Page 26 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
She had not been fed well at the convent, and she had almost forgotten the taste and feel of the dishes that had been laid out in front of her.
Overwhelmed, she scarfed down her food, before looking up to find the Duke watching her. He did not look put off but rather awed. Eleanor did not slow down, uncaring. She had been starving for too long in many ways.
When the table was eventually cleared, the Duke announced, “Lady Eleanor and I will wed in London. Afterward, Charlotte, you are to return to Aunt Katherine’s?—”
“Brother!” Charlotte protested.
“It is only proper,” he reminded her. “For Lady Eleanor and I will come back here for our honeymoon. Once it is over, you may return.”
He is sending her away for her safety.
Still, Eleanor’s face flushed at the thought of being at Everdawn Hall alone with him, as her husband.
Do not get too excited. It will likely be very uncomfortable, awkward dinners and lonely afternoons.
But at least if he ignored her most of the time, she could reconnect with everything the convent had deprived her of—gardening, reading books, embroidering, sleeping whenever she pleased.
“I understand that, of course, but… well, what of my courtship with Lord Follet? He agreed to delay our engagement announcement when I said you were not present.”
“Then he can delay it a little longer.” The Duke’s tone left no room for argument. His expression turned detached as he glanced at his sister and then at Eleanor. “I shall not have my honeymoon intruded upon. You do not want to do that to us, do you?”
Charlotte’s frown was delicate and confused, but she slowly shook her head. “No, I want you both to be happy, above anything else.”
“And we want you to be happy as well,” Eleanor hurriedly said.
“Which is why, when we return to London, you may continue attending events,” the Duke added, giving his sister a curt smile.
Then, he stood up, bowed his head to them both, and strode out of the dining room.
Chapter Eight
“Do not show them fear.”
Eleanor started at the Duke’s voice, low and close to her ear.
“That is what they will be looking for,” he warned.
“I am not afraid,” she lied. “I just… I did not think I would see this house again. I truly…” she trailed off.
I thought I would be left to rot in St. Euphemia’s.
“You are to be a duchess,” the Duke reminded her, lifting his chin.
They had already knocked on the door to Quinley Manor. Mr. Wilson, the butler, had gone to fetch her parents. He had not even deigned to let them in, and the Duke had not yet insisted.
“Show them the spine that you showed me when you snuck into my estate.Youhave come to save yourself this time, Lady Eleanor.”
Eleanor didn’t get a chance to respond, because the door opened again, revealing the faces of Lord and Lady Quinley.
The color drained from her mother’s face, and she wished to weep.
Once upon a time, they had been as close as mother and daughter could be, when all the daughter tried to do was be perfect. Be good, beright. But her father… there was a coldness to his eyes, a weariness that she had never seen.
I caused that—No,Lord Belgrave caused that.
“You dare darken our doorstep after what you put us through,” Margaret Barnes hissed. “There is no word, no message—you must leave. Your Grace, you may?—”
“We will both stay, Lady Quinley,” the Duke cut in. “For Lady Eleanor is to be my wife, and as this is her home, she has every right to enter it.” His cool gaze slid to her father. “Lord Quinley, may we speak regarding the arrangement?”
