Page 11 of Duke of Moonstone
“It will look better in the morning,” Lavinia said at last, her chin resting on the top of Frances’ head.
Frances said nothing. Her sister had raised her after their mother’s death during Frances’ birth. Even when their father fell ill and their fortunes were exhausted by debts, Lavinia stood strong and proud for her.
“Society has a short memory. People will talk for a week, and then something else will happen?—”
“Lavinia.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“Yes,” her sister said quietly. “I know.”
They both knew this was greater than they feared.
CHAPTER 5
Dear Alexander,
By the time you read this, I will be on my way to Scotland with Malcolm. I understand you are angry. I acknowledge you may argue that I have been reckless and foolish and that I have solely considered my own interests. Perhaps your assessment is correct. However, for several months, I have scarcely thought of anything else, and my conclusion remains unchanged. I love him. I cannot choose otherwise and preserve my sense of self.
I apologize for the manner in which it occurred. However, I do not regret the decision made. Please do not come after me.
Yours, Eleanor
Alexander nearly crumpled the letter in his fist, but summoning great willpower, he set it on the desk and looked at it for amoment. Then he stood because sitting still was not something he was capable of at present.
Please do not come after me.As though he were the sort of man who could read that his sister had eloped to Scotland with a schoolmaster and simply sit in his study and carry on with the evening.
He picked up the letter, put it in the drawer, and closed the drawer.
He then left the study as the walls served no useful purpose, and he went for a walk.
The house was still being emptied; he could hear the distant sounds of carriages outside and the subdued voices of servants moving through the rooms, a typical scene after a large gathering.
The ballroom was starting to be tidied up. As he moved past, he noticed two footmen collecting glasses through the open doors, a maid picking up abandoned programs from the chairs along the wall, and the flowers beginning to look a little less fresh than earlier in the evening.
Everything is in disorder. Everything needs attention.He kept walking.
He turned at the end of the hallway and very nearly walked into Thomas, his youngest footman, who was carrying a tray of glasses, his expression focused on not dropping them.
“Your Grace,” Thomas paused and adjusted his stance. “Please forgive me.”
“My fault,” Alexander said, a phrase he used rarely enough to make Thomas look briefly startled. “Are the last of the guests gone?’
“Nearly, Your Grace. Mr. Graves is seeing to it.”
“Good.” He looked at the tray, then at the footman. “Well done tonight.”
Thomas blinked. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Alexander moved on.
He ended up in the library. which was where he generally ended up when his thoughts needed room to arrange themselves. He stood at the window and looked out at the street below where the last few carriages were pulling away, and he let himself think about it properly.
Eleanor was gone. She had planned it carefully, more carefully than he had given her credit for, and she had left. The schoolmaster had been waiting, and by morning, they would be well north of London. He could send men after them, find them,and bring them back, undoing the whole thing before it became irreversible. He had the means and the authority, and three hours ago, he would not have hesitated to act.
He thought about the letter.I love him. I cannot choose otherwise and preserve my sense of self.
He pushed the thought away and turned to the other problem, because there were two of them tonight, and the second was in some respects more immediately pressing.
