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“If I fainted, how did I get up here? There’s no way you, Mama, or Sarah carried me. And poor old Madden can barely lift his own arms. Who?—”

Beatrice bit her lip to stop from laughing.

“No.” Eleanor’s horrified voice came out in a whisper. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Beatrice…” She leapt off the bed and kneeled at her sister’s feet, taking her hands in hers. “Please tell me the Duke did not carry me up here?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Mama says lying is unbecoming of a young woman.”

Eleanor dropped her head on her sister’s lap. “Of all the times you listen to Mama.”

Beatrice moved her hand to comb her fingers through Eleanor’s hair. “I wouldn’t worry about it. His Grace seemed nonplussed about it. Maybe he’s used to women fainting at his feet?”

Eleanor looked up at her sister and furrowed her brows. “Not helping, Beatrice.” She huffed out a sigh. “He must think I’m a complete dolt.”

Her sister shrugged. “He didn’t say much. He muttered something about ‘a grand welcome’ then scooped you up and asked which way to your room. Then he disappeared into Papa’s, er, his study.”

His study.That thought dulled some of the embarrassment and reawakened her issues with the Duke.

“How kind.” Eleanor rolled her lips before standing. “I should thank His Grace for his kindness and help.”

“You should thank him for his strength, too. I’m sure you’d still be laying out on the stoop if you did that with just us around.”

Eleanor looked down at her sister. “Thank you, Beatrice. I think you can leave now.”

Beatrice popped up off the old chair and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Be nice to him. He seems like a gentleman, even if he is a man of few words. Mama says with a house full of women that might be a good thing.”

Eleanor watched as her sister bounded from her room. She turned to look in her mirror, fixing some stray curls and smoothing out her dress. She managed to loosen her corset a bit to increase the air flow and decrease the chance of fainting again.

Eleanor smiled at her reflection. If he was a man of few words, then she should have no problem telling him all the things she thought about him and his late arrival.

Eleanor stood outside her father’s study, her hand poised to knock. She tampered down the sadness that still washed over her when she thought of her father. How many times had she knocked on this door and was welcomed by the smell of a pipe as he ushered her in?

She shook the melancholy that threatened to take over and reminded herself of why she was standing here now. Her goal was twofold. One, she needed to remember her station and thank His Grace for his help and second, to give him a piece of her mind.

Eleanor’s knuckles quickly rapped on the door.

There was a beat of silence. “Come in,” a deep, confident voice called.

Eleanor took a deep breath and opened the door.

Immediately she was hit with the smell of smoke. Cigar, not pipe, but the scent still stole her breath.

“You’re not going to faint again, are you?” the voice asked.

Eleanor blinked. “What? Oh, no. Forgive me, Your Grace. I’m fine.”

She took a step into the room and once more had her breath taken from her. Sitting at the desk was no boney old businessman but a young, virile man. She couldn’t tell much about his height, but even sitting there, he commanded the room.

“Are you sure? You’re looking at me funny.”

Eleanor silently chastised herself.Get yourself together. It’s not like you haven’t seen a handsome man before. You’re about to enter your third season. You’ve seen it all.

The Duke raised one dark eyebrow over eyes the color of the sapphires in Eleanor’s favorite necklace. Squaring her shoulders, she cleared her throat. “My apologies, Your Grace. I just wanted to thank you for carrying me to my room when I was, um, disposed.”

A corner of the Duke’s lip slid up. “You fell harder than a boulder being tossed off the London bridge.”

He mimed a giant splash with his hands and sound effects.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes in his direction. “I am not a boulder.”