dead more appealing to him.”
Eleanor started to protest, but stopped. Was Harry right? She needed to think about that. It seemed too simple an answer. She still feared Enderby would track her down and denounce her if he discovered she was alive. But the truth was that there would be more trouble at his door if he did. Eleanor did not have great confidence in his common sense, but surely even he would see that, if he ever figured out Elizabeth Fairchild was his late, unlamented wife.
“You can see I’m right,” Harry said smugly.
“I do not concede you are right,” Eleanor told her, “but will consider your idea.”
“Ha,” was Harry’s rejoinder. “That means I’m right.” After a moment she said, “I think Sir Hilary is an excellent choice for an affair.”
“Harry,” Eleanor said sharply, hoping to end the discussion. She thought so, too, but she very much doubted she would be the one he was having the affair with.
“He’s quite handsome, don’t you think? I believe his red hair is indicative of a passionate personality. He doesn’t display that often, of course, in his line of work, but I do believe his Devil’s reputation more than corroborates it. According to Roger, his bedroom skills are legendary among the ladies. I honestly can’t believe anyone is better than Roger, but I’m just repeating the gossip.”
Eleanor closed her eyes and counted to ten. She would not think of Sir Hilary inthe bedroom. Her bedroom skills were rudimentary at best. Sir Hilary, on the other hand, was the original Devil. A man who, rumor had it, pursued knowledge of the sensual as ardently as he studied science, detection, and poetry. She was a dismal prospect for a man of his stature and experience. “I do not think I am ready to take a lover.” The excuse tasted like a lie as soon as she said it, and she made a face.
Harry hugged her with one arm. “Was it awful, then, with Enderby? It was awful, you know, with my first husband.” She noticeably shuddered. “I didn’t expect what I found with Roger. It is … it is incandescent.”
“Incandescent?” Eleanor said disbelievingly. “That is hardly a word I would use to describe relations.” Unpleasant, messy, painful, and embarrassing, yes. Incandescent? No .
“I wouldn’t have either, before—”
“Before Roger,” Eleanor finished for her. “Yes, I believe you mentioned that.”
“Just think about it, Eleanor,” Harry begged. “I think Sir Hilary would be very good for you.”
“Sir Hilary said he didn’t find me particularly intelligent or beautiful,” she told Harry. “I don’t need another man who doesn’t appreciate me. No, thank you.” But she knew he appreciated her, at least as a worthy opponent. He’d told her as much. Unlike other men, he acknowledged her intellect and cleverness and challenged her. Most of his life was shrouded by mystery, which only added to his allure, she had to admit. She was fascinated with puzzles, and he was an enigma, an impossible cipher she wanted to solve.
She shook off the notion. She had no plans for a love affair right now, particularly with Sir Hilary. To indulge that fantasy was foolish and dangerous. But there was a very small voice in her head arguing that his legendary bedroom skills might be just what she needed to rejoin the land of the living.
Chapter Five
Eleanor looked around the ballroom for the fifteenth time and then forced herself to stop. She stood still, bit her lip, and stared at the ceiling. She would not look for him again. The temptation was nearly irresistible, but she was making a fool of herself. Yet another reason to avoid involvement with Sir Hilary. He made her feel like a fool, and she didn’t like it.
And she was being irrational. Here she was in a beautiful ballroom, surrounded by the cream of London society, and was she enjoying it? No. She looked around and deliberately set about appreciating the scenery. Lady Carrey was said to have impeccable taste. At
Eleanor started to protest, but stopped. Was Harry right? She needed to think about that. It seemed too simple an answer. She still feared Enderby would track her down and denounce her if he discovered she was alive. But the truth was that there would be more trouble at his door if he did. Eleanor did not have great confidence in his common sense, but surely even he would see that, if he ever figured out Elizabeth Fairchild was his late, unlamented wife.
“You can see I’m right,” Harry said smugly.
“I do not concede you are right,” Eleanor told her, “but will consider your idea.”
“Ha,” was Harry’s rejoinder. “That means I’m right.” After a moment she said, “I think Sir Hilary is an excellent choice for an affair.”
“Harry,” Eleanor said sharply, hoping to end the discussion. She thought so, too, but she very much doubted she would be the one he was having the affair with.
“He’s quite handsome, don’t you think? I believe his red hair is indicative of a passionate personality. He doesn’t display that often, of course, in his line of work, but I do believe his Devil’s reputation more than corroborates it. According to Roger, his bedroom skills are legendary among the ladies. I honestly can’t believe anyone is better than Roger, but I’m just repeating the gossip.”
Eleanor closed her eyes and counted to ten. She would not think of Sir Hilary inthe bedroom. Her bedroom skills were rudimentary at best. Sir Hilary, on the other hand, was the original Devil. A man who, rumor had it, pursued knowledge of the sensual as ardently as he studied science, detection, and poetry. She was a dismal prospect for a man of his stature and experience. “I do not think I am ready to take a lover.” The excuse tasted like a lie as soon as she said it, and she made a face.
Harry hugged her with one arm. “Was it awful, then, with Enderby? It was awful, you know, with my first husband.” She noticeably shuddered. “I didn’t expect what I found with Roger. It is … it is incandescent.”
“Incandescent?” Eleanor said disbelievingly. “That is hardly a word I would use to describe relations.” Unpleasant, messy, painful, and embarrassing, yes. Incandescent? No .
“I wouldn’t have either, before—”
“Before Roger,” Eleanor finished for her. “Yes, I believe you mentioned that.”
“Just think about it, Eleanor,” Harry begged. “I think Sir Hilary would be very good for you.”
“Sir Hilary said he didn’t find me particularly intelligent or beautiful,” she told Harry. “I don’t need another man who doesn’t appreciate me. No, thank you.” But she knew he appreciated her, at least as a worthy opponent. He’d told her as much. Unlike other men, he acknowledged her intellect and cleverness and challenged her. Most of his life was shrouded by mystery, which only added to his allure, she had to admit. She was fascinated with puzzles, and he was an enigma, an impossible cipher she wanted to solve.
She shook off the notion. She had no plans for a love affair right now, particularly with Sir Hilary. To indulge that fantasy was foolish and dangerous. But there was a very small voice in her head arguing that his legendary bedroom skills might be just what she needed to rejoin the land of the living.
Chapter Five
Eleanor looked around the ballroom for the fifteenth time and then forced herself to stop. She stood still, bit her lip, and stared at the ceiling. She would not look for him again. The temptation was nearly irresistible, but she was making a fool of herself. Yet another reason to avoid involvement with Sir Hilary. He made her feel like a fool, and she didn’t like it.
And she was being irrational. Here she was in a beautiful ballroom, surrounded by the cream of London society, and was she enjoying it? No. She looked around and deliberately set about appreciating the scenery. Lady Carrey was said to have impeccable taste. At
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