To Trust a Rogue (The Heart of a Duke #8)(51)

“The funds will be yours,” he said more to himself.

Eleanor nodded. “The funds will be mine.” And Marcia’s. They would never have to worry again or live in fear of the day when Eleanor was no longer able to serve as companion to Aunt Dorothea. Where would they go? Who would take a widow with a small child on to her household staff? She thrust aside the fears. There was no longer a worry as to that…as long as she saw to the list.

He eyed her warily. “And you do not wish to marry?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” She’d rather pluck out her eyelashes than turn both her and Marcia over to some man’s control.

Marcus continued to study her in that perplexed, silent manner. Eleanor shifted back and forth. She really could use another glass of sherry.

“You most certainly do not require any additional spirits, Mrs. Collins.”

“Who?” Who was this Mrs. Collins woman he spoke of? A wave of jealousy slapped at her for this faceless creature.

“And by your tone, I take it you did not want any part of your uncle’s list.”

She’d rather dance with the Devil on Sunday. “I don’t,” she said with a matter-of-factness that produced a frown to his lips. “I thought you might help me…accomplish them, some of them, that is,” she amended. “As it requires the assistance of a gentleman.”

He ran his fingers in circles over his temple. “And that idea is so repugnant to you?”

Eleanor gave an emphatic nod. “Oh, yes.” She took another sip and then frowned at her empty tumbler. “Not you,” she said on a rush. “It is not repugnant if you are the one to help me.” She held out her glass and he hesitated a moment, then reached for the bottle and poured her another. “I’d rather not be bothered with gentlemen who have dishonorable intentions.” Which only roused unwanted reminders of those dishonorable sorts and she quickly swallowed down the sherry. Setting her glass aside, she reached for the unfinished tumbler in Marcus’ hands and took several long swallows.

He continued to study her with that inscrutable expression that gave no indication as to his thoughts. That expression really merited another sip of sherry. Eleanor tilted the glass back. “Eleanor,” he warned.

She closed her eyes a moment as the last of her fears slipped away, replacing it with the most delicious warmth. How had she not known how very wonderful a glass of sherry could be? What other pleasures in life did she still not know of? “I waaant you to be the gentleman to help me.” Eleanor blinked. Or was it Marcus who blinked?

Perhaps they were both blinking? No one had ever mentioned that sherry made one blink. A lot.

“You want me to what?” His words emerged strangled and Eleanor slogged through the thick haze upon her thoughts.

“I waaant what?”

His lips moved silently as though in prayer. When he spoke, his voice came out strangled. “You asked me to—”

“Help me complete myyy list,” she nodded several times in rapid succession. With two, she peered into her half-empty glass, correction, with two, nearly three, glasses of sherry her plan appeared more and more salient. She wrinkled her brow. “Court me,” she blurted. “Not court you. Ladies do not court gentlemen.” Though the Mrs. Mary Wollstonecraft her aunt had introduced her to would applaud such boldness. “Though you needn’t court me,” she said quickly when he plucked his now empty glass from her fingers and deposited it on the table beside him.

She frowned up at him. “That really wasn’t well-done of you, taking away my glass.”

His lips pulled in a smile and this was the grin of his youth; unjaded and sincere and she sighed. So wholly captivating. “It was mine.”

She sighed. “Was it?” Why, a smile such as his could drive back the very darkest nightmare.

He nodded once.

He’d always been a gentleman. Even one to let a lady steal his drink. “Charming. So charming.”

He widened his smile. “You find me charming?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” She grabbed for the bottle of sherry but he easily moved it beyond her reach. Humph. “Raaather, tedious. I find you tedious.”

He folded his arms at his broad chest. That slight movement stretching the fabric tight over his impressive biceps. “And yet you require the help of this tedious gentleman?”

And intelligent. He was clever to remember as much. “Indeed.”

The ghost of a smile hovered on his lips.

She looked sheepishly up at him. “Did I say that part aloud, as well?”

Marcus lowered his head close to hers and spoke in a none-too-subtle whisper. “You did.”

“Oh.” Eleanor worried her lower lip. “Well, you are clever.”

He touched a hand to his heart. “I am honored.”

She peered at him. No, it did not seem as though he was making light of her. She gave a pleased nod. “Will you help me then?



Would he help her?

Marcus cast a dubious glance up and down Eleanor’s charmingly flushed frame. Her cheeks were a tempting red from the heat of the room and the spirits she’d consumed. It was hard to deny her anything.

Or it would have been at one time.

Years later, her betrayal still fresh, he wanted to toss that request in her face. So why did he not? Why did he consider her plea?