Page 24 of Seven Days with her Duke (Hearts of Whitmores #3)

CHAPTER 24

T he following morning, Eleanor washed her face in cold water once, twice, and three times. She needed a long moment to pull herself awake. After the shameful evening, she had hardly been able to sleep. The entire night had been spent tossing and turning until she finally gave up.

Now, the sun was shining and her body ached and she never wanted to see anyone ever again.

It used to be easy to do just that. She would make friends with the servants who grew used to her comfortable routine. Trays would be delivered when she desired them. She would read and practice her music and walk and drive and then retire in peace, unbothered.

Such habits had helped her going when her father and brother passed away. Both she and Nicholas had struggled, clinging to one another but at a distance and hardly knowing what to do with one another. When Joanna came into the picture, Eleanor realized how desperate she was to try living again.

She remembered daring for a minute to dream of her own marriage, a husband to adore and a life to lead.

“Too dangerous,” Eleanor muttered to herself. “Too foolish.”

So that didn’t work out. But not all of this has been a failure. I’ve been pulling myself together for days, have I not? I must press forward. Last night’s musicale was not the success I hoped for. Perhaps it was because I hoped for too much from Dominic. If he doesn’t care to press forward, then I will not bring him along.

Such a thought made her heart ache.

She was attempting to carve out a new place for herself in this life. In this strange house filled with twists and turns and in a household of servants who were polite but distant. Tired of yet another life where she would be left to sulk and despair, Eleanor was determined to blossom here.

She would do so with Dominic in a marriage that they both deserved, with just a little effort. Or perhaps a lot.

Shaking her head, Eleanor glanced at her reflection in a mirror. It didn’t seem right to give up. At least not yet. She knew there was a better man inside the man she was married to. Nicholas knew him better and believed that as well. So she couldn’t lose hope.

She forced a few even breaths out before she turned away from her mirror to ready for the day. Already she wore a fresh dress and was brushing her hair by the time Rachel arrived.

“Your Grace! Whatever are you doing up already? And dressed. I could have readied you.”

“I don’t mind, Rachel. But I will take a fresh cup of tea,” she said with a nod toward the tray. “Are there any pastries?”

“Ginger and raspberry. It’s a new one Cook thought up just for you. I’ve already sampled a burnt one. Hope you don’t mind. It’s delightful,” Rachel added with a bright smile. “On the tea table?”

Eleanor nodded. “Please. I’ll be right there.”

“What about your hair? Shall I do something with it today?”

“Something simple, I suppose.” Eleanor handed her the brush and glanced about. “Is the household talking about last night?”

“Do you mean about when you and His Grace returned home and he fell on his face and his nose bled? Not at all.” Rachel gave her a sheepish smile in the mirror. “I believe the duke is still abed but he ordered all heavy drinks to be locked up and the keys removed from his ring.”

Eleanor straightened in her seat. “Truly?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“That sounds… promising,” she said tentatively. She played with her fingers. “Would you agree, Rachel?”

“It could be, yes. I should like to think so.”

Easy chatter between them helped soothe Eleanor’s nerves. By the time her hair was dressed and she had eaten, she felt prepared to face the day. She made it down to the dining room and took a particularly long breakfast, but the duke never joined her.

Eventually leaving the room, she nearly ran into Reginald in the hallway with a platter of papers in his arms.

“Goodness,” she squeaked. “That is quite a bit of mail.”

“His Grace and yourself must be highly requested guests of the season,” he said lightly. “They appear to be mostly invitations with a few calling cards from yesterday. I’m afraid they were left unattended.”

The doorknocker remained off their front door so no one would come visit. A normal habit for a couple newly married. She thought. How long she could get away with it, however, was another question. One look at those letters made her wonder if she might expect callers even today.

I can barely pour myself tea, let alone a guest. And what would we talk about, the shapes of clouds? Already I forget them. No, I won’t do it. Not until I’m ready. Not until we are ready.

Mustering a smile, Eleanor stopped the butler in his tracks to reach out and take the platter. “I find myself hungry for correspondence. I think I’ll take these to my study and sort through them myself and the duke.”

Reginald was terribly reluctant in handing over ownership of the platter. “I can deliver this to your desk for you if you like.”

“I would like to carry this myself,” she said with determination that surprised them both.

Immediately the butler stepped back. “Certainly, Your Grace. Is there anything more I can do for you?”

She shook her head and tried to ignore the sheepish blush creeping up her cheeks. There was no need to be embarrassed, she tried to tell herself. The short conversation she’d had with her cousin Charlotte last night had been simply to stay that a duchess could do as she liked. No one would stop her from being particular or eccentric should she choose such characteristics.

So she picked this one for now.

“No, thank you.” Eleanor managed to smile. “I appreciate you, Reginald. I’ll be on my way now.”

Satisfaction thrummed through her as she made her way up the stairs and down the hall. She turned in the wrong direction once, retracing her steps before finding the right parlor beside her bed chamber. By then, the tray had grown weighty; she was more than relieved to set it down on her small writing desk at last and let the papers flutter about.

“There must be hundreds here,” she muttered in mild irritation.

Falling to her knees to pick up the few pieces that had fallen, she noted two calling cards, a probable bill from her cobbler, and a small folded letter that made Eleanor pause.

She brought it close to her face. Then she sniffed it.

“Gardenia,” she mumbled before looking back at the letter in suspicion. It was a letter meant for her husband. There was no other name tied to it, and no proper stamp to seal it. Folded up neatly instead, the letter was small and light and didn’t set right with her.

As an idea came to her, she rose to her feet and set the paper down. It wasn’t right to open someone else’s correspondence. Besides, just because she smelled flowers didn’t mean it was perfume. The scent could mean a dozen other things.

Except now Eleanor couldn’t stop thinking about it. She stared at the letter, wishing she could see through the thick parchment to read just what it said. While it should go straight to her husband’s desk, she couldn’t help the burning curiosity rioting through her.

“Oh, bother,” she muttered before snatching up the letter. One glance went to the mostly closed door as she untucked the folds and pulled open the letter to satisfy her unease once and for all.

Well, this didn’t make me feel better one bit.

So many feelings rushed over Eleanor at once that she didn’t know what to do. Uncomfortable heat put sweat on her brow and she felt sick to her stomach. Unable to help herself, she read the letter again as her hands shook.

‘Dearest Duke, I saw you last night and I knew we could not leave the past in the past. Nor can you. Without a word, it was clear we belong together. You need me, and I will not let you misplace me like you did before. Come see me at once so we can pick up where we left off. Yours, Dinah Rose.’

Needing to move, Eleanor paced in circles around her room until she had covered every inch the carpet and rugs two or three times. Her chest heaved. She clung to the letter with both hands, the ink boring into her mind as she silently wrestled with anger and grief.

It was obvious what this letter meant, who it was from, and what was meant to happen in the future.

But I will not have it.

There had been no discussion about mistresses. Eleanor knew that. She knew there had hardly been a discussion about anything since Dominic wasn’t talking to her. For all she knew, he had already reached out to her.

“That harpy,” she huffed, knowing how shocked her family would be to hear such venom in her voice.

All her life, she had been quiet and kind and shy and demure like a proper lady. The country life suited her where she could be herself in peace, enjoying vigorous drives in the country and tending to her musical talents. But every person was made of more, just like she was.

Dominic had always been able to do that, she realized, in more ways than one. He could ignite anger and frustration in her like no other.

A dangerous this. But I will not be the only one to burn here.

Eleanor wondered if she might come to regret the choice that immediately came to her. Part of her thought she should take time to reconsider what might happen.

That part of her did not win.

Hastening over to her desk, Eleanor pulled out a clean piece of paper. She cut a new pen and swirled the ink before she began writing.

‘Dinah Rose, this is not the duke for you. Take care to keep your distance for you shall never see my husband again. Lady Eleanor Elkins, Duchess of Salford.’

She breathed gently over the ink before sprinkling sand on it, waiting just long enough for it to dry so she might offer a proper seal. Not simple folds that teased at something more. Eleanor relaxed at the sight of the sophisticated missive and rose to her feet.

Refusing to give this another thought––she didn’t want to waste time and risk anything further taking place––down the hall she went to find a footman to have this delivered that very same day.

Once that was done, she made her way down to the kitchens.

“Good day, Your Grace,” Cook told her with a cheery smile. “Have you something new for us today?”

“Not in particular. I only wished to make an adjustment to our supper plans,” Eleanor said with the prettiest smile she could muster. “I believe we’ll forego quail tonight. Let us rather enjoy some sea cale, I think. Fried oysters, and then boiled mushrooms. Oh, and orange jelly.”

That made Cook stop in his tracks. He glanced up at her before skirting about the room. “That is quite a menu. I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of that.”

Which I readily knew since Dominic despises everything I just said. Why would a house stock something the duke doesn’t care for? Well, perhaps it should every now and again.

She blinked but managed to keep the smile on her lips. “How unfortunate. Can you please have someone sent to the market today to see what we might be able to achieve? Make any replacements if you must, but I think my husband and I are in the mood for something like this. Won’t it be a nice surprise?”

Eyes widened for just a second as though the Cook came to realize something. He hemmed––probably concerned for the future of his job––and then sent her a nod. “I shall do whatever I can to please you, Your Grace.”

“Thank you very kindly. I shall be very appreciative,” she reassured him so there was nothing at risk.

Well, perhaps a little, but sometimes that becomes expedient. Necessary, even.

The decision tugged at Eleanor’s conscience through the day of resorting to something so petty. Normally, she would behave better. She’d only taken her wrath out through menus on occasion to her family, for whom she’d been the lady of the house for a good portion of her life. The best way to get the attention of her father and brothers was to feed them their least favorite meal where they were forced to sit and attend her before realizing their error.

But how else was she going to get him to pay attention? To see her?

Resolved to the cause, Eleanor dressed neatly for supper and arrived down early. She stood waiting near the doors for a good eight minutes before the footman opened the dining room for her.

“Finally.” In strode Dominic just as she was taking her seat. “I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

Eleanor lost her breath at a glance his way. Dominic looked ridiculously undone. She’d never seen him without a cravat like this, his shirt open at his neck. His hair was ruffled like a storm sat right on top of it, desperate for freedom and connection. She wondered if it was still soft. Even the dark circles under his eyes became him, and his pout refined.

The duke is a mess, so why do I find myself wanting to fall right over and melt right into him? Foolish, foolish girl.

She told herself it was only habitual that her heart bubbled before him like a hot cup of tea too strong to be touched. The infatuation was over––it had to be, she didn’t see how it could continue––but perhaps there were bound to be some ghostly remains of her faux feelings for him. Trying to find them and force them down, Eleanor evened out her breathing.

“Good evening,” she managed to say at last, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she feared.

So caught up in her whirlwind of emotions, Eleanor managed to forget about her supper plans for the first course that was a smooth and light vegetable broth. But then came the boiled mushrooms dripping in lard.

She watched as Dominic squinted like he couldn’t believe he was seeing the dish. Wrinkling his nose, he seemed to mutter something under his breath before shoving the vegetables on his plate until the next course. It was the same with the oysters, but he didn’t even try eating one in this round. He paled and stared at it despondently.

By the time the sea cape came out, he was already hesitant. Eleanor watched from the corner of her eye and said little. Nothing had to be said. Though she was surprised he never glanced her way, and she found herself more than a little disappointed.

“What––I can’t––pardon me,” Dominic said when he abruptly pushed his plate of fish away. It clanged against another dish loudly, making her jump.

“What are you doing?” she asked but he was already on his way out.

Before the door could close behind him, she heard him retching, and dropped her silverware back on the table. Was he really sick? She understood drinking too much could do that to a man––she knew more hangover cures than she wanted to, thanks to Nicholas. Still, she hadn’t expected that with Dominic for some reason.

Unease shifted through her chest while she stared at the doors. Silence filtered through but it didn’t bring her comfort.

None of it had.

Sliding down and ruining her posture, Eleanor nibbled on her bottom lip while she discovered new feelings. There was more shame than satisfaction, more guilt than cheer. She hated the weight on her chest and rubbed at it.

“It went accordingly to plan. But too well,” she murmured. Then she fell quiet, remembering she was rarely ever alone. She shook her head and pushed away the food. These weren’t her favorites, though she could stand to eat them, but she’d lost her appetite. Turning to the footman still in the room, she gestured to the food. “Please share with the kitchens. Everyone else may eat it tonight.”

Feeling awful for her misdeeds had Eleanor wandering through the house for the next hour, not caring that she grew lost. She realized what a terrible plan it was even though she knew she was running out of options.

Married a week and already it is a disaster. Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?

She eventually found her way out of the maze. After tending to a few household concerns the housekeeper needed to discuss, Eleanor had a light tray prepared for the duke and decidedly carried it to his bedchamber herself.

“Come in.” He said at her knock, and frowned from where he was resting on top of his wrinkled bedcovers. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve brought you bread and tea. There’s a broth here that should help with your stomach as well,” Eleanor said simply.

His eyes looked her over without meeting her face. “Very well. The household could have brought it up. We have maids.”

Whatever might have transpired as a friendship previously had since dissipated between them. Eleanor knew this. And yet, she realized, some part of her had been hoping they could at least be friendly with one another.

How many times can one man cause such heartache?

She swallowed. “Yes, but I wished to confirm you were well.”

“Of course I’m well. No thanks to supper.”

Holding back the urge to cringe, Eleanor carefully poured him some tea with plenty of cream, just the way he liked it, before moving back. “Is there anything more I can do for you?”

“Don’t you have something else to keep you busy? Duchess-like duties?” he sounded so terribly bored. For some reason, it led to Eleanor daring to ask for something she’d had on her mind for the last day or two.

“In fact, I thought perhaps we might retrieve my harp from my brother’s home. It is a tedious process, but if we start it now, we can have movers here by next week, I believe and––”

With a scoff, he shook his head. He slowly came up from the bed to take his cup. “Your harp? It is too much work. No, you can go there yourself to play if you are so desperate. I’m not dragging that oversized lyre here.”

“A lyre!” Eleanor found herself shaking with fury. Her face heated up so much she thought she might burst into flame. No one had ever said something so insulting. All she’d made was a simple request, and yet he had the gall to speak thus to her?