Page 30 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
She did not beg now.
She walked out of the church as the Duchess of Everdawn and did not look back.
Chapter Nine
“Duchess,” the Duke prompted, standing outside the carriage, waiting to take her hand to help her down.
Eleanor could scarcely believe that Everdawn Hall was the same estate she had ridden up to, hobbling and injured, panicked and desperate to save her friend’s life.
And now…
Now, she was the lady of the house.
She felt silly in her gown of simple silk and pretty, small beading—a woman playing a role that was far too big for her.
She took the Duke’s hand and let him guide her toward the main entrance, where Mrs. Winters waited to greet her as though she was new to the estate but honored by the fact that she was not.
“I will leave you to get settled,” the Duke muttered.
Without another word, he strode down the bronze-colored hallway as if he had not done a similar thing several days ago under the same explanation.
Eleanor was left with the housekeeper, who took her to a different suite than the one she had rested in. Than the one where she had poured out her truth.
Where she had thought she and the Duke had bridged understanding between them, only to realize that logic and plans had upheld that bridge, and now that their plan had been enacted, she was shut out.
So what now? What will become of us?
“These are the ducal suites,” Mrs. Winters announced, opening the door to a room that looked as though it had been encased in a sunrise.
Swathes of autumnal colors softened the white walls, splashes of gold and red accents adorning the furniture and flooring. Eleanor’s lips curled into a smile, especially when she saw the maple trees stretch out into the distance beyond her window, magical and alluring.
“Suites?” she asked, realizing what Mrs. Winters had said. “But there is only one room.”
Mrs. Winters walked over to the white door between the window and Eleanor’s new, very large bed.
“Your suite is connected to His Grace’s. It will provide the privacy you require without the need to step out into the hallway. In a moment, your new lady’s maid, Frances, will come help you get ready for dinner. Do let me know if you need anything, Your Grace.”
Her tone was warm yet firm, and she nodded at Eleanor before she left.
Eleanor was still eyeing the connecting door and wondering exactly what that privacy would entail when Frances entered, finding her pink-faced and lost in thought over her looming wedding night.
The dining room was dimly lit, the sky outside darker than when they arrived, casting the room almost in a reddish glow. Candles were lit around the room, making the space more intimate than it should have been.
Without Charlotte there, both the dining room and the manor itself suddenly seemed awkward, painfully empty, and silent.
The Duke, who sat at the head of the table, heaved a sigh as if tired of waiting for her.
Eleanor gathered her wits once more and took her seat at the other end of the dining table. She looked down at him through the candlelight. His warm, honey-brown eyes met hers for a brief moment before he looked down at her gown.
“Red,” he noted. “Fitting for the estate you are now the Duchess of.”
“Burgundy,” she corrected. “At least, Frances told me so.”
His lips twitched as if he were stifling his amusement.
A footman stepped forward and poured Eleanor a generous glass of red wine. Once he was gone, she stared at the dark liquid, feeling her anxiety rise.
“I do not drink,” she mumbled.
