Her unexpected enjoyment of the interplay between the Harmsworths evaporated, leaving behind a tangle of nerves. “Your Grace?”
Lady Hillbrook rose to rescue the delicate teacup from her insecure hold. “Cam doesn’t bite,” she whispered. “And if he does, I’ll come and beat him off with a fire iron.”
The idea of Sidonie Merrick taking a club to the lofty Duke of Sedgemoor almost made her smile. “Thank you.” Nell stood on legs made of water, despite Lady Hillbrook’s encouragement.
Approaching the duke, she passed Lady Harmsworth. Sir Richard wasn’t far wrong. The supposed Arabian scene did indeed look like a bilious puppy.
“There’s something in your story that I need to clear up.” His Grace took her arm and drew her along a corridor. “It shouldn’t take long.”
As he ushered her into the library, the air slammed from Nell’s lungs. If Sedgemoor hadn’t held her arm, she’d have fallen as ignominiously as she had upon arrival at Fentonwyck. Everything in the room tunneled to one point.
“You!”
Before her stood Lord Leath.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When she whitened, Leath instinctively stepped forward. Then the loathing on her face made him falter. “Eleanor?”
She remained trembling in Sedgemoor’s grip and Leath forced himself not to strike the man’s hand away. Eleanor looked about to collapse, and he ached to take her in his arms and tell her everything was all right.
But of course, everything wasn’t all right. Everything was in an infernal coil. Unless Leath could get her to listen with an open mind, he couldn’t see how to resolve the mess.
He’d arrived in time to wash and change his shirt, and meet Sedgemoor here in the library. In increasing horror, he’d listened as the duke had revealed the truth about Eleanor Trim—at last. He grieved for her poor tragic half-sister, and for Eleanor’s sorrow and anger. However misguided she’d been.
But where did this confounded tangle leave them?
Eleanor’s eyes burned like coals in her ashen face as she shook free of the duke and stumbled back. Did she mean to run?
“Wait!” Leath didn’t care what that desperate plea revealed to this man who had never been his friend. “Eleanor, please stay.”
She bumped into the closed door behind her, eyes wide with fear. Did she really think he’d offer her physical harm? Leath’s gut knotted with anguished denial.
Her agitated gaze found Sedgemoor. “What have you done?”
The duke maintained his famous sangfroid, although Leath didn’t mistake the watchful expression in those icy green eyes. A watchful expression that changed to compassion when he looked at Eleanor. “Last night, I sent a
message to Alloway Chase telling Leath that you were here and why. Miss Trim, I know this seems like a betrayal, but you’ve made serious allegations against his lordship. He deserves a chance to defend himself.”
“I don’t want to see him.” Looking like a trapped animal, she screwed her hands into her skirts. However furious Leath was with her—and he was ready to wring her neck for her unjust suspicions—he hated her distress.
“I’m prepared to stay while you two talk,” Sedgemoor said evenly.
Leath regarded him with virulent dislike. “I pose no threat to Miss Trim.”
“So you say.” Eleanor’s voice vibrated with a repugnance that made his heart clench into a cold fist.
“Miss Trim, I believe that’s true. His lordship’s first words when he arrived inquired after your well-being.”
She looked unimpressed at Sedgemoor’s defense. “He wants the privilege of silencing me himself.”
Leath was equally unimpressed. Sedgemoor had no right to probe a man’s feelings, damn it. “I’d like to speak to Miss Trim alone.”
She turned as pale as milk and cast Sedgemoor another frantic glance. “Don’t go.”
“Go.” That tone always sent Leath’s political enemies scurrying.
Still he was surprised when Sedgemoor nodded. “I’ll set a footman in the hallway.”