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

CHAPTER 3

“ T hat rake!” Eleanor huffed in irritation. “The dissembling fellow. I daresay he is nothing but a callow youth in a grown man’s boots. He has not a single scruple. I loathe him, Rachel.”

Nodding obediently, her maid tsked while assisting her with her gloves. She’d forgotten them this morning.

She regretted that now. Dominic’s touch had left an invisible burn that radiated heat and ice all in one go. Pacing about the room in irritation, Eleanor rubbed at it.

“Is something amiss, my lady?” Rachel asked when Eleanor had only one glove on.

“Certainly not. I should not allow such a man––even if he is a duke––a moment in my thoughts. He doesn’t deserve the time. Nor does he need the attention. That’s all he wants, you know. The insolent libertine. I hope he rots––”

Her maid froze. “Eleanor!”

That might have been a touch too far.

She forced herself to take a deep breath before sitting on the edge of her bed. Looking down at her hands, she was surprised to find them shaking. She clenched them into fists before grudgingly putting out the bare hand so that Rachel might button up the glove. The feelings he could bring up…

“I am terribly sorry,” Eleanor managed to say contritely. “I cannot understand my own feelings. The man infuriates me like no other, Rachel. One look and I cannot even…” she forced another deep breath. She closed her eyes only to find him there. Those golden eyes looking down at her. “How can anyone find him charming?”

“Perhaps because he is quite handsome? Lord Elkins has all of his teeth, after all, and has quite the broad shoulders almost like a laborer but much more refined. And his smile––” Rachel stopped when Eleanor opened her eyes. “I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t know how anyone could find the duke charming.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor responded primly.

Her maid, young and eager to please since she had only been with them for a few months, beamed as she returned to her job. She had liked her last maid, Francesca, but Joanna had taken her now since her own maid had gone off with Joanna’s stepsister, Madeline, to the continent.

Trying to distract herself from the maddening duke, Eleanor attempted to reflect over the last couple of years. Her life, once so calm and comfortable, had changed drastically.

As her mother had been gone for most of her life, she’d enjoyed living out in the country with her two brothers and father. When her uncle passed, her cousin, Charlotte, had come to live with them. It had been a lovely time that quickly led into an avalanche of drastic alterations.

First, Charlotte had come to London for a season and married herself a duke. Then Eleanor’s father and elder brother passed away in an accident when part of their roof fell in under construction. It had been the hardest year of her life. There were still mornings she woke up looking for her father, and evenings where she could hardly breathe because she missed him and Roger so terribly. Nicholas had picked up the pieces for them, taking on the title of duke, and had sobered up from his playful ways until he met Joanna last year and wed her.

And now here we are. Father and Roger are gone. Charlotte and Nicholas are wed. I’m very happy for everyone, but I… I hardly know what to do with myself anymore.

If she told this to her brother, Nicholas would be swift to smile and playfully tease her about marriage. Though his own had been complicated in the beginning, he and Joanna were terribly happy together now. Eleanor knew how much he wished for her to experience the same joy and gladness.

But loss had taught her something: no one was safe. She could lose anyone at any time. Why would she want to find more love only to lose them?

The thought made her shudder.

“Goodness, have you caught a chill?” Rachel stepped back with her glove hook. “Allow me to fetch a shawl for you. We’ll keep you in good health yet, my lady.”

A white shawl was brought out for her. Eleanor accepted it with thanks before leaving her bed chamber. She’d huffed and puffed and calmed down. Dominic would be gone, and she needed to say her farewells to Joanna and Nicholas.

Her sister-in-law was seated on a plush chair in the front hall, pointing as she gave directions to the household staff. She looked exhausted even with her cheery smile.

“I was wondering where you might be. We’ll be off soon, Eleanor,” Joanna reminded her, “and I could not leave without a proper farewell.”

“Then don’t say farewell,” Eleanor recommended. “I could be packed in moments as well to go with you. There is no need for you to retire without my company. The country house is lovely, and I should like to be there for you. With you.”

But the duchess was shaking her head. “You have been kept from your season long enough.”

I never even wanted one. What sort of gift is this that I cannot bear to be grateful? It feels like I am being tied up like a horse and halter, dragged about for all to see.

Eleanor forced a smile. “I would wait yet another year to see you in good health for the coming months.”

“Worry not, the staff is prepared there, and we will have her settled quickly.” Nicholas strode over. His dark hair and bright eyes lingered on his wife before flickering to Eleanor. The man was always well put together. A small crease in his forehead was the only sign of his worry for his wife. “We must leave within the hour to ensure we arrive in time.”

“It is not that far,” Joanna said. “I shall manage very well.”

But already Nicholas intended to go very slow with a carriage filled with cushions to provide for her comfort. Eleanor had talked over said plans with him yesterday morning at breakfast.

He turned to her now. “We’ll have a mass of correspondence from the ball. Can you work with Mr. Edgars to manage it?”

His secretary could write out replies with her diction. She nodded. “Certainly. If you will not let me along with you, then I can very much manage the house. Just until you return,” she added sheepishly to Joanna, who was the rightful lady of the house.

The lady chuckled. “You have my thanks, dear. Do as you will.”

“I am sure I shall be very busy,” Eleanor said, and gathered her courage to add, “In fact, I may need to decline––”

“It is too late to send your regrets,” her brother threw in. He bent down to kiss his wife, who blushed prettily and glanced around. Eleanor neatly looked off to two footmen carrying a chest out the door. “And don’t worry about an escort for tonight’s ball. Dominic will be there to assist you.”

Eleanor twisted back. “I beg your pardon?”

“That is why he was here,” Nicholas explained as though he was describing the weather. “He owed me a favor.”

A favor. That’s what she was. Eleanor struggled to find words as she said, “I could not do such a thing. He is unmarried, as am I, Nicholas. You cannot leave me in his hands.”

Her brother was busy beaming at his wife. At her words, he frowned. “What do you speak of? Eleanor, Dominic has a past no more colorful than my own. I trust him, and he has promised to keep you safe.”

“But––”

He shook his head, raising a hand to cut her off. “No more protests, Eleanor. He knows his place and I would appreciate it if you could help so I won’t worry about you over the next week. Joanna must get settled securely,” he reminded her.

“It’s only a week,” Joanna reminded her before mouthing an apology.

That was hardly something Eleanor could be upset over. She could never be upset with Joanna, the woman who had brough her brother back to himself after their family loss. Especially not since she was expecting.

And yet I wish this wasn’t so. How can Nicholas trust that scoundrel? The two of them might have been more similar some years ago, but my brother has changed whereas it’s obvious Dominic has not. The man is a rake. A scoundrel. If we are seen together in public, then surely that would do more to sully my name than improve it.

She frowned when she realized that could very well do her some good. If, Eleanor supposed, no one wanted her if she was associated to the rakish duke, then people would be more likely to leave her alone.

Did she want that? She liked being left alone. There wasn’t a single ounce of her heart that desired to be paraded about London for the season on the marriage mart.

Though I always thought I would be a mother.

“One week,” Nicholas reminded Eleanor once he’d seen Joanna safely into the carriage. The two of them stood on the front steps of their town house. He mustered up a grin. “You could attempt to enjoy yourself, you know. It’s time to grow up, Eleanor.”

“Being grown doesn’t warrant a season necessarily,” she couldn’t help huffing. But then she relaxed at her brother’s stern expression. “But it is your wish, and I shall not deny you that. You have enough to worry about, Nicholas. Take care of Joanna and I shall see you next Tuesday. Won’t I?”

He winked. “You’ll wish I stayed away longer, I’m certain of it.”

With a shake of her head, she shooed him off. Her hands bound about her shawl to keep from begging them to stay. Eleanor couldn’t imagine being alone, after all. She had never been alone like this before.

Joanna had offered to see her stepsister might stay a little longer, but Madeline had a slim opportunity to see her mother. The countess was an awful woman who had been unkind to Joanna after marrying her father, and the earl had ensured she would never step foot in England again––or else the magistrate would arrest her for a past plot against her husband. So Madeline was off to the continent to say a proper farewell to her mother before returning, though Eleanor hardly knew when they might meet again.

I don’t need a governess or nanny, anyways. I’m twenty years of age. I’m a grown woman who can do as I like. If I wish to drive a landau, then I might drive it. If I wish to play my harp, then I shall do just that.

Considering the way her stomach grew tight watching Nicholas and Joanna’s carriage disappear around the corner, Eleanor decided on the latter. Music had always calmed her down. She’d struggled to play any instruments after losing her father and brother, but eventually she had found her passion again and played at least a few hours every day.

The harp sounded like the bells of heaven to Eleanor. She spent hours that afternoon seated before the strings, but found herself struggling more than usual to enjoy herself.

It was the ball, she told herself, that would be the issue. Balls didn’t usually take place every night of the week. But Lord Stetson and his lady wife had returned earlier to town than expected and insisted on it; Lady Anne Stetson had made some sort of excuse for the matter at Eleanor’s ball that carried little weight in anyone’s eyes.

I wish I weren’t going. I wish I could just stay at home. I still cannot make sense of that Bach piece. And my book, I still haven’t finished it. And what about my embroidered pillow? That is unfinished in the sitting room. Perhaps if I…

Her heart was racing on her way down the stairs while she attempted to distract herself. She’d never considered herself fragile but feared her nerves were as brittle as glass.

“There is our darling.”

And there went her heart. Eleanor pursed her lips together in annoyance over the discomfort inside her chest. He was the reason for her nerves. Because of her dislike, she reminded herself. She disliked him so much that she couldn’t bear to be in his presence.

Except what could she do with her butler and housekeeper watching when she reached Lord Elkins at the bottom of the stairs with his hand held out to her.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” Eleanor couldn’t help saying instead of a proper greeting. When he brushed his lips over her knuckles, even gloved, a shiver ran down her spine. “It’s much too intimate. We hardly know each other.”

“But of course we do.” His eyes twinkled nearly as bright as his hair. He’d brushed it and tousled it in a way reminiscent of the scoundrel poet, Byron. Except Dominic was twice as vibrant as the man. I have known you since your days in a pinafore, Eleanor. If anyone should be using endearments with you, I should think I should be so privileged.”

Rolling her eyes, Eleanor muttered, “I would not consider this a privilege.”

“No? What of a blessing?”

“More like torture.”

The duke had the nerve to smile, his lips curving upward to show his dimples. The sight made her breath stutter. Looking away, she bit her tongue.

“You are too kind,” Dominic said with a chuckle before nodding to Wordlesby while their housekeeper helped Eleanor with her cape. “Worry not, my good man, I shall have her returned securely and safely before dawn.”

She startled at that even as he tugged her along toward the door. “Dawn! Surely we will not stay the entire night through?”

Nudging her into the carriage, Dominic chuckled. “We were invited for the entire affair, dear Eleanor. Why would we not want to enjoy every single minute of it?”

“Because…” as she struggled for an answer, she found her eyes studying him when he stepped in to sit across from her. The carriage had always seemed a proper size but was much smaller now with his large shoulders and long legs. He was attired well in a tasteful dark green coat and fawn breeches with tall boots. Dark gold accents on his garments shined in the light of the setting sun, highlighting his hair. And those eyes… that were settled on her with open merriment.

Eleanor flushed, realizing she had been caught staring.

He lifted his chin with utter arrogance. “Cat got your tongue, Eleanor?” Then he glanced down at her lap.

In her lap, she was rubbing over the knuckles that he had kissed. Though he could have barely touched her, leaving no mark on the silk, she felt a lingering heat there that unnerved every part of her being. Eleanor shook her head. She was merely out of sorts, she knew. It would have to be because of her annoyance, of course, and nothing more. Though he could take the signs as her admiring him, that would be a lie.

An absolute lie.

“It’s n-nothing,” she stammered after a moment and winced. Unable to look at him now, Eleanor studied the open window.

Their carriage began to move. She bit her tongue to distract herself; she’d grown up with an awkward stutter that she’d worked hard to remove through the years. It was rare she made such a misstep now.

He murmured something under his breath and when she looked over in irritation, she found him smiling fondly her way. “Your cheeks are pink.”

“It is the lighting,” she enunciated carefully.

“Are you anxious about my presence here?” he inquired. “Or is it my endeavor to help you find a suitor?”

Eleanor gave a start. “Do not be ridiculous. Of all the people in my life, you would have no say nor impact in such a matter. You’re only escorting me for a week, Dominic. Do not think you’ll accomplish that much in such a short amount of time.”

His grin widened. “Perhaps you missed me after all. You just said my name.”

Had she? “I… I did not mean to. My apologies, Your Grace.”

Waving a hand to brush the matter off, he said, “Don’t bother for such a trifling matter. We know each other, Eleanor, whether you wish to admit it or not. But I know. I know you.” He leaned forward. “And might I say, I find it utterly fascinating how shy you might be though you never fail to speak your mind.”

Eleanor licked her lips and opened her mouth, ready to refute his point. The man wasn’t allowed to be correct.

Except she forgot her words when his gaze fell from hers, dropping only a short distance to what must be her lips. Eleanor stilled, fighting for breath. She felt that warm flush creeping up her cheeks. It was an unexpected reaction that left her grasping for something to say, let alone think. But she couldn’t. There wasn’t a thought in her head.

It was Dominic who finally spoke again in the silence. His lips curled again into that familiar smile of his. He lifted his gaze back up and told her in a teasing tone, “I think this shall be quite the thrilling week, Lady Eleanor.”

That pounding of her heart expanded. She blinked several times, trying to muster up words. Even as her lips moved and curled, her voice had gone. All she could hear was the heartbeat racing through her, wondering about the weight of his words and the intensity of his gaze.

I fear he may be right in this endeavor.