Page 19 of His Forbidden Duchess
Eloise shot Felix a look, knowing what was coming. “Lord Mortcombe was just enlightening me on a very interesting point about Mozart.”
Felix raised a brow, his gaze shifting to Mortcombe. “Really? I would love to hear it. Do enlighten us, Mortcombe.”
Mortcombe, clearly unprepared for a sudden audience, fumbled with his words. His cheeks had reddened to such an extent that Eloise almost felt sorry for him.
“Of course,” Mortcombe said, “Mozart is best known for his orchestral works, especially his groundbreaking Symphony No. 5!”
Felix blinked, feigning surprise, and Eloise had to look away to maintain her composure. “Ah, yes,” Felix replied. “Mozart’swell-known fifth symphony.”
Percy let out a soft snort and turned his head away.
Mortcombe, sensing he had lost control of the conversation, attempted to recover. “Er, I meant to say... his operas! Yes, ‘The Magic Flute’—a true masterpiece! Quite enchanting, would not you agree?”
Felix’s smile was sharp now, and an uncomfortable simmering had begun in his body that made him vibrate. He glanced again at Eloise. “Enchanting, indeed. Well, I am sure Lady Eloise is captivated by your insights.”
Eloise, knowing Felix was enjoying this far too much, finally snapped back, “Quite captivated, yes. But if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need a breath of fresh air.”
She glanced meaningfully at Felix, hoping to escape the situation.
Felix nodded his head, hiding his satisfaction as he stepped aside to let her pass. “By all means, Lady Eloise. I am sure Lord Mortcombe will manage without you—eventually.”
Mortcombe, still oblivious to their thinly veiled mocking, nodded eagerly. “Of course, Lady Eloise. I will be right here when you return.”
As Eloise walked away, she heard Percy chuckle softly beside Felix, “You are a terrible man, Kingswell.”
Eloise sensed his eyes tracking her as she disappeared into the crowd. “I never lose,” he muttered under his breath, but those were words she barely heard.
When Eloise and her mother returned home from the musicale later that night, the warmth of the evening quickly evaporated as soon as they stepped inside the dimly lit hallway.
A footman approached with a note in hand, his expression uneasy as he handed it to Lady Danridge.
Her mother’s hands trembled as she unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning the words. As soon as she saw it, her face went pale. The note was short, written in bold, slashing letters.
Three weeks left.
Lady Danridge’s breath hitched, and the note fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf. “Oh, dear God,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. “Three weeks… Eloise, what are we going to do?”
Eloise bent down, scooping up the letter and glancing at it, her stomach tightening. Mr. Carlisle was neither subtle nor patient. Time was running out, and his threats were only going to get worse as the deadline approached.
“Mother, please,” Eloise said, attempting to keep her voice steady as she led Lady Danridge to a chair. “It is nothing that we have not expected. Everything is under control.”
“Under control?” Lady Danridge looked up at her daughter with wide, tear-brimmed eyes. “This… this monster could throw us out in a matter of weeks! We will lose the house…everything! Jeremy… he must come back; Eloise, we need him here!”
Eloise’s heart clenched at the panic in her mother’s voice, but she forced a calm smile. She could not bear to let her motherknow the truth: that Jeremy was too far away to help and that she had not even written to him.
“I have already taken care of it,” she lied smoothly, kneeling beside her mother and taking her cold hands in hers. “Jeremy is aware of everything, and he is doing all he can to return in time. But there is no need to worry. We still have three weeks, and by then, everything will be resolved.”
Lady Danridge’s lips quivered but she nodded, her grip tightening around Eloise’s hands as if clinging to the hope in her daughter’s words. “I do not know what I would do without you, my dear. You are so brave. Braver than I ever could be.”
Eloise’s heart ached at the praise, feeling the weight of her deception, but she did not have a choice. For their family’s sake she had to make her plan work. Lord Mortcombe was the key. She would seduce him, marry him, and pay off Mr. Carlisle before it was too late.
She just had to make it happen, no matter what.
A couple of days later, Eloise and Hannah strolled through the bustling market, weaving through vendors calling out their wares and throngs of townspeople haggling over prices. The air was thick with the scent of fresh bread, spices, and the chatter of daily life. Eloise’s mind barely registered the cacophony it.
Her shoulders were stiff and her steps a bit too purposeful, as though by walking faster she might somehow lose the cloak of worries suffocating her. Her mind swirled with thoughts of their looming debt, the fragile charade she was maintaining with her mother, and the daunting task of seducing Lord Mortcombe. She felt as if she were balancing on a tightrope without a net.
Hannah glanced over, her brow furrowed with concern. “Eloise, are you all right? You have seemed... distracted lately.” Her voice was gentle but probing.
