“Tell me this, at least,” she persisted. “Does she know that you would abandon her just as you abandoned me? That when it comes to choosing between Dominic and anyone else, your brother will always win?”
Her words brought about an unexpected surge of dread at the thought of leaving Eleanor. The intensity of that feelingcaught him off guard—when had the prospect of honoring their agreement begun to feel like loss rather than liberation?
Without another word, he turned and made his way through the crowd toward the dance floor, his eyes locked on Eleanor’s flowing form.
Temporary, he reminded himself firmly. Their arrangement remained temporary, regardless of how his body responded to her presence, regardless of his grudging admiration of her independence and determination. Once Dominic was secured and Croft neutralized, he would honor their original agreement and leave London. That’s what she wanted—what they’d both agreed upon from the beginning.
If only his heart would cooperate with that rational plan.
Lord Croft’s handsettled at her waist as they took their positions for the country dance. He was handsome in an unconventional way—average height with aristocratic features and dark brown hair that was almost black. His smile, however, didn’t quite reach his eyes and remained calculating as they assessed her.
“Allow me to offer my congratulations on the opening of your new hospital, Duchess,” he said as they moved through the opening steps. “And the return of your husband. Westmore’s return has caused quite a stir. None of us expected to see him in London again so soon.”
“Thank you, Lord Croft.” Eleanor kept her tone light and pleasant, the perfect society wife. “His Grace felt his business abroad was sufficiently settled to permit his return.”
“Indeed? And here I wondered what could possibly have drawn him back.” Croft’s smile widened. “Now I see the answer clearly. Who wouldn’t hasten home to such a beautiful bride?”
Eleanor offered a shy laugh at his flattery, all the while wondering why the viscount had suddenly taken such interest in her. Did he suspect her of encroaching on his territory? She knew Croft had financial interests in the docklands, including lending operations that charged exorbitant rates to desperate merchants—precisely the type of practices her own discreet investments sought to counteract.
“You’re too kind, my lord,” she demurred, adopting the slightly vapid manner that men like Croft expected from Society women. It was safer to be underestimated.
As Croft spun her through the next figure of the dance, Eleanor caught sight of the duke across the room.
“Your attention wanders, Duchess,” Croft observed, his tone knowing. “I see that Lady Laura is in attendance. She’s only recently returned from Bath. They made quite the handsome couple, before his hasty departure from London.”
“Lady Laura?” Eleanor asked, unable to resist seeking information despite her determination to appear indifferent.
“Lady Laura Dunsmoor, daughter of the Earl of Ashburnham,” Croft supplied. “They were all but betrothed before the scandal with his brother erupted. Society expected an announcement any day.”
Eleanor forced her gaze back to her dance partner, pasting a smile on her face that felt brittle. “How fascinating. His Grace has mentioned so little of his past acquaintances.”
“No doubt he wished to spare your feelings,” Croft said with a smile. “Though I must say, for a marriage of such recent vintage, you seem to have developed genuine affection for your husband. How surprising.”
Eleanor stiffened slightly before recovering her composure. “We corresponded for some time before our marriage.”
“How romantic.” His voice held a hint of skepticism. “And does the duke share your interest in business ventures amongst the ruffians?”
Eleanor’s guard rose further. “His Grace is supportive of my endeavors,” she replied carefully.
“A proxy marriage often leaves much to be discovered,” Croft observed, his gaze sharpening. “Has he spoken much of his time in the East? Or of his brother?”
“I fear I must plead ignorance on such matters,” Eleanor said with a deliberately empty smile. “My husband’s travels have been extensive, and we have had little time for detailed accounts since his return.”
Croft’s smile turned predatory. “How curious. Most wives would be eager to learn about their husband’s… associations abroad. Particularly when those associations might affect one’s standing in Society.” His grip on her hand tightened almost imperceptibly. “The duke’s brother has such an interesting history, don’t you think? It would be unfortunate if old scandals were to resurface just as you’ve established such admirable charitable work.”
Eleanor’s blood chilled at the veiled threat, but she maintained her composure. “I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning, my lord.”
“Of course not,” Croft replied smoothly. “Though I do hope the duke appreciates how… vulnerable… a wife’s reputation can be when built on such carefully maintained ignorance. Donors to charities can be so fickle when whispers begin about the moral character of their benefactresses.”
The music mercifully began to wind toward its conclusion, but Croft’s words had hit their mark. He was threatening not just scandal, but the destruction of everything she’d built.
As the final notes sounded, Croft retained her hand longer than propriety permitted, his thumb pressing against her pulsein a gesture that felt distinctly menacing. “I trust you and His Grace will do me the honor of dining at my residence presently. I am hosting a small assembly a fortnight hence—intimate, merely a dozen particular acquaintances. I find such gatherings most edifying for all concerned.”
“Lord Croft, there you are!” Lord Brickenridge’s jovial voice cut through the tension. “Lady Harrington has been asking after you most particularly.”
Croft’s face darkened with annoyance at the interruption, but he quickly schooled his features. “Of course,” he said stiffly, finally releasing Eleanor’s hand. “Your Grace, do consider my invitation. I believe you’ll find the conversation most illuminating.”
“How kind,” Eleanor replied, acutely aware of her husband watching from across the room, barely controlled tension radiating from his distant figure. “I shall consult with His Grace about our engagements.”