Candace Camp by A Dangerous Man Page A

not,” she said in a low voice, charged with emotion. “You are an unfeeling—”
    She cut off her words as the footman stopped at an open doorway and announced their names. He stepped aside to allow Eleanor and her companion to enter. Across the room, Juliana was seated on a blue velvet sofa, a tall, dark man beside her. At the footman’s announcement, Juliana bounded up from the sofa and hurried toward them. Her husband, Nicholas, followed somewhat more slowly.
    “Eleanor!” Juliana threw her arms around her taller friend and hugged her. “Oh, I am so happy to see you. It has been so long.”
    “Juliana!” Eleanor’s irritation with Lord Neale disappeared under the force of her affection for her friend, and she hugged her back. “I’ve missed you….”
    Finally Eleanor released Juliana and stepped back a bit to stare at her. “You look very well.”
    It was the truth. Juliana had always been attractive, but she positively glowed with happiness now, and it was this, more than the expensive dress or the fashionable hairstyle, that made her beautiful. Her large, gray eyes were alight, and her creamy skin was rosy with pleasure. Her face, Eleanor noted, was softer and rounder than before, and as Eleanor’s eyes dropped down her friend’s figure, she saw that Juliana’s formerly slender body was now roundly curved.
    “Juliana!” Eleanor gasped, her eyes flying to the other woman’s questioningly.
    Juliana nodded, with a happy laugh. “Yes, I am.”
    “Why did you not write to me?” Eleanor cried, grinning, and enveloped the other woman in another hug. “I am so happy for you.”
    “I started to, but when you wrote that you were returning, well, I wanted to surprise you.”
    “You have indeed.”
    Juliana could not seem to stop smiling, but her eyes flickered a little curiously to Lord Neale, standing a bit behind Eleanor, politely waiting.
    “Oh, I’m sorry. Allow me to introduce you to Lord Neale.” Eleanor turned toward the man, her manner coolly polite. “Sir Edmund’s uncle. He was kind enough to offer to escort me here. I hope you will not mind.”
    “Of course not,” Juliana responded quickly, flashing a smile at Anthony. “You are quite welcome, my lord. I know that Eleanor appreciates your help and support in her grief.”
    “Neale,” Juliana’s husband said in greeting, nodding to Anthony.
    “Lord Barre. Good to see you again.”
    “Then you two know each other,” Juliana said, pleased.
    “We have run into each other now and then at White’s,” Nicholas Barre answered. “Neither of us, I fear, is a terribly regular member.”
    “No. In general, I prefer the comforts of my own home,” Anthony agreed with a smile.
    One would have thought Lord Neale a perfectly amiable sort, Eleanor thought sourly, to hear him. It galled her to have to go along with his charade. Still, there was little she could do except return Lord Barre’s greeting politely.
    They sat down, exchanging casual small talk until the meal was announced. Lord Neale, though polite and polished, offered little conversation except in response to others’ remarks. Eleanor was uncomfortably aware of his penetrating gaze upon her throughout the conversation. She felt sure he was judging her, looking for some chink in her armor, some remark or gesture that he could use against her. It was irritating to realize that she was watching her words, examining them for any way in which they could be misinterpreted, before she spoke, aware that any laugh or smile on her part would doubtless be evidence to him that she had not loved Edmund.
    Damn his eyes, she thought, borrowing one of her father’s favorite curses. She had never cared what people thought, and she was not going to start now. She refused to let some arrogant British lord rattle her. Eleanor turned toward him, lifting her chin and giving him a long, cool look. And though there was no movement in his face, she saw a subtle change, and she knew that he had seen her