LITMIR.BIZ

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in that dress?’

      His breath tickled her neck and his scent surrounded her, sending her senses reeling. She stepped away, intent on clearing her head, and looked accusingly at Stephen Damerel.

      ‘You are in danger. You need protection,’ he stated unrepentantly. ‘I only told a few of my most trusted friends—it is not common knowledge.’

      ‘What do you imagine could possibly happen to me in the duke’s ballroom?’

      Stephen shrugged. ‘They will be discreet—you need not worry. Look, they are mingling now. They only wanted to ensure your safety until Matthew was here to look after you. They will still keep an eye out, but from a distance. No one will know. If I am honest—’ a charming smile lit his face ‘—we are delighted to be of service. It makes a change to have a purpose to these gatherings.’ He bowed and wandered away.

      ‘You will not persuade them otherwise, you know,’ Matthew said. ‘They see it as their duty to protect a lady in need.’

      ‘I know. Which is why I wished to keep this whole débâcle out of the public eye,’ Eleanor said.

      ‘Admit that you will feel more secure, knowing there are several pairs of eyes watching over you instead of just mine,’ Matthew said. ‘You’ve been feeling vulnerable ever since we arrived in London, I know you have. You wouldn’t have asked me about a pistol if you weren’t scared.’

      ‘A pistol?’ Sir Horace Todmorden had joined them. ‘What is this?’

      ‘Hush,’ Eleanor said, glancing at Aunt Lucy whose attention, thankfully, had been claimed by old Lady Ely. ‘I asked Mr Damerel to help me purchase a small pistol. For protection.’

      ‘Oh, my dear lady, no. I really cannot condone...what? A young lady such as yourself with a firearm? No, no, no. It is far too dangerous. Why, what if the rogue should disarm you? Where would you be then?’

      ‘No worse off than if I had no weapon,’ Eleanor said. ‘At least if I buy one, I will sleep better at night. There are no tonnish gentlemen around at that time to watch over me,’ she added, with an innocent look at Matthew.

      His eyes narrowed and he shook his head at her as Sir Horace barked a laugh.

      ‘You’ve got your hands full there, my lad,’ he announced, slapping Matthew on the back.

      Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat as her cheeks burned. Were their names already being linked? She must take care not to gain a reputation for being fast if Emily Cowper was to succeed in adding her name to the list for Almack’s. She raised her fan and, under cover of cooling her face, glanced around the ballroom. Nobody was paying them attention. Her breathing eased.

      ‘Sir Horace,’ she said, ‘I think you may be suffering under a misapprehension. I know I may speak freely, with you being such a particular friend of my aunt’s. Mr Damerel is just a friend who is kindly helping me through this difficult time. That is all. There is no romantic intention on either side, I assure you.’

      ‘None,’ Matthew confirmed. ‘I am a merchant who works for his living and, once we unmask the culprit, I shall return to my own life. I should hate for any untoward rumours to circulate. There is Lady Ashby’s reputation to consider.’

      ‘Of course. My profound apologies, dear lady. Damerel, pray forgive me. I did not mean to imply...oh, dear me, no... I know you only...but your aunt did express a hope...’

      The poor man was mortified. Eleanor smiled at him. ‘There is no harm done. I am persuaded you understand the situation now. Let us forget all about it.’

      Sir Horace, still beetroot-red, bowed. ‘You are most gracious. Now, if you will excuse me...?’ He left them to join Aunt Lucy and Lady Ely.

      What had Aunt Lucy been saying? For that matter, what did she think? Was she harbouring romantic notions about Eleanor and Matthew? Eleanor’s heart fluttered against her ribs. Until yesterday, any future had seemed impossible but...now...might there be hope? They were equals by birth. Might there, possibly, be a chance they could...?

      Her thoughts faltered. This was foolish thinking. He was a third son and in trade. Her hopes of living down her mother’s scandal would be lost for ever. Besides, there was his pride to consider. I could never accept a woman who outranks me and has tenfold my wealth.

       No, we can only ever be friends.

      ‘Eleanor?’

      Her name caught her whirling thoughts. ‘Sorry. Did you say something?’

      Matthew was watching her, a frown creasing his brow. ‘I was saying, on the subject of your protection, I felt I should warn you that your cousin and his wife are present tonight.’

      The news set her stomach roiling. She had not seen James since he had slammed from her house in a temper after realising he was under suspicion. What would he say? How would he react? Here was another reason to regret that others were aware she was in danger for, surely, they could not help but suspect James, the same as both Matthew and Aunt Lucy.

      Eleanor licked at suddenly dry lips and Matthew signalled to a passing waiter for a glass of wine. She sipped at it gratefully. ‘Thank you for the warning.’

      ‘About that pistol,’ Matthew said.

      Eleanor raised a brow, encouraged that he had broached the subject voluntarily.

      ‘You need a lady’s muff pistol. That will be small enough to carry in a reticule or, as the name implies, conceal in a muff. There is an excellent gunmaker on Shoemaker’s Row, in Blackfriars. Richard Fenton. I shall buy you one tomorrow and teach you how to shoot.’

      ‘I understood the gentlemen of the ton always patronise Manton’s?’

      ‘Ah, but you forget. I am no gentleman of the ton. My associates frequent different haunts.’

      ‘Oh!’ Eleanor pictured a seedy workshop in a dark alley. ‘I am not sure...would it not be safer...? I mean, I hope he is reputable.’

      Matthew laughed. ‘Of course he is reputable. What do you take me for? He is simply not quite as fashionable as Manton or his brother.’

      ‘I see.’ Eleanor fidgeted with her fan. ‘It was my intention to choose my own pistol.’

      ‘Trust me,’ Matthew said. ‘I shall find you the perfect pistol. A gunmaker’s shop is no place for a lady.’

       Chapter Twenty-Three

      The musicians, clustered on the balcony, struck a chord. The chatter died and the crowd began the ebb and flow that would result in the dancers remaining in the centre of the floor and the onlookers arranged around the perimeter, some standing, some sitting. Gowns and jewels shimmered as they caught the light from the many chandeliers and Eleanor thought she had never seen so many sumptuous dresses and beautifully coiffured heads before.

      ‘Is it not a magnificent sight?’ she said to Aunt Lucy, who had finally escaped the clutches of Lady Ely. ‘How I wish I’d had the confidence to enjoy my come-out instead of hiding amongst the chaperons.’

      ‘Do not waste time regretting the past, my pet,’ Aunt Lucy replied, squeezing Eleanor’s hand. ‘You made the right choices, for you, at the time. You are here now. Enjoy the moment. There is not a lady in this ballroom to outshine you, so make the most of it.’

      ‘And I second that,’ a deep voice murmured in her ear. ‘I believe this first dance is mine?’

      Her skin seemed to tighten until it felt too small to contain her flesh and her insides quivered.

      Matthew. She glanced at him through her lashes as they took their place in one of the sets. His broad shoulders and square jaw allowed no doubt as to his strength and his masculinity. A glance at the other men in their set failed

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