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“Have you waited for me to use it? To come through the door and greet you at night? To find you trembling with anticipation of what I might do to you? Do you entertain yourself with thoughts of our marital bed?”

Eleanor’s breathing quickened. “I?—”

“Do you lie there, thinking of entering my chambers and seducing me? You have rather enjoyed teasing me lately. Perhaps you’re thinking of taking it further—slipping into my rooms while I am unaware to have your way with me.”

“Spencer…”

His mouth was an inch away from her cheek when he murmured, “You disarm me, Duchess, enough that I do not think I would have the restraint to turn you away.”

A small noise tumbled past her lips, and he drew back, amused.

“If you keep teasing me, I will play your game right back, but I believe I will win each time. But do continue these games if you wish to.”

With that, Spencer turned around and strode into his chamber. Eleanor walked into her own… and found no connecting door.

She could swear she heard laughter as she tapped the walls for hidden compartments.

Their first event was a musicale hosted by the Marquess and Marchioness of Salisbury in one of London’s most luxurious residences.

Salisbury Manor was nestled in Farlington Square, and after being surrounded by nothing but the country and Everdawn Village for a while, a part of Eleanor felt settled upon seeing the cluster of townhouses and the queue of carriages.

The other part of her burned with bitterness.

This should have been the society she had always been a part of. Had been, once.

Lord Belgrave would pay for what he had done to her.

Beside her, Spencer was tense.

“Are you quite all right?” she asked, reaching for him.

But he drew back, grimacing as he nodded. “I do not care much for these parties,” he muttered, before climbing out of the carriage and offering his hand.

As Frances prepared her for the evening, Eleanor had not been able to get his confession out of her mind. That he was disarmed by her. That he would welcome her attempt at seduction.

She hurriedly pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the steps leading up to Salisbury Manor. She felt eyes on her as several conversations buzzed around her, stopping when they stepped inside, only to resume in whispers she could not catch.

Spencer did, though, and he tensed again.

What made him so resentful toward Society? Why had he been absent from Charlotte’s life? And, most importantly, why had he never spoken about his twin sister?

When they entered the glittering entrance hall, the guests greeted them with polite, formal smiles. However, Lord Salisbury’s smile was guarded, his grip tight as he shook Spencer’s hand.

“Your Graces.” He inclined his head in greeting. “How lovely of you both to come out and join us tonight. It is most unusual you are not already residing at your townhouse.”

“We have been honeymooning,” Spencer said smoothly. “Everdawn Hall seemed most appropriate.”

“Indeed. But from what I’ve heard, Her Grace has been eager to return to London’s social scene.”

Lord Salisbury’s tone was light, almost friendly, but Eleanor was on guard, wondering who ran in the same circles as her former fiancé, who would report back to him, who was watching her now.

The back of her neck prickled. She fought the urge to look back, knowing that she would not find Lord Belgrave there.

“I am most eager,” she responded quickly, before Spencer could say something that reflected the impatience in his eyes.

“Hence why my husband has humored my request to attend such a lavish musicale. Lady Salisbury, you must give me the names of the musicians you have hired for tonight when you get the chance. But for now, I must beg my husband for a dance.”

“Do enjoy your night, Your Graces,” Lady Salisbury said with a smile that was neither too wide nor tight.

Stiffly, Spencer led Eleanor through the entrance hall and into the grand drawing room, where other guests mingled, holding glasses of wine and champagne.

The reception was already in full swing by the time they entered, and Eleanor’s heart lurched, her nerves spiking as she searched the sea of faces for Lord Belgrave.

When she did not find him, she still could not relax.

Spencer leaned into her, his lips so close to her skin that she flushed.

“Ease yourself back in,” he murmured. “Do not rush your interactions just to save face. You are strong; you can weather this. Remember who you are. You were a lady of the ton before you were a wrongly accused prisoner in that convent. This is your life, Eleanor. You are a duchess, so lift your chin and know that you are one of the most important women in this room.”

Surprised by his encouragement—by the words she had not known she needed to hear or expected him to say—Eleanor forced herself to do as he asked. She lifted her chin and regarded the guests coolly. She thought of her mother.

Lady Quinley is always so stern-faced. She never smiles. Never gives away her feelings.

She recalled the remarks she had always heard from other matrons who tutted or envied her mother’s composure. So she slid behind that cool, stoic mask and waded deeper into the room.

Spencer’s gaze swept across their surroundings.

“Who are you looking for?” she asked. “Lord Avington? You promised him a meeting, after all.”

Spencer didn’t even spare her a glance. “No. He has business to attend to tonight. I am merely watching for anyone who stares at us for too long.” His voice lowered.

“Our… targets do not seem to be in attendance, but I do not doubt that somebody will be reporting to one or both of them. I need to know who lingers too conveniently, who watches too quietly. I urge you not to do the same, so we do not rouse suspicion.”

Eleanor nodded, letting him guide her to their seats. They were in the front row, directly facing the array of instruments that had been set up for the performers.

Notably, Lady Salisbury had not come to speak with her regarding the line-up. No, the Marchioness was further across the room, glancing in her direction now and then before turning back to her friends.

Eleanor’s heart sank a little. She had not expected to make friends quickly, although losing that ability after years away from London was not easy to come to terms with.

Shifting, she turned her focus to the empty stage. Their seats were pressed close, and she felt the back of Spencer’s hand brush her own. She held her breath, wondering if he would take her hand. He did not, and she pulled away.

Still, her heart rate quickened, her thoughts wandering to their kiss. And that was where they stayed, even when Lady Salisbury introduced the first performer of the night—a young debutante who sat down at a Celtic harp.

During the first song, Eleanor was able to tune out any whispers. Everybody gossiped. Everybody commented on what they heard or watched. That was normal.

However, during the third performance—a stunning, original piece played on a flute that made her heart swell—she realized her name was being whispered.

“It seems the Duke and Duchess of Everdawn have little appetite for public appearances,” one lady said to her companion, her voice low enough that it was clear she was not gossiping for attention but for her own pleasure.

Eleanor tried not to look back.

“It is not surprising, given His Grace’s long absence. Only returning for his sister’s debut…”

“Not to mention Lady Eleanor’s… absence from Society.”

“Is it true that she was caught with a stablehand?”

Another lady whispered, “I heard she was merely visiting an aunt in the Caribbean.”

“An aunt?” the first lady scoffed. “I’m not certain whether Lord or Lady Quinley have relatives outside of London—except for the countryside, that is.”

“But the Caribbean is where the Duke is rumored to have met Lady Eleanor.”

I am right here , Eleanor wanted to shout. Have some shame.

“It is the story being spread, indeed,” the first lady muttered, clearly enjoying her control over the conversation. “But I do not believe it. They are said to be very smitten with each other, but look at them. They look as though they have a wall between them.”

“I think it is a stiff spine.” Her friend tutted. “They think they are too good to mingle with us.”

No , Eleanor wanted to protest.

The sad truth was that she desperately wished she could make new friends, but she was terrified. Anybody could be in the pocket of Lord Belgrave.

“Regardless, I do not think there is an amorous bone in His Grace’s body, and Her Grace likely does not know what she has chained herself to.

Whatever seduction may have taken place during their brief courtship—wherever it began—has all but disappeared, by the looks of things.

One would not even know they are married.

One might even question it in the first place. ”

Although the woman’s voice was low, Eleanor’s face burned as she forced her gaze to remain fixed on the flutist, wondering who else may have overheard.

When Spencer moved his hand closer to hers, she couldn’t return the gesture, too ashamed and upset.

As the evening progressed, her resolve hardened once more, and by the time they got into their carriage to return to Everdawn House, she had made up her mind.

Her eyes were fixed on the passing scenery as she said, “We must play the lovestruck couple at the next event.” Her voice sounded detached even to her own ears.

“I am sure we did fine tonight.”

“We did not,” she answered in such a hard tone that he turned to her. “Make sure that your friend attends our next social engagement so I can meet him. Our story must be believable, Spencer.”

When she was met with silence, she looked back at him… only to find him smiling, as if something about her demands pleased him.

“As much as I do not tolerate demands,” Spencer said quietly, “I understand.” His eyes flashed dangerously. “But let me warn you that the next time you speak to me in this manner, I will not take it well.”

“I look forward to it,” she bit out, turning her face away.

But he caught her chin, drawing her attention back to him.

“Do push me, Duchess,” he murmured, and she could only gaze back at him in challenge. She would not be deterred. “Do push me and see where it gets you.”

He was goading her right now, and rather than scare her, it sent a dark heat through her. She smiled at him.

Pulling her face free from his grip, she merely ignored him, believing she had the upper hand.

Perhaps he had heard the ladies, after all, when she thought he had not been paying attention.

Perhaps Eleanor would see more and more of her husband.