“Almost anything to do with people’s welfare,” she answered quickly, as if she’d given the matter a lot of thought. Eleanor fixed him with a steady gaze. “All people. As a nation, we are responsible for the poor and unfortunate as well as the others.”

“Again, I agree.” Yes. This was what he wanted. She was what he wanted. Like him, Eleanor cared about the plight of the unfortunate or those who could not help themselves. She probably even gave part of her pin money to charity. She took a breath and her breasts rose, drawing his eyes to the soft mounds that barely showed above the neckline of her gown. Lord, how he wanted her. He wanted her in his bed and across from the breakfast table from him in the morning, and beside him as they journeyed through life together. As if he were watching a play in his head, he could see them with their children. John quickly dragged his eyes away from her bodice. The question was, did she or could she feel the same about him? And how to find out?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I have never been so frustrated in my life.” Eleanor paced the floor of the parlor she shared with her sisters. “I told him I was determined to help those who are less fortunate than we are, and all he did was smile and agree with me. One would think he would have engaged in conversation about what he had done or planned to do, or legislation he might propose.” Stopping, she faced her sisters. “I have a great fear that he might truly be a little slow.”

Madeline gave Eleanor a sympathetic look. “You did say he was kind, and from what you said about your conversation, he would probably let you continue your charity work.”

“Yes, but I want a husband who will work with me.” Eleanor bit the inside of her lip. “The worst part of it all is that I got those feelings again when we were dancing.”

“The ones our sisters and Dotty told us about?” Alice asked.

Eleanor nodded. She did not wish to feel things for him, not yet.

“Oh dear. That does complicate the matter.” Madeline yawned.

“It does.” If it were not for that, she would forget about Montagu and look for someone else. She stopped pacing. No, she would not. This was just so aggravating. “How do I find out if he has more hair than brains?” She started pacing again. “Honestly, gentlemen should be required to submit their qualifications in writing. A résumé, if you will.”

“He does have very nice hair.” Madeline leaned back against the cushions of the love seat and closed her eyes.

“He does.” Thick, curly, and such a lovely auburn color. And his eyes were a magnificent shade of blue-green. Eleanor gave herself a shake. “But he needs to have a brain as well.”