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was even more lowering to view his actions when she had returned to the parlour later that night. He could find all manner of excuses for his behaviour: he was a little foxed, which lowered his resistance; she had seemed to invite his kiss; he had been vulnerable, thinking of his estranged family and craving company and closeness when she had entered the room. Not one of those excuses was worthy.

      ‘I don’t believe Mr Thomas was responsible any more than I think you were, James. I should hope that both Aunt Lucy and I are better judges of character than that.’

      Eleanor’s declaration penetrated his reflections and his heart lifted.

      ‘Indeed we are.’ Lady Rothley’s black eyes glittered as she glared at James. ‘I sympathise with Eleanor’s support for you, James, but I tell you straight that I am not yet convinced of your innocence. Why have you avoided Eleanor these last few years? That alone raises my suspicions. You may rest assured Eleanor will be very well protected from now on.’

      At this, James spun to face Eleanor. ‘I did not come here to be accused in such a vile manner, Eleanor. I shall be pleased to see you again whilst you are in town, but preferably without your companions.’

      ‘I’ll just bet you will,’ Matthew growled.

      ‘And as for you, sir. If I find these wild conjectures have been made public, rest assured that I shall come looking for you. And do not doubt that I shall be making my own enquiries.’

      He strode from the room without a backward glance.

      Eleanor, who had risen to her feet when James left, stared at the door, breasts heaving, eyes brimming.

      ‘I hope you are proud of yourselves,’ she said. ‘I had hoped to rekindle my friendship with James whilst I was in town, but I fear there is no chance of that now. What on earth made you accuse him so blatantly? Could you not see the shock on his face when you told him about the accident? Was that the expression of a guilty man?’

      She rounded on Matthew. ‘And you, Mr Thomas. You appear to believe I am unable to take care of myself. Well, might I inform you, I have been taking very good care of myself for three years now and I intend to go on doing so for many years to come. I do not need a man to protect me or to guide me and I shall thank you, sir, to stay out of my affairs in future.’

      Her hands were clenched into fists, sparks of fire lighting her tawny eyes. Lady Rothley clucked loudly and rose from her chair to go to Eleanor, taking her arm and leading her to the sofa, where she sat down next to her, taking one of those fists between her two small hands, petting and scolding in equal measures.

      ‘Now, now, Ellie, you must calm down, for you know you don’t mean that. I am sorry for accusing James, but I just couldn’t help myself. You must not blame us for being protective of you, for it is only because we care.’

      Eleanor averted her face. ‘I cannot believe James would hurt me. You have both made up your minds and poor James will be guilty in your eyes until the real culprit is discovered,’ she said, bitterly.

      Matthew ached to take her in his arms and soothe all her troubles away, to murmur in her ear that he understood how it felt to be betrayed by the people who should love you most. Her rigid posture, however, suggested it might not be easy to placate her. He cursed James Weare roundly but silently for driving the wedge of suspicion between them.

      ‘If it helps,’ he said, ‘I do agree that your cousin appeared genuinely shocked when we told him what had happened. All we are asking is that you take your safety seriously.’

      ‘I do,’ Eleanor said. ‘I promise I shall stay alert.’

      She looked exhausted, never mind alert. This was clearly no time to confess his real identity. He would call back this afternoon and tell her the truth. He dare not leave it longer, for he had agreed to attend the Lexingtons’ ball with Stephen that evening and the truth would be out.

      ‘I shall leave you in peace,’ he said.

      Eleanor held out her hand, raising haunted eyes to his.

      He took her hand and, unable to resist, bent to press his lips against her sweet skin. ‘I hope to see you again very soon. Farewell.’

       Chapter Eighteen

      ‘Her ladyship is in the drawing room,’ Pacey said, when Matthew called at Eleanor’s house in Upper Brook Street that afternoon. He had delayed his visit until as late in the day as possible, in the hope that Eleanor’s usual pack of admirers had been and gone.

      ‘Does her ladyship have any callers with her at present?’ he asked the butler as he led the way up the stairs.

      ‘Indeed she does, sir. The door knocker has been busy all afternoon.’ The butler’s voice rang with satisfaction.

      Matthew’s heart sank. That meant he must kick his heels, waiting for the chance to speak to Eleanor and her aunt in private. Not a comfortable prospect when he had little hope Eleanor had yet forgiven him for the argument with James that morning. As they reached the top of the stairs, however, Matthew slammed to a halt, sick realisation twisting his stomach.

      ‘Pacey!’

      The butler looked round enquiringly.

      ‘My apologies, but I have recalled an urgent matter I must attend to.’

      That is becoming a too-familiar excuse—the sooner I reclaim my own name the better. I cannot continue like this. Spending time around the fashionable areas of London was proving riskier than he had anticipated.

      ‘I’m afraid I will not even have time to pay my respects to the ladies,’ he continued.

      Pacey bowed. ‘Very well, sir,’ he said, and began to descend the stairs again.

      ‘Do you know if Lady Ashby is to attend Lord and Lady Lexington’s ball this evening?’ Matthew asked, as Pacey handed him his hat in the hallway. If they weren’t, maybe he could risk not speaking to Eleanor until the next day.

      ‘As far as I am aware, sir, their ladyships’ only engagement this evening is to dine with Lord and Lady Ely.’

      Welcome news indeed.

      Back out on Upper Brook Street, Matthew leapt aboard his curricle and drove away, breathing heartfelt thanks that he had seen in time the trap that lay in wait for him in Eleanor’s drawing room. He pictured the scene: Pacey entering; announcing Mr Matthew Thomas; faces, studying him, sizing him up; the curiosity about this stranger in their midst.

      And then, when he was subsequently introduced as Matthew Damerel at the Lexingtons’ ball that evening, the gossip and conjecture as to how they met, and whether she had known his true identity all along, would be bound to encompass Eleanor. It would inevitably harm her campaign to banish the memories of her mother’s disgrace and her ambition to gain admittance to Almack’s.

      The past few minutes had emphasised the precariousness of his position. If he had any sense, he would cry off from the ball tonight, but could he delay any longer, knowing his father would arrive in London very shortly? Pring had recognised Matthew as he had left Stephen’s lodgings the previous evening, prompting Matthew to write to his parents and also to his sister, Sarah—now married—to inform them of his return. It was better for the news to come from him than from some interfering busybody. Now, he sensed that the sooner he established his presence in society the better. His father—ever wary of sullying the family name—would not publicly disown Matthew which, in turn, would help protect Eleanor’s reputation.

      When Matthew had returned to England, he’d had a definite plan. He had never intended to revisit that card game—his reputation and clearing his name hadn’t been a priority. Once those next two ships had docked, and their cargoes were sold, he had planned to repay his father and then fade back into anonymity as Matthew Thomas.

      But now...his plan had changed. Clearing his name had, suddenly, become urgent because

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