Page 40 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
Eleanor frowned. She had no idea. Charlotte had never mentioned another sister.
“Was it… bad?” she heard herself ask.
“Terrible,” Mrs. Winters admitted. “It was a tragic day, and His Grace… Well, he witnessed such awful things before he even became a man.” She sighed and slowly shook her head. “It is not my story to tell.”
“And… the late Duke. His Grace’s father,” Eleanor murmured, thinking about the father Charlotte rarely mentioned except with great discontent. “And the late Duchess… What happened to them?”
“His Grace’s mother passed away several hours after Lady Charlotte’s birth. And His Grace’s father passed last year from intoxication.” Mrs. Winters did not elaborate, but she brushed a hand over her mouth.
So much loss…
The Duke’s insistence on control made much more sense now.
“The family must have been devastated,” Eleanor commented, turning back to the portrait. “To lose a daughter at such a young age…”
The atmosphere grew heavy, and she was left wondering what story Mrs. Winters refused to tell.
“Indeed,” the housekeeper said.
“It is peculiar. There is a small smile on her face, but her eyes… they look somewhat haunted, don’t you think?”
Again, all Mrs. Winters said was, “Indeed.”
After a pause, she ushered Eleanor out of the music room, mumbling to herself about righting the sheet lest the Duke see it.
Eleanor slowly wandered down the hall after Mrs. Winters bid her farewell with deep sadness on her face. She wondered what secrets lay in the house. What secrets these walls carried.
Would she ever be allowed to find out?
Chapter Twelve
“It is kind of you to visit us, Your Grace,” Lord Heswall said as they strolled. “When you enquired about visiting Georgie, I was pleased. I don’t think I expressed my gratitude enough when you rescued him.”
Spencer found himself in the main village of Everdawn early that day, having left a message with a steward to alert his wife that he would be gone for the day.
Now, he was wandering the fields with the father of a family he had gotten to know very well since his return, having rescued their son when he had tumbled down an empty well several months ago.
Behind them, the family’s modest house grew smaller, and Spencer breathed in the warm air.
“You do not need to thank me,” he reassured, surveying the land around them. A farmer nearby was hacking away at stalks ofwheat while another lugged a bale of fresh hay to the stables at the other end of the field. “Anyone who heard his cries for help would have helped.”
“Not many men in your position would have stopped, but you did. You saved Georgie’s life.”
Spencer was uncomfortable at the praise. Who would not have rescued someone in need? Still, the words lingered:not many men in your position would have stopped.It brought to mind his wife’s insistence that gardening was not beneath her.
He hadbeen wrong.
“He’s recovering slowly, but he is alive,” Lord Heswall continued, smiling at him. “That is more than we could have hoped for that day when you pulled him out of the well. His broken leg hurts, but the doctors are still positive he will walk again.”
“Of course, do feel free to ask for help should you need it,” Spencer offered. “I know a great many physicians and have enough money to cover any costs, should you not be able?—”
“Oh, Your Grace, I could not.”
“Lord Heswall, when it comes to family, one must take any help they can get. And I wish to provide it.”
Lord Heswall nodded. “You are a good man, Your Grace.”
Spencer did not know what to do with the compliment, so he cleared his throat. “You go to London for business often, do you not?”
