Page 16 of Seven Days with her Duke (Hearts of Whitmores #3)

CHAPTER 16

E leanor enjoyed an evening at home afterward, trying to convince herself as well as Rachel that her infatuation with the duke would ease in time.

“He will leave soon. Nicholas will return and I’m sure the duke intends to leave London soon,” she reasoned. “I could never…”

Marriage would have to be to someone she loved, Eleanor had decided, at least somewhat like Nicholas loved his wife. She wanted something that special. And yet, she knew it was a risk and wished to avoid it.

I cannot love anyone. I won’t. It would be too foolish to do something like that when it’s so easy to be left alone.

“And you’re certain you won’t even try to convince him to marry you?” Rachel asked her that evening, rather put out.

Eleanor closed her eyes and fell back on her bed, eventually answering her maid. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. He is going to be gone and I shall still be here to manage the season with my brother on my arm instead. What a horrible feeling it is to miss someone I haven’t even lost yet. Oh, it will be horrible. Terrible. I fear I may even cry. But I shall grieve quickly and recover. I have my brother and my sister-in-law. I have my library and my music.”

“And you have me,” Rachel volunteered. She could hear bustling about, hopefully fixing the slipper. “I shall be at your side all along the way. Though it would have been quite the thing to become the maid of a duchess. Fancy that, my lady.”

“Fancy that,” Eleanor echoed.

She could imagine him behind her closed eyelids. Fancy Dominic in his fine garb and dashing smile. Those boots that climbed his calves and the gold braiding on his garments that made his eyes shine bolder than the stars and even the sun. Just thinking of him warmed her from the inside out.

“He really is a fancy one,” she murmured. “I want to tell him, you know. How dashing he is. How handsome I find him. Whenever we’re together, I hardly know what to do with myself.”

“You could tell him, my lady.”

Eleanor sunk lower into the bed with a sigh. “I’ve never seen anyone half as handsome as him, Rachel. And when he smiles… He starts the world anew. But it’s the reasons behind his smile that make it so perfect. The man is terribly genuine most of the time. One wouldn’t guess it, of course, because of his jests. His heart… it’s a very good one. I only wish he could realize that. If only he could see himself the way he truly is. Sometimes, I fear he isn’t truly happy. He hurts, you know. He’s lost his entire family. At least I have Nicholas. I’m very fortunate. Dominic is too, but only in different ways…”

She dozed off that evening, consumed in her thoughts of a handsome duke who could always make her smile. Such feelings kept her distracted during their next luncheon the following day.

He suggested a ride through Hyde Park before returning home afterward. After pausing by a nut seller’s stall for a sweet treat, Dominic drove them along.

“Your brother returns soon,” he commented.

Looking everywhere but at him, Eleanor nodded. “I can hardly believe it. One more social and then you’re free. Whatever shall you do with yourself?”

That made him chuckle. “A fair question. Perhaps sleep for several days. I should like to take off for Italy, but now is not the time. I’m selling a property,” Dominic added after a moment. “I’m selling it to several tenants and it is much more paperwork than we had expected.”

“But you’re glad you’re doing it?”

“I suppose so.”

She nodded and then offered her snack to him. Shifting the reins into one hand, he neatly plucked one up and tossed it into his mouth. The movement was graceful even for a silly gesture like that. Eleanor frowned. How did he do it? Had heaven carved him from the southern winds? Was he made of music and balance?

“You’ll miss me, you know.” Dominic changed the subject and nudged her lightly with his elbow. “Perhaps I shall continue to keep you company, so you don’t keep hiding in the bushes.”

“I only did that once with you,” she pointed out.

There was no avoiding his raised eyebrow. “I would bet everything I have you attempt to do the very same thing when I’m not around. Perhaps someone will need to tell Nicholas to not take you to any event with greenery.”

“It would severely limit our options, which I wouldn’t mind,” she pointed out with a grin.

For the rest of the ride, they teased one another. The mood had lightened from some awkwardness and by the time he brought her to her home, she was inviting him inside.

Except Dominic didn’t accept. He had a meeting that evening, and would try to arrive early on the morrow for their ball.

When the following evening arrived, however, Dominic was nearly late.

There was no note or warning. Eleanor had dressed in her favorite pale lavender dress with gold trim as a private tribute to him. Of course Rachel had taken note of that. It had been awful standing up there with her maid’s gleaming eyes on her like it meant something.

It doesn’t. It can’t. Already I know nothing would come of my childish feelings for the duke. The man is close by and has been kind to me. He’s saved me and protected me and amused me. Such feelings are only natural. And they will fade with time. I’m sure of it. They have to.

“Eleanor! Darling, what a lovely vision I see before me.” Dominic appeared at the door with a crooked smile.

No, she realized, not crooked. Sloshed. As he made his way over to offer an exuberant bow to her, she could smell the whiskey on him.

Disappointment settled low in her stomach. The man had never been deep in his cups when they had been together before. She understood all men drank. Some women, too. But this was not expected. It wasn’t part of the plan. Though he liked surprises quite well, she could only comprehend that he was tired of escorting her about and needed something strong to get him through the night.

“What have you done?” she asked, willing anger into her voice.

Straightening up, Dominic wiggled his nose. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve arrived just in time to take the prettiest lady to the ball.”

“You’re late.”

He sent her a wink. “The most fashionable people always arrive late. Have you your shawl?”

Apprehension washed over Eleanor as she accepted the strip of fabric and made her way outside into Dominic’s waiting carriage. The roof was put down because of the warm evening. But she didn’t care. She didn’t want to attend a ball where Dominic wasn’t paying attention. Why he was this drunk she didn’t understand, nor was she certain that she wanted to know why he had thought it a good idea.

“You’re out of sorts,” he said after spending half the ride humming a jaunty tune she didn’t recognize. “What is it? Did you wish for the roof? I didn’t want you stuffy.”

“Thank you.” She pursed her lips. “But I would rather better company tonight. That’s what bothers me.”

Crossing a hand over his chest in offense, Dominic asked, “What could be better company than myself, I ask you? Why do you hurt me?”

“The real question is why are you acting like this? Now of all nights?”

“What’s so special about tonight?”

She shifted back in her chair, realizing that he had a point. Tonight didn’t matter to him. This was her chance to have one last evening with him, but that was all. And most likely, he didn’t care. Why should he? He’d had to cart her about everywhere to attend her events and introduce her to everyone.

Perhaps that is why he’s been so annoyed of late, that acting as my nanny has finally broken him. All this time, he was trying his best, and I’m too much for him.

Crossing her arms, Eleanor pursed her lips and turned away. She had nothing to say to him now. The whistling started up again. This tune she knew though Nicholas wasn’t supposed to have taught her the words. They were terribly naughty. A flush crept up her face. She ignored him for the entire carriage ride to the ball, up until they were past the receiving line.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She let go of his arm when she spotted the side table with lemonade and sherry.

“Where are you going? Without me?” He pouted at her.

The music started up then, making her jump. It was already a crush; there were too many people here, and she had forgotten her fan. This was going to be a dreadful ball. To add to the discomfort, Dominic was being his cruel self.

I won’t have it. Not here, not now.

“Yes,” she decided to willfully misunderstand him. “Without you.”

Away Eleanor went, skirting her way quietly through the crowd where she was careful not to touch anyone or be touched. As she accepted a glass of lemonade, rather warm itself, she kept her gaze down while trying to think of something she could do to make the evening speed along.

She used to slip through these rooms only for a moment to find a friend, such as Nancy, and then steal away to a library or private study where she could be left in peace. Now, she was one of them. She had to stay here and stand around on display for everyone.

It might have been endurable, Eleanor supposed, if she had a cheerful Dominic at her side. But she remembered what he could be like when he was drunk. Both Nicholas and Dominic always grew so brooding when they were deep in their cups.

Biding her time, Eleanor attempted to amuse herself.

She sampled the food bit by bit. None of it was sweet enough for her liking. Then she wandered through the open rooms to fit the party. Even a short stroll on the terrace, also crowded, did nothing to help. She knew better now than to trust the gardens.

“Lady Eleanor, I thought I saw you.” A man bowed before her, and it wasn’t until she straightened she recognized him.

His name took her a minute. They’d only met for a moment at the house party the other day. “Lord Helton, is it not? Good evening.”

A little taller and much wider, he still had fair features. His teeth were crooked in his smile. But the bow was well done and so was his speech. “What a tragedy it was to lose you at the Quirmore house party. I had hoped for a moment with you.”

“A moment?” That could mean many things. She hesitated, not certain of what to think of that. Or him. He had hardly glanced her way at the party.

But he smiled now and offered his hand. “Might I have this next set, my lady, if you’re not otherwise engaged?”

“Oh, I’m…” Eleanor wasn’t able to think of an excuse. The unease remained but she couldn’t escape this. Why had she not simply found a way to go home? Now, it was too late. She chewed her lip before grudgingly smiling. “Yes, you may.”

It wasn’t the most awful dance she had experienced, Eleanor supposed, since there were limited opportunities for him to step on her feet. However, his invitation appeared opened the door to other gentlemen who began to ask her to dance. Next came an older widowed earl, then a rich solicitor known for his work in the House of Commons, and then Quirmore.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked with a grin. “You’ve had a number of dances thus far. You’re popular.”

“I don’t wish to be,” she started before frowning. “Have you been watching me?”

Worse, she feared. As his smile widened, she noted a spark in his eyes. It was similar to what she saw in Dominic. Not as charming but still familiar. Just enough for her to understand there was a game afoot.

“You must not request gentlemen to dance with me or I shall never take a dance partner seriously,” Eleanor muttered, her words starting off strong before she dropped to a whisper. Her courage had failed her. She didn’t know him, not really. How could she attempt to scold him?

Through the dance, Quirmore attempted to cajole her. He wanted to see her smile––a real smile––but then turned to heart of the matter.

“You would smile for Elkins.”

It hadn’t been a question. “What do you mean?”

“If you danced with him, would you be smiling? Truly smiling?”

Their dance had lasted long enough and finally wound down. As they separated, Eleanor considered how she might desire to answer such a question. If it had been any other day, it would have been too easy. Even now heat climbed up her cheeks. But after Dominic’s odd mood today…

“Ah, there she is. I’ve come to claim our dance,” he said as he appeared from nowhere. “Quirmore, don’t you have something else to do?”

His friend shot him a look before sending her a polite bow. Then he winked at her, making her jump. When Dominic glanced over his shoulder, however, Quirmore was already taking his leave.

“Must we?” Eleanor whispered so quietly when Dominic took her hand. She stiffened when she realized it was time for a waltz.

Not knowing what to do, she let him help her into position. Others joined the dance floor as the music grew. She wasn’t even aware of when they started moving. Her heart pounded loudly. It was only by the grace of god and Dominic’s dancing skills that she managed to function during the dance.

She should have adored this moment. And yet she couldn’t. Not with his glowering mood and the way he gritted his teeth whenever another dancing couple came too close to them.

“Why are you glaring at everyone?” she finally had to ask. “You’re being rude, Your Grace.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not doing anything.” There was still a soft slur to his words that she could note. It stung. Could he not bear to be with her otherwise? She didn’t understand what she had done wrong to make him do this. “If anything, it’s you.”

Stumbling when he said that, Eleanor staggered back up and nearly fell into his chest before righting herself. He hardly noticed.

“Whatever do you mean by that?” she asked, trying to pull herself together. But she didn’t know when she had started to fall apart. Stomach tightening, Eleanor felt the urge to cry and prayed she didn’t. “What did I do?”

“Really, what didn’t you do? Don’t pretend ignorance. We all know how clever you are. How pretty you dress and how big your eyes grow, making everyone think you’re innocent,” he groused. “It isn’t right. I cannot… I cannot––You’re practically acting a strumpet tonight what with all the partners. Everyone has their eyes on you. It’s not––”

Eleanor stopped cold in her tracks, feeling as though someone had dropped a lake of cold lemonade on her. It smelled sour and it was cold, a chill that drenched her form the inside out. Dancers moved nearby but fortunately they were on the edge of the dance floor as she dropped her arms and stared at Dominic in dismay.

“A strumpet?” she whispered in disbelief.

No one had ever called her that before. Why would they? She’d never done anything to warrant such a name. No one could accuse her of being a lightskirt, of such things. Her chest heaved as she put a hand there, seeing a grim dark look on Dominic’s face.

He didn’t correct himself. Nor would she give him a chance.

“How,” she managed to choke out in a low voice, “dare you treat me like that. I never want to see you again.”

There were few things Eleanor despised more than having a room full of eyes on her. It was the first time in her life that she didn’t notice them as she turned and left, not caring that the waltz played on behind her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The room spun so fast it tilted, leaving Dominic wobbly in the knees as he stared at the space that had held Eleanor before him only a second ago.

Did I say that out loud? How did I even think it?

Never in his life would he forget that expression of hers. He recalled the wavering in her voice. And the way she walked off with her head held high was harder than a slap on the face.

Which, he feared, he greatly deserved.

Dominic put a hand to his cheek as though it was what Eleanor had done instead, the ghost of pain vibrating through his bones. And those eyes. So sharp and hollow after he’d opened his big, fat mouth.

It was only the drink. I shouldn’t have been drinking, I know, but I can handle my drink. I could always handle…

Except no one was about to reassure him that was the case any longer. What had he been thinking? Ransacking his mind to understand, Dominic shook his head.

He was only trying to keep her distant. That was what she needed, what they both did. All he had meant to do was remind her to focus on other gentlemen and not to get distracted, not to… But none of that mattered now; his excuses meant nothing. He had a lot of things he could have said to Eleanor but then he’d been forced to watch her dance with one man after another after another. What was he to do? To think?

Then Quirmore had danced with Eleanor and the man had the utter gall to shoot Dominic a wink.

What was I supposed to do? I had to do something. To protect her. But I cannot protect her if she runs off… Or if I act like an absolute villain to her. Blast it, where has she gone?

Before he knew what he was doing, Dominic was walking after Eleanor. His feet moved faster than his brain. He would have to have something to say to her. An apology. A reminder that he was absolutely worthless and useless among other such things. Yes, he would grovel at her feet if he had to.

First, he would need to find her.

Out of the ballroom he went, attempting to follow Eleanor in the same path she had taken. However, she was a much smaller woman who could slip through the crowd with ease. He’d seen her do it many times before with grace and ease like she spent her entire life hiding in plain sight.

“Where are you?” he growled to himself when he stepped into the hall. Ignoring another lady’s stare at his rudeness, Dominic spotted familiar lavender escaping into a nearby door.

His long stride led him to what appeared to be a private parlor, and he pulled the door open.

It wasn’t a parlor. It was a closet. So small it was practically a cupboard with linens folded neatly in rows. Before him, within reach, was Eleanor punching a stack of white sheets with both fists.

“Eleanor.”

“I thought it was a way out.” She growled, though he saw the tremor as she turned around to face him.

The fury and despair in her eyes near broke him in half. Knowing he needed to apologize an offer to die a thousand deaths, without letting her evade him, Dominic stepped forward and wrapped them in darkness. The door clicked shut between them.

A startled gasp escaped Eleanor. “What are you doing?”

“I’m talking to you. Please,” he added in the hopes it might help.

“Talking?” It didn’t sound like it would help. Still, he stood before the door even as she reached out and felt his ribs. “Dominic! I don’t want to talk to you. Haven’t you said enough?”

When she started to pull away, he grasped her wrist. The gloves were sliding down; he could feel the fabric beginning to bunch. But he didn’t let go. He had heard the break in her voice. Remembering the pain he’d seen etched on her face only a second ago, Dominic prayed he had not made such a mistake that she could never forgive him.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he told her quickly. “I didn’t.”

When Eleanor spoke, it was with scorn. “Of course not. It was just another jest. Another lark. That’s all I’ve ever been to you and that’s all I ever will be.”

“Don’t talk like that, please.”

“Shall I talk like you do? Call myself a strumpet?” His grip loosened as he cringed, as she wrenched herself free. “Then what should I call you?”

Trying to ignore the lump in his throat, Dominic shifted his weight. The darkness did him no favors. He could hear the sound of her breathing and it left him unsteady. Or perhaps that was the drink. How many glasses had he drunk? He hardly knew.

“A cad. A blackguard. A villain. Call me all of the names of Beelzebub should you desire to,” Dominic promised Eleanor with all haste. He hoped he was particular enough with his pronunciation so he didn’t slur his words. “Call me anything if you like, only believe me I never meant to say that.”

She inhaled shakily. “It was cruel, Dominic.”

Finding more darkness behind his eyelids, he slouched against the door. “Cruel and unkind and unfair. But I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I never would.”

“I thought I did.”

There was a rustling of fabric. He swallowed, trying to sense where Eleanor was. There was the feeling that she’d put distance between them. Should he reach out, he would at least touch an elbow. Was she trying to stay far away from him? Crawl to freedom to leave him forever?

Even the thought of emptiness tore at Dominic in a way he didn’t want to comprehend, let alone imagine. The darkness befuddled him. Eleanor was too much. His thoughts too complicated. The world was no longer making sense to him; he should have never returned to London, he knew, though he never could have imagined he would have reached this point.

“Please.” He swallowed. “Hear me out.”

A quiet scoff sounded. “What more is there to say?”

Such sternness lived in those words that Dominic could hardly find an answer. Something about her tone reminded him of his mother. The thought amused him, though he was relieved to know Eleanor couldn’t see his face.

Women could be terribly intimidating. Most of the time, he enjoyed that. The chase, the game, the cleverness required to win a heart.

But I’m not here to win any hearts, not anymore. Especially not Eleanor’s. I cannot accept hers nor can I give her mine. Even if I had a heart to give any more.

“Well?” Eleanor demanded.

He licked his lips. “You haven’t said you forgave me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you always do,” was all he could think to say. “Please let me say my piece. Here me out. If you cannot forgive me, then I shall go.”

A quiet tapping of feet as she shifted about, clearly weighing her options. When he felt fabric against the top of his boot, he sucked in a breath and held it. She was right there. Dominic swore he could feel a warmth in the air even though he didn’t reach for her.

He balled his hands into fists, reminding himself he mustn’t.

“What more could you say? Lies, perhaps?” she asked, though he noted the hard edge had since left.

Clinging to that hope, Dominic swallowed. He straightened up and looked down to where he knew her face would be; there wasn’t a thing he could forget about her. No matter the time between them, he would know Eleanor.

“No. I would never be untruthful to you, darling.” She made a noise and he winced. What was he doing with pet names? He didn’t even know when that had started. Eleanor had called him out on it once, but he couldn’t stop. The name was there and it belonged to her. “Eleanor. I don’t… I don’t know what made me say that. Truly. You are nothing of the sort. I have never thought of you that way before. I beg your apology most humbly.”

Another shift and he could have sworn she reached out to touch him. But then she was gone and the touch was nothing more than a whisper he couldn’t hear.

“I think you mean it.”

Nodding, Dominic couldn’t help but take her in the dark. He needed to touch her, to know him. Finding her hand, he held it with both of his to clasp against his heart. “I would protect your name should anyone seek to besmirch you. To harm you. I’ll beat myself for my crime, I’ll drink a bottle of poison if you ask of me.”

“You’re just being dramatic now,” came Eleanor’s voice filled with exasperation. “I don’t want cleverness, Dominic. I want the truth.”

He tightened his hold on her before collecting himself. Why was it he could not stand the truth for more than a second of his time?

“You’re right. But I mean what I say, Eleanor. Believe me when I say I would never wish to hurt you. I… I’ve been a horribly bully this week, have I not? I never meant for that to happen.” While one hand grasped her wrist, he used the other to splay out her fingers and trace over them neatly, wishing they didn’t wear gloves. “You deserve worlds better than my company. I don’t know what made your brother think I should be your chaperone. The lord knows I can hardly manage myself. But you do. Eleanor, you’re clever and beautiful and deserving of much prettier apologies than this. Unfortunately, I cannot do any better than this. I can only tell you how terribly sorry I am for hurting you. I should never do it again.”

A bewildering sensation settled over him. He wasn’t kneeling at Eleanor’s feet, but his words had put him there. It left him open and vulnerable to being knocked over. So he waited with baited breath, dreading the moment she did just that.

Two minutes passed of their quiet breathing before Eleanor’s hand closed over his. He froze, not knowing what to do. What to think. He was only further at a loss when she brought his hands up to her mouth and gently pressed her lips against his knuckles.

Such tenderness made Dominic dizzier than ever before. His breathing grew ragged. Dropping a little lower against the door, he feared he was a fish out of water and didn’t belong here. Did he belong anywhere?

Desperate to understand what was happening to his wildly beating heart, he turned to Eleanor. She slipped between his legs and moved close to his body. There was no discerning if she had brought herself there or if he had pulled her there.

But it was she who kissed him first.

All he felt was the sweetest brush of her lips against his as her chest met his, reaching up for him. Immediately his arm looped around her waist to hold her there. He needed more. A muffled whimper escaped Eleanor when she was caught up against him. But when he paused, she didn’t try to escape. Instead, her hands crawled up his shoulders to his neck before burying into his hair.

If he was going to keep breathing, Dominic knew in that moment, then he needed Eleanor. Their lips met once again. This time it was purposeful and needy. Their kiss was heady; he felt sizzling heat between them.

He could kiss her forever. He wanted to, he decided. There was nothing in the world that he wanted more than this. Than her.

Then the door opened; in the back of his mind, Dominic heard the twist of the doorknob. But his hands were wrapped around Eleanor. Holding her as they fell out of the closet and into the hall, Dominic had the sense to keep her close and protected when he landed hard on his back.

“What good luck,” came a familiar voice tightly laced with rage, “to have found the two people I came here looking for.”

But there was little he could do to protect her, he feared, when they looked up in bewilderment and found the Duke of Ely, Eleanor’s brother, standing over them.