“I didn’t.”
“The Marchioness of Westridge suggested otherwise.”
The hot heat of shame filled Eleanor’s cheeks. “I made the mistake of mentioning to her that I thought you particularly handsome and intriguing.” How embarrassing that he now knew the extent of her feelings for him. He must pity her for that.
“Hmm.” It almost seemed as if he didn’t believe her. The chill in his green eyes made her shiver. “Nevertheless, it would be best if you leave. I have much work to do here and—” He stopped abruptly. His jaw tightened as if he were wrestling with how to finish the thought.
“And?” Part of her didn’t want to hear how he’d complete the sentence. The other part desperately did.
“I would prefer to focus on my duties.”
And not her. Nor their marriage. The crushing weight on her chest made it difficult to breathe. To think. To argue.
“Douglas—”
He lifted one finger to halt her as if she were unworthy of more. “No discussion is necessary.”
“I beg to differ.” If this was her last chance, she had to say something to make him realize the terrible mistake he was making by tossing away their future together. “I realize you are a duke with many responsibilities. However, one of the benefits of having a wife is gaining assistance with some of those. We can do more together than we can apart. Surely you can see that.”
Surely you can see how much I love you. Though the words were on the tip of her tongue, she held back. If she shared the depth of her feelings, and he rejected her, she didn’t think she could recover from it.
“I disagree. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have several things I need to see to yet this evening.”
“Douglas, there is more to life than duties and taking care of your properties. What about you? You deserve happiness as well.”
“I hardly think that is any of your concern.”
She took a step back at the coldness of his words even as tears filled her eyes. “But I’m your wife. I don’t wish to live separately. That isn’t the sort of marriage I want.”
“You knew from the start it was for convenience. Why would you expect more?”
Her heart lodged in her throat, and she couldn’t get the words past it. Perhaps that was for the best and would keep her from begging and making an even bigger fool of herself. How naïve of her to think she could convince him to like her. Of course, he had only married her for her dowry. And to be a broodmare, much like the woman on the street a few weeks ago had said.
Eleanor lifted her chin. “The funny thing about a marriage of convenience is that it is rarely convenient. I’ll be gone come morning. Have a happy Christmas, Douglas.”
She turned and walked out of the study without a backward glance, leaving her shattered heart behind.
~*~
Eleanor left Rothbury House the following morning as she’d promised but only after making arrangements for gifts for the staff for Boxing Day and their special dinner. After all, she was still a duchess and needed to remember her duties. She’d decided to live in London where she could see her friends when she wished.
Yet that preference seemed ridiculous after she’d been there four days and had yet to leave the house.
Four, long, empty days.
Soon it would be Christmas, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d shed enough tears for a lifetime though she knew they wouldn’t change anything. She had gone back and forth as to whether she should’ve told Douglas she loved him. Would it have made any difference? Did he truly think her some cold-blooded, title-seeking lady who had plotted to snare him?
She bit her lip, realizing there was some truth to that. She’d managed to place herself in his path on the rare occasions she’d seen him. But not because she wanted to be a duchess. Only because she’d wanted to lift the shadows from his eyes, to bring a smile to his somber countenance. The fact that he was a duke had been a detriment to her if anything. Her pedigree wasn’t high enough to be considered a proper wife to someone like him. But the size of her dowry changed the rules.
She’d shared all that and more in a heartfelt letter to Douglas, but she hadn’t sent it. What purpose would it serve? She’d written it with the hope doing so would help her work through some of her emotions and find a way to accept the situation. While she felt somewhat calmer, that was all she could claim.
Eleanor was torn between wishing she was with child so she wouldn’t have to see her husband until she’d had a chance to come to terms with their marriage and wishing she wasn’t so that at least he might come to her bed. But having him only in the dark of night wouldn’t be enough. It hadn’t been before and wouldn’t be now.
She’d written to her parents and a cousin to advise that she would be in London for the time being, making light of the circumstances and taking care not to mention Douglas. Her presence would soon be known by any members of the ton who remained in London as the servants in different houses gossiped. She needed to put on a brave face and regain her feet. It wasn’t as if she were the first wife to realize her marriage wouldn’t be all she hoped.
If only she hadn’t seen glimpses of the real Douglas during the house party. Glimpses that had made her fall deeper in love with him.
“Your grace, Lady Amelia Beaumont asks if you’re receiving.” The footman waited at the door of her small sitting room off her bedchamber.
Though she didn’t feel ready for visitors, Lady Beaumont would be the last person who would prod her for a reason for her return to London without her husband. “Yes, please show her to the drawing room and have tea sent in.”
She set aside the embroidery she’d been working on and rose to smooth her skirts. After a moment’s consideration, she dismissed the idea of changing. Her friend wouldn’t care what she was wearing.
“Lady Beaumont, how kind of you to call.” Eleanor reached for her friend’s gloved hands and squeezed them, realizing she truly was pleased to see her.
“I heard you were in London, and since I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye at the house party, I thought I’d call.” She curtsied, her smile warming Eleanor.
“I’m so pleased you did.” Eleanor gestured toward a chair, noting the fire was already burning brightly, lending a cheery atmosphere to the room.
She hadn’t made any changes to the house or the other houses except for requesting a thorough cleaning. Improvements to the estates and fulfilling the tenants’ needs came before updating drapes and upholstery. Especially since it was unlikely they’d be doing much entertaining. “I requested tea. I hope you can join me?”
“That would be lovely.” Lady Beaumont settled into the chair, her posture perfect as she held Eleanor’s gaze. “I was surprised you returned to the city so soon. I thought it might be well into spring before we met again.”
Eleanor hesitated as no response came readily to mind. She supposed it was best if she commenced with pretending everything was fine. “Rothbury is busy on the estate, of course. But I had some commitments here that I wanted to take care of.” Heaven help her if Lady Beaumont inquired what those were.
“Of course.” She nodded though a wrinkle marred her brow as if wondering what those might be this close to Christmas. “I wanted to thank you for your kindness during the house party.” A delicate blush rose in her cheeks. “You see, I’m still becoming accustomed to being Lady Beaumont. If you had suggested last spring that I’d be having tea with a duchess, I would’ve laughed.” She shook her head. “Or cried. I was in desperate circumstances and my life could’ve taken a different direction than it did.”
Eleanor drew a slow breath, realizing the same could be said of her. She had more in common with Lady Beaumont than she’d realized.
“Several ladies have made it clear they don’t approve of my background,” her caller continued. “But you didn’t. Thank you for that.”
The heartfelt words brought tears to Eleanor’s eyes. Odd when she’d been so certain she didn’t have any left.
“The pleasure has been mine in coming to know you. My situation has a similarity to yours in that not everyone thinks much of my lineage either.” If it weren’t for her father’s fortune, she wouldn’t be sitting here at this moment.
“But for the grace of God...” Lady Beaumont offered a smile.
“Indeed.” How ridiculous that she was feeling sorry for herself when so many were in more dire circumstances.
“I hope you didn’t allow Lady Elizabeth or anyone else’s remarks to bother you.”
“Which ones? That Rothbury wouldn’t have married me except for my dowry? That I’m nothing more than a broodmare? The Dour Duchess?” She waved a hand in dismissal but had to swallow against the lump in her throat. “It’s all true. And the truth is supposed to set us free, isn’t it?”
Lady Beaumont leaned forward, her gaze holding steady on Eleanor. “Is something amiss?”
“Nothing time won’t solve.” How she hoped that was true. Surely in the years to come, the pain of her broken heart would ease.
Then again, she’d promised herself to remove ‘hope’ from her vocabulary. Wishful thinking had only caused harm. She needed to put others before herself and focus on the good deeds she could do in her position. As soon as she could gather the strength and determination to do so. As soon as Christmas had passed and her longing for more in her marriage had faded.
She would give herself until the day after Christmas to grieve for the loss. Then she’d stop feeling sorry for herself and begin a new life. One without her husband, but as a duchess.
Chapter Ten
Douglas stared at the flames in the hearth, a glass of brandy in hand, realizing he had never before been quite this miserable. He thought he’d sent Eleanor away in time to save himself. But it was quickly becoming clear that his effort had come too late.
Now, rather than simply being alone, he was lonely. And he detested it.
He had yet to determine if it was a temporary sensation. Would he soon become accustomed to being alone again or would the days stretch out endlessly for the rest of his life as they did now? The question had him taking another sip.
He’d forgotten how long the winter evenings could be when darkness came earlier. But that wasn’t the issue.
In reality, what he felt wasn’t merely loneliness. It was being without Eleanor. The thought should have been ridiculous.
They’d only been married a few months.
They’d only spent a few days together at the house party, though it had been in close proximity.
How could he possibly have grown so dependent on her presence in his life in that short amount of time?
How these feelings had come to be didn’t matter. The true question was what to do about them.
Once again, he questioned his grandfather’s lessons, something he’d done more in the past fortnight than in his entire life. Were things ever as black and white as his grandfather had insisted? Douglas no longer believed so.
If Eleanor had only been pretending to care for him, why would she have bothered to continue once they’d married? While he’d initially been appalled at the idea of her setting her cap for him and succeeding, he wondered if he should be flattered instead.
Her suggestion that they were better together and could accomplish more united held validity. It wasn’t as if he expected those in his employ to focus solely on their jobs. They had families and other interests that also took their time and attention.
Watching Burbridge and his wife had certainly given Douglas a unique perspective on what his own life could look like. Burbridge’s estate was well run. Then again, Burbridge wasn’t trying to overcome decades of managing with little-to-no funds like Douglas was.
Now that he looked back on it, he wondered why his grandfather hadn’t made greater strides in recovering the duchy. If the man had spent more time on those efforts rather than berating his son or lecturing Douglas, what might’ve happened?
He sighed and took another sip, his thoughts returning to Eleanor as they always seemed to. If he allowed his feelings for her to grow, would she make him a better duke or distract him from his duties? The question was difficult to objectively answer, especially when he knew which one he preferred to believe.
Eleanor had already made a fine duchess. He had to admit that her genuine concern for the people who lived and worked on the estate couldn’t be denied. She had a kind word for everyone and listened to all, including Mrs. Richard’s worry over her garden and old Mr. Thompson’s trouble with his gout. She’d been reading The Farmer’s Every Day Book for heaven’s sake. How many duchesses bothered to do so? Perhaps he’d allowed the comments of others to overshadow what he knew to be true.
The gifts she’d prepared for the servants were ready to be distributed the day after Christmas despite her departure to London. He certainly hadn’t thought about what needed to be done for Boxing Day, but she had, which Morris had made a point of mentioning. Douglas knew the blame for the return of the butler’s grim mood rested on his shoulders.
With another sigh, Douglas set aside his drink then rose and moved to his desk to sort through the post that Morris had left there. A familiar feminine script on the top letter had him opening it first to find a Christmas card from his former nanny.
Dear Duke of Rothbury,
Happy Christmas. I hope this finds you well. I wanted to thank you again for your generous gift. It is much appreciated. Next time you come by, I hope you will have a moment to visit so I can determine for myself how married life is agreeing with you. I would enjoy meeting your duchess as well.
I sincerely hope you have opened your heart to this new stage in your life. While I always respected your grandfather, I can’t help but feel his views were colored by his own disappointments. Please don’t allow his unhappiness to overshadow your world. You deserve all the joy you can wring from life.
Now is your chance to change. Seize it.
Wishing you a blessed Christmas,
Mary Dawson
Douglas stared at the delightful image of a family gathered around a Christmas tree on the front of the card then re-read the message. He couldn’t help but wonder if her advice was a sign, an answer to the question with which he’d been wrestling.
Seize it.
The words echoed in his mind, flooding him with possibilities. What if he and Eleanor could form a true relationship filled with love and happiness? Why did he have to be solitary to perform his duties to the best of his ability? What if she wasn’t a distraction but a boon in his world? And much like the silly game of snapdragon, he had only to state what he wanted?
He set aside the card, his thoughts swirling as he looked through the rest of the post, surprised to find another letter addressed by a feminine hand.
It was from Eleanor.
His heart thudded painfully as he stared at the envelope. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to open it for fear of what she might have written. He knew he’d hurt her when he’d asked her to leave. Her expression left him no doubt.
It was all well and good to consider what their life together could be. But had he already lost that chance? She might not be able to forgive him for the pain he’d caused her. Why would she give him another chance when he’d messed it up so badly?
In an instant, he knew that was exactly what he’d done—made a terrible mistake. He’d been idiotic to send her away. Just because she was foremost in his thoughts didn’t mean he would ignore his duties. She was as concerned about those who depended on them for their livelihood as he was.
Would she even consider returning to Rothbury House after what he’d said and done?
The idea of finding a way to help her understand his behavior had him scowling. The only possible path would be to apologize and share the reason behind his actions, including his past and all that had occurred. It also meant sharing his feelings. The very thought caused his stomach to tighten with unease. He’d been taught to never show his emotions let alone speak of them.
Ye
t the reward would be significant. Having Eleanor as his wife in every sense of the word would create a truly different life than the Duke of Rothbury had lived for the past several generations.
Seize it.
The urge to ride to London in the dark nearly overwhelmed him. But he needed to plan his approach carefully, to find a way to convince her of his sincerity.
Douglas turned the unopened letter over in his hands but still didn’t break the seal. This was Christmas Eve. What was Eleanor doing at this very moment? Was she alone and as miserable as he was?
He would leave for London come first light. The one thing his upbringing had taught him was to go after what he wanted, and he wanted Eleanor.
Now he need only think of how to persuade her to forgive him.
~*~
Eleanor woke from a fitful sleep to see dawn lighting the windows around the drapes. Her heart felt heavy as did every bone in her body. Spending Christmas Day alone was nothing she’d expected to experience. Particularly not this year.
The sooner the holidays were over, the better. Perhaps then she could find a way to be happy. The thought of doing so alone brought tears to her eyes.
Babette entered the room with a tray, a smile on her face. “Good morning, your grace.”
“And to you, Babette. Happy Christmas.” Eleanor sat up in the bed, gathering her emotions. She needed to think of something other than Douglas. The maid set down the tray and added coal to the fire. “Did you post the letter to my parents?”
“Of course, as well as the other letters.”
Alarm filled Eleanor. “Which other letters?”
“There were three, your grace.”
“Oh, dear.” Eleanor’s stomach knotted with worry. “Was one to the duke?”
“Yes, I believe so. The other was to your cousin. Is something amiss?”
Eleanor closed her eyes, pressing her lips tight to hold back her tears. Why had she written that letter? Why hadn’t she torn it up?
“Wasn’t I supposed to post it?” the maid asked. Eleanor opened her eyes to see Babette twisting her hands together anxiously. “I’m so sorry, your grace. I didn’t realize—”
Enchanting the Duke (The Seven Curses of London Book 11) Page 10
