Her aunt had sent the diplomat packing? Eleanor wondered.
“Her ladyship has been asking for you,” Mollet added, “if you will be so kind as to go to her.”
“Where may I find her?”
“In her rooms. She has taken to her bed with orders not to be disturbed by anyone but you.”
Eleanor frowned in concern. “Is she ill?”
“I am not certain, my lady.”
Turning, Eleanor made her way down the corridor only to encounter Prince Lazzara, who was dressed for traveling.
“You are leaving, your highness?” she asked in surprise.
Halting before her, the prince bowed stiffly. “I must, Donna Eleanora. The shame to my family honor will not permit me to trespass on your aunt's hospitality a moment longer.”
“I fear I don't understand,” she murmured.
“My cousin was the perpetrator of the mishaps all along.”
Eleanor's eyebrows snapped together. “Signor Vec-chi was behind your mishaps?”
“Yes, to my immense regret and mortification.”
“How did you find out?”
“Lord Wrexham discovered the evidence and presented it to my cousin, who was compelled to admit his treachery.”
Lazzara briefly explained about Damon finding the pouch of arrows and the tin containing the powdered medication that had been used to drug him.
“I beg you to accept my deepest apologies, Donna Eleanora, for having endangered you, although I know what my cousin did was unforgivable. I mean to return with him to my country at once, so I will importune you no longer.”
As he gallantly kissed her fingers, the prince gave her a long, smoldering look. Then with another low bow, he continued on his way down the corridor, heading for the stableyard.
Watching his retreating figure, Eleanor realized that she would not be sorry in the least to see the last of Prince Lazzara. His highness had taken shameful advantage of Damon's supposed transgression, pro posing an adulterous affair right under her husband's nose.
How, Eleanor wondered, had she ever thought the prince could love her as she wanted to be loved? More bewilderingly, why had she ever wanted to fall in love with him in the first place? He was not a fraction of the man Damon was. There would never be any man for her but Damon, she knew that now-
Her heart leapt just then when she spied the very object of her reflections. Damon was moving down the corridor toward her, his gaze trained intently on her.
“I saw your arrival from an upstairs window,” he said when he reached her.
When Eleanor made no reply, they regarded each other wordlessly, their eyes locked.
Damon's expression was wary, worried even, Eleanor realized. Undoubtedly he was concerned that she had learned about his former mistress's presence in Brighton.
She was worried as well, although for different reasons. The tight emotion in her chest was a tangle of love and nerves. Yet she was of two minds about how to react to Damon just now.
On the one hand, she wanted to throw her arms around him and reassure him of her love. At the same time she wanted to let him stew in his own remorse for a little while.
She settled for saying coolly, “My aunt may be ill, my lord. I must go to her now, but I should like a word with you afterward.”
Searching her face, Damon looked as if he might argue. But in the end, he nodded briefly and stood back to allow her to pass.
Her heart beating wildly, Eleanor retreated, aware that his keen gaze was following her all the while.
When Eleanor knocked softly on her aunt's bedchamber door, she received no reply, so she entered quietly. The draperies had been drawn shut, but in the dim light she could see Beatrix lying curled on the bed, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth.