Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,161

every time she laid down, something began to quicken in her lungs, and she felt herself gasping in that awful precursor to not just tears, but true, body-shaking sobs. If she didn’t get up and do something, she wasn’t going to be able to control herself.

And she didn’t think she could bear herself if she cried.

She wrenched the window open, even though it was still gray and drizzling outside. There was no wind, so the rain ought not to blow in, and what she really needed right now was a bit of fresh air. A slap of cold on her face might not make her feel better, but it certainly wasn’t going to make her feel worse.

From her window she could see Sir Phillip’s greenhouse. She assumed that was where he was, since she hadn’t heard him here in the house, stomping about and bellowing at his children. The glass was fogged up and the only thing she could see was a blurry curtain of green—his beloved plants, she supposed. What sort of man was he, that he preferred plants to people? Certainly not anyone who appreciated a fine conversation.

She felt her shoulders sag. Eloise had spent half her life in search of a fine conversation.

And if he was such a hermit, why had he bothered to write her back? He had worked just as hard as she had to perpetuate their correspondence. Not to mention his proposal. If he hadn’t wanted company, he had no business inviting her here.

She took a few deep breaths of the misty air and then forced herself to stand up straight. She wasn’t certain what she was expected to do with herself all day. She’d taken a nap already; exhaustion had quickly won out over misery. But no one had come by to inform her of lunch or of any other plans that might extend to her as a houseguest.

If she stayed here, in this slightly drab and drafty room, she was going to go mad. Or at the very least cry herself into oblivion, which was something she did not tolerate in others, so the thought of doing it herself was horrifying.

There was no reason she couldn’t explore the house a bit, was there? And maybe she could find herself some food along the way. She’d eaten all four muffins on the tea tray this morning, all with as much butter and marmalade as she could politely slather on, but she was still famished. At this point she thought she might be willing to commit violence for a ham sandwich.

She changed her clothing, donning a dress of peach muslin that was pretty and feminine without being too frilly. And most importantly, it was easy to get on and off, surely a critical factor when one had run from home without a lady’s maid.

A quick glance in the mirror told her that she looked presentable, if no picture of ravishing beauty, and so she stepped out into the hall.

Only to be immediately confronted by the eight-year-old Crane twins, looking very much as if they’d been lying in wait for hours.

“Good afternoon,” Eloise said, waiting for them to come to their feet. “How nice of you to greet me.”

“We’re not here to greet you,” Amanda blurted out, grunting when Oliver elbowed her in the ribs.

“You’re not?” Eloise asked, trying to sound surprised. “Are you here, then, to show me to the dining room? I’m quite hungry, I must say.”

“No,” Oliver said, crossing his arms.

“Not even that?” Eloise mused. “Let me guess. You’re here to take me to your room and show me your toys.”

“No,” they said, in unison.

“Then it must be to take me on a tour of the house. It’s quite large and I might lose my way.”

“No.”

“No? You wouldn’t want me to lose my way, would you?”

“No,” Amanda said. “I mean yes!”

Eloise feigned incomprehension. “You want me to lose my way?”

Amanda nodded. Oliver just tightened his arms across his chest and speared her with a sullen stare.

“Hmmm. That’s interesting, but it hardly explains your presence right here outside my door, does it? I’m not likely to get lost in the company of you two.”

Their lips parted in befuddled surprise.

“You do know your way around the house, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Oliver grunted, followed by Amanda’s, “We’re not babies.”

“No, I can see that,” Eloise said with a thoughtful nod. “Babies wouldn’t be allowed to wait by themselves outside my door, after all. They’d be quite busy with nappies and bottles and the like.”

They had nothing