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“Stay where you are, Eleanor!” Julian cried.
Eleanor ignored him and came out into the hall. “I should think Lord Courtenay has better things to do than interfere with the virtue of middle-aged matrons.”
Julian harrumphed and went back to his seat in the armchair.
Eleanor was so very tired of his meddling. Truth be told, she was tired of everything: society, dinner parties, wearing dresses, being a lady, missing Ned, knowing she would never be truly happy again. At least for this brief interlude at Penkellis, working directly with Radnor, she could put her mind into the difficulties of the telegraphic machine instead of repining on everything that had gone wrong in her life. It was a rare joy to be so in tune with someone, and she hadn’t expected it here. If she were completely honest, she had wondered if Radnor was a bit touched in the head. It turned out he wasn’t. He was a kind and scientifically-minded person, who found joy and diversion in his experiments and inventions, and cared nothing for society or pretending to be something he was not. Very like Eleanor herself, come to that. What did it matter if he ate only bread and ham, stayed on his estate, kept few servants and didn’t entertain?
Eleanor’s main concern was that their unexpected presence would discompose Radnor; however, he seemed able to cope well enough with the secretary and his enormous dog by his side. And the earl’s face, lit with joy when they made a breakthrough with their tests on the machine, or when his eyes fell on the boy, Simon, was a panacea to the worries in Eleanor’s own heart. If she couldn’t be happy herself, it helped to see those around her happy, especially people whose past was marked by so much hardship.
Maybe one day, Eleanor’s hardships would be in the past, too.
Radnor had gone out with the dog for a walk. The secretary was playing cards with Simon by the fire, and Julian was writing. He ought to be finished with that book, but by the looks of it, he was rewriting the entire thing. Well, anything to occupy him. It was snowing hard enough that none of them could leave until the roads were clear, and every minute Julian was writing was a minute he wasn’t harping on Eleanor’s behavior.
Eleanor went to her room, thinking she would take an afternoon rest. Lord Courtenay was in the hallway, watching her with an appraising eye.
“Excuse me,” Eleanor said, brushing past him.
“Lady Standish, permit me.” Courtenay bowed and opened the door to her bedchamber for her.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Leave off the gallantry gammon.” Eleanor was too fed up with her brother’s propriety to welcome courtly manners from anyone.
“If you insist. In that case, would you care to go to bed with me?”
Eleanor stared at Lord Courtenay for a moment, astonished. Then she laughed, and once she started laughing, it was hard to stop. Of course he would try to seduce her, but she hadn’t expected him to actually listen to her when she told him to stop being gallant. It was ridiculous—the very idea—and Julian would be aghast, but Eleanor no longer cared about that. She laughed until her eyes watered, collapsing against the wall, wiping her face with a handkerchief, and every time she looked at Lord Courtenay, she started laughing again.
“I’m glad I’m a source of amusement to you.” There was a quirk of his lip that made Eleanor think he was telling the truth. He certainly did not seem put off by her response.
Suddenly, Eleanor did not feel tired any more. She didn’t want to go to bed with this man, but hearing things stated plainly was a relief. She decided to return the favor. “I won’t go to bed with you, Lord Courtenay, but I very much appreciate your candor. Would you like to take some fresh air? Perhaps a short walk out of doors to stretch our legs?”
They somehow managed to leave the house without Julian noticing. He would surely have objected, but Eleanor was determined not to care. Unfortunately, this weather was not ideal for taking a walk as an escape from one’s relatives. The snow was coming down ever thicker and faster, and it was already over the tops of Eleanor’s boots. She had to follow directly in Courtenay’s footsteps to make her way. He only went as far as the barn, closing the door firmly behind them. His horse, a handsome black stallion, was quartered next to the two carriage horses that had brought Eleanor and Julian the previous day.
Eleanor stood beside Courtenay as he took an apple out of his pocket and offered it to the animal.
“His name is Niccolo.” The horse whickered softly, letting Courtenay stroke his nose, and happily crunched the apple.
“He’s beautiful.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep him much longer. I’m low on funds and he eats his head off, don’t you, you bottomless pit!” The last few words were said in the fond, high-pitched tone that most people reserved for babies or puppies.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eleanor said immediately, feeling a pang. One heard so much about Courtenay’s depravity, it was strange to realize he was a man who could run out of money or have irrational fondness for a horse.
They stood in silence while Niccolo ate the rest of his apple, and then Courtenay turned to Eleanor. “Would you mind if we stayed out here a little longer? I just can’t take being cooped up in that castle with your brother staring at me.”
Eleanor nodded. It was warm enough in the stable, and she too felt relieved to be away from company for a time.
Courtenay arranged some old saddle blankets on two bales of hay to form a sort of bench to sit on. Of course it was terribly improper, and anyone who saw would think Courtenay was debauching Eleanor, but it didn’t matter. She leaned back against the stable wall, looking up at the cobwebbed roof beams, breathing in the smell of horses, hay, and dust, and breathing out a little of the tension that had been tightening inside her ever since she and Julian had left India.
They were silent for a long while. It wasn’t a painful or awkward silence. It was simply a quiet in which no one expected anything from Eleanor, and she listened to the small noises of the horses, enjoying it.
It was Courtenay who spoke first. “What do you know of Radnor?”
It wasn’t idle curiosity. Courtenay had made no secret of the fact that he’d only come to Penkellis to check on Simon, his nephew. Eleanor understood concern for a loved one. She understood moving halfway across the world to ensure the safety of someone you’d give up everything to protect. That was enough to make her answer seriously.
“I’d never met him before yesterday, but we corresponded for years. I knew his sister-in-law.” She considered how to explain the man she knew to this near stranger. “He’s brilliant, whatever anyone says. And as much cause as he has to dislike people, he was unfailingly kind to poor Lady Radnor, when precious few people cared to stick their necks out for her.”
“He was kind to my sister, too.”
Eleanor was startled to see raw pain in Courtenay’s eyes. He had always seemed such a languid, rakish type, who cared nothing for society or its proprieties. But of course, even iconoclasts might grieve a sibling’s death.
“She died in Italy. Simon is all I have left of her. When I heard they’d sent him here for Christmas, I had to come check that it was all right.” Courtenay rubbed the toe of his boot against the ground, and glanced around the barn, avoiding Eleanor’s eyes.
“Is it all right?” she asked.
He looked at her then. “Simon seems happy here. I—” Courtenay broke off, shook his head, ran his fingers through his long, tousled hair.
“Are you all right?” He wasn’t, that was clear. Well, neither was Eleanor. She hadn’t lost her composure, but the wretchedness of having felt happy once with no prospect of having it again was with her every hour of the day.
Courtenay attempted to smile. At least, Eleanor thought it was supposed to be a smile. It was so sad that tears sprang to Eleanor’s own eyes. “Oh, Courtenay, we are just two miserable wealthy titled people. I’m sorry for your troubles. I wish I could at least give you the happiness I myself lack.”
“Thank you, Lady Standish. It’s—” his voice trembled. He closed his eyes, and visibly drew in a breath before continuing. “It’s a relief to speak of these things. I’ve carried on for years, but all the debauchery didn’t take away the fact that I—” Courtenay shook his head again. “I’m sorry.” He was silent for a minute, and when he spoke again, his smile was a little less forced. “I admire you, you know. Impersonating your husband, your intensely unladylike scientific pursuits, strong-arming the king of propriety into spending Christmas at this godforsaken place. You’re honestly a marvel. And it only confirms how wonderful you are that you won’t share my bed.” This last was with a wry twist of a smile and a twinkle in his eye.
Eleanor laughed. It had been a long time since someone had made her laugh twice in an hour. Even though nothing about her situation had changed, it felt as if some of the weight pressing down on her had lifted.
“Oh, it’s lovely to laugh like this. Can we be friends?”
Courtenay reached for her hand, raised it to his lips. “Nothing would make me happier.”