Viscounts and Vampires

Chapter Nine

Days passed and the month of June wore on. Eleanor was painfully aware that each passing day was another day closer to their return to Holloway. Once the prospect had delighted her, but now it filled her with a sort of dread. If she could not clear out the vampire nest by then, she would have little to no hope of returning. She could not quite bring herself to believe Franklin's assertions that he, and perhaps others, somehow had it under control. If they had, something would have been done by now. Instead, the newspaper was still carrying the accounts of bodies being discovered, although no one else seemed to think it odd.

Olivia Hastings seemed to also be acutely aware of the passage of time, although for entirely different reasons. She began scheduling more and more teas, balls, dinners, walks in the park, and outtings of every kind. Despite her statement that she would be perfectly content if Eleanor chose not to find a husband this season, she seemed to be quite desperate that it should occur. In the past week, there had been a ball at Almack's, a private ball, two dinners, and five separate calls for tea, not to mention the daily walks to the park and the several visitors they had had of their own. Eleanor was run ragged from all the gatherings but her mother seemed to be basking in it.

As for Eleanor, her tensions were high. She knew something had to be done but she did not know what. There was a kind of restless waiting. Once she could safely do so again, she would sneak from the house to explore her hunch of following the river bank, but for now all she could do was wait. It was agonizing.

"You seem in a mood today," Robert commented. Neither of them had brought up their argument and he seemed willing to let it lie. He had gone back to treating her completely normally, at least. She believed her injury had something to do with that.

"Mother insists we go to another dinner tonight," she said. "I can scarcely handle it."

Robert flipped to the next page in his newspaper. He had spent the better part of the day in the nursery with his son and now he was relaxing in the drawing room. These were scarcely the normal occupations of a man his age, but Eleanor had long since stopped commenting on his habits.

"She seems to be enjoying herself. I haven't seen her this happy during a London season since I was married."

"I don't know how she does it," Eleanor said. "I can understand a dinner or ball a week, but she has us going to something every night. It's exhausting."

"She's afraid you'll end up unmarried at the end of the season."

"Yes, I know," Eleanor snapped. "She's made it quite clear that she wants me to be married as soon as possible."

"What's the harm in that? You have to admit, you're rather old to be doing the London season."

"I had reasons for that!"

Robert returned to his newspaper. "I am quite well aware. But look at it from mother's perspective. She wants you to have someone to take care of you after she's gone."

"I don't need any-" Eleanor began to protest again but Robert cut her off.

"Of course you do. You're a woman, you can't very well be buying your own estate. You'll be staying at Holloway house and we both know you'll get bored there. With a husband, you'll be able to travel with him, or without him, as you like. Would it really be so bad?"

Eleanor stared at him. He sounded oddly practical, especially for a man. "To be married to a stranger?"

"Why does it have to be a stranger? You've spent a great many evenings in the company of a number of perfectly tolerable men. Pick one. Make your attentions clear. I am sure he will call on you the next day."