THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

                          CHHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EARLIER THAT EVENING

The young maid dipped a knee.

    ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’

    ‘Yes, thank you, Mary,’ Eleanor said. She glanced around the unfamiliar bedroom and shivered a little even though the day had been warm and the air outside was balmy. ‘I shan’t need you again tonight. You may retire if you wish.’

    Mary dipped her knee again. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

    As the girl was about to leave Eleanor had a thought.

    ‘Is everything secured, Mary, windows and doors?’

    ‘William, the footman saw to that, ma’am, before he left.’ The girl paused. ‘I wish he had stayed.’

    ‘There is nothing to be afraid of, Mary,’ Eleanor assured her, although she was uneasy herself. ‘I shall require breakfast early tomorrow.’

    ‘Yes, ma’am,’

    When the maid had gone Eleanor sat at the vanity table. She loosened her hair and let it fall in waves around her shoulders.

    The house in BeaumontGardens proved to be vast, and she could well understand Mary’s nervousness. A house this size needed a large staff. Knowing that she and Mary were the only living beings in it was disturbing.

    But it had to be. Major Warburton had made it impossible for her to stay at Grosvenor Square. She could not face more humiliation from him.

    Eleanor glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Tears glistened on the rims of her eyes and she fought not to turn to weeping again.

    Yet it was so painful to know that even while he had disparaged her so cruelly, she loved him still. How could she not?

    His behaviour towards her had not been that of a gentleman, and while she had sworn she could never love a man who was not a gentleman, Ambrose Warburton had captured her heart and she knew without a doubt that she would always love him.

    And that posed a problem for her. She must leave London as soon as she could. While she had used some of his money to rent this house it was only temporary.

    She would touch no more of the funds he had supplied. He probably was already regretting his generosity anyway.

    Lady Susan was her only friend. Tomorrow she would try to speak with her and ask her advice.

    In the meantime she must try to rest. But she knew, with her emotions in such turmoil, sleep would be elusive.

LATER STILL

When Ambrose called at the house where Sophie had rooms he rang the ball. He had never been here before, and was uncertain of his reception without a previous appointment.

    The door was opened by a middle aged-woman whose rather severe expression softened when she saw who the caller was.

    ‘Is Mrs Vallentine at home?’ he asked tentatively. ‘Major Warburton to see her.’

    ‘Madam may be preparing to entertain, sir,’ the woman said. ‘I will see if she is at home. Please step this way.’

    Ambrose stepped into the hall while the woman opened a door to a front room that overlooked the street and went inside. She was gone just a moment and then returned.