Page 33 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
“And yourself?”
“I always sleep well.”
Why do you look so tired, then?
“Then I hope you are rested enough to answer my questions,” she commented, a note of sarcasm lacing her voice. “Are you ready to tell me where Charlotte is?”
“Are you ready to tell me why my assurances of her safety are not enough?” She sighed, but he was not done. “Are you planning to sneak out and visit her if I tell you her location?”
“No,” Eleanor answered through gritted teeth. “But there is comfort in knowing her whereabouts. She could be five minutes away and I will never know.”
“Five minutes or five days, nothing will change.”
“You really will not tell me, will you? You do not trust me.”
“As I said, it is a matter of your safety, Duchess.”
He so smoothly, so casually kept calling herDuchess, avoiding a more intimate introduction of their Christian names. He was putting more distance between them by keeping up the formalities while reminding her that she was not the escaped girl from the convent anymore.
“Fine,” she muttered, and then continued to eat her breakfast in a sullen silence.
Chapter Ten
“Excuse me,” Eleanor called out, her voice uncertain but clear as she spotted a dark head disappearing between the hedges. “May I speak with the head gardener?”
She stepped off the path, lifting her skirts slightly as she followed the figure deeper into the garden.
A few minutes ago, she had been wandering Everdawn Hall alone, determined to memorize the layout of the place while the sun was still out. She wanted to learn the routes now so she wouldn’t be lost when darkness fell again.
Unlike the draughty London townhouses of her childhood, the ducal estate was not cold. But it carried a heavy stillness, a sense of hollowness that lingered in the air.
The rooms were wide and bare, the corridors echoing despite the bevy of servants carrying flowers, linens, and polishedcandlesticks. Though the main structure was comforting in its rustic solidity, it felt to Eleanor as though the manor itself had forgotten how to be lived in.
After years spent in a narrow cell or beneath the towering arches of a cold prayer hall, the vastness here unsettled her. She wasn’t used to beauty without purpose.
She had found her way to a terraced platform overlooking the gardens below. The view had stolen her breath, but there were no steps leading down. Frowning, she retraced her way through the manor, passing the library where she’d met her husband.
Her cheeks flushed at the memory. How close they’d stood. How poorly she’d lied.
She had wanted to speak to someone—anyone—who wasn’t him. But each time she opened her mouth, the servants glanced away and moved on, polite but distant. She was the Duchess now, yes, but she was still a stranger. A fallen lady returned to a world that did not know what to do with her.
Finally, after descending two more levels, she found the gardens. Although the hedges were perfectly trimmed and the flowerbeds meticulously shaped, they were dull and lifeless. So rigid. So colorless. Just like the manor.
And then she had seen him—just a glimpse. That untidy head of black hair, vanishing between the hedges. So she followed, demanding to speak with the head gardener.
She wasn’t sure what she expected. Only that she desperately needed to speak with someone who might actually answer her.
The man pulled back from the bramble he had been working on and bowed deeply. “Your Grace, I am the head gardener. Mr. Branson, at your service. What can I help you with?”
“I would like to help out here,” Eleanor said, her fingers already itching to sink into the soil. “Can I borrow some supplies so I can plant a new flowerbed?”
Mr. Branson blinked at her, his eyes darting around as if he was about to be caught. “Supplies, Your Grace? I… Are the gardens not to your liking?”
“They are beautiful,” she was quick to assure him. “You have done a wonderful job, but I wish to help out. The afternoon is long but hot, so we must move quickly.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.” He nodded. “But are you certain? The gardens are my responsibility, and you are the mistress of the house…”
“I do not mean to diminish your expertise, Sir. I would very much like to join you. I quite like gardening.”
