Page 2 of Seven Days with her Duke (Hearts of Whitmores #3)

CHAPTER 2

W histling, Dominic stepped into the house with a nod the butler. He couldn’t recall the man’s name. He had to know it. Didn’t he?

But then again, he hardly knew this house. And he had not slept well after leaving the ball. This was the same building as then, Dominic knew, but noted how different it appeared in the daylight.

A very fine house indeed. What else would one expect of a duke?

Squinting, he eyed the hall before agreeing to hand over his hat. The butler muttered something about the nearby parlor, starting to redirect him there.

“You came!” Nicholas appeared from around the corner, striding toward him. He offered a broad smile. “Wordlesby, I can take it from here.”

“Very well, Your Grace. Do ring should you require anything.”

“Yes, yes, carry on.”

Wordlesby. Dominic didn’t recall the name. But he recalled the man’s friendly but polite smile before he took his leave. This put the two dukes alone in the hall. He turned toward his friend, offering his own smile.

“How could I not come?” He asked Nicholas, reminding him of the question from a moment ago. “A ball is hardly the place for a proper conversation. Besides, I should like very much to catch up with you.”

“Indeed. Our correspondence has been rather weak during your travels, has it not?”

With a slight wince, Dominic nodded. He allowed Nicholas to guide him through the hall. It really was a fine house. Why was it they had never spent much time in here?

Then he recalled. Young men about London in their youth hardly had reason to walk about a stately building such as this. They had instead enjoyed every other aspect possible within the city. He chuckled to himself about the past, hardly able to believe they were memories and not just tall tales.

“What is it?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. No, you’re correct. I’m afraid my travels did make it difficult to maintain my correspondence. Half of my letters wound up in the wrong city or at my country seat. That’s one of many reasons why I’ve returned, I’m afraid. The abbey collapsed,” he explained as they stepped into what appeared to be a comfortable private study, “and I must see to making amends for my tenants.”

“That cannot be easy,” Nicholas sympathized. “Will you be going out into the country, then?”

“Certainly not. I can do it from here.” He flashed a confident smile when his friend’s brow creased. “It’ll be much easier than doing it from Italy.”

Though the other man hesitated, he chose wisely to say nothing. Instead, he moved to a sideboard and brought out an amber goblet with two glasses. The sight made Dominic relax. “Indeed. Well, we shall be glad to have you. In fact, I have a question I should like to ask you. A favor of sorts.”

“Certainly. I rather believe I owe you,” Dominic noted.

Not that I should remind him, or myself, but if I can have the debt cleared, then that lifts a weight off my shoulders. I’d like to be free again should the opportunity arrive.

“For what?” Nicholas brought over a glass for him. “The tree fiasco?”

Holding back the urge to groan, he said, “No, the boat.”

“Ah, the boat.” They shared a look. It only took a moment to recall the situation where he had blundered, and Nicholas had saved the day. And two people. “You definitely owe me for the boat.”

Dominic raised a finger. He drank, savoring the rich and smoky taste of quality and possibly illegal whiskey. They didn’t serve this in Italy. He’d forgotten how delicious it could linger on the tongue. “And then we shall be clear. What is it, then? A mistress to be paid off? A new wagon?”

I pray you, Nicholas, make it easy and short. A quick jab before I recuse myself once again in my study before I take my leave.

“Well, you are here now in London for the season, and you know most of the ton either by our history or through the gossip rags I know you still read,” Nicholas said slowly. He sat back in his chair, cradling his glass neatly while looking off to the side.

Rather a shifty look for the fellow for all he spoke casually. Dominic started to take a sip and paused. “I’m not causing another carriage accident just to keep your name out of the paper, Nicholas, not again.”

“We’ve had many an adventure, haven’t we?” his friend asked with a slight grin.

Dominic raised his glass. “Indeed. But we’re hardly the young men we were in our youth. Rather, you are not. You’re a fine duke with what I hear is a very fine wife.”

“And you seek the same?”

“Good lord, no,” Dominic scoffed. “I have enjoyed my women here and in Italy. There is no need for a wife, at least not yet. I should like to marry in another lifetime like my father did. The man was white-haired by the time I could speak.”

The less a wife and child knew of him, he had long since decided, the better. He’d do his duty just in time before going to meet his maker. It seemed the wisest course for everyone, not just himself.

Nicholas studied him thoughtfully before he realized he was being studied in the first place. Frowning, he straightened up in his chair. The man had to be up to something. But what? Having bordering country seats, they’d known each other well in their youth and attended Eton together before shifting to other universities. But London seasons had brought them back together, once creating a name for themselves as rascals and rakes.

But that was a long time ago. A very long time ago.

“I was hoping to hear something along those lines,” his friend admitted at last. He drained the glass, leaving Dominic growing impatient until he finally shared his intentions. “I’m leaving today to take my wife to the country. It is early yet, but I want her settled neatly for her indisposition over the coming months. Of course, I must go to help Joanna.”

“Must you?”

Nicholas’s gaze narrowed. “I must. Get yourself a wife and you may very well understand. Until then, I suggest you keep your tongue.”

Raising a hand in surrender, Dominic nodded. “Very well. And what is it, you wish for me to go with you? Keep your horses busy here while you’re about? I’m not writing your correspondence, you know.”

“Certainly not. Your handwriting never improved, and I wouldn’t like to force your illegible writing on anyone I carry a correspondence with. No, I need you here,” Nicholas noted emphatically, “for my sister. For Eleanor.”

Dominic nearly dropped his glass.

The most he could do was stare while waiting for his mind to digest the request. He had already agreed to do Nicholas the favor. He owed the man from years ago. But this? This was the man’s request?

“Do explain yourself,” he managed, the words awkward as rocks in his mouth.

Which didn’t set right with him any more than this request would. Dominic couldn’t fathom the notion. His good old friend would never want him around Eleanor. The young girl never had patience for him through the years, after all; it amused him to no end that he alone could cause the shy young girl such irritation.

Except I’ve got a reputation here that many widows reminded me about just last evening in the very ballroom down the hall. And I cannot think that Eleanor has agreed to such a notion.

“I will talk with her,” Nicholas reassured him, confirming his doubts. “She will be agreeable. There is no one else I would trust. Lady Charlotte and Lady Theodosia will cover for my wife as Eleanor’s patron in the season, but truthfully the affairs over the coming week are mild and require little proper chaperones. Take Eleanor’s maid should you need her.”

Dominic nodded slowly while rubbing his brow. “You wish me to escort your sister, your shy mousy sister, about the London season? Nicholas, the two of us could not be more different.”

She was innocent. Pure. Good-hearted. And clever in a way that benefitted those around her, instead of destroyed them.

What if I destroyed her?

Standing, Dominic spoke before Nicholas could reply. “As much as I adore your darling sister, I find this an unwise decision of yours.”

“Which means it will be perfect.” The man rose as well, taking Dominic’s empty glass. He didn’t remember draining it though his throat burned. “You can make any plan of mine work. We have proof of that a dozen times over. Eleanor needs an escort who won’t shy away from her excuses and quiet behavior, Dominic. I trust that you can encourage her to not only engage herself in the social activities of the season, but also invite others to connect with her. She’s still shy.”

Yes, so everyone said. And while Dominic saw proof of that in the way Eleanor frequently hid herself away, he was also reminded of her sharp tongue. It was a hidden weapon she saved for only a few souls, like himself.

“The girl only needs a bout of courage,” he told Nicholas.

“Then help her find it, would you? Eleanor is already late having her first season and I fear she’ll use a failed season as an excuse to put herself on the shelf,” Nicholas murmured on their way to the door. “The ladies will encourage her to hide while I fear Eleanor needs a gentle push.”

The thought of being able to help someone as good as Eleanor surprised Dominic. Truthfully, he was entirely out of sorts about this, and was still trying to understand what sort of trap he had fallen into.

There were walls everywhere. Walls lined with pictures of Eleanor in his mind. Eight years of age, scolding him for climbing trees with Nicholas. Two-and-ten, reminding him to mind his manners at a family supper. Five-and-ten, demanding he apologize for bringing her a flower covered in dirt and roots. And twenty, last night, her sharp tongue berating him.

“Oh bother.” As if he had called for her, she appeared. Eyeing him with pursed lips, Eleanor muttered, “Is this what I must endure through the season? Your presence?”

He appreciated her honesty. It was refreshing and frank for someone trussed up in a bright yellow day dress lined with lace.

A smile made its way to his face before he could help himself. Eleanor had such spirit. He remembered her father once worrying about what a staid little girl she could be. The man had loved her, yes, but hardly knew her.

Dominic drew himself over to Eleanor, needing to see if she smelled as sweet as she looked. She stiffened but didn’t budge. He leaned in.

“Miss Eleanor,” he murmured, touching her bare elbow to find it softer than he thought possible, “for such a shy wallflower, you have quite the sharp tongue. Worry not. I shall not judge you harshly for such a sin so long as you do not mind mine.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Your Grace!”

He winked before returning to Nicholas. The man was busily talking with their butler. Over in the front hall, footmen were traveling back and forth as they prepared for a quick departure. Soon, the duke and his wife would be out in the country settling in as she prepared to birth who might be the next duke.

And then Dominic would be here. With Eleanor.