Page 26 of Seven Days with her Duke (Hearts of Whitmores #3)

CHAPTER 26

P acing back and forth on the blue and yellow Persian rug she’d suddenly come to loathe in her bed chamber, Eleanor was so consumed with her thoughts that she hardly heard the knock at the door.

What was I thinking? What came over me?

“I’ll open it,” Rachel volunteered when she didn’t move.

Over and over Eleanor replayed what had happened this evening as though she might come to better understand it. Understand herself. Or at least understand the man whom she had married for better or for worse.

But how could she sort anything out when all she could think about was the warmth of his lips on hers?

Thus far, she had only experienced two kisses with Dominic. The one in the closet where they had been found out and forced to wed and then the second in his bedchamber where they were ruthless and tender before he raced off.

He’d attempted to do so the first time, she reminded herself. It felt rather insulting. Kissing was said to be a skill that one could learn but Dominic didn’t seem desirous to help her. A flush wrapped around her cheeks while she tried to convince herself that wasn’t the reason that kept her husband so upset.

But if it wasn’t that, if it was due to her inexperience, then why did he keep trying to flee from her in these moments?

“Your Grace?”

She glanced toward the door, unseeing. “Hmm?”

Perhaps he doesn’t mean it. I suppose whatever I feel inside my chest isn’t what he feels. This time he certainly kissed me first. I’m confident in that. It felt as though he might consume my very soul when he held me like that. No one has ever… Could he not have felt what I did in that moment?

Eleanor attempted to review the countless novels she had consumed through the years. She enjoyed her essays and encyclopedias, but she also favored stories of adventure and romance. She liked the stories that came with happy ever afters, having grown up with the hope she might somehow have her own.

In the back of her mind, she knew it unlikely. Every day she had more proof it was only a dream. Still, the hope was hard to dash to bits forever.

The couples in most of her romance books certainly struggled in one form or another. Penniless poets or tender-hearted rakes or innocent romantics, all of them clinging to the dream of something more. By the time any of them kissed, she recalled, everyone was madly in love.

It was difficult not to be jealous of those who didn’t even exist.

“He’s back.”

She jerked her head up. “What?”

Standing in the doorway looking distinctly uncomfortable and very worried, Reginald nodded. He cleared his throat and tilted his head. “His Grace has returned, my lady. You wished to be notified?”

“Yes.” She blinked at him, wondering why the head butler decided to notify her of all people. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach. “What is it?”

The man hesitated only a moment. “We’re warming him up now, but our duke is chilled through the bone. It appears he was outside all this time. I don’t quite understand, but he may be quite ill if we don’t––”

Dread gripped Eleanor in her heart so tightly she struggled to even exist for a moment. A simple cold could turn into so many horrible ailments. And there were too many ailments that could kill a hearty man like Dominic.

“Where is she?” she demanded, heading for the door.

He barely stepped out of the way in time. “His bed chambers, Your Grace. In the attached bathing room.”

Since her marriage had hardly started off on the right foot, Eleanor had claimed a room at the other end of the hall from her husband. It had seemed right at the moment to give him space. Now, she regretted this. Racing down there as she saw a few servants coming and going, she felt as though she had to run for miles before she could reach the door.

“Where is he?”

A maid jumped in surprise and she hastily collected the towels she had dropped. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” she stammered.

One of the new chambermaids. Heidi or Hannah, Eleanor recalled. Eyeing the linens, she nodded. “We need hot tea at once. Willow root. And some rich broth.”

She tossed out a few more orders as she skirted yet another maid, who was helping pile up soaking wet garments handed over to her from her husband’s valet. Eleanor couldn’t recall the man’s name. She only saw the empty tub and various buckets before knowing her husband wasn’t there. As the door to the next room was open, she stormed through and stopped.

Though she had been here only a few hours ago, Eleanor had never paused to look around.

Dominic had raced out after their kiss––their argument––and she’d eventually returned to her room in a daze. Then the pacing had begun. Now, here she was, back again, with the world spinning.

It was larger than her own, but more sparsely furnished with furniture. The walls managed most of the décor with dark swirls of indigo and azure and pomegranate with touches of bronze. A tea table with a single chair were set up by the windows and on the right was a small corner desk. Then set up against the wall and commanding attention was the spacious large bed with heavy canopied drapes.

The fabric hid nothing of who laid there. Dominic was terribly still as his valet set his arms under the blankets. Little more than a pale figure, the duke hardly looked real.

Eleanor felt a weak moan escape her before she managed to move her feet and hurry to close the distance between them.

“A physician,” she whispered hoarsely.

“He’s been called,” the valet reassured her with a sharp nod.

Looking Dominic over, she forced a nod. He looked like he was sleeping. And he was, she reminded herself, simply doing that. She grasped his hand in the hopes it would be as warm as ever. Except it wasn’t. More cool and clammy than anything. She eyed the dark damp hair and blankets set atop him.

“We need to do more,” she said. “Tell me everything.”

While no one knew exactly what had happened to the duke, they all could see he’d been outside in the storm too long. Rainy days in London were to be expected. It had been sunny that morning and now it stormed. Every now and then there was a break for thunder, followed by lightning.

“He collapsed in the hall,” his valet explained. He had told her his name was Bartholomew but the duke called him Barty, which he rather liked. Barty hesitated before going on. “Two of the footmen and I brought him up here for a hot bath. It helped and he came to for a short time before he started shivering like mad. Banged his head on the tub.”

Worried, Eleanor felt for a bump on her husband’s skull. There was something small there, but no blood. “Did it knock him out?”

“I don’t think so. He wasn’t conscious for more than a minute or so. He tried splashing and climbing out as well, but gave up easily. His Grace is a strong man; I think he’s going to need that strength now.”

“He is. He will be strong,” she added tersely.

There is no other option. Dominic must get better.

Moving about the room, Eleanor instructed for more fire to be put in the fireplace and to set extra warming pans under the mattress for Dominic. Two more blankets were wrapped around him while she carefully dried his hair. Not once did he stir.

“Your Grace?” Rachel and a maid returned with the tray she had long since asked for and had forgotten about. “Are you hungry now?”

“No.” She looked down at Dominic. Having set herself against the headboard and placed his head in her lap, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. He would be furious to learn she was there. “Where is the physician?”

Stepping into the room, an older gentleman appeared. “Mr. Tennyworth at your service, Your Grace.”

She clung to Dominic’s shoulder without care of how she looked. Her hair was falling out of its braid and she had to look a fright. But she welcomed the physician in with all her strength, asking her to care for her husband.

After an assessment of his patient, however, Mr. Tennyworth had little to offer her. Already the duke showed signs of illness that would most likely increase through the night. A fever was not unexpected. There would be chills and possibly worse. Dominic would need to be monitored through the night to hopefully start mending on the morrow.

Except he didn’t.

Eleanor patted Dominic’s fiery warm brow the following evening, her own brow furrowed in concentration. He’d hardly woken up since returning home. Though he tossed and turned, his movements were weak. He’d barely managed down tepid tea and broth. And he’d called out names that were never hers.

Mostly, they were his family. It was these parts that made Eleanor’s heart ache the worst.

“Your Grace?” Rachel appeared again at her shoulder, reaching for her before pulling back. “My lady, please. You have yet to rest. Let us tend to the duke for a short while. Just a few hours.”

“No, no, I’m all right.” She pulled back and bit her lip, looking him over carefully. “He looks better. Doesn’t he? He’s not as pale. Right?”

Rachel nodded quickly. “Oh, yes, definitely. He’ll need to eat soon. Why don’t I bring up a tray for the two of you? Then you can eat something more as well.”

She considered it only for a second. “Never mind, that I’m not hungry. Just bring him more broth.”

Though Rachel tried persuading her otherwise, Eleanor couldn’t be moved until the following morning. She dozed in a chair at her husband’s side, a cool rag in hand should she find the neat to pat his feverish skin at any given moment.

“What’s going on?” came a bleary voice when she was finally dozing off.

Jerking up in surprise, Eleanor let out a shuddering breath. “Dominic! You’re awake. You’re alive.”

“Of course I am,” he croaked. He’d managed to start pulling himself up on one elbow before falling back down. “What are you doing? Where’s Barty?”

She grabbed the bell pull as relief poured through her. “We’ve been so worried. It’s been days, Dominic. You’ve been terribly ill. Mr. Tennyworth fevered you might have pneumonia. Your cough was horrible. This entire ordeal was horrible. I had no idea––I don’t know what I could have done should something have happened to you,” she rambled, unable to help herself now that he was awake.

As Eleanor reached to feel his forehead, however, he brushed her wrist away. She was frozen as Barty arrived and greeted the duke with eagerness.

“I’ll be fine,” Dominic told him curtly. “I don’t know why you weren’t here. I don’t need anyone but some peace and quiet.”

Feeling his gaze on her, Eleanor realized he was talking about her and flinched. She’d nearly forgotten what a mess their last conversation had been like. Eyes gritty with no sleep and starting to tear up, she ducked her gaze.

“Here you are, Barty,” she whispered, handing him the cloth she’d practically tied to her wrist. “Do take good care of him.”

Even though she had wanted to fight for her right to be in the room with her husband, Eleanor was too exhausted. Her maid was right. She’d spent all of her energy nursing the duke to health. And if he didn’t wish her there in his sickroom, what was she to do?

“My lady, there you are!” Rachel welcomed her in the bed chamber where she’d been tidying up. “I must admit, I’m glad you changed your mind. You poor dear. You need some rest. I’ll have a bath brought up at once, shall I?”

Though Eleanor appreciated the warm bath in the light of a new day, she spent most of her time in the tub crying as emotions poured over her.

How exhausting life had been of late. A month ago, everything had been as it always was. And now she was married, nearly widowed for a moment, and more alone than ever. Eleanor felt the weight of loneliness attempting to drown her. By the time she climbed into bed, she couldn’t manage to think another thought before welcoming rest.

She slept for the rest of the day and into the evening. When she arose the next morning, rather late, she found her determination to go speak with her husband––only to find he was much better and had already left the house.

“Your Grace? You have a caller.” Reginald greeted her in the hall, a sympathetic smile on his face. “A very persistent one.”

“Oh?” Eleanor took the calling card, reviewing it with mixed feelings. “Tell her I’ll be there in just a moment. Thank you, Reginald. And have a tea service prepared. I’m sure we’ll be there for a while.”

She freshened up before finding her way to the parlor where Nancy greeted her with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. Her friend’s maid sat forgotten in the corner with needlework as they crowded together on the oversized sofa.

“I missed you terribly. Mama said I must give you time to settle into your marriage, but I thought that balderdash. Especially when I heard you were at a musicale. Oh, we were so envious not to have invitations. How was it? How are you? How is it being a duchess? Married?”

Forcing a laugh, Eleanor shook her head. “Those are too many questions, Nancy.”

“But you’ll have answers for all of them, of course.”

“Very well. The musicale was rather nice. I am well, and being a duchess is busy. As for being married…”

Nancy tsked. “Tedious, is it?”

“No, not exactly. It’s… I just wish…” Eleanor swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ve been anxious about the idea of marriage. But I know it can be good. Lovely, even. And I want that. I want this husband, I believe. It’s only… different than I expected. He can be so… And together, sometimes, we could almost…”

Gripping her hand tightly, her friend nodded. “You love him, then.”

“What? No.” Eleanor tried to tug free before giving up. She hesitated and then shook her head again. “I fancied him, yes. I even considered myself somewhat infatuated. He’s handsome and charming and he can be so playful. So kind. But right now, I don’t know what way is up when we’re together. He makes me feel so many things, Nancy. I hardly know myself.”

Even as she spoke, however, Eleanor didn’t feel quite right about these words. She thought about the pounding of her heart when Dominic was near and she recalled how breathless he made her. Especially when they kissed. And she remembered how many tears she had shed for him. Because of him.

If she hadn’t cared so much, would she still have cried?

Nancy changed the subject but now Eleanor couldn’t get the thought off her mind.

She’d wanted the romance of the stories. She wanted someone who would adore her and cherish her. She wanted to love and be loved. But could she do one without the other? Could she manage in a marriage where it was forever one-sided? Who would she be if nothing happened?

Sooner or later, he will leave. He will tear us apart. He’ll send me to the country like I once told him he could. Or he’ll leave for the continent like he did once before. Either way, I lose him. Yet now I fear I never had him.

Her breath caught. A sob grew stuck in her lungs and she had to take slow, deep breaths to keep herself put together.

“Is everything all right?” Nancy asked, patting her hand.

With a strained smile, Eleanor nodded. “Yes. I’ve only been thinking. I’m sorry, Nancy, I’m rather distracted today. There is… there is a lot to be done.”

“Oh? Is everything well? Are you going somewhere?”

A shaky breath escaped her. “I rather believe I am, yes.”