Page 5 of Seven Days with her Duke (Hearts of Whitmores #3)

CHAPTER 5

A ll she had wanted was a breath of fresh hair.

Heart pounding, Eleanor stared at Lord Wilmington in disbelief and dread. Her hands pushed against his chest but the scoundrel too heavy and too strong for her.

I should have known better.

She sucked in a deep breath. “My lord, release me!”

Was it too late? Was this too much? Eleanor could hardly keep her thoughts straight. All she knew was that she needed to escape the man before anyone could find her.

The scoundrel. She should have been more attentive. But already she had been distracted; the lord must have caught sight of her going outside. She hadn’t been able to stay put in the room while those women talked so rudely of her. Though she’s heard Dominic start to scold them, she didn’t stay to hear every word. It hurt too much.

I don’t even know them, but they have already made the decision I am only worth their disgust. People are cruel. I wish I wasn’t here. I wish I was anywhere but here.

So she had escaped the ball by stepping outside where no one might catch sight of the tears welling up in her eyes. It had made sense in the moment to go beyond the terrace so she might have a moment of privacy. The evening was still young. She only needed a few moments to pull herself together.

Still, the dread lingered. It was so easy to do so. Once her father and brother had passed, the stress of social functions had intensified for Eleanor. Already this evening felt unbearable. It made her chest tight so she could barely breathe, and then she grew lost looking for the pond, for she so loved a good pond, with tears in her eyes.

Viscount Wilmington had appeared with a handkerchief. Such as when he had asked for a dance, Eleanor hardly knew how to turn him down.

It wasn’t that she liked him or even had any interest in him. When Dominic had told her to keep away from the viscount, Eleanor already had that idea in mind. But she didn’t like him telling her what to do any more than she liked Wilmington seeking her out.

So when she had dried her eyes and realized just how alone they were, Eleanor immediately knew the risks. The danger. Her stomach had clenched and she wished she hadn’t had that too-sweet sherry. Unable to think of anything clever to say, she had muttered a farewell and turned to leave.

Only for Wilmington to snatch her up in his arms.

“I only seek a kiss,” he said. “I cannot bear to go the evening without knowing the sweet taste of your lips.”

So she had made her demand of being let go, because Eleanor couldn’t think of anything else. Her hands pushed at him, and pushed, but he went nowhere. In fact, he only came closer. Hot alarm spread through her chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to scream.

Wilmington’s thin lips were so close she could smell the shrimp.

She was just about to gag when she found herself yanked off balance and then the viscount was gone. Stumbling backwards, she stared in disbelief as Dominic appeared, his fist in the viscount’s face. Wilmington was just as startled as she was. He growled as if he was an animal, and stepped forward.

Her breath caught. No, he wouldn’t dare harm Dominic. Would he? Resting a hand over her uneasy stomach, Eleanor couldn’t imagine him harmed.

Fortunately, Lord Wilmington stopped. There was already a shadow forming on his jaw. He huffed, his shoulders moving, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to fight Dominic. She glanced up at the duke to find the coldest glare she’d ever seen. If anyone deserved a good animalistic growl right then, she thought, it would be him.

Although he didn’t growl when he spoke, Dominic’s tone was low and menacing in a manner that still sent shivers down her spine.

“Touch her again and you will regret it.”

Eleanor swallowed, feeling the knots in her stomach beginning to loosen. She didn’t understand what that could mean.

Looking to Wilmington, she watched as he lifted his chin. The man wouldn’t fight Dominic. He couldn’t, she supposed, without being bashed about. He wasn’t as tall and he had small hands. Then his response almost sounded like a pout, though she still hated every word out of his mouth.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Your Grace,” the viscount sneered. “She’s not yours to protect.”

Something about his voice made her uneasy and she found herself stepping back. As though he noticed, though she didn’t see him look his way, Dominic was taking a step toward the viscount that put her behind him.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Wilmington. She is mine,” Dominic growled this time in a way that was truly terrifying. She couldn’t imagine facing him like that. “And you will never touch her again.”

Confusion instantly clouded Eleanor’s thoughts over those fierce words of his. While she found relief at his arrival and defense for her, she couldn’t understand why he would claim her. The idea was ridiculous. She didn’t like him and he didn’t like her.

A lie. A trick to protect me, that’s it.

She let out a shaky breath as the viscount grumbled something under his breath. When he darted a look her way, Dominic shifted again to block the man until he finally turned to go. His footsteps led him away until she could hear nothing more.

Then it was just her and the duke standing beside the pond.

Looking down, Eleanor found she had since wrapped her arms around herself. The evening was cooling down. She couldn’t help but admit she was rather shaken over what had just happened. While the fear was fading, her consternation remained.

So she turned to the duke to make sense of matters for her. It wasn’t something Eleanor did on purpose for Dominic, but she was used to having someone there to help her.

Once, her father or Roger could have managed matters for her. They rather liked managing matters and people and the like. Then even Nicholas would have been there to pinch her playfully with reassurance, to explain everything to her until she was relaxed. And now Joanna was around to patiently sit her through her emotions, quiet and supportive.

Dominic simply stood there.

She studied the rise and fall of his chest for a good minute, waiting for him to explain everything to her. Except he said nothing. When she lifted her gaze to his, he turned his face away.

Whatever relief that had started to settle over her faded at once. She rocked back on her heels. “Your Grace?” she asked tentatively.

The sound of her voice must have brought him back to attention as he jerked back, and paced for a second. She watched his hands tug through his hair. Even tousled like that he remained very handsome. But she didn’t have the energy to feel annoyed at him just yet.

Eleanor opened her mouth, wondering if she should apologize.

But Dominic came striding back to her. His hand neatly grasped her arm, careful and graceful, to rest over his. “We’re leaving,” he announced in a surprisingly curt tone.

She couldn’t think of anything to say. The entire matter left her thoughts jumbled. She wished Nicholas or Joanna were there, not knowing what to do with a quiet Dominic. She had never seen him upset before.

No, she had. Only once, but he hadn’t known she was there, so she tried not to think of it often. If she did, it broke her heart. And Eleanor preferred to be angry at Dominic than to be sympathetic toward him.

So she went with him wordlessly, her eyes downcast as they reentered the ballroom. He brought her to Nancy and explained Eleanor was unwell. Her friend hugged her before parting. Then Dominic offered his regrets to Lord Stetson, the quiet one of the hosting couple who asked no questions and let them go very quickly.

Both conversations only took a minute before Eleanor found herself being escorted back into the carriage.

Tears teased at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall. She blinked them away as the door closed. She glanced at Dominic who still had yet to say another word to her. It was just as frustrating to find him silent, she discovered, as it was to have him talking to her.

Perhaps even worse.

Why won’t he say anything? Does he care what happened? Good lord, is he going to tell my brother? I cannot imagine he is waiting until home to lecture me for my behavior. That is absolute nonsense. It wasn’t my fault. He must know that. Does he know that? I cannot believe the cad will not say a word. I cannot stop thinking, not knowing what is on his mind.

Eleanor preferred the quiet. Or so she told herself. It was easier not to get caught up in conversations with most people because it complicated everything. She rarely knew how to hold a conversation out of normally acceptable topics with anyone she did not know well. Nancy had remained her friend for years only because she chattered so much she didn’t mind how little Eleanor spoke for the first while.

The silence was comfortable and she liked having the time to sort out her thoughts. It helped her sort through her feelings and to calm her breathing.

Except she couldn’t do that now. She couldn’t even situate herself comfortably in the carriage, twisting about while she waited for Dominic to say something. She glanced up at his blank expression that avoided her gaze. The man hardly looked perturbed as he had while punching the viscount.

A strangled huff escaped her throat, finally breaking the awkward silence. “Dominic.”

His gaze barely flitted over to her. “What is it?”

As though they had nothing to talk about. She clenched her hands into fists, unable to believe he chose this time to act as though they weren’t going to talk about what had just happened.

“You cannot ignore what we just––”

“Must we go on about this?”

“Your Grace!” His lips pursed but she threw him the hardest look she could manage. It softened the wrinkle in his brow, though he said nothing. Forcing a measured breath, Eleanor tried to compose herself. “I cannot pretend nothing happened back there. We must address it. At least about the viscount. Did you know?”

“I hardly know the man.”

“You knew something,” she accused him. “You knew enough about him to tell me to be wary.”

“No,” he corrected her in a flat tone, “I told you to avoid him.”

Her eyes narrowed. That wasn’t quite the attitude she wanted for this conversation, but she decided she would accept it over nothing. “Is it because he is like you, Your Grace? An absolute rake?”

That made him straighten in his seat. “Stop asking about Wilmington, Eleanor. Put him from your mind. This is not something you should know about. I will not answer all of these questions. The only thing you should keep in mind is that you must obey me when I tell you that something––or someone––is dangerous.”

“But––”

“How many warnings will it take for you to understand that I am serious?” he asked her.

She crossed her arms, frustrated about many things now that they were somewhat talking. It was not the most conducive conversation if he wasn’t going to explain himself. But she saw a sharp glint in his eyes reminding her of Nicholas’ rapier. Dominic meant what he said.

“I will,” he said when she made no response, “have your word on this, Eleanor.”

The words slipped off her tongue before she could help it. “I don’t want to.” She almost cringed over how childish she sounded. But the thought of obeying Dominic made her chafe.

“Then I will have you locked in your room for the next ten years.”

Although she opened her mouth to argue he had no say in such a matter, Eleanor paused. It bore no conversation. The threat was empty. His request, however, unfortunately had some merit. He had been correct about Wilmington in a way she had not previously understood, though she’d felt somewhat that she couldn’t trust the man. Dominic was right about that; he could, in theory, be right again.

She mulled over this for a minute before grudgingly nodded. As she settled back against her seat, she found him staring her down. It made her sigh loudly. He wanted a verbal agreement. “Yes, fine. I will try my best to do my best. Will that satisfy me?”

Though his eyes narrowed, studying her for a good minute, he grudgingly nodded. “Very well.” He paused before surprising her with a final comment. “Thank you, Lady Eleanor.”

“You’re most welcome.” The polite words seemed to surprise them both.

Quickly looking away, Eleanor saw they had turned back onto her street; soon, they would be at her door. Dominic would take her leave once he saw her inside. Something told her they might never talk on this subject again; he looked more out of sorts than she had recalled was possible for him.

A skip in her heartbeat reminded her of something he’d said early that played over and over in her mind. She doubted she would ever forget it. Strange words that bore little meaning, surely, she thought.

Unable to ignore the burning question, Eleanor cleared her throat and gathered her courage. “Dominic?” She used his name on purpose this time in the hopes it might endear him to honesty for her. “You said… You told the viscount ‘she’s mine’ and I wondered… what did you mean by that?”

She waited impatiently as they turned to her house. The carriage rolled upward and reached the mews. Shifting impatiently, she stared down Dominic in the hopes he might reply. Discomfiting silence settled between them as the door opened and a footman appeared to help them descend.

He isn’t going to respond. He is not going to say a word now or later. We’ll never talk about this again and I’ll never understand him or whatever happened. And now I shall never––

Half out of the carriage, Dominic let out a loud breath and tilted his head back in side to look at her. She froze as their gazes met.

“I would say anything to protect you, Eleanor.” She swore her lungs squeaked when she inhaled. “And I knew this man believing you were under my protection would scare him.”

Entirely bewildered, Eleanor needed a moment to sit with the words. The duke descended from the carriage. She expected him to go then and take his leave. But he lingered, offering her his hand when she gathered the strength to climb out. His presence was oddly comforting in a way she could not explain as she reached the ground and reluctantly let go of him.

Before she knew what she was doing, Eleanor was stepping inside. She turned as the door closed but he was already gone.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well,” Wordlesby, the family butler, announced as her maid arrived to help her. “Lady Eleanor, is there anything I can do for you?”

If you could explain the duke to me, I would very much appreciate it. Tell me what Dominic meant. Tell me what I’m supposed to think. What am I supposed to do about him?

Eleanor managed to bring a smile to her lips. “Thank you, Wordlesby. I should only like to retire quietly now. Good night.”

And up she went to bed, letting Rachel prepare her for the evening, with her thoughts all astir. Even as she retired, Eleanor still had not a whit nor clue about what to think of the duke.