let the damp fabric of her dress pool on the floor. Her skin felt cold and her hair was wet. It was so tempting to curl up beneath her duvet. To shut her eyes and let the day’s problems melt into sleep. To forget all about Jem Norland waiting in her lounge.
Waiting. She pulled on her jeans and pulled the soft angora jumper over her head. He must be frozen—but she hadn’t got anything for him to wear. She made a detour and grabbed a towel.
Why was he here?
She didn’t want to talk about her mother. Not if he was going to criticise her and question her honesty.
In many ways it would have been better if she’d just folded up the letter again and forgotten all about it. Or burnt it, maybe. She should have trusted her mum’s judgement. There must have been very real reasons why she’d decided to disappear quietly. Why she’d never tried to make contact.
Or had she? Perhaps she’d tried over the years but the Viscount hadn’t wanted to know.
She walked nervously into the lounge. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think. You must be cold. Wet.’
Jem stood with his back to her, gazing down at the road below. He turned to look at her. ‘It’s quiet here.’
Eloise hugged the towel against her body. ‘Yes.’
She had to pull herself together. To jump-start her brain in to some kind of working order.
What was the matter with her? She’d always had an answer for everything. Could cope with anything life threw at her. Just tonight it all seemed to have deserted her. She felt like a walking zombie. Like someone who’d had all their fire sucked out of them.
She tried again. ‘That’s why I bought it. That and the fact I could afford it. Plus it’s only a short walk from the tube.’ Eloise stopped. Total drivel. She was speaking total drivel.
He smiled. His blue eyes glinted down at her. Almost, Eloise thought as she was caught in their glare, she could almost forget he was the enemy. He had an uncanny knack of making you feel special. It was a rare gift.
Hesitantly she held out the towel. ‘I’ve brought you a towel.’
‘Thank you. Probably better to just lay it out on your sofa. Save the fabric. If I can sit down?’
Eloise shook her head. ‘That doesn’t matter.’ Then, as she realised what he’d said, ‘I’m sorry. Please do. Sit, I mean.’ She rubbed a tired hand across her eyes. ‘I can get you another towel, if you like.’ She moved towards the door.
His voice stopped her. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Something to drink? I’m making a coffee.’
‘Coffee would be lovely.’
His voice was rich and warm. A cultured voice. Safe. She watched him lay out the towel across her small green sofa before sitting down. Eloise closed her eyes for a second and forced herself to walk out of the room.
He made her small living-room seem tiny. He made her feel tiny, small enough to put in his pocket. She wasn’t used to that sort of feeling. Eloise rubbed at her cold arms and shivered. Jem Norland was still the enemy, firmly on the side of the man who’d betrayed her mother’s trust.
She had to remember that.
But Viscount Pulborough was fortunate in having someone so strong in his corner. There was no one looking out for her. No one to put their arms about her to hug her. She’d been strong for so long. Sometimes she just wanted…
Comfort.
She just wanted someone to tell her it would be all right. She missed her mum with an ache that was physical. It had been just the two of them for so long. She had always been supportive, loving and protective. And now…
Now she was alone. She’d been alone for such a long time. Six years.
For six years she’d fought her own battles and dried her own tears. There’d been no one to share the happy, triumphant moments of her life. She felt as if she was standing facing the sea and the tide was about to bear down upon her, an unstoppable force, and she would be swept away by the power of it.
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