A Secret Consequence For The Viscount

‘Bromley. It has been a long time. May I introduce my daughter to you. She is recently out in society. Susan, this is Viscount Bromley.’

Nicholas Bartlett inclined his head at the beautiful girl standing next to her father, though his eyes were far less readable than they had been a second ago. It was as if a shutter had been placed over any true expression and the fingers she could see that were visible in the sling had curled in tension.

The vibrant red head smiled in the way only the very young and very beautiful know how to. All coquetry and cunning. Eleanor felt instantly older and a lot more dowdy than she had even a second before.

‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Dromorne.’

‘And I you, my lord.’ She brought her fan up and twirled it a few times, the art of flirtation both complex and simple in its execution.

‘You will be going home to Bromworth Manor, no doubt, now that you are back. You might notice some changes to the place.’

Her father had taken up the conversation and his statement produced a flicker of genuine interest in Lord Bromley’s visage. Eleanor saw the eagerness even as he sought to hide it.

‘In what ways do you mean?

‘Your uncle has the run of the estate these days and he has made certain to stamp his authority on to the place. Last time I was there I rather thought that those still serving him were not entirely happy.’

‘Large estates have their problems,’ Nicholas replied, giving the distinct impression that he did not wish to discuss such personal matters with a stranger. Eleanor noticed, too, that the pulse at his throat had quickened markedly.

‘You promised Lord Craybourne that you would be back to talk with him and I see he is free now, Lord Bromley. Perhaps this would be a good time.’

‘It would.’ With a slight bow to the Dromornes he allowed Eleanor to lead the way across the floor, though once they were out of sight she felt his hand on her arm stopping her.

She turned and saw right into his tortured soul, the lack of reserve astonishing.

‘Are you ill, my lord?’

He looked away and swallowed hard. She had the distinct impression that should she leave him here in the middle of the crowded floor he might very well simply fall over.

Knowing the Challengers’ town house as well as she did, she gestured to a room off to one side, glad when he followed her and the door shut behind them.

‘I think you should sit down, Lord Bromley.’

He did that, immediately, and closed his eyes.

‘I have been alone for a very long time. It takes some getting used to, this crush of people.’

‘It was not like this in the Americas?’

‘I kept away from others there.’

His words to her brother in the library last night came back. ‘It is dangerous, Jake. If anything were to happen to you and your family...’

He was trapped in his life as surely as she was.

‘You think you might cause those around you harm? Even here in England?’

At that he opened his eyes and leant back. ‘I know so.’

‘Is it your uncle? Is it his doing?’

‘He has the motivation, but...’

‘You think it is another?’

* * *

For the first time in a long while Nicholas felt his intuition kick in fervently. Eleanor Huntingdon made him alive again in a way no one else did. He barely knew her, but there was something between them that felt right and strong.

‘I have many other enemies. Some I probably don’t even remember.’

‘That sounds dangerous. To not have recall of people who might hurt you, I mean. Is Dromorne one of those enemies?’

‘Perhaps. He is a friend of my uncle, Mr Aaron Bartlett, who now sets himself up in Bromworth Manor with the intention of taking both my title and inheritance.’

‘Why would he introduce his daughter to you, then? He looked as if he wished for you to take the acquaintance with his offspring a lot further.’

‘To hedge his bets, perhaps. A pound on my uncle and another on me. The Bromley assets are substantial.’

‘A gambling man? No true morality in him?’

‘I remember that I owe Dromorne money. No doubt he will be calling upon it as soon as he can.’

There was now a dark cloud of worry in Eleanor’s eyes as he told her this.

‘Could I give you some advice?’ He fashioned the words with care and was pleased when she nodded.

‘You should probably stay well away from me, Lady Eleanor. The man I used to be was not much, but this one is even more...’ Struggling for a word he gave up and left the implication hanging.

‘Perilous?’ Her smile surprised him as did the quick flare of anger. ‘That may very well be true, but you offered me a dance a few moments ago and I shall hold you to your promise. The quadrille is my favourite, Lord Bromley.’

He felt better even looking at her, the gold of her gown picking up the sky blue of her eyes. ‘I shall find you then when I hear the tune struck. And thank you.’ He gazed around the room.

‘My pleasure, but I think I must go now or the others will miss me.’

She had left before he could give her his response and the night dulled with her absence, but he needed the solitude, too, to recoup and recover. He hoped that there were not others here who would pounce on his memory. The medicines Jacob’s physician had given him for his arm were making him feel sick. Sick in body and in mind. This evening was a lot more tiring than he had thought it would be and he was only glad that Eleanor Huntingdon had recognised the desperation in him and found him sanctuary.

He tried in earnest to bring to mind the steps of the quadrille she had mentioned, hoping that he might manage it without tipping both of them over.

The face of his uncle also hovered above him, a man whom he had never liked. Looking back, Nick knew he should have heaved him out of his life when his majority was reached, but he had been too self-destructive to even bother, his days revolving around the fast London set, Vitium et Virtus and gambling.

A mistake, he thought now, looking back. He would see his man of business and his lawyer as soon as he could to find out where he stood with his inheritance. But a day or two away in the quiet English countryside might be just what he needed and the sooner he got rid of his father’s scheming younger brother from influencing any part of his future, the better.

* * *

The hours seemed to have flown by at this soirée of Frederick’s. Nicholas Bartlett had not come near her again, but she had watched him across the other side of the room, ensconced in a group of admirers both female and male.

He looked much recovered, she thought, and the fact that her brother and Frederick Challenger were there beside him probably had something to do with that.