle, my son, not with that estate your grandfather left you.’
His father had earlier told Matthew that his mother’s father had bequeathed an estate in Leicestershire to Matthew, subject to his return to