many years since he’d had that reaction, and the blessing was he’d never been sharing his bed with anyone who might ask questions. He’d come to the reasonable conclusion that if he was able to exhaust himself with the soft form of a woman the nightmares would keep their distance, and he’d acted accordingly.
It was a good thing he hadn’t gone the way of Elinor’s mother. Though in fact the English disease, as well as other, lesser misfortunes, were easy enough to avoid if one was careful in one’s choices. When in doubt he simply walked away—he’d never wanted someone enough to put himself in danger. There was always someone just as charming with a more trustworthy history.
He was willing to change that careful plan, however. He had no idea exactly who and what had occasioned Miss Harriman’s deflowering, but in truth it didn’t matter if she’d been raped by a boatload of infected sailors. He wanted her. It was that simple. And there were contraptions to avoid illness, envelopes made of sheep guts or linen soaked in chemicals. He’d never used one, but for the sake of partaking of Miss Elinor Harriman he’d be willing, and he’d sent his valet to procure a goodly number. He had the strong suspicion that once was not going to be enough with his charming, so-unwilling houseguest.
In truth they ought to be available to the Revels of the Heavenly Host, but proper caution was such the antithesis of “Do what thou wilt” that he imagined his fellow members would ban them. There were times when their games seemed remarkably foolish.
The formal start of the Revels was not till tomorrow night, but members had already begun to arrive. Including the new applicants. There was one of them who interested him mightily, though he pretended to have no knowledge of him. Marcus Harriman, Lord Tolliver, had been brought to their gatherings by Sir Henry Pennington, which was far from a recommendation. Sir Henry was an annoying little toad with a particular affection for the giving of pain, but he had enough friends in their close circle that Francis simply chose to ignore him. But the Harriman name had caught his eye, and he was most curious to meet the heir whose inheritance had forced Elinor into his wicked toils. Not that he would see her. He had every intention of keeping Elinor well out of sight of the Heavenly Host. Still, he would have to find some way to express his gratitude.
He’d had word from Mrs. Clarke. Lydia had settled in well enough, as he’d no doubt she would. If Elinor stopped to think about it she’d know that giving Lydia over into Mrs. Clarke’s tender care was a boon worth any sacrifice. Her warm, practical affection could heal any sort of wound.
He’d been three years into his exile in Paris when she’d simply shown up, husband and infant daughter in hand, and proceeded to dig him out of the dark, wretched place he’d retreated to. She hadn’t been able to bring him all the way back. No one could, not after the things he’d seen. It was of no consequence. She helped him keep his life neatly partitioned, and when the dubious pleasures of the Heavenly Host grew too wearisome he could always escape into the world Mrs. Clarke had created for him.
That was what Miss Lydia needed right now. Fate had not been kind to her, but then, fate was a fickle jade. If her sister was determined to provide her with some kind of happy ending the cards were stacked against her.
Interesting, that his poppet might even consider that a happy life was possible. She certainly didn’t think one would be available for her, and he once more considered Etienne. He was a humorless bore, but Elinor had the ability to charm even one as world-weary as he. After a few years perhaps she could get Etienne to laugh.
One thing was certain: Etienne was not going to get his wish. He was not going to have Miss Lydia Harriman, no matter how sweet she was to him. He expected Charles Reading would be seeing to that.
And Etienne was not going be inheriting the title of Comte de Giverney, along with the considerable estates, until Rohan chose to die, and he had no intention of doing so for quite a long time. No intention of reproducing, so Etienne would most definitely end up as a wealthy count. And Elinor a comtesse. Would she