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would be a surprise to her younger sister as well.
     
     
Good .
     
     
"And who might that be?" her father finally asked after a few seconds' silence.
     
     
Eleanor frowned at his feigned innocence. He wasn't fooling anyone, especially not her. "Viscount Creed."
     
     
Her father's attempt at astonishment failed miserably. "Really?"
     
     
"Stop it, Papa. I know you invited him. You fairly reek of guilt."
     
     
Her father sniffed the air. "That's liniment, Ellie, not guilt. Trust me, I know what guilt smells like."
     
     
Someone snickered behind her— Arabella, no doubt, Eleanor didn't bother to look. "Why?"
     
     
Her father knew what she was asking. "I was good friends with the boy's father, and one must hold loyal to such connections."
     
     
What hogwash. What about family loyalty?
     
     
Her father smiled. "Do not fret so, Ellie. I still hold you above all others."
     
     
Eleanor's cheeks warmed. How did he know what she was thinking like that? "I want you to ask him to leave."
     
     
"I cannot."
     
     
Whyever not? Surely her father wasn't going to hold to propriety in such a situation? "You invited him. You can uninvite him," she insisted. "It is very simple."
     
     
He admonished her with a gentle look. "Not that simple. Besides, I see no reason to toss the boy out on his ear."
     
     
His ear wasn't the body part Eleanor imagined Brahm Ryland landing on.
     
     
"Papa," Arabella began in a reasonable tone before Eleanor could begin a litany of reasons. "Viscount Creed and Eleanor's…understanding ended badly. That should be cause enough to not welcome him into the house."
     
     
Eleanor gave a satisfied nod. She couldn't have put it better herself.
     
     
Their father dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. "That was a long time ago."
     
     
"Papa!" Eleanor couldn't believe her ears. Could he shrug off her disappointment just like that? Of course he could. He didn't know the extent of Brahm's villainous behavior. Her father believed her to be bound by her embarrassment and silly feminine pride, no doubt. He had no idea what a slap to the face it was to have Brahm Ryland under the same roof.
     
     
Although maybe she should be thankful to her father. This conversation was a reminder that she had every right to despise Brahm, that her earlier fears were totally misgiven. She had nothing to fear from him. Nothing at all.
     
     
Her father's gaze was shrewd as it shot to hers. "What is it, girl? Are you worried he might try to renew his addresses? Mayhap you are afraid he won't?"
     
     
Heat coursed through Eleanor's cheeks, burning her face with shame she didn't want to dissect. Had her father hit on something with his glib remark? Was she worried that Brahm might try to woo her once again? Or was she frightened that he wouldn't try to woo her? If he paid her no attention, would she finally give in to the realization that she would probably end her life alone, unwed, a dried-up old maid?
     
     
No, that wasn't it at all. She was in charge of her own destiny. There was no reason she couldn't marry someday if she wished it. She was simply angry that her father, like so many others of his sex— and her own as well, to be truthful— weighed so much of a woman's self against what men thought of her.
     
     
"Neither," she replied coolly. "Papa, I am merely concerned about Lord Creed's past behavior." That was so very, very true— if her father only knew.
     
     
Her father shifted against the pillows. "I take it you are referring to behavior that had nothing to do with you?"
     
     
If it was at all possible, Eleanor's flush deepened. There had been a few scandalous times when Brahm stole a kiss from her, but no, that wasn't what she meant.
     
     
"I refer to his penchant for copious consumption of spirits. You have witnessed his atrocious antics just as I have. What if he wreaks such havoc here?" It was all she could do not to flash a smug smile. Let her father argue with that logic.