Enchanting the Duke (The Seven Curses of London Book 11)

by Lana Williams

  Puzzled, he drew back to look at her. Already, the light of passion lit her eyes, her cheeks were flushed, and he could easily imagine pulling the pins from her hair. The desire to see her wearing nothing but the ruby and diamonds shocked him. Especially since part of the reason was that they marked her as his.

  “Right. Of course.” With resolve, he gathered the crumbling remains of his fortitude and released her to adjust his suit coat.

  She straightened his collar with a smile. “I look forward to continuing this in a few hours.” Her dark eyes met his, and his breath caught at the promise in their depths.

  The tension earlier fell away in an instant. There was no hurry. This beautiful, loving woman was his wife. They had their whole lives ahead of them. Unable to resist, he reached out to tuck a tendril of her hair back into the chignon. “As do I.”

  Once again, he offered his arm and opened the door. They made their way toward the stairs and descended, the short train of Eleanor’s dress making a swooshing noise with each stair.

  Eleanor chatted about the events of the day. He couldn’t decide if she did so to take her mind from their passionate interlude or his. The idea almost made him smile.

  Burbridge and his duchess were standing in the receiving line, greeting guests, but Douglas guided Eleanor around the group and directly into the ballroom.

  “May I ask for the first dance?” Eleanor’s hopeful look tightened his chest, but he raised a brow in surprise that she’d asked before he could.

  “The honor would be mine, though I must warn you that I’m not much of a dancer.” He rarely socialized, let alone at balls, and couldn’t think of the last time he’d danced.

  “I have no doubt you’ll be a fine partner.” Her gaze shifted to look over the guests, and she nodded at several before her eyes met his once more. “Your timing and rhythm are excellent in other areas.”

  His chuckle surprised them both. But how could he hold back his amusement when she said something so outrageous?

  Soon their hosts joined the guests in the ballroom and the duchess signaled for the music to begin. He was more than relieved to realize he knew the steps to it. However, he couldn’t help a pang of unease at being the center of attention along with the other dancers while doing something he rarely did. He escorted Eleanor to the dance floor, and they lined up with the others to bow and curtsy before beginning.

  Douglas watched the other men out of the corner of his eye to make certain he didn’t take a misstep. Then his attention shifted to Eleanor as he realized this was another area where she was gifted with grace and talent.

  She moved with the music, her expression suggesting just how much she was enjoying herself. Then her gaze met his as they joined together for the next few steps. Once again, he realized how much he liked her as a person. She was entertaining, an excellent listener, and found pleasure in nearly everything she did.

  But it was more than that. His feelings were much deeper, and if he weren’t careful, the more time they spent together, the more his feelings would grow.

  Would that be so terrible? A quiet voice in his head posed the question. He waited for a response from the other voice, which continually reminded him of his duties, to firmly squash the question.

  He heard nothing but silence.

  The evening was much more enjoyable than Douglas could’ve guessed. He and Eleanor visited with the other couples, danced several more times, and enjoyed a glass of champagne. The additional guests who came for the ball made for quite the crush.

  Douglas had been speaking with Burbridge for several minutes when Burbridge stepped away to assist a guest, leaving Douglas alone for a moment. If one could be alone among that many people.

  An older gentleman a short distance away gave him an odd look and moved closer, holding a nearly empty glass of champagne. By the glaze in his eyes, Douglas guessed it wasn’t his first.

  “Good heavens, but you’re the spitting image of your father.” The man continued to stare.

  “Excuse me?” Douglas didn’t think he’d ever met the man before.

  “You have to be the son of Charles Slade. You look just like him.” The man leaned close as if to tell him a secret. “He and I used to have more than our fair share of fun if you know what I mean. That is until he met your mother.” He shook his head. “The two of them did their best to enjoy life.”

  Douglas stared at him, no response coming readily to mind. He was both curious and strangely reluctant to hear what the man had to say.

  “Thank goodness the previous duke passed or you’d be in the same circumstances as your father.”

  “And what would those be?”

  The man’s scorn was evident in the twist of his lips. “Being ruled by an iron thumb. As I’m certain you know, he refused to allow your father to have any say in the duchy. Naturally, your father found other ways to amuse himself. But once he connected with your mother, she only had to give him a look to have him come running. He not only lost his heart to her but his soul as well.”

  Douglas’s chest tightened at the ridiculous description. Yet memories flew through his mind, confirming how apt it was. His father had loved his mother, but his mother had only been interested in the title he was to inherit and the riches she was sure would follow.

  “Your mother acted like the duchess she never was. And she spent money like it as well.” He shook his head again. “Love ruined your father, though he was never a strong person to begin with.” He cast a glance to where Eleanor stood not so far away. “I hope you don’t allow the same thing to happen to you.”

  Wasn’t that what he’d done? Already softened in his resolve and duties because of Eleanor? She had found her way under his skin, much like an itch he couldn’t scratch properly. She was never far from his thoughts. Was he in danger of becoming like his father and casting away what was truly important—all for a woman?

  As concerned as he was at the thought, he was compelled to defend his wife and therefore himself. “My wife is nothing like my mother.”

  “I’m sure.” The man glanced around the ballroom. “Your mother never bothered to pretend to be interested in charities or the like. But does your duchess truly care or is she pretending until she has her hooks properly set in you?” He chuckled as though amused at the thought.

  Douglas detested the image that filled his mind, one of him as a fish writhing helplessly at the end of a line. But none of this was true. He was the one who’d approached Eleanor’s father. Not the other way around. Taking a few days away to attend a house party hardly made him negligent in his duties. Still, he couldn’t deny some of what the man suggested. He’d already been concerned about the changes he was experiencing.

  “I wish you well, your grace.” The man attempted a bow. “But a word to the wise. Don’t allow your emotions to gain the better of you as your father did, else trouble will soon follow.” He turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

  “What was that all about?” Eleanor asked from his side.

  Douglas glanced at her, wondering how much of the conversation she’d heard. “Someone who knew my mother and father.”

  “Oh?” She studied him as if waiting for him to say more.

  Since he had no intention of following in his father’s footsteps, there was no point in sharing the details of their conversation. But perhaps he should’ve thanked the stranger for the reminder of what his true priorities were.

  ~*~

  Eleanor didn’t pretend to understand what the few comments she’d overheard had meant. But she didn’t care for the change in her husband’s temperament. The Dour Duke had returned based upon Douglas’s scowl. The conversation made her even more curious about what had happened between Douglas’s father and his grandfather.

  Now wasn’t the time for questions. They were in the middle of a ball. Still, she refused to allow him to brood. She held his gaze as she wrapped her hand around his arm, hoping to return his good humor. “Shall we join Burbridge and Lillian and have
some champagne?”

  He gave a single nod, and they walked toward where the couple stood. Liveried footmen circulated through the room with trays of glasses filled with the golden bubbles.

  “I didn’t realize you knew Lord Dickey,” Burbridge said as they joined them.

  “I don’t. Apparently, he knew my father.”

  Eleanor didn’t miss the way his lips tightened, one more sign that whatever the man said hadn’t pleased him.

  “He knew mine as well, though I’m not certain if they were truly friends.” He glanced toward where his mother, the Dowager Duchess, visited with some of the other guests. “I believe Mother knows him though.”

  Eleanor followed his gaze. Lillian had mentioned that the lady had struggled terribly after her husband passed away. But this evening, she smiled and laughed, seeming to be enjoying the ball.

  Eleanor supposed that was the chance one faced when deeply in love. Being lucky enough to love could mean experiencing a devastating loss. But Eleanor believed it was worth the risk. Yet living a deeper, richer, more fulfilled life was surely better than the emptiness so many of the nobility endured, wasn’t it?

  The Marchioness of Westridge, an acquaintance of Eleanor and Lillian’s who’d married the previous year, joined them. “I hope the evening finds you well.”

  “It does, indeed.” Lillian shared a smile with her husband, happiness evident in her glowing face. She looked back at the marchioness. “I hope it does you as well.”

  “A lovely ball.” She glanced over the crowd before her gaze returned to Lillian. “So many happy couples here this evening.” She patted Eleanor’s gloved arm with a smile then leaned forward as if to share a secret. “You must be especially happy given the fact that you were wishing for this very moment a year ago. Remember?”

  Heat crept up Eleanor’s cheeks. “I am blessed.”

  “It’s so amusing to think about how much you wanted to marry the Duke of Rothbury and here you are, now his wife. How clever of you.”

  Douglas’s eyes narrowed as he studied Eleanor. “A year ago?”

  “I was an admirer of yours long before you noticed me.” Surely confiding her secret crush on him would ease any concern. Yet a prickly sensation ran along Eleanor’s spine. She had a distinct feeling Douglas was displeased by the news.

  After a long moment, he turned away, and soon he stood across the room before disappearing altogether for the remainder of the evening, leaving Eleanor hurt and confused. How could everything have changed so quickly?

  Chapter Nine

  Eleanor bit back tears as she bid Lillian goodbye the following morning. She wasn’t certain what had come over Douglas, but he insisted they had to return to Rothbury House immediately. Before the house party officially ended no less.

  “Thank you for everything.” She hugged Lillian, wondering when she’d see her again and wishing it would be sooner rather than later.

  “We enjoyed having you. I shall keep you apprised of the progress of the charity.” Lillian drew back, obviously noting the tears glittering in Eleanor’s eyes. “Is all well?” she whispered.

  “I’m not certain.” Eleanor forced a smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry over.” Yet her heart ached with a deep knowing that something was terribly wrong.

  Douglas had avoided her the rest of the ball, retiring after she’d already done so and rising before she had this morning. Babette had been the one to advise her they were departing a day early. She’d dressed hurriedly and assisted Babette with the packing, not bothering to break her fast. How could she eat when in the midst of such emotional turmoil?

  Douglas sat astride his horse nearby, obviously choosing to ride alongside the coach rather than sit inside with her—one more clue that something was amiss.

  Perhaps it was best they left. Attempting to have a meaningful conversation during a house party was next to impossible. They had several issues they needed to sort through and having the time and privacy to do so was paramount.

  While all that was logical, she couldn’t help but feel her hope for their marriage slipping away once again. A glance at Douglas’s solemn profile confirmed her fear that what ground she thought they’d gained the past few days had fallen away, crumbling to dust. It seemed her wish to have a meaningful relationship with him by Christmas was lost.

  He’d acted differently after speaking with Lord Dickey. Or had it been the marchioness’s mention of her attraction to him prior to their marriage that caused his grim mood? She thought he would’ve been flattered by the information.

  Burbridge joined them, placing an arm around Lillian, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents, or perhaps too polite to acknowledge them. “Thank you for coming. It has been most enjoyable.”

  “We appreciate your hospitality.” Douglas dipped his head from his seat on the horse, having already bid them goodbye. Then without a glance at Eleanor, he urged his horse down the lane.

  Eleanor’s heart sank at the sight of him riding away. Something was wrong, and her entire body ached with the knowledge. With effort, she managed another smile and quickly finished her goodbyes.

  After a final wave, Eleanor allowed the footman to assist her into the coach and settled in place for the drive home along with Babette, wondering what would happen upon her arrival at Rothbury House. Christmas was only a week away, and it wasn’t going to be anything like what she’d hoped.

  ~*~

  Douglas’s anger simmered as he rode in the frosty air. He felt betrayed—blindsided by the news the Marchioness of Westridge shared. Thinking that Eleanor had set her cap for him and so easily caught him brought to mind the wriggling fish at the end of a line once again.

  How had he not noticed her attention? He attended so few social engagements that he wasn’t certain how he’d gained her interest. He scoffed. No doubt many of the unmarried ladies and their mamas knew exactly who all the eligible lords were, especially dukes.

  Was she any different than his mother, who’d wanted the title of duchess more than the man who came with it? Or did the difference between them come from the fact that Douglas hadn’t allowed himself the chance to develop feelings for her while his father had fallen head over heels for his wife?

  He blew out a long breath at the lie. He had noticed her the moment he decided to look for a wife. His feelings for her had grown steadily since their marriage, the past few days giving roots to what had already been blooming. The question was what did he do about it?

  Did she truly care for him or was that all a pretense? Despite telling himself it didn’t matter, somehow it did.

  Douglas feared his determination to not only restore the duchy to better than it had been for future generations as well as for those who depended on him now was fading because he fancied himself caring for his wife. The thought nearly stole his breath.

  He couldn’t bear for that to happen. Not when he’d already worked so hard to improve the estates. Not when it meant breaking his vow to his grandfather and himself. While the previous duke might not have been right about everything, if a man couldn’t keep his word, then he had no honor.

  It would be best if he moved Eleanor to one of the other estates or the house in London. He could visit her monthly until she was with child and then he’d keep his distance so the temptation to love her would be removed.

  Love her. He closed his eyes as the words settled inside him, taking hold of his heart. Damn. He already loved her. Removing her from his daily life was going to be painful, worse than when his mother had died, Worse than when his grandfather had sent away his nanny.

  However, he’d lived without a woman in his life for decades, and he could do so again.

  Duty first. Self never. That was what his grandfather had taught him. He, Douglas, didn’t matter. Only the duchy and its entailments did. His personal feelings weren’t worth consideration.

  Now he need only to convince his heart.

  ~*~

  “Thank you, Morris.” Eleanor’s lips curved at
the elderly butler as he cleared her barely touched dessert plate that evening. She couldn’t call it a smile when her world felt as if it were coming apart.

  Never in her dreams had she expected to spend the days before Christmas like this—in silence with an angry duke. There was no other way to describe his mood. She couldn’t bear it anymore. If she’d done something he didn’t like, why couldn’t they discuss it? They should be able to work through it and come to some sort of understanding.

  “I would appreciate having a private word with you in my study.”

  Eleanor looked at Douglas in surprise. Those were the first words he’d spoken directly to her since the ball the previous evening.

  “Of course.” Her heart thudded painfully. She reminded herself that she wanted to speak to him as well to clear the air of whatever had upset him. Surely it was a misunderstanding they could discuss. She rose from the table first, wanting to take some small measure of control of the situation. “Shall we do so now?”

  “Yes.” He stood and gestured for her to lead the way.

  Eleanor dug her nails into her palms as she walked down the hall toward his study and entered. Though she rarely had a reason to come into this room, it was the one area in the house that Douglas had claimed as his own.

  The inkwell with a medieval knight standing guard beside it. A gold clock with hunting dogs on either side of the face. A crystal paperweight with swirls of blue and green inside. They served as glimpses into his personality, and she wished they had the sort of relationship where she could ask what each one meant to him.

  Based on his stern expression, that day might never come.

  He moved to stand behind his desk, placing distance between them, and her heart sank a little more.

  “I think it would be best if you move to either the house in Lincolnshire or the London townhouse. I’ll advise you when I intend to visit.”

  Eleanor stared at him as a terrible pain clutched her chest. “Why?”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her as if she were an annoyance he didn’t know what to do with. “I didn’t realize you had plotted to become the Duchess of Rothbury.”