Page 47 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

Ramsay chuckled, and if Eleanor was honest with herself… she did not find this ‘rogueness’ unattractive. An unfamiliar pulse between her legs confirmed this.

The final waves of guests were thinning out now, saying goodbye near the garden gate.

Then—of course—came Lady Mulberry.

One did not miss her entrances nor her exits. She moved like a royal decree with ankles.

“Eleanor,” she said by way of greeting, her eyes raking over Ramsay as if inspecting a military recruit. “You look less pale than expected.”

“Thank you, Grandmother,” Eleanor said, smoothing her skirt instinctively.

“Andyou,” Lady Mulberry continued, turning her full glare on Ramsay, “we will be seeing regularly.”

Ramsay arched a brow. “Will we?”

“Oh yes.” Lady Mulberry’s voice did not rise. It did not need to. “You’ve taken my granddaughter, and with her comes my scrutiny. I intend to visit. Often. And without notice.”

Eleanor flushed. “Of course, that’s not necessary. She—she wouldn’t just?—”

“Unannounced,” Lady Mulberry confirmed. “Precisely my plan.”

Eleanor gave Ramsay an apologetic look, but he was still staring at her grandmother with mild interest, as if she were a foreign relic worth cataloging.

“I look forward to it,” he said, deadpan.

Lady Mulberry’s eyes narrowed.

Ramsay added, “I’d like to see you and my grandmother in the same room, actually.”

“Would you now,” Lady Mulberry said, not at all like it was a request she planned to entertain.

“I think the two of you could conquer the monarchy in an afternoon and rule the empire by suppertime.”

That, at least, made Lady Mulberry pause. A brief blink. A quiet tilt of the chin.

“Hmph,” she said then turned on her heel and stalked toward her waiting carriage.

Eleanor stared after her, half-mortified, half-mystified.

“She’ll never forgive you for that.”

“She’s welcome to try.”

Eleanor glanced up at him. He was watching the retreating shape of Lady Mulberry with the faint amusement of a man who’d survived worse—and possibly enjoyed it.

“You didn’t flinch.”

“No,” he said. “But she nearly made me blink.”

Eleanor laughed, genuine and helpless. And somewhere beneath it—rising slowly in her chest—was a weight she hadn’t realized was lifting. For the first time in what felt like years, she was not on trial. Not defending herself. Not apologizing. Just… standing next to a man who faced the world with squared shoulders and made it look smaller.

She slid her hand through the crook of his arm again. “I think you scared most of them.”

“Good.”

“But you didn’t scare me.”

He looked at her then—really looked—and something in his gaze softened.