Page 22 of How to Tempt a Duke

“So I ought to allow myself to show flashes of vulnerability?” she surmised.

“Yes.”

She was indeed fortunate to have a man like Lord Charles at her side in this process of social edification, someone insightful and honest. The entire process had begun to pry apart her instilled ideals. Where once politeness and emotional stoicism had dominated her world, now she began to find an appreciation for the candor of her conversations with Lord Charles, and even the instructional detail Lottie provided.

The idea of the two together nipped once more at Eleanor. A reminder, yes, but still a curiosity.

“I confess lowering my shield, as you put it, is difficult,” she confided. “I was raised to keep my emotions reined in, that only the common show emotion.”

“Most of us are raised to eschew passion and exuberance,” Charles replied. “But not to the degree you were.”

Eleanor considered his words before replying. “My father was Scottish, and worried he might be judged by the ton for it. But he was also a man used to controlling everything. Including his emotions.”

“Including you?”

Eleanor flinched at the idea, and at the truth behind it. Everything had always had to be just so with her father. The servants, her mother, the preparations prior to his adventures, even the silly little club he’d been in with his friends and his need to dictate how everything went. She had never really considered the element of his control, and how far it had truly extended.

“Might I ask you something?” she inquired.

“Of course.”

Charles’s arm was warm under hers...strong. A deep, dormant part of her was tempted to stroke her fingers over his forearm. She shoved the thought aside and held her hand stiffly in place.

“It’s not my place to know,” she said. “I am merely curious.”

“Ask your question, Lady Eleanor.”

Very well. She drew in a deep breath and asked the question she couldn’t get out of her head. “Are you one of Lottie’s lovers?”

Charles’s mouth twitched with the beginnings of a laugh. He and Lottie! Lovers!

Truly, the idea was preposterous to imagine. Lottie with her sharp tongue and how well she knew him. He would have all the trouble in the world with a woman like her. And not the kind he might enjoy.

He pressed his lips together to suppress his mirth but a choking chuckle emerged from his throat.

“Lord Charles?” Lady Eleanor peered up at him from beneath the rim of her bonnet. Her brows had pinched downward in an expression of apparent concern.

“Forgive me.” He shook his head. “No, I am not one of Lottie’s lovers, nor will I ever be.”

Lady Eleanor pulled her head forward once more, shadowing her face with that damned bonnet. Her arm on his had gone stiff again.

“I see my mother ahead.” Eleanor nodded to a group of women visible through the trees. “I should join them.”

Charles found himself disinclined to leave Lady Eleanor’s company—a surprising realization. After all, she was Westix’s daughter.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” he offered by way of quick apology. “Lottie and I grew up together as children. I’ve always viewed her as a sister. So you see I could never possess any romantic inclination toward her. In fact, the very idea... It was unexpected and I found it amusing. Please know I was not laughing at you.”

Why was he working so damned hard to reassure her?

“I truly must go.” She glanced toward the group of ladies once more. “But I want to tell you how I appreciate the honesty of our discussions. I’ve never had anyone I could speak so candidly with before. I find it...refreshing.”

Her expression was soft—hopeful, even. Had she truly not had anyone she could be sincere with? If that were the case, she had gone her entire life hiding behind the severity of society. Was it any wonder she worried now at pulling down her mask? Especially being the daughter of the Earl of Westix.

Charles was glad he had accepted Lottie’s offer to aid Eleanor. It appeared she was as much a victim of her father as they had all been.

“I enjoy our conversations as well.” Once the words were out of Charles’s mouth he realized he’d spoken with truth. He did appreciate them. Which was an idea that would have rendered his father truly disheartened. The daughter of the Earl of Westix was still a part of the terrible Earl.

She gave Charles a smile that hovered between pleasure and reticence. Her teeth sank into her full lower lip in a most becoming way. Most ladies did it purposely. Lady Eleanor, however, was not the type to attempt so silly a girlish gesture with intent, which made the action all the more alluring.