“Her cousin,” Elinor said sharply. “Miss Hathergill. What was it Mr. Aubrey said of her? ‘Pretty girl, large dowry, salvation’?”
Mr. Hawkins winced. “Ah. Yes. I was...rather hoping you hadn’t caught that.”
“Were you indeed?” She raised her eyebrows. It was as haughty a ‘Mrs. De Lacey’ look as she could imagine, but at that moment, it came entirely naturally. “Are you telling me that he was incorrect?”
“No,” he said. “Aubrey wasn’t incorrect.”
“I see.” Elinor met his gaze full-on. “Then you are hoping to persuade Miss Hathergill to marry you?”
He stood as rigid as a soldier at attention. “Yes. I am. I must.”
“And Miss Hathergill is the one whose dragon Miss Tregarth stole. The one who sent her father out to hunt Miss Tregarth down.”
Benedict frowned. “Sir John did seem to be implying as much, but that hardly seems likely, does it? I’m sure he was only using her as an excuse.”
Disappointment tasted bitter in Elinor’s mouth. “Indeed,” she said. “We can always hope as much. But now perhaps you’d like to leave the way you came? You’ll have to forgive me, Mr. Hawkins, but I don’t believe I owe any account of Miss Tregarth’s whereabouts to Penelope Hathergill’s future fiancé.”
The angry, hurting words were out of her mouth before she could even think them through...and Benedict Hawkins went still at the sound of them.
“‘Future fiancé’?” he repeated.
Oh, Lord.Elinor’s chest tightened. “Well?” She swallowed before her voice could crack. “Isn’t that what you are? Or, at least, hope to be?”
He was staring at her, his hazel eyes wide. “It’s an ear-catching phrase. Not one used every day.”
She managed a brittle smile, without meeting his eyes. “Are you accusingmeof being ordinary?”
“No-o,” he murmured. “Not that. But…” His voice dropped away.
The silence between them hummed with tension. Elinor could feel his frowning gaze resting on her face. She barely breathed, all of her focus on staying perfectly still, not making a single move that might reveal the truth.
Be Mrs. De Lacey, she told herself.You are Mrs. De Lacey. You are—
And then suddenly it was perfectly simple. Would the real Mrs. De Lacey ever allow herself to be trapped by a stranger’s questions in her own bedroom—for the second time in a day, at that?
Elinor waved her arm in a truly magnificent gesture of dismissal. “Thishasbeen an entertaining interlude,” she said, “but really, Mr. Hawkins, I think you may have gone a little deaf. Did you not hear me say that it was time for you to leave?”
“I did.” The tension in the air released with his sigh. “Again, I must ask you for your forgiveness.” He began to turn but then paused, his frown deepening. “I won’t pursue you any further for answers, Mrs. De Lacey. But from what little you’ve told me…you’ll have to expect me to draw my own conclusions.”
“You may think whatever you choose,” Elinor snapped, “so long as you do it in your room rather than mine—anddon’tallow anyone to see you leaving! I’d prefer not to have any scandalous rumours spread about me on this visit.”
“I understand. And I thank you.” He stepped forward, the tips of his toes just passing the barrier into her room. As his rueful smile caught her gaze, he reached out—and before she even realized what he was doing, he had taken her hand and raised it to his lips.
“Aah!” She jumped backward, yanking herself free...too late.
He had kissed heractual hand.
Her knuckles tingled where his dry, warm lips had brushed against them. Her fingers tingled with reaction, too—her true fingers, which wereat leasthalf an inch smaller and stubbier than the long and elegant fingers of Sir Jessamyn’s illusions. He had just felt them in his grasp...
And now he was staring at her as if he had seen a ghost.
Panic rang clanging bells of warning in her ears. “You may go now!”
“I…” Blinking hard, he shook his head and then took a step forward. “But you—”
“Now, Mr. Hawkins!” Elinor scrambled backwards.
He turned and left the room without a word.
