Eleanor set the letter aside with trembling fingers. The audacity was breathtaking—after orchestrating the humiliation at Madame Rousseau’s, Croft was now extending a dinner invitation as though nothing had occurred. But she recognized the move for what it was: another chess piece being positioned on the board.
She needed to find Damien immediately.
Eleanor discovered him in the stables, examining one of the horses with the head groom. He looked resplendent in his riding attire—buff-colored breeches that clung to his powerful thighs, a white shirt open at the throat, and tall black boots that emphasized his commanding height.
“Your Grace,” the groom said, touching his cap respectfully as Eleanor approached. “Fine morning for riding, if I may say so.”
“Indeed, it is, Peters. Would you excuse us, please? I need a private word with His Grace.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The man retreated, leaving them alone among the soft sounds of horses shifting in their stalls.
Damien turned to face her fully, his eyes cautious. “Eleanor. How may I be of service?”
The formal politeness in his tone stung more than she cared to admit. “I’ve received some disturbing correspondence. About Lady Laura.”
His expression sharpened immediately. “What about her?”
Eleanor fought down a pang of jealousy at Damien’s intense focus on Lady Laura’s situation and withdrew the surveillance report from her reticule, extending it toward him. “She was seen entering Lord Croft’s Richmond residence yesterday. She hasn’t been observed leaving.”
She watched Damien’s face grow increasingly grim as he read the brief message. When he looked up, the mixture of shock and concern in his eyes made something twist painfully in her chest.
“I saw her at the ball,” he said slowly. “She didn’t appear to be under duress.”
“No,” Eleanor agreed, though the memory of her husband with his former lover still stung like a fresh wound. She forced herself to speak analytically. “She approached you quite willingly at the ball.”
Eleanor watched Damien massage his temple as he processed this information. “Laura would never willingly associate with Croft under normal circumstances. She knows what he is—what he did to Dominic. But if she went with him voluntarily…”
“Perhaps she has decided that Lord Croft offers better prospects than pining for a duke who married another woman.” Eleanor kept her voice neutral and watched his reaction carefully.
“You don’t understand Laura’s character if you think her capable of such calculation.” Damien’s immediate defense of his former love sent another spike of unwelcome emotion through Eleanor, sharp and hot. “She’s many things—stubborn, proud, perhaps foolish in her choices—but she’s not greedy.”
Eleanor absorbed his defense of Laura’s virtue. “Then perhaps Lord Croft has leverage over her that doesn’t require physical force,” she managed, pushing away her unworthy emotions. “Blackmail, perhaps? A secret that would ruin her if exposed? That would explain why she seemed resigned rather than terrified.”
She studied Damien’s face as he considered this, watching his expression grow darker with each passing moment.
“What could Croft possibly know about Lady Laura that would give him such power over her?” she asked cautiously.
Eleanor watched something flicker in Damien’s eyes. “Laura’s family is financially secure, her reputation intact…” He trailed off, and Eleanor saw the exact moment awareness entered his mind. “Unless there’s something from our past that he’s threatening to expose. Something that would destroy her chances of making a respectable marriage.”
“What sort of past indiscretion?”
She braced herself for his answer, knowing it would hurt but needing to understand the full scope of what they were dealing with. Damien’s expression grew pained, and Eleanor could see him wrestling with whether to reveal something so personal.
“We were… intimate before I left for the East,” he admitted finally. “If Croft has evidence of that, or has convinced her that he does, he could threaten to ruin her reputation entirely.”
The admission sent such fierce jealousy through Eleanor’s chest that she had to look away to compose herself. “Which would explain why she went with him willingly—to prevent a scandal that would destroy her future,” she said, hating the slight tremor in her voice.
“And why she seemed so defeated at the ball,” Damien added grimly, seemingly unaware of how his revelation had affected his wife. “She knew she had no choice but to submit to whatever Croft demanded.”
Eleanor fought to maintain emotional distance but found herself failing. She forced herself to focus on the strategic implications rather than the personal pain. “If that’s true, then she’s not a willing ally—she’s another victim of his manipulation.”
Even as she spoke the words, Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder what it meant for her own relationship with Damien that his former lover’s predicament affected him so deeply. The proprietress in her cataloged this as valuable intelligence about their enemy’s methods. The woman in her simply hurt.
“How would he benefit from blackmailing her?” Eleanor pressed.
Damien’s expression darkened as understanding dawned. “Perhaps he wishes to force my hand. My vote in Parliament. My influence with other peers. Perhaps support for some legislation that would benefit his operations—banking regulations, trade policies, anything that would legitimize his more questionable ventures.” He shielded his eyes with his hand in intense concentration. “Or maybe he simply wants your wealth… or you.”
Eleanor felt a chill replacing the hot possessiveness. She then recalled his correspondence. “Lord Croft has extended a dinner invitation to us both. For Friday evening.”