Page 25 of The Scottish Duke's Deal
Silence followed. An uncomfortable, humming silence, thick as syrup and just as slow to pass.
Eleanor stood where he’d left her, one hand still lightly pressed to the back of the empty chair next to her. Her heart was still pounding though his presence had vanished from the room as swiftly as it had come. The room was golden with candlelight and cloying with the scent of overcooked lamb. She hated the smell tonight.
No one moved for what felt like an eternity.Then Norman cleared his throat, as though he was breaking a spell.
“We have a problem,” he said grimly, stepping away from the sideboard where he’d remained since dinner ended. “With Lord Gifford.”
Kitty’s eyes narrowed, her fingers still wrapped tightly around her wine glass. “We do.”
Norman poured a splash of port into his glass then thought better of it and set it down untouched. “I know him. Of course, he will be telling stories. If there’s a chance to ruin your name and protect his own, he’ll take it. He’ll be at White’s and Lady Beaulieu’s and every card table in Mayfair whispering filth. He won’t stop until every last man believes he’s the one who was wronged.”
Eleanor stiffened. “What sort of stories?” she asked though the answer was already forming inside her, ugly and inevitable.
Norman looked at her. “You know what sort.”
Her breath snagged. A thousand memories of the voyage—of the railing, of his hands, of the cold sea air—clashed with the hot embarrassment of Gifford’s face, his hands, the moment that shattered everything. Her face flushed as if she could feel the judgment of invisible onlookers pressing in.
Kitty’s hand curled around the edge of the settee. “He wouldn’t dare?—”
Then she faltered. A flicker of regret crossed her chest, and she lowered her gaze to her lap.
She paused, her voice breaking just slightly. “I’m ashamed, Eleanor. I should have done more. I should have protected you.”
“He would,” Norman said shortly. “And he probably already has. The words he’s using are not the kind we repeat in drawing rooms. But you were seen. That is all he needs.”
Eleanor’s mouth went dry. She heard her own voice, thin and uncertain. “But no one of consequence was there. No one who would repeat?—”
“Someone always repeats,” Norman said. “Servants talk. Women write letters. Gifford is trying to control the narrative before we do.”
Eleanor’s stomach twisted. A voice inside her kept whispering that this was her fault. She had let it go on for too long. She had smiled when she didn’t want to, accepted his attention because it was easier than refusing them outright. And now look.
She had waited, hoped things would resolve themselves, and instead, she had allowed this to grow into a mess that touched everyone she loved. Her brother. Kitty. Their name.
The shame burned hot in her cheeks, and though her mind screamed that she had done nothing wrong, her heart still told her she should have seen this coming. Her intuition had never liked Gifford. Not once. And still, she’d given him space. Permission. That, she would never forgive herself for.
“And what is your solution?” Kitty asked, more composed than Eleanor felt.
“We attend the ball tomorrow.”
Kitty blinked. “The Halesworth affair?”
Norman nodded. “Everyone will be there. If we appear, calm and unbothered, if Eleanor is seen smiling and surrounded by eligible gentlemen—then we may yet snuff out the flame before it turns into something worse.”
“May,” Kitty echoed, unconvinced.
“It is our best option.”
Eleanor finally stepped away from the chair. “You want to parade me in front of the entiretonlike a horse at auction.”
Norman flinched but didn’t deny it. “We must find you a suitor, Eleanor. And fast. A man willing to act quickly. Preferably with a title.”
“And who will want me now?” she asked, too coldly. “After what Lord Gifford says?”
Kitty stood. “Plenty of men. You’re beautiful, well-bred, clever. It’s not about whether they want you. It’s about whether they want a connection to the Egertons.”
Eleanor looked to her sister-in-law, seeking—what, exactly? Permission to be angry? Hope? A sliver of dignity. “That’s all I am, then. A connection. A solution to someone else’s scandal.”
Kitty stepped closer, her voice lower now. “It’s not fair, I know. But you must understand, Eleanor—when I was in your position last year, I had no other choice either.”