Page 23 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
“Sit.” He nodded toward the chair that was already pulled out for her. The other was reserved for Charlotte.
Eleanor’s stomach flipped at the thought, but she moved to the chair and sat down. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, before he lifted his goblet to his lips, looking away from her.
His expression was neutral, giving nothing of their earlier conversation away.
What had he filled his time with?
The door to the dining room opened once more, and Charlotte entered, her skirts sweeping across the polished floor. Her blonde hair fluttered behind her, her dress the color of cornflowers. She sat down slowly, looking between her brother and Eleanor, a crease in her smooth brow.
Instead of a smile—as Eleanor had hoped for—Charlotte fixed her with a confused look. She did not even get a chance to greet her friend properly.
“I would like to know what is going on,” Charlotte demanded, her palm flat against the tabletop. There was not only anger in her words, but also hurt. “From both of you. But most of all, I would like to hear from you, Eleanor. Why would you disappear without a trace or word for three years? You know full well what absences have done to me.”
She shot her brother a bitter look.
Eleanor could see that some wounds between the siblings had not healed.
Charlotte’s eyes returned to her, hard and hurt. “So why would you do the same? Not to mention that you did it at the most pivotal moments of our lives. The things I’ve had to navigate alone… the things we promised we would navigatetogether.”
Devastation swept through Eleanor. She had begged to see Charlotte one last time… To tell her the truth about the accusations. She hoped that her friend had not believed them.
“I was… in a difficult situation. I am sorry.”
Charlotte stared at her, scoffing. “You are sorry.”
It was not a question but a mocking statement.
Eleanor had only heard that tone when Charlotte had once spoken of the brother she had believed did not care for her. The brother who now watched the two of them with a clenched jaw.
“I am,” she insisted, her voice steady. “I-I do not have a good enough reason.”
“No, you do not,” Charlotte replied. “But now you have appeared out of nowhere. Spencer mentioned you were returning to London. Fromwhere? And you are getting married to him just like that? Tell me, Eleanor, how do you expect me to simplyaccept this very loose, confusing story? Friends do not abandon one another the way you abandoned me.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to explain, trying to think fast, but the Duke cut in smoothly. “Charlotte…”
“Andyou,” Charlotte snapped at him. “I have pushed for a proper relationship with you for two years, yet you still keep secrets from me! You ask for my trust and then show me why I cannot trust you. How do you even know Eleanor?”
“As I said, my travels?—”
“How?” she pressed. “And if I do not receive a proper answer, so help me?—”
“Charlotte.” The Duke’s patience finally snapped. “Lady Eleanor and I met in the Caribbean. You know exactly where she was, for her parents told you that she was caring for her aunt. We came across one another at a nobleman’s soiree. That is all there is to it.”
“What were you doing in the Caribbean?”
“Business,” he answered smoothly. “I wrote to you during my time there. You recall my time at Lord Houghton’s residence over there.”
At that, Charlotte fell silent. But then she asked, “How long have you known one another?”
“Not long enough to dally, I admit, but long enough that when I saw Lady Eleanor again, I could not deny that therehadbeen a spark.”
“Did you two speak after the soiree?”
“Once or twice,” the Duke murmured.
He was reframing what had actually happened, twisting the truth and weaving the tale. The library at Everdawn Hall became the soiree, and the convent became the wrecked carriage.
Eleanor looked down, avoiding her friend’s gaze every time she looked to her for proof.
