felt him slip away, from her, the side of his face and then the back of his head, his gloved hand reaching out to the next person in the line and the same words upon his tongue.
‘Please accept my condolences.’
The air was so thin she could barely find breath, only him, here and then gone, only his touch through two layers of fabric and every single part of her longing for more.
Her fingers burned anger into his soul. More than nine months had passed since they had last seen each other and the time for an apology for her lack of contact was far and away over.
Even a letter might have sufficed.
He pushed the thought aside and concentrated on other things. The gilded carved cornices in the ceilings and the tall windows with their elaborate heavy curtains.
‘We need not stay longer.’ Asher turned to him, concern and worry written on his face, though Emerald had hung back and was now speaking with Eleanor.
‘I should not wish to listen to the Bishop Pilkington every Sunday,’ Beatrice said as they reached the carriage and Taris laughed.
‘Fundamentalism has a form of judgement, Bea, that is often fashioned in a wavering zeal. He sounded young. Young enough to be saved by his vacillating faith, would you say?’
‘Hell would have to freeze over first,’ Ashe cut in, ‘and I for one can’t wait for a drink.’
Eleanor saw that the Wellinghams were laughing, their happiness in her unending sorrow almost a sacrilege.
‘A very dear friend of mine has a house in High Wycombe that you would be most welcome to use. It is small, you understand, but very beautiful. A sanctuary, if you like.’ Emerald Wellingham held her hand in a way that was endearing.
‘Thank you for the kind offer, but—’
‘Being alone in the city, Lady Dromorne, is very different to being alone in the country. Just remember that. Besides, no one would question your business there. I would make very sure of it.’ Turquoise eyes bore into hers and Eleanor got the impression she was trying to say something completely different. ‘If you should change your mind, I would be happy to hear from you and remember that things are not always exactly as they seem.’
Eleanor could not quite determine the Duchess of Carisbrook’s motive in the warning. All the rest of the family had passed her by with only the most cursory of greetings, but this woman was almost ardent in her advice. Disengaging her hand, she stepped back.
‘I thank you again, your Grace.’
‘Emmie. It is how my friends call me.’
Eleanor stayed silent.
‘My son Ashton is just a little older than your daughter and we have puppies at the town house at the moment. Perhaps your little girl might like to come and play with them?’
Eleanor smiled. It was hard to remain distant under such an onslaught of friendliness.
‘Puppies?’ Florencia pushed herself forwards. ‘I love puppies.’
‘Do you indeed, my dear? Then it is settled. Your mother must bring you to visit before they grow too large and you miss them altogether.’
‘Can we, Mama? Please can we?’
In the face of all the sadness and tears Eleanor found herself nodding her head and arranging a date and time for the following week. Even though they were in mourning it would be a quick and private visit and it would be nice to see laughter again on her daughter’s face.
Dressed in unending black, Eleanor exited the conveyance that had been sent by Emerald Wellingham to pick them up. The previous week had been difficult for the timing for her leaving the Dromorne properties was tighter than she had hoped, as Martin’s cousin wished to inhabit the family seats before the end of July.
Oh, granted, Martin had left her with enough money to procure another property, but the speed of change was unsettling, all the decisions she needed to make alone daunting and dispiriting.
It was as if the black of her clothes had leaked into her blood, despair and dullness leaving their mark upon her. Taking in a breath, she admonished herself. She had options and possibilities and Florencia, far from being depressed by losing the only man she had known as a father, seemed barely perturbed by his absence.
Eleanor frowned. They had not been as close as she might have hoped. Perhaps Martin’s illness had precluded a lot of the joy she had seen in him in Italy, though if she was truthful even there he had been more of a safe man than a happy one.
Safety.
In the throws of change she felt her fingers clench into a fist, the dread that she had woken up with thinking about this visit mounting as the Wellingham town house came into view. If Cristo Wellingham were here, she would turn and leave no matter what explanation might be offered. The very danger of it all sapped what little energy she had left and she swayed.
‘Are you all right, my lady?’ Patricia, her maid travelling with them, looked concerned, though nothing seemed to faze her daughter, whose whole attention was on the puppies.
‘I hope the puppies have not grown too much, Mama. I hope I can hold one and give it a cuddle. Will they let me carry it around, do you think?’
‘Shush, child. Can you not see your mother is tired and all these questions are sapping her energy further?’
Florencia’s dark eyes came around to hers, the joy in them squashed by criticism.
‘I did not mean …’
‘No.’ Eleanor shook her head. ‘It is lovely to see you so excited and I am certain you will be able to hold a puppy if you are careful.’
Her daughter’s smile blossomed and in that second she looked so like Cristo Wellingham that Eleanor was frightened.
Would Emerald Wellingham see it? Would the distance the wider family seemed happy to keep her at still stand should others determine the truth?
The Wellinghams were powerful and ruthless and anyone crossing the needs of its members could find themselves with more than a fight on their hands. The wisdom of this visit became less obvious and had they not been outside the front steps Eleanor might have bade the driver to have taken them straight home. But with the door opening and the Duchess walking out with three infants of various ages at her side, she could do nothing but wait as the steps to climb down from the conveyance were put into place.
‘It is only us here today, I am afraid, as my husband and his two brothers are at Falder until tomorrow.’
Emerald Wellingham’s eyes were warm, an undercurrent of a smile lingering beneath the welcome as her gaze touched on the silver hair of her guest’s daughter, suddenly shy in the company of all the children.
‘Perhaps Ashton could take your daughter to see the
