Page 7

Chapter Six

“ I t was the night of my engagement ball, three years ago,” she began, taking him back to a night he had not been present at.

“I was betrothed to Lord Belgrave for barely a month. My parents were overjoyed, and I was as well, to be honest. He was good enough, handsome enough, and I had resigned myself to waiting for a good man.”

The Duke’s eyes remained steady on her.

“I stepped away from the ball after several people had asked where my groom-to-be was,” she continued.

Her heart raced, her voice trembling even as she composed her words well.

“I needed some air. So I went down the hallway, seeking out the library—it has always been a place of comfort. But as I approached the drawing room, I overheard Belgrave speaking quietly with another man.”

Her eyes met the Duke’s.

“That man was Lord Follet.”

“Go on,” he encouraged, his eyes running over her face, his features hardening at the mention of his sister’s betrothed.

“At first, I thought I was imagining things, but their words seared themselves in my mind. They were talking about putting women on a ship . Said the more they can cram into it, the better. They spoke of names being crossed off, and how the women were fetching good prices.

“I did not realize what they meant at first. Why would my fiancé put women on a ship? I was suspicious, also alarmed, and I snuck into his study while they were still speaking. I thought… I thought I could discover more there. So, I searched. Frantically . But somehow, I found a hidden compartment in his desk. There, I found documents…” Her voice faltered.

The Duke’s mouth tightened, a shadow settling over his expression.

Inhaling sharply, Eleanor composed herself and resumed speaking as he gave a slow nod.

“It was correspondence between Lord Belgrave and a ship captain. They were indeed arranging transportation for women. There were letters that women had written to relatives, declaring they were moving abroad to seek a new life, a good marriage. I quickly realized that those were stories being sold to them to get them to the ports. Names, payment amounts, and destinations—the documents contained it all.”

Across the room, the Duke had sunk into the chair at the vanity, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, still listening to her.

Eleanor pulled in a shuddering breath. “He found me—of course, he did. He told me that he did not care if I knew about his other business, that nobody would believe me. He threatened me with ruin, but I told him I was not afraid of him. At the time, I thought if I went to my father and told him, he would help.”

“He did not,” the Duke concluded flatly.

“Not quite. Lord Belgrave acted quickly. He accused me of…” She gulped, the indignation drying her mouth.

“Of compromising myself with one of his stablehands, whom I assume he paid handsomely to confirm the story in front of the guests. He humiliated me before everyone I knew. Then, he broke off our engagement.”

The Duke remained quiet.

“I-I was never ruined, but nobody believed me,” Eleanor croaked. “My innocence remains intact. But my parents were humiliated and decided to side with Belgrave. So, they sent me off to St. Euphemia’s, calling me a whore and a disgrace to the family.”

She noticed that his knuckles had turned white as he gripped the arms of the chair.

“I do not know how they explained my absence, or if Charlotte believed that I ruined myself. I never got the chance to tell her of my findings. At the convent, I was treated the way they treat all women who have been accused of losing their innocence. The holy water cleanses, the punishments, the endless prayers…”

Eleanor shuddered.

“The day I came here, Belgrave visited me. He had come to the convent a couple of times over the past three years to gloat. To remind me of my place and what happens to people who cross him. He was the one who told me that Charlotte was engaged to Follett, his associate. So… well, you know the rest, I suppose.”

Silence ensued, so thick that it pressed against her ribs.

Eleanor looked up at the Duke, but his eyes were fixed on some distant point, unblinking, his jaw clenched tight. Every muscle in his frame was tense, as though he were holding something back. Whether it was rage or disbelief, she could not tell.

The fire crackled. A floorboard creaked. And yet he did not move.

Her breath caught as the silence stretched on, sharpened by the weight of everything left unsaid.

“So that is why I had to warn Charlotte,” Eleanor finished. “She cannot marry?—”

“One moment,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “I just need to think.”

He rose to his feet, pacing back and forth, his lips moving as he muttered to himself.

Spencer’s mind was working on overdrive, processing everything Lady Eleanor had just told him.

Beneath the confusion, the pieces that he needed to put together, there was a deep, hot anger at what she had endured. At the callous actions of Lord Belgrave. At her parents, who had not sought the best for her, who had chosen to believe a liar.

“I have traveled extensively,” he murmured, returning to his confusion about the things that did not make sense.

“I returned two years ago to see my sister into Society. When Lord Follet expressed interest—whenever any suitor expressed interest, I looked into them at length. So, yes, I have been away for a long time, but I did my research. There was no trace of criminal activity around Lord Follet. He is clean.”

“You doubt me.”

He stopped sharply and turned his head to her. There was an accusation in her brown eyes, rich with knowledge that had been kept at bay, rich with intelligence that he should not underestimate.

“No,” he told her and then paused. “Yes, but not because your words are meaningless. It is—it is only that there have been no rumors about suspicious dealings, and his finances are immaculate. I conducted thorough research, Lady Eleanor. If something was there to be found, I would have uncovered it.”

“It is the truth,” she spat, just as fierce as he was.

The tone, the defiance, stunned him enough that he turned to face her properly.

“I would not have risked everything trying to shout about these truths. There are clever men in Society, Your Grace. Men like Belgrave and Follet have cover upon cover to conceal their dealings. They have several layers of stories, lies, and witnesses. They can never be placed at the scene and they escape law and detection. What else must I give to be believed?”

Her question was not asked in desperation or hysteria. It was posed in rage. Quieter rage, but rage all the same. As if she had long learned how to stifle such feelings and thoughts.

Spencer was struck, his jaw slackening.

And then he thought he truly saw her for what she was: a woman who had dragged herself all the way here the night before, who had possibly been screaming for help for longer than anybody knew.

“I thought…” He cleared his throat. “I thought Follet was simply an astute businessman. Of course, that can easily translate into greed and ruthlessness.”

At Lady Eleanor’s nod, Spencer took a deep breath in a bid to slow his racing thoughts, trying not to work out too much without having the full puzzle before him. He did not know where all the pieces fit yet, where the gaps were, but he would.

“He is greedy and ruthless,” Lady Eleanor murmured.

“I will deal with them,” Spencer vowed, steel in his words. “I do not care if that means going up against them publicly. I will fight them with everything I have. I will keep you safe, Lady Eleanor. I will keep Charlotte safe.”

Lady Eleanor’s eyes flickered with unease. “If we marry, Lord Belgrave will retaliate. It could put Charlotte in more danger.”

“I will deal with that.”

“No,” she insisted. “No, I must—I must return to the convent, and maybe… maybe you could bribe the nuns to keep quiet about all of it.” Her eyes met his, fearful and hopeful. “That way, Lord Belgrave and Lord Follet will remain in the dark and?—”

“No,” he snarled.

No , he would not let her go back there.

In his mind’s eye, he saw chestnut-brown hair sprawled across a rug, soaked with blood, and eyes that were the same as his own, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Bruises and welts and more injuries covered up. The treatment his twin sister had endured?—

Spencer expelled a breath, clenching his fist as if that would chase away the memory.

He could not let Lady Eleanor return to that hell of a place. He would not let her suffer the same fate Anna had.

“You two are identical , ” his aunt had cooed when they were younger, cupping his face and then Anna’s. “Down to the freckles on your jaws. It is remarkable. Are you going to raise your sister well, little Spencer? Make sure to always be there for her like a good big brother . ”

“Your Grace?”

Spencer snapped himself out of the painful memories and looked at Lady Eleanor.

He would save her. He would —her and Charlotte both.

“You are not going back to that place,” he declared. “I will hear no more of it.”

“Charlotte’s safety is more important!”

“It is just as important. You are a lady, just as much as she is.”

Her features softened with surprise, as though it was the first time she had ever heard such a thing.

His anger flared once again, and he moved closer to her, to where she sat on the edge of her bed.

“I need you around as a proper witness, Lady Eleanor. If you become my wife, nobody will touch you. But if you return to the convent, Belgrave and Follet will have you killed. I need you here. I need your testimony to bring them to justice.”

“They will not have me killed,” she insisted.

“Belgrave came to see you, did he not?”

Spencer prowled closer to her, watching how those mahogany eyes searched his face.

“If you return to that convent, he will come again, and he will not use his words to break you,” he warned. “He will…” He trailed off, stopping before her. “Let me protect you, Lady Eleanor. I give you my word that I will keep you safe, as you always should have been.”

Her breath caught, and he itched to lift a hand to her face, to the smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose and high cheekbones.

Her skin was more tanned than he had realized—from manual labor, he guessed. He wanted to chase it down the length of her body. To find out where her tan ended, to kiss her and taste her tongue when it was not spitting venom at him.

He was overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her, as he had been in the library the night before.

Her eyes slid over his face. She did not move back. Part of him wanted to tell her to step away, for he was too swept up, too overwhelmed by his desire for her. His hand rose to her cheek.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, and he stepped back swiftly, putting a wide distance between them.

He nodded at the maid who entered with a bundle of fabrics.

“I’m here to bathe and prepare Lady Eleanor for dinner, Your Grace.” She curtsied.

“Of course,” Spencer said, then turned to Eleanor. “I’ll see you at dinner, My Lady.”

He walked out of her chambers, forcing himself not to look back.