Page 7 of The Duke’s Ultimatum (Unrelenting Lords #1)

CHAPTER 7

D erek tried not to laugh at the terrified looks on the women’s faces. They looked as though they were walking towards a firing squad.

“Ladies, please come in.”

One by one, the women shuffled through the door. Charlotte, who usually exuded confidence when entering a room, seemed unsure of where to direct her daughters.

Derek lifted a hand and motioned to the sofa and chair across from the fireplace. “Let’s sit by the fire, shall we? I’ve noticed some drafts coming through the windows. I’ve added it to the list of things I’ll be correcting in the coming weeks.”

Charlotte’s face paled as embarrassment swept over her. Beatrice’s and Sarah’s eyes dropped to the carpet while one set of eyes remained fixed on his. Eleanor’s. She was quite the paradox to him. She seemed so defiant in the library last night, but today, she let her mother control the conversation at dinner.

After holding his gaze for a moment, her eyes drifted to her mother’s. It was a pity. He rather liked holding her full attention.

The younger two girls followed suit and looked at their mother as well. Didn’t these women do anything without her approval?

Thankfully, Charlotte nodded to the women, and they all sat. Derek walked to the bar cart and poured two glasses of port, one for Charlotte and one for Eleanor, and a whisky for himself. He wasn’t sure if society approved of young women drinking port, but he never cared about what society thought, and he wasn’t about to start now. Besides, the aid of port will help her digest the news he was about to drop on her.

He handed the glass to Eleanor, who once again looked to her mother for approval. Derek’s jaw ticked. The constant need of their mother’s approval was grating.

“Thank you for joining me. I don’t want to keep you, so I’ll get right to it. Now that I’m officially the Duke of Graynor, it is my goal to see you three married off as soon as possible.”

Eleanor sputtered out the port, causing it to dribble down her chin.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Charlotte exclaimed. “I was certain you had horrible news.” Charlotte beamed at Derek.

Derek pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to Eleanor. She accepted it and dabbed her dress, pulling Derek’s attention to her breasts.

Derek took a moment to remember his purpose and forced his eyes away but not after getting a good look. He was a man after all.

“Why would you think that?” Derek questioned. “Didn’t Eleanor tell you what we discussed last night?” Derek turned to see a set of mutinous green eyes staring back at him.

“I told them that you had questioned how I was not married, but that was all we talked about.” Eleanor forced the words out through clenched teeth.

Derek tried not to laugh. She was trying so hard to remain calm but was failing. The complication excited Derek to no end.

Derek cracked his neck and settled into his own chair. “Exactly,” he said with a devilish grin. It was on the tip of his tongue to push her limits and say something inappropriate, but he didn’t want her mother catching on.

However, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he liked the idea of toying with Eleanor, pushing her to see how far she would go before she would break.

Derek shifted in his seat. He was getting hard thinking about her in that way. His wayward thoughts didn’t worry him, however. He was a man; men reacted to beautiful women all the time. It was nothing more than that. Besides, his job was to marry her off, not bed her.

His eyes found hers again. The phrase “if looks could kill” came to mind. After being on the receiving side of her murderous glare, he pitied the man who would be tied to her day in and day out.

“First, let me be clear. I will not be cruel and arrange a marriage before you are ready.” He directed his comment to Beatrice, whose face was turning a shade of green he was uncomfortable with. “I will allow you your debut season and one season after. If you don’t find a suitable match within that time period, I will pick someone for you.”

Beatrice let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders releasing the tension she was holding.

“The same for me?” Sarah’s voice was soft and curious, far from the flirtatious and fun demeanor he had seen her normally present with.

If he had time to fully care about these women, he might have felt bad. Unfortunately for them, he was a very busy man and playing matchmaker for three young women was not what he dreamed of doing when he set out on his own. Such was his lot in life.

Derek tried to force a friendly smile.

“Yes, you debut next season, correct?”

Sarah nodded quickly.

“The same goes for you as well, Sarah. You will have your debut and the following season. If nothing comes of it, it will be up to me. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure the match is adequate.”

A snicker was hidden behind a cough.

Sarah and Beatrice exchanged a look before both of them turned to look at Eleanor.

Ah, yes, the eldest sister, the most curious one. Everything about her screamed pedigree and propriety. She was made for the ton , and why she wasn’t married yet was a mystery he was going to get to the bottom of.

“Something funny, Eleanor?” Derek questioned.

“Huh?” The chit had the audacity to look confused.

Derek pushed out a breath as he studied her. She might bend to her mother’s will, but she had no problem standing up to him. Interesting.

“My apologies. I must have misheard. But since our attention is on you, why don’t we get to your situation.”

“My situation?” Her voice cracked. “And what situation is that?”

The Duke’s voice was contemplative. “How many seasons have you had?”

“This is my third.” Eleanor sat taller in her chair. She didn’t have a good feeling about the direction this conversation was heading. She almost wished he would bring up last night. Almost.

“I’ve been told you’ve had multiple suitors who would have made adequate matches, yet you turned them all down. Why?”

“You keep using that word, adequate.”

The Duke furrowed his eyebrows. “Is there something wrong with the word adequate.”

Eleanor looked to her mother for guidance, but she was only met with her mother’s own puzzled look. She had to have known looking to her mother for support on this topic was pointless.

She returned her eyes to the Duke with a pointed glare. “It’s just that I feel we should set our sights higher than just adequate, don’t you? If I am to spend the rest of my life with a man, I would like him to be the quality of man I deserve and not just an adequate flop.” Her words dripped with revulsion and disgust.

The Duke barked out a laugh. “Forgive my outburst,” he quipped, mockingly. “Quality of man you deserve? Please enlighten me on the type of man you deserve, Eleanor.”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. If he wanted a list, she’d give him a list. She took a deep breath and relaxed into her chair.

“Someone with decorum, tact.” She kept her voice leveled and calm. “He would need to be intelligent; I don’t want to be bored for the rest of my life with a simpleton.”

The Duke’s eyes lit with amusement.

“I will need a man who is honest and a gentleman who would not put any woman in a position that would have her questioning her morals.”

The Duke’s eyes darkened in response to her comment. She knew she was playing with fire considering she still ran the risk of the Duke bringing up their meeting last night, but her pride was running her mouth.

“And I must say, Your Grace, with the rumors surrounding your dalliances, I must question if you are the best man for the job when it comes to picking out respectable husbands for my sisters and me.”

Charlotte practically fainted in her chair.

Sarah jumped up and rushed to her mother. “Mama!”

While Beatrice and Sarah waved their hands in front of their mother’s face, trying to shake her awake, the Duke and Eleanor remained staring at each other, neither one of them moving.

A smile pulled at the corner of the Duke’s lips, not that Eleanor was looking there, mind you. She was too busy settling her stomach and keeping her racing heart from bursting from her chest.

She had never spoken to a man, let alone a duke, like that before. She expected him to bite back in anger, but he sat there, calm and collected with a serene look on his face. The longer he sat quietly, the more nervous she became.

The bravado her pride hid behind was disappearing, leaving her with the weight of what she just said.

With his eyes still on hers, the Duke brought his drink up to his lips and took a sip.

Eleanor found herself swallowing with him, watching his throat work against his cravat as he swallowed. The moment was too intimate for her, so she looked over to see her mother regaining consciousness. Although, Eleanor doubted she truly fainted. This was her mother after all.

“Eleanor, what is the meaning of this? You sent Mama into shock!” Beatrice looked genuinely concerned over her mother’s welfare.

Eleanor had to remind herself that Beatrice was still several years younger than her, and while Beatrice was book smart, she still had a lot to learn when it came to their mother’s manipulative ways.

Eleanor tipped her head down. “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to cause you distress.”

Charlotte blotted her completely dry forehead with the back of her hand. “It is not I you should be apologizing to, Eleanor.” Her mother’s voice was breathless and strained.

Eleanor brought her eyes back to face the Duke and licked her lips—an action she saw the Duke’s eyes track.

“Your Grace, please accept my apology. This is a very sensitive subject, and I fear I let my emotions get the better of me.”

Eleanor watched as the Duke’s jaw once again ticked. He slowly nodded his acceptance of her apology.

“With two seasons behind you, you have had ample time to find a husband. I’m giving you until the end of this season to find a match.” What little friendliness his voice held was completely gone, replaced with cold precision and intention.

The change caused a shudder to run down Eleanor’s spine.

“And if I don’t find a husband by the end of the season?”

The Duke tilted his head. “I’ll find one for you.” The finality of his statement made Eleanor’s stomach drop.

“Do I not get another season like my sisters?”

“I think you had enough time. Time is money, Eleanor. You are well past your?—”

“Date?” she accused.

Eleanor ignored the murmurs and shifting coming from her mother and sisters. Hot tears stung the back of her eyes. Humiliation mixed frustration slowed down her perception of time. She resisted the urge to get up and run to her room. She was old enough to face her demons, she told herself. She just never imagined the demon in question would be someone who had so much say in her future happiness.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was just above a whisper.

“I have my reasons.”

“Which are?” Eleanor’s heart was beating erratically.

The Duke set his drink down on the table next to his chair. “They are none of your concern.”

“There is only a month left in the season,” she countered.

“Then I suggest you pay attention during these next few events and working your feminine magic on the gentlemen in attendance.” His words speared a knife through her heart.

Eleanor opened her mouth to argue when the Duke shot her a look. “I would think twice about continuing this conversation, wouldn’t you agree?”

With a slight raise of his eyebrow, Eleanor knew the time for any discussion on the matter was over. She knew she pushed him to his limits one too many times during this conversation, and she could tell he was not above telling her mother about what she witnessed last night if she were to continue.

After all, he had nothing to lose if word got out. He was a man; no one would think any less of him for what he was doing with the widow. But Eleanor? Her part in the scenario was scandalous.

Eleanor’s cheeks reddened as she took in his meaning. With a slight nod, she focused her attention on her fidgeting hands in her lap.

“Your Grace, I must apologize?—”

The Duke cut Charlotte’s words off with a raise of his hand. “There is no need, Charlotte,” he said with surprising gentleness. “Eleanor is right. This is a sensitive subject, and I’m glad to know she takes this matter seriously.”

Eleanor felt as if she were a child being scolded. Her pride was hurt, but she had already made a fool out of herself in front of the Duke twice now. Speaking out against his behavior towards her wouldn’t do herself any favors.

“That is all for tonight, ladies. I think we should all retire for the evening.”

Her mother and sisters stood while Eleanor sat still in her chair. Embarrassment coursed through her veins making her limbs heavy.

“Eleanor,” her mother reprimanded.

Ignoring the Duke’s gaze, she stood and followed her mother, acutely aware of the Duke ’s eyes watching her every movement.

Derek sat at his desk in his study. The fire dwindled to where just the red embers glowed. He sat back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair.

On his desk in front of him were countless papers of numbers, purchasing orders, and trade agreements. Yet the only thought to occupy his mind was the vision of green eyes looking at him with such vitriol.

He pushed away from his desk and stalked over to the bar cart to pour himself another drink. He stared into the dying embers of the dying fire. All he ever wanted to do was make a name for himself. He never wanted to be a duke; he never imagined he would be in this situation. Looking for husbands for three ladies of the illustrious ton , he sneered.

Derek took a swig of the whisky, relishing in the burn rushing down his throat.

What was it about that blasted woman that got under his skin? There were times she seemed nothing more than what she was bred for. Gentility and societal rank oozed out of her pores; however, there were times when she shirked those shackles and was defiant and challenging.

And curse his proclivities, but he rather liked her confrontational and stubborn.

Derek shook his head to clear away the thought. How many times would he need to remind himself that she was entrusted into his care?

He stormed over where his coat was hung and slung it over his shoulders. He felt too confined in this house. He needed to get out and stretch his legs, work off some of this pent-up energy.

He made his way out of the house and called out for the footman to bring the carriage around. If they moved fast enough, he’d be able to reach the theater right when the night’s performance was ending. Celeste was performing tonight, and he’d been promising her, he’d help her celebrate the success of her show. Lucky for her, he was excellent at celebrating victories.

He pulled his collar up to shield his neck from the cool summer breeze, causing him to shiver. Unbeknownst to him, the shivering wasn’t from the breeze but the pair of green eyes that watched his carriage as it pulled away.