Passion Wears Pearls (39 page)

“Mr. Keller.” She cut him off, her hands clasped as her nerves kicked in. “What exactly did you tell him was the honorable course?”

“I told him that he should end it. I pressed him on his dishonesty and he lashed out, just as you heard.”

He lashed out.
Eleanor marveled that she might have missed so obvious a step, but then refocused on the next obvious thorny question. “Mr. Keller, what is your interest in me? I mean, beyond correcting your father’s mistakes and amending the financial hardships that were inflicted; you have now interfered on my behalf without being asked twice. Is there some cause?”

“I …” Thomas was stunned into speechlessness, his naturally somber expression giving way to confusion and then determination. “You are very … beautiful, Miss Beckett.
It’s clear your father mistakenly educated you far above your station, but I find you utterly charming. And while Hastings has nothing but notoriety to offer you, I have measured my life by the respectable choices I have made. You are an extremely proper young lady, despite your unfortunate associations with a painter; you would suit the restrained nature of my personality and the requirements of my domestic life. I realize this is sudden, but as you asked me directly—my interest in you has become very personal, Miss Beckett.”

Eleanor pushed the fur off her lap. “I am flattered, Mr. Keller, but please understand that I cannot allow a misunderstanding between us. I am, most decidedly, less proper than I appear and my interests lie elsewhere.”

“With Hastings?” he asked, a bitter edge betrayed in his tone.

“A friend advised me to judge men on their actions and not their words, Mr. Keller. Please don’t make me amend my good opinion of you. However, if you spitefully withdraw your legal actions to atone for your father’s crimes, I shall make a point of never speaking your name in public. I don’t wish to be your enemy, Mr. Keller. I simply cannot be more than your friend.” Eleanor opened the carriage door and alighted unaided. “Mr. Hastings was in love with me, Thomas. He loves me and he gave me up to prove it.”

She turned and held her head up proudly as she walked back into the Grove.

And I was the one who was too blind to see the truth.

Eleanor returned to her room, pacing the hours away as the day slowly faded. It was only the memory of the note that Michael had dropped that kept her from running over to Josiah’s. No matter how she felt, whatever business was pressing down on Josiah and his friends, tonight was the night of its completion, and Eleanor doubted that it was fair to confront him on such a day. The unknown enterprise was fraught with tension, and she was no fool to insert herself into it.

Even so, the temptation to—

A gentle knock came at the door, and she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Tally there with a dinner tray she had never sent for. Mrs. Clay wasn’t one for letting meals be missed, and Eleanor smiled as she let him in.

“Thank you, Tally. Please tell your mother I said thank you.” Eleanor did her best to signal her gratitude with the sign Mrs. Clay had shown her, but she suspected she’d made an awkward show of it. She’d learned just a few of his signs and suspected that her young teacher was not only
extremely forgiving of her ignorance and lack of coordination, but also had invented a few signals just for her ease and use.

She touched her lips with her fingertips, as if taking a bite of bread. “Will you eat with me, Tally? Are you hungry, young sir?”

He shook his head and rubbed his belly with a smile.

“Your mother spoils you!” Eleanor teased him.

His expression was pure mischief as he protested and made as if to beg for the sign he’d taught her for sweets.

“You imp! I suppose it’s me who’s spoiled you, then.” She crossed over to retrieve a small brown bag from her top drawer. “I may have saved a few licorice bites for just such an occasion.”

She handed them over and was rewarded with a fierce hug as Tally threw his arms around her waist. She stroked his white blond hair and struggled to keep her emotions in check. He was such a dear boy, like a younger brother she had never had, and Mrs. Clay had become the mother she’d lost. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Josiah had said he was fortunate to be able to choose his family, and Eleanor realized that she had managed to do the same.

“There, there.” Eleanor stepped back and made sure that all was well. “It’s only licorice, but you must promise not to eat it all in one go. Please?”

Tally smiled, then blushed, and then made a quick wave she interpreted as
Good night!
He turned in the blink of an eye to attend whatever tasks awaited him in the downstairs kitchen and dining hall, and she watched him from her doorway skip down the stairs with a child’s enthusiasm.

She shut her door and settled in with her tray by the fire, contemplating family lost and gained and the twists and turns that made up each life’s path.

Suddenly, someone was pounding on her door, the sound startling her into crying out and overturning her dinner tray with a horrible crash. Eleanor ran to the door and threw it open, only to see a complete stranger standing there.

He’d obviously been out in the weather with the snow melting off his oilskin coat, his sodden boots and clothes splattered with mud from a hard ride. He looked cold and miserable, but the fierce intensity in his dark green eyes was compelling.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“I-I’m looking for Rutherford. It is most urgent.”

“His door is the next there.” Eleanor pointed across the way to Michael’s apartment.

“Of course, how stupid of me! I’m fatigued and apologize for the intrusion.” The man nodded, adjusting his collar and bowing awkwardly to end the conversation before he immediately began repeating his efforts to rouse Michael Rutherford by banging his fist on the door she’d indicated. Eleanor almost shut her door to dismiss the situation, but there was something in the stranger’s demeanor that made her linger. “Should I summon the landlady?”

It took a moment for him to cease, before he replied, “No. That won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? Is something wrong, mister … ?”

He looked at her as if he’d only just realized that she was still there. “Mr. Thorne. Darius Thorne. Pardon me, but it’s nothing to concern you, miss.” He turned his back on her, only to lean against the doorjamb, his eyes closed to either think or prepare himself for falling over into an exhausted heap.

It would have been all too easy to demur, but something in her refused to budge. “It might. I am Eleanor Beckett.”

He opened his eyes, looking at her again as if for the first time. “I’m sorry, but I’m not familiar with the name. Do you know Mr. Rutherford, then?”

“Only in passing. Are you one of the Jaded, sir?”

He shifted his weight, suitably uncomfortable. “I don’t know you well enough for confidences, Miss Beckett, and I’m out of time. I must urgently find my friend. If you’ll excuse me—”

“Is there some danger?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be indiscreetly blurting out my
private business.” He touched his hat and nodded, turning on his heels to leave. “Again, my apologies for—”

She caught his arm, uncaring for the niceties of introductions and first meetings. “You are pounding on these doors as if there’s a murderer at your back! Please!”

He freed himself gently from her grip. “Miss, if I’ve given you that impression, then I am at fault. But I’m in a great hurry and simply don’t possess the time to stop and divulge my business to a complete stranger.”

“If it’s to do with the Jackal, then I believe they’re meeting him tonight, are they not? At the Thistle?” Eleanor’s hands fisted at her hips. “By all means, Mr. Thorne, don’t divulge anything, but do not presume to tell me what is and is not my business! If any of you had any sense at all, you’d think of a better name for your club and better methods for communicating than pounding on doors!”

His jaw dropped open for a moment before he recovered his composure. “I see. Well … Have you seen Michael recently?”

“Not since yesterday.”

Mr. Thorne looked stricken but he took the news in stride. “I’ll make a point of not pounding on too many more doors and pass along your suggestion.”

“And there’s no danger?” she asked him again.

He shook his head. “No. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, but, no, there shouldn’t be. Everyone is diverted but Rutherford and I’m confident I know where to find him since he’s not here.” He bowed again and tipped his hat. “It was a unique experience meeting you, Miss Beckett. I hope to have the pleasure again soon.”

He left without another word, and Eleanor pressed her hands against the fiery warmth of her cheeks.

I was a tyrant to a complete stranger and I’m not even sure if I said too much or helped at all!

She returned to her room and began to pace. It was just after eleven o’clock at night, but she couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong. None of the men or their previous conversations had ever seemed so weighted. Josiah’s
friends were notoriously cavalier about dropping in on each other without warning, from what she’d seen and from Mrs. Escher’s comments. Josiah had cut off Escher when he’d read that first note aloud and then tried to divert her from the subject.

He’d unsuccessfully tried to make it all sound ordinary and unimportant.

But this meeting was different than any his “knitting circle” may have enjoyed previously because they had some dark business with a Jackal. By the way Mr. Rutherford had also reacted when she’d seen the place and time of the gathering, there was no doubt in her mind that the meeting was supposed to have been an absolute secret.

If there is no danger, then why was Mr. Thorne looking so pale and exhausted—and frightened?

Enough is enough
.

There was a ghost of a thought about the scandal of calling on a man at such an hour, but it was the last fading echo of the old Eleanor Beckett, the one who would never follow her heart if it meant stepping off the respectable well-worn path of a modest young lady.

Eleanor grabbed her reticule from the inside of her doorway and raced down the stairs. Her coat was still hanging in the foyer, and she retrieved it to run out the door into the icy cold night air. Whatever had driven Mr. Thorne to haste, she wasn’t sure, but the anxiety of the unknown fueled her own frantic need to take action and personally confirm that Josiah had, in fact, been successfully diverted from the gathering.

She was lucky enough to find a hackney for hire near the Grove, and set off without looking back to see Tally standing in the doorway of the inn, waving farewell.

The carriage made good speed to Josiah’s home, and Eleanor ordered the driver to wait, then made her way inside. Mr. Creed was nowhere to be seen, but even he wouldn’t have slowed her down. She’d grown used to the climb up
several floors and was barely winded when she met Mr. Escher on the third-floor landing.

“Miss Beckett?” Escher held up an oil lamp, dressed in his long woolens, a tattered nightcap drooped over one ear. He was a comical sight in his robe and slippers. Clearly, the hour for visitors was long past. “Miss Beckett, h-he’s out.”

“Out?” Eleanor slowed, a cold stone settling in her stomach at the word. “He’s out?”

“Rita’s to bed, but you can wait for—”

“Did a man named Darius Thorne come by earlier? Did Josiah have any callers this evening?” she asked.

“No callers. A note came an hour ago, but Mr. Hastings had already left so I just set it aside.”

“Where is the note?”

Escher blinked in surprise but answered dutifully. “On the table where I always set them, by the door in his apartment. Although, the way he’s been holed up in that studio these last few days, I should probably have—”

Eleanor didn’t wait for him to finish. She picked up one of the lamps set in one of the windows and continued past him up the stairs. Her speed barely kept pace with her fears as she gathered her skirts to make it easier to run.

His door was unlocked, as always, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek at the foolishness of men who played dangerous games but refused to lock their own homes.
Hire a bodyguard and leave your doors open. Where is the logic in that? He’s being careless as if to prove he’s invincible.