Page 18 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
“What was I supposed to do? You were freezing. I did not ride for hours last night just to let you catch a fever.”
She didn’t have an answer for that.
In the silence that followed, Eleanor let her gaze drift over him. The pale morning light softened his features, bathing them in a golden glow. Still, she couldn’t help but notice his state of undress—and the way his shirt, now draped over her frame, dwarfed her.
She had never been slight, only short, but he was broad enough that the garment hung loose at her shoulders and slipped past her knees. It smelled of cinnamon and smoke, like bonfires snapping and crackling in the cold. Just as his coat had the night before, when he’d wrapped her in it and carried her away.
The Duke cleared his throat and sat up. His muscles rippled, and Eleanor lifted her gaze to the ceiling.
“I will order breakfast,” he muttered, clambering out of bed. “And a new shirt, it seems. I will order a new dress for you as well.”
All Eleanor could do was nod.
Eleanor’s first sight of Everdawn Hall in the clear light was striking as they crested the hill it rested on.
Behind the turrets and roof, dawn properly broke, reminding her that while she had slept well, it had not been for very long.
But she did not care about the fatigue weighing her bones. Not when a familiar face rushed into the courtyard that she had navigated desperately the night before, searching for the very woman who emerged with a cry.
Charlotte Vanserton ran toward her, a hand clasped over her mouth, the other holding her skirts.
The Duke brought his horse to an abrupt halt before hopping off.
“Eleanor!” Charlotte cried, tears in her eyes. “I—Whaton earth? What is happening?”
Without even looking at her, the Duke began to speak, squashing any awkward, fumbling story Eleanor may have managed to think up. She had already proven she was not adept at making up stories on the spot to explain her presence.
“This is your gift,” he said simply, smiling at his sister. “I wished to surprise you.”
“That was your business last night,” Charlotte guessed, not taking her eyes off Eleanor.
“In a way. But what’s more important is that Lady Eleanor and I are to marry in a few days.”
Eleanor gasped, right as Charlotte did. The Duke met her gaze for a brief moment, a silent warning to play along. But Charlotte’s blue eyes—those kind, intelligent eyes Eleanor recalled from her former life—widened as she looked between the two of them. She reared back, her mouth opening, but no words came out.
“M-Marry? I-I do not understand. I was not aware that you had met one another.”
“We crossed paths during our travels,” the Duke told her, as if this was all so very casual and normal. “So, yes, it is rather sudden, but not without reason. We developed… a kinship over time, but I did not pursue it, wanting to see your future secured first.”
Travels?
Eleanor wanted so desperately to know what he meant by that, but she kept quiet, letting him speak.
“Last night,” he continued, “I was called away to help with a stranded carriage nearby. I did not expect the carriage to be carrying Lady Eleanor. She was trying to return to London, yousee. Of course, I could not leave her stranded, without shelter. So I have brought her home.”
“I…” Charlotte trailed off, still looking between them.
Did she see how Eleanor’s dress was too simple for a lady of her status? Did she notice the exhaustion on her face? The weariness that years at St. Euphemia’s had etched into her?
Eleanor recalled Charlotte’s pragmatic thinking—something her friend thought she got from her father but bitterly proclaimed she would never know for sure.
“My aunt Katherine only tells me that I certainly did not get it from my mother,”Charlotte had always said with a laugh.
And now, that mind of hers was whirring, suspicion written all over her face as she continued to look between them.
“Mrs. Winters,” the Duke suddenly called out to the housekeeper, who was hovering a few paces away and waiting for his orders. “Please show Lady Eleanor to her guest chambers. She needs a very long rest.”
He shot Eleanor a sharp, pointed look.Hewould decide who knew what and when.
