Chapter Thirty-One

 

Eleanor sat at the desk that once belonged to her husband as she had many times before. Across from her sat the man who had spirited her Annabel away from Scarlett Hall—the second time her daughter had been taken from her. The first had been when the child was less than an hour old; however, at least Silas and Joanna had kept the girl in Eleanor’s life. This man had meant to take her away for good.

A letter arrived two days earlier, seeking an audience with Eleanor one last time to right the wrong he had done. He had come with some strange story about losing his estate only to have it returned to him, or something of that sort. She was uncertain whether or not she should believe any word he spoke. Yet, she would reserve judgment until he finished—or at least attempt to do so.

“I have also brought with me a letter from one Clark Elwood, confirming everything I have told you is true.” He placed a parchment with an unfamiliar seal on the desk. “He is held in the highest esteem by those in Portsmouth, as well as London, and he is known throughout all of England as a respectable man.”

Eleanor waved him off. “That will not be necessary, my lord. Either your story is true or it is not.”

“You believe me?” He seemed surprised.

“I do,” she replied. There was an earnest look in the man’s eyes, one she had seen in others. And it confirmed he was telling the truth. “An unlikely story, to be sure, but one I do believe.” She clasped her hands together on the desk. “It appears good fortune has come to you again. May I suggest being more careful this time?”

The man smiled. “I certainly will.” He shifted in his chair. He had something more he wished to say, that much was clear, and she had a suspicion she knew what it was.

She sighed. “We had an agreement. My forgiveness for your promise never to return. Yet, here you are again. Are you not a man of his word?”

“I did make the promise to you, but if I may take just a few more moments of your time, I believe I may be able to convince you to reconsider. If you do not, I will leave.”

Eleanor held back a snort. “You have two minutes.”

He smiled. “That is more than enough time.” He straightened his coat and squared his shoulders. “It was Annabel who convinced me that, if I truly wished to begin my life anew, I must return to where it went wrong. That is why I returned to my village. I have already told you of my good fortune, but what I came to realize—and very quickly, I might add—was that even with all that I had returned to me, I was empty.”

Eleanor nodded. “What we possess certainly does not bring us much joy, does it?”

“No. And that was exactly what I learned sitting there alone in a large house surrounded by wealth. You see, I have grown to care very deeply for Annabel, and even if my fortune and standing were to grow ten fold, it would never be enough without her.” He took a deep breath and placed his hands on his knees. “I know I have disgraced myself, hurt you and others, and I do not even deserve to be welcomed in your home.”

“And yet, you are here,” Eleanor repeated.

“I will do anything to prove I am sorry and that my ways have truly changed.”

Eleanor rose from her chair and walked to the window. Annabel stood beneath the large tree of which her daughters were fond. “What is it you want, Lord Wolcott?”

“I would like permission to court Annabel. To prove that I am a gentleman worthy of her heart.”

Eleanor nodded. Just as she suspected. As she watched Annabel, she thought of the many talks they had shared since her return, talks of this man and, more specifically, Annabel’s feelings for him. Yet, although she believed her daughter loved him, and knowing the man had changed even before the return of his inheritance, what he had done was inexcusable. To see her children happy had always been Eleanor’s dream, but could she truly rationalize allowing a courtship between Annabel and a man who had fallen so far he had agreed to abduct a woman?

“Annabel is leaving in two days to visit my daughter Juliet. She may be gone for some time, and it is my hope that she will meet a gentleman worthy of her.”

The room grew quiet for a moment. “I thank you for allowing me to speak with you despite our agreement,” he said, his voice breaking. “I hope Annabel finds that worthy gentleman, for it is no more than she deserves. I only wish we could have met under different circumstances.” He rose and gave her a bow. “I will take my leave. If she does not know I have come, perhaps it would be best if she does not know.”

Before Eleanor could respond, a knock came to the door. Forbes entered and said, “Lord Agar requests to speak to you.”

Eleanor clenched her fists. She had nothing more to say to that man! And why had Forbes not sent the man packing rather than allowing him into the house.

She went to say as much, but Forbes said, “He has something I believe you should see.”

Sighing, Eleanor said, “Send him in.”

Lord Wolcott bowed again. “Good day to you.”

“No, please, stay.”

The man gave her a confused look but nodded his acquiescence.

The door opened again and Lord Agar entered, his usual pompousness surrounding him. “Ah, Lady Lambert,” he said, wearing an oily smile that sent a shiver down Eleanor’s spine, “I am glad you were able to see me. I have come to see my fiancée.”

He took a document from his pocket and held it in the air. “And before you deny my request, know that her father and I made a binding agreement, as you can see here.”

She would not take the man’s word for it. “Let me see it.”

Without hesitation, he handed the paper over to her, and she scanned it, each word tearing at her heart. According to the document, Silas had indeed sold Annabel’s hand in marriage to the man and signed and dated it. She turned to the window and watched Annabel pluck a rose from one of the bushes and place it to her nose.

How often had Eleanor wished to tell Annabel that she was her mother? Now that they were reunited, she would soon have to let her go. However, it was Annabel’s happiness that Eleanor sought, and now there was a way to give it to her.

“Where is she?” Lord Agar demanded. “I wish to tell her the good news.”

Eleanor continued to watch Annabel. She had vowed to protect her daughter at any cost. Therefore, she took a deep breath. It was time to do just that.

“This document is dated nearly a month ago.”

Lord Agar gave her a triumphant grin.

“What a shame.” She returned the paper to him. “I am afraid you are too late.”

“Too late? Do not play games with me!”

Eleanor smiled. “Lord Agar,” she said before turning to the younger man who had remained behind, “may I present Lord Edward Wolcott, Viscount Wolcott, of Portsmouth.”

Lord Agar gave Lord Wolcott a quick glance but otherwise ignored him. “I do not care for formalities.”

“I believe you should care,” Eleanor replied with practiced ease. “For this is Annabel’s husband. They were married nearly two months ago.”

The earl’s jaw dropped, and as if he had been in on the charade, Lord Wolcott added, “I must admit that it is quite flattering that a man would wish to buy my wife’s hand, but I am afraid I wish to keep her for myself.”

Face red with anger, Lord Agar managed to sputter, “This is a lie! I have a legally binding document that says she is mine!” He was nearly apoplectic, and Eleanor wondered if he would have some sort of attack of the heart right there in her drawing room.

Eleanor smiled. “That agreement was made between you and Silas and has nothing to do with me. Now, please, leave my home. And I do not wish you to return.”

The man shoved the document into his coat pocket and leaned over the desk. “I will return with the magistrates to get what is mine.” Then he turned and stalked out of the room.

Eleanor looked at Lord Wolcott. “It seems we have much to discuss,” she said as she returned to her seat behind the desk and offered him the chair he had recently vacated. “Rules that must be put in place for the coming weeks.”

Lord Wolcott smiled. “Yes. I will do whatever it takes.”