Page 22

Chapter Sixteen

“ P ut your hand on the crook of my elbow,” Spencer muttered under his breath two nights later as they arrived at a dinner party hosted by the Viscount and Viscountess Cardale.

Eleanor did as instructed.

“Now, step closer to me,” he added.

“I do not need you to tell me how to look affectionate,” she mumbled as they moved further into the house. “I believe it is you who needs to wipe that scowl off your face. You can pretend to be happy that I am your wife.”

He stopped and turned to face her, his expression utterly solemn. “I am ecstatic to be your devoted, doting husband, Eleanor. Does it not show?”

She only rolled her eyes at him as he led her toward the clamor of conversation coming from the open door up ahead.

Her arm relaxed against his, and she couldn’t ignore how his body brushed against hers, warm and strong. She was on his left side, so when she looked up at him as they entered the drawing room, she could see the edges of his scar.

What left such a permanent wound?

But her questions about Spencer Vanserton would only ever pile up, for how closed-off he was.

“Well, well, well.” A loud male voice rose above the din, drawing more attention to them as they beheld the guests gathered in the room.

Eleanor caught a dark-haired man striding toward him, his warm smile immediately putting her at ease. She did not take long to guess who he was, for her husband immediately stiffened next to her.

“If it is not the Duke and Duchess of Everdawn emerging from their honeymoon bubble. Although, by the rumors and sightings of His Grace, the bubble did not form very well in the first place.”

Eleanor instantly liked his teasing tone. She stepped forward, offering her hand. “You must be the Marquess of Avington, my husband’s close friend.”

“His one and only, I believe. Indeed, that is me.” Lord Avington reached out and took her hand in his, swiftly bringing it to his lips. “And you must be his very beautiful, very mysterious Duchess, Lady Eleanor.”

Eleanor flushed and smiled when he brushed a polite kiss over her knuckles before straightening up.

“That is me,” she said. “Although beautiful …”

“Oh, do not be modest. You are the loveliest woman in the room, and your title befits you.”

“That is enough, Theodore.” Spencer’s words were clipped as he pulled Eleanor back to his side.

“Well, if you will not publicly compliment her, somebody ought to.” Lord Avington gave her a sly wink, but it did not make her feel uncomfortable.

If anything, she felt a strange allyship in this man, who seemed to enjoy teasing her husband.

“I do hope I will see the two of you dance tonight.”

“I believe so?—”

“I do not dance,” Spencer cut in. “And there, you have met my wife, so now you may leave us be.”

Lord Avington scowled at him, not budging an inch. “I did not wait all this time to meet such a lovely woman only to be dismissed within moments, Spencer. I want to hear the story, the sweeping romance.”

His sparkling blue eyes flicked to Eleanor, and a boyish grin danced on his lips.

“Spencer would not know gossip if it hit him square in the face. I, however, am an avid reader and listener of gossip. The ton is abuzz about your marriage and how swift it was. I say it is a whirlwind romance, but His Grace is being tight-lipped about it.”

“Oh, well, there is a reason for that,” Eleanor said, raising her voice.

She had a part to play, and the last time she had done so, she had gotten under her husband’s skin in a way that delighted her—only for him to play her game right back and fluster her by giving in to her tricks.

Memories flashed through her mind, of his mouth dipping to the honey bun she had offered teasingly, of the moment she realized she wanted to feel his tongue against her skin, perhaps licking the honey?—

“Your Grace?” Lord Avington prompted, and she realized she had fallen silent. “Heavens, you are rather flushed.”

“I certain I am not,” she said quickly. “But—ah, yes, the reason he is so tight-lipped is simply because he does not wish people to know that behind closed doors, he is a rather doting husband. Quite the romantic, in fact.”

“ Really ?” Lord Avington grinned at Spencer. “How riveting. Do tell me more.”

“His Grace is very tender and caring,” Eleanor elaborated, feeling her husband’s burning gaze on her.

“Only days after we were wed, he allowed me to claim my own part of the gardens and plant many flowers. And then he bought me a jasmine bloom to add to my collection after he found out it was my favorite.”

“Rebirth flowers,” Spencer commented.

Eleanor hesitated, turning to him in surprise.

“Sorry?” Lord Avington frowned.

But Spencer’s gaze did not leave Eleanor’s. “The flowers you planted—the lilies and lotuses—signify rebirth.”

“You…” Eleanor’s voice faltered for a moment. “You knew?”

“Of course I did.”

That small admission, the fact that he knew what rebirth meant to her and why she had chosen those flowers to begin her new life…

Her stomach dipped, her heart racing.

She was aware of Lord Avington looking between them, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the soft look on Spencer’s face.

His manner didn’t seem like part of their act, yet she couldn’t understand why he would regard her with such softness when he was usually so brusque.

It reminded her of the night he had tended to her wounds at the inn.

His touch had been soft and his tone softer, so at odds with the sharp tongue he had wielded at first.

She only looked away when Lord Avington murmured, “Have any of you read the tale of Thisbe and Pyramus? They were separated by a wall, too.”

Spencer’s voice was rough when he answered, “I have heard what the ton are saying about us, Theodore. There is no wall. Do not be foolish.”

“Hmm. Well, from the way you look at one another, there is hardly any reason to question the affection here. But why do you choose to keep it so concealed? Let your affection for one another bloom like the flowers you mentioned—whatever they mean to you both. Let the ton see what you are building and squash the ridiculous rumors.”

Eleanor blinked at the suggestion that they looked at one another with affection.

Lord Avington smirked at Spencer. “Do not be shy, Everdawn. Show your wife the attention she deserves if you are so soft of heart. Now, do excuse me. I must mingle, for I see Lady Hannah there; she promised me some of her time when I found her dance card full at the Trawleys’ ball.

Your Grace, it was lovely to meet you, and I hope I will see you again. ”

He bowed to Eleanor and gave Spencer another sly look before slinking off, leaving them in a thick silence.

Eleanor was not sure how to react to the softness her husband had done a poor job of concealing.

He cleared his throat and took her arm again. “We should take a turn around the room.”

Shaking off the unexpected moment, she let him lead her around the room, where she was met with tight smiles and tighter greetings. But at least their ploy was working.

As they moved around the drawing room, she threw herself into their act, smiling easier and making teasing remarks, but she kept her hands to herself this time.

Even Spencer eased up, as if he understood how much the comments had gotten to her.

Soon, Lord and Lady Cardale called for dinner.

“Shall we?” Spencer asked, nodding toward the door, where the guests were already filing out.

Soon, they were seated in the dining room. Eleanor found herself sitting to the right of another duke and duchess from somewhere a little further south from Everdawn.

As the first course was served, she tried to ignore the familiar voice coming from her left—her father’s voice, proud and loud, boastful as she had come to know. She tensed at the thought of her parents having arrived, or possibly having seen her without acknowledging her.

Yet, when she looked toward them, she found her mother’s glare already fixed on her.

Anger flared deep in her stomach, and she reached for Spencer’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He followed her gaze and leaned into her, letting her parents see the doting couple they were.

They know the truth, but they will never speak of it. Yet they must see that I have won.

“I just enquired about who I am sitting next to.” Spencer’s breath fanned her cheekbone. “I believe they are our neighbors to the south. Lord and Lady Winterwood. I believe you may know their other neighbors. Oakwood… Maplewood…”

It took Eleanor a moment to realize that he was distracting her from her parents, from the maelstrom of emotions within her. And it took her another moment to realize that he was cracking a joke, making light of the lie she had sputtered on their first meeting.

She turned to him, finding him smirking. “You tease me.”

Spencer cocked an eyebrow at her before turning to the older lady next to him. “Lady Winterwood, may I introduce you to my wife, the Duchess of Everdawn? Duchess, may I present the Countess Winterwood and her husband, the Earl of Winterwood.”

Eleanor gaped at him for a moment before remembering herself.

“Oh— oh !” She shot him a scowl. “Good evening, Lady Winterwood.”

“Your Grace.” The Countess inclined her head, her white hair pulled back from her face in an elegant chignon. “Perhaps we could visit each other soon? It gets rather lonely in Winterwood Manor. I would enjoy some company for afternoon tea. I believe you live on the other side of the maple trees.”

“We do,” Eleanor confirmed, still aware of her father’s voice to her left. She tried to tune it out. “I would love to visit you, Lady Winterwood. And you must come to—” A boot nudged her shoe hard , and she cleared her throat. “I shall call on you once we are settled again in the countryside.”

Spencer’s eyes met hers, that smirk still lightly playing on his lips as Lady Winterwood turned back to her husband.

He laughed, before lowering his mouth to her ear. “I thought you needed your attention redirected, and I knew you would not believe me.”