Beware of Virtuous Women Read Online Free PDF Page B

a few years older than you, in fact."
    "Really? How...interesting."
    "Not really. He's trying for an heir is how I heard the story. His first wife died in a fall down the stairs, the second in childbed. If Chelfham dies without issue, I believe the earldom goes vacant."
    Eleanor's head was spinning. "I believe the proper term is extinct, if all possible heirs have died. A title is dormant if no one claims it or his or her title can't be proved, and in abeyance if more than one person is equally qualified to be the holder."
    Jack shook his head. Listening to this woman was like being back in class with his tutor as he reeled off dry as dust facts and expected Jack to care. "Is that so?"
    "Oh, yes, at least I think so." She smiled at him, and Jack felt an unexpected punch to his stomach. She was such an odd little creature, all prim and proper, yet also so anxious to please. "Papa has a rather large library, and I have quite a bit of time."
    "You said her. His or her title. It would be interesting, wouldn't it, if Chelfham's bride presented him with only daughters."
    Eleanor made a great business of inspecting the seam on the thumb of her right glove. "Some peerages can be inherited by females, although their number is very limited. And, of course, private fortunes and land not entailed can be given where one wishes."
    Jack sat back against the squabs, more than a little surprised. Then again, what did he care for peerages? And, if he was right, and had his way, the Earl of Chelf-ham wouldn't have to worry about them, either.
    "Rather a fountain of possibly useful information, aren't you? I can see where you are a good choice for my small project, in any case. A lady, and an educated lady at that. I imagine everyone will be wondering why such a fine and refined creature as yourself would agree to leg shackle herself to such a rough character as myself."
    Eleanor looked at him quizzically for a moment, then dropped her gaze. What had just happened? What had he just said? How had he said if?...such a fine and refined creature as yourself.
    No, it wasn't actually the words he'd said, but the way he had said them. And he'd said them with this sudden lilt in his voice. Why had he suddenly reminded her of Paddy O'Rourke, from the village? He was English, not Irish. Everyone knew Jack Eastwood was English. Born in Sussex was what he'd told them. Yet Eleanor was sure she'd just heard a faint hint of Ireland in the cadence of his last statement.
    It had been there, hadn't it? Just for a moment?
    She closed her eyes, calling herself silly. A life spent not trusting outsiders had made her skittish, and much too suspicious. Her papa trusted him. Court and the others trusted him. She hadn't even thought about trust, fool that she was, too dazzled by Jack's effect on her.
    Well, that particular foolishness needed to come to a quick end. She was a Becket first, and female only second.
    Much as she longed to see the Earl of Chelfham, much as she was determined to help Jack Eastwood uncover the identity of the leaders of the Red Men Gang who had threatened the Beckets' very existence, she would remember to keep her faith in herself, and not in anyone else, even Jack Eastwood.
    Eleanor's life, that had seemed much too tame to her only a few days ago, was suddenly crowded with too many possibilities for disaster....
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CHAPTER THREE

     
    "About time it was you lugged that great big simple self of yours back here, boyo. I was about to give you up."
    Jack turned, still in the act of sliding off his neck cloth, to see Cluny Shannon sprawled on the lone chair in his dressing room, a half-empty glass hanging from his fingers.
    It was always a half-empty glass with Cluny, who never saw the sunshine without mentioning the clouds.
    "My apologies, old friend. I didn't notice a candle in the window. Were you pining for me?"
    Cluny finished off his drink, obviously not the first or even the fourth of the evening, and carefully got to his feet, holding the