a good head above many of the others, but she could not see him.
Perhaps he had cried off and left?
‘There is Nicholas. Over by the pillars.’ Her brother’s voice penetrated her reveries as he pushed through the crowd and once the crush thinned a little she saw the Viscount surrounded by women and men all hanging on to his every word.
Her first true sight of him took her breath away. He looked completely different from yesterday. Menacing, dangerously beautiful, the boy she had known fashioned into the man before her, the harder lines of his face without the full beard suiting him in a way she had not comprehended before.
He was all in black, save for the snowy cravat at his neck, folded simply. His hair was pulled into a severe queue and she could see the sheen of dark brown picked out under the chandeliers above them.
His left hand was fastened into a sling of linen, the small vulnerability suiting him in a way she had not thought would be possible—a warrior who had been into battle and returned triumphant. She could see in his velvet eyes an apartness that left him unmatched. Every man near him looked soft, tame and pliable. Untouched by danger and hardship.
Their party had to squeeze into the space about him and Eleanor noticed the frowns of those women who had hoped for a closer acquaintance as they were ousted back.
‘You have cleaned up well, Nick. I hardly recognise you in the man we saw yesterday.’ Jacob sounded relieved. ‘I would like to introduce you to Rose, my wife. You did not meet her this morning before you left.’
Rose looked tiny compared to the Viscount, his darkness contrasting, too, against her light hair and eyes. Eleanor watched as Nicholas Bartlett brought up her sister-in-law’s hand and kissed the back of it, his gallantry reminiscent of the younger man who had left them all those years before. A slide of anger turned inside Eleanor as he acknowledged her with a mere tip of his head and yet he made a space at his side and she came to stand there, making very sure that she did not touch him.
‘I hope you slept well last night, Lady Eleanor.’ He said this to her as Rose and Jacob were busy in conversation with an older lord they knew well. An allusion to their late-night meeting, she supposed. Unexpectedly she coloured and hated herself for doing so.
‘I did, thank you.’ In truth, she had gained about three hours’ sleep and it probably showed in the darkness under her eyes. He, on the other hand, looked as if he had slept like a baby.
‘Frederick said there would be dancing later in the evening. Might I petition you to save one for me?’
‘I am rather out of practice, my lord.’ She could not keep the surprise from her tone.
‘And you think I wouldn’t be?’
‘I do not know. I have no idea of what sort of life you lived in the Americas.’
At that he sobered.
As the crowd about them jostled slightly Mr Alfred Dromorne and his daughter broke in on their conversation.
‘Bromley. It has been a long time. May I introduce my daughter to you. She is recently out in society. Susan, this is Viscount Bromley.’
Nicholas Bartlett inclined his head at the beautiful girl standing next to her father, though his eyes were far less readable than they had been a second ago. It was as if a shutter had been placed over any true expression and the fingers she could see that were visible in the sling had curled in tension.
The vibrant red head smiled in the way only the very young and very beautiful know how to. All coquetry and cunning. Eleanor felt instantly older and a lot more dowdy than she had even a second before.
‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Dromorne.’
‘And I you, my lord.’ She brought her fan up and twirled it a few times, the art of flirtation both complex and simple in its execution.
‘You will be going home to Bromworth Manor, no doubt, now that you are back. You might notice some changes to the place.’
Her father had taken up the conversation and his statement produced a flicker of genuine interest in Lord Bromley’s visage. Eleanor saw the eagerness even as he sought to hide it.
‘In what ways do you mean?
‘Your uncle has the run of the estate these days and he has made certain to stamp his authority on to the place. Last time I was there I rather thought that those still serving him were not entirely happy.’
‘Large estates have their problems,’ Nicholas replied, giving the distinct impression that he did not wish to discuss such personal matters with a stranger. Eleanor noticed, too, that the pulse at his throat had quickened markedly.
‘You promised Lord Craybourne that you would be back to talk with him and I see he is free now, Lord Bromley. Perhaps this would be a good time.’
‘It would.’ With a slight bow to the Dromornes he allowed Eleanor to lead the way across the floor, though once they were out of sight she felt his hand on her arm stopping her.
She turned and saw right into his tortured soul, the lack of reserve astonishing.
‘Are you ill, my lord?’
He looked away and swallowed hard. She had the distinct impression that should she leave him here in the middle of the crowded floor he might very well simply fall over.
Knowing the Challengers’ town house as well as she did, she gestured to a room off to one side, glad when he followed her and the door shut behind them.
‘I think you should sit down, Lord Bromley.’
He did that, immediately, and closed his eyes.
‘I have been alone for a very long time. It takes some getting used to, this crush of people.’
‘It was not like this in the Americas?’
‘I kept away from others there.’
His words to her brother in the library last night came back. ‘It is dangerous, Jake. If anything were to happen to you and your family...’
He was trapped in his life as surely as she was.
‘You think you might cause those around you harm? Even here in England?’
At that he opened his eyes and leant back. ‘I know so.’
‘Is it your uncle? Is it his doing?’
‘He has the motivation, but...’
‘You think it is another?’
* * *
For the first time in a long while Nicholas felt his intuition kick in fervently. Eleanor Huntingdon made him alive again in a way no one else did. He barely knew her, but there was something between them that felt right and strong.
‘I have many other enemies. Some I probably don’t even remember.’
‘That sounds dangerous. To not have recall of people who might
