fruitfulness.” She spoke with droll exaggeration but he caught an off-key note.
“Did you miss having brothers and sisters? I have two of each and there were times when our house seemed overly full, even without the constant comings and goings of visitors. I can’t imagine a quiet house.”
“My father’s house is isolated.”
The simple words spoke volumes. Eleanor was a warm and gregarious creature. No wonder she spent her time visiting, lavishing her affection on her young relations. He realized this was one of the most personal conversations he’d ever had with her. Their previous meetings had taken place in the hectic atmosphere of race week. They’d laughed and flirted and shared the superficial information of new acquaintances. Everything about her had enchanted him, but physical desire had been uppermost in his mind. In the end, his lack of control over his own urges had ruined things. He should have wooed her properly, as a lady, discovered more about her own feelings and concerns.
“Your father is a clergyman. They don’t usually lead quiet lives.”
“It’s a small parish.”
“I’ve never visited Lancashire. What are the people like there?”
“Much like people everywhere, I imagine.”
“Did your mother die long ago?”
“Yes.”
The shorter her answers to his probing, the more convinced he became that she was hiding something. He didn’t know what, but there had to be a reason why an intelligent and handsome woman had remained unwed, despite being ideally suited to family life. He stepped back, physically and mentally. He mustn’t rush his fences this time.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
“Why? I mean, yes. But it’s all past now and not worth talking about.”
“I think it is, but not now. Instead I’m going to extend my deepest thanks to all the men in England for being blind idiots.”
“How so?” she asked warily.
“Because they have allowed you to remain unwed.”
“At my own wish, not theirs.” She seemed annoyed at the suggestion she’d never had an offer.
“It makes me feel better now I realize that I was just one of a legion you rejected.”
“Not so many, but one or two. And you were the only one who ever tested my resolve.” His breath caught. Such an admission was surely significant. “Anyway,” she continued briskly, as though she hadn’t just sent his heart tumbling. “Are you going to help me pick blackberries? I don’t count on Caro coming home with enough to fill a single tartlet.”
He reached over her shoulder to retrieve a particularly large specimen from a far branch. “I prefer to eat as I pick, especially when I find a beauty. Delicious.”
“Unfair! The biggest and ripest are always the farthest away.”
“That is why you should never go blackberry picking without a gentleman in attendance. How lucky for you that we happened along.”
They worked for a while, speaking idly and only of the task at hand, until the basket was full. Eleanor proved an indefatigable forager.
“Is that enough? May we rest from our labors? I see a shady spot under that oak where we can sit and talk of graves and worms and epitaphs.”
She caught his Shakespearean allusion and laughed. “What a charming invitation! Let me just pick that last bunch. I swear they are the best ones I’ve seen.”
“That’s the sixth time you’ve said that. I’ll get them. It’s too far for you to reach.” He spoke too late. She stretched across the breadth of the bramble patch and gave a little cry.
“You’ve hurt yourself!” He pushed back the ruffle that fell from the elbow-length sleeve. Tiny spots of bloods punctuated the white skin of her inner arm. With infinite care he dabbed up the blood with his handkerchief. “Are you in pain?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Here,” he said softly. “I’ll kiss it better.”
She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her, retaining a gentle but undeniable hold on her elbow and wrist. His lips traced the
Learning to Kill: Stories