Page 5 of His Temporary Duchess
And yet she could not stop thinking about the way it had felt. More than once, she had come back into herself to find she wasrunning her fingers along her bottom lip, tracing the route his tongue had taken.
“Eleanor!”
Eleanor snapped up to find Isabel hanging over her. “Ah! Yes. I’m sorry. What was it you wanted?”
“Are you even listening to me? I need you to find the green ribbons for my hair. The Duke will be here in a matter of minutes, and I am not even remotely ready to receive him! And allyoucan do is sit there with a dazed look on your face.”
“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said mechanically. “I hadn’t intended to—” She cleared her throat.Enoughthinking about the strange man. She would never see him again, anyway. “The green ribbon. Of course.”
“And my slippers,” Annabel cut in with an oily smile. “The silver ones. I must look my best.”
Eleanor glanced at the maids dealing with her half-sisters’ hair and clothes, both their shoulders hunched in case her sisters’ wrath turned on them instead.
Better she take it. After all, it hardly mattered whatshewore, seeing as the Duke would not be arriving to look at her. And the maids suffered enough torment at Isabel and Annabel’s hands at the best of times.
“I don’t like the way you’ve done my hair, Betsy,” Isabel huffed, running her fingers through the unruly tumble of blonde curls. “Brush them out and start again. It should be more—” she hesitated, feigning nonchalance, “neat. Pinned higher, perhaps. Like Lady Lydia always wore hers… what did she call it? A Corinthian chignon?”
A knock sounded at the door, and Margaret stepped inside. “Oh, my darlings,” she said effusively, touching the top of both Isabel and Annabel’s heads. “You both look so very beautiful.”
“Eleanor!” Isabel snapped. “The ribbons! And I also require rouge for my cheeks.”
“Nonsense, my darling.” Margaret held up a hand at Eleanor, stilling her. “You don’t need any cosmetic help. Better he see how fresh-faced and beautiful you are. And that goes for you, too, Annabel. I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression of your virtue. Young ladies do not need the help of such practices.” She pinched Isabel’s cheeks. “There now. What more could you possibly need?”
Privately, Eleanor didn’t think the Duke would care too much about the virtue of his future bride. At least, perhaps he would when he actually intended on marrying, but she doubted very much this was the case here and now. And certainly not with her half-sisters.
“As for you,” Margaret said, turning disdainfully to Eleanor. “I assume you know the purpose of the Duke’s visit?”
Eleanor ducked her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Then you know he is arriving intending to marry one of my three girls. The eldest two, most likely. I hardly think it necessary that you put in an appearance, especially given you are past a desirable marriageable age, especially when compared with dear Isabel.”
Three years hardly made all that much of a difference. But as Eleanor had no interest in the Duke or his escapades, she merely shrugged. “As you say.”
“Such anuncouth gesture. You ought to know better than that. Now, go and see to Mirabel to make sure she is presentable. I suspect she harbors some hope that the Duke might glance her way too.” She waved a hand, dismissing Eleanor. Sensing an opportunity for escape, Eleanor curtsied before scurrying for the door, moving to Mirabel’s smaller bedchamber. The younger girl looked up with a wan smile.
“Oh, Ella! I thought it was Mama here again.”
“Just me,” Eleanor smiled secretly. “Would you like me to do your hair?”
“Mama… Mama said I should wear your pearls,” Mirabel said hesitantly.
An unexpected stab of pain choked Eleanor, and she placed a hand against her heart. Her pearls were the only possessionsshe had of her mother’s—the one thing Margaret could not take away from her. Except, now, she was attempting to do just that. And the only reason Isabel or Annabel hadn’t already demanded it was because they had nicer jewels to their name.
Mirabel chewed on her lip. “I promise to give them back as soon as he leaves.”
“It’s—” Eleanor took a breath. This was nothing new, and she could endure just as she had before. Better, in fact, because she had something none of her half-sisters knew of:a secret. She had the strange man’s kiss lingering on her lips even now, proof that someone at least had thought her worthy of something, no matter how wrong it might have been. “It’s fine,” she finally said, forcing a smile. “I shall go and retrieve them from my room.”
“Thank you.”
As Eleanor fetched the pearls and placed them on her half-sister’s throat, fastening them and stepping back, she forced all unhappy feelings away. Perhaps she had hoped to wear the pearls herself, perhaps even to her own wedding, but that had always been a foolish dream. And, of all her half-sisters, she had rather Mirabel wore them. After all, now there was at least a chance of getting them back.
“Let me help you with your hair,” Eleanor said, knowing it was her duty. The other maids were too preoccupied with the older girls.
A fist pounded on the door just as Eleanor finished pinning Mirabel’s dark curls behind her head. “Come on, Mira!” Annabel called. “The Duke is here! Come downstairs to greet him.”
Eleanor gave Mirabel’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “You go, now. I’ll stay here.”
It was a testament to the usual way of things that Mirabel put up no argument as she hurried excitedly to the door. Once it closed behind her, Eleanor peered out of the window at the street below. There, a carriage was sitting beside their front door, and she saw a man emerge from it, a top hat on his head, obscuring the rest of his body. From this angle, she could see little of him, but she didn’t care, turning away and clicking her tongue. Now, at least, she would have some time to sit and read some romantic stories to Scrunch.