Ruined by a Rake by Erin Knightley Read Free Book Online

It was the oddest sensation—she’d never once felt jealously where Nick was concerned. He was a pest; surely she was just envious of their freedom. It had nothing to do with the brief touch of Miss Landon’s fingers to his sleeve, or the way he tilted his head toward her when he spoke.
    Ugh—she had to get a hold of herself. This was Nick! The bane of her existence, her competitor, her own personal tag-along tormentor. Clearly Uncle Robert’s demands had addled her brain.
    Speaking of which, she should be paying more attention to Shevington. A low burn deep in her chest nagged at her, threatening to turn to full-blown panic. The men she had met so far tonight either were old enough be her father, or worse—reminded her of him. Polished manners, polite smiles, but with a certain arrogant authority about them that could easily translate to overt possessiveness or unreasonable rage.
    She shuddered, pushing back against the memories that threatened to surface at the thought of her father.
    “Are you chilled, Miss Abbington? Shall I have a footman fetch you a wrap?”
    Caught in her woolgathering, though thankfully he didn’t seem to recognize it as such. She purposefully relaxed her tense shoulders and smiled. “No thank you, my lord. I think perhaps I could use some refreshment.”
    “Allow me to fetch you something to drink,” he replied, bowing his head before lumbering off in search of a servant.
    Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. Finally—a moment of peace. Of their own volition, her eyes strayed once more toward Nicolas. Miss Whittingham had joined them and was fluttering her eyelashes as though caught in a windstorm. Not that Eleanor blamed the girl for trying to flirt with him—he was the youngest man present. And his regimentals did rather stand out among the sea of somber jackets the other men wore.
    “Eleanor,” Uncle Robert murmured from directly behind her, his hot breath uncomfortably damp against her ear, “I suggest you ignore your little friends and set your focus on the task at hand. Not that I mind choosing a husband for you.”
    She turned, as much to escape his invasion of her space as anything. “I’m aware of what I should be doing,” she said through clenched teeth. At that moment, Shevington returned with a glass in each hand, and she gratefully accepted the one he held out to her.
    She was beginning to understand why Aunt Lavinia liked spirits so well.
     
                                ***
    “Did you have a good evening, my dear?” Aunt Margaret , looking better than she had in days, smiled up at Eleanor from the chaise lounge nearest the windows. The drapes had been pulled wide to allow the morning sun to infuse the small, private sitting room they shared.
    Eleanor mustered a tired smile as she tucked a blanket more securely around her aunt’s legs. “I certainly met a lot of people,” she hedged, settling into the chair closest the chaise. It didn’t seem particularly good form to respond, “I spoke with none but boring, self-important old men most of the evening, all the while chained to Uncle Robert’s side.”
    The one and only highlight of the night had been just before she’d gone to bed. Nick had caught her on the stairs and murmured, “I do so love a good sunrise, don’t you, cousin? I shall enjoy it tomorrow at the start of the hunt, and perhaps the day after that in a more . . . private locale.”
    Of course he could only mean the ruins. After the evening she had endured last night, the idea of pouring out her frustrations through her foil had tremendous appeal. She only wished they could have met this morning. But, with the hunt planned, such a thing would be impossible. At least the men would be gone for most of the morning and she could escape the need to endure the forced match making.
    “Interesting, but not an answer to my question,” her aunt said, bringing Eleanor back to the conversation at hand. “I have met many people in my