Page 63 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
He bowed to Eleanor and gave Spencer another sly look before slinking off, leaving them in a thick silence.
Eleanor was not sure how to react to the softness her husband had done a poor job of concealing.
He cleared his throat and took her arm again. “We should take a turn around the room.”
Shaking off the unexpected moment, she let him lead her around the room, where she was met with tight smiles and tighter greetings. But at least their ploy was working.
As they moved around the drawing room, she threw herself into their act, smiling easier and making teasing remarks, but she kept her hands to herself this time.
Even Spencer eased up, as if he understood how much the comments had gotten to her.
Soon, Lord and Lady Cardale called for dinner.
“Shall we?” Spencer asked, nodding toward the door, where the guests were already filing out.
Soon, they were seated in the dining room. Eleanor found herself sitting to the right of another duke and duchess from somewhere a little further south from Everdawn.
As the first course was served, she tried to ignore the familiar voice coming from her left—her father’s voice, proud and loud, boastful as she had come to know. She tensed at the thought of her parents having arrived, or possibly having seen her without acknowledging her.
Yet, when she looked toward them, she found her mother’s glare already fixed on her.
Anger flared deep in her stomach, and she reached for Spencer’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He followed her gaze and leaned into her, letting her parents see the doting couple they were.
They know the truth, but they will never speak of it. Yet they must see that I have won.
“I just enquired about who I am sitting next to.” Spencer’s breath fanned her cheekbone. “I believe they are our neighbors to the south. Lord and Lady Winterwood. I believe you may know their other neighbors. Oakwood… Maplewood…”
It took Eleanor a moment to realize that he was distracting her from her parents, from the maelstrom of emotions within her. And it took her another moment to realize that he was cracking a joke, making light of the lie she had sputtered on their first meeting.
She turned to him, finding him smirking. “You tease me.”
Spencer cocked an eyebrow at her before turning to the older lady next to him. “Lady Winterwood, may I introduce you to my wife, the Duchess of Everdawn? Duchess, may I present the Countess Winterwood and her husband, the Earl of Winterwood.”
Eleanor gaped at him for a moment before remembering herself.
“Oh—oh!” She shot him a scowl. “Good evening, Lady Winterwood.”
“Your Grace.” The Countess inclined her head, her white hair pulled back from her face in an elegant chignon. “Perhaps we could visit each other soon? It gets rather lonely in Winterwood Manor. I would enjoy some company for afternoon tea. I believe you live on the other side of the maple trees.”
“We do,” Eleanor confirmed, still aware of her father’s voice to her left. She tried to tune it out. “I would love to visit you, Lady Winterwood. And you must come to—” A boot nudged her shoehard, and she cleared her throat. “I shall call on you once we are settled again in the countryside.”
Spencer’s eyes met hers, that smirk still lightly playing on his lips as Lady Winterwood turned back to her husband.
He laughed, before lowering his mouth to her ear. “I thought you needed your attention redirected, and I knew you would not believe me.”
“You are quite terrible, dear husband.”
“Nobody can hear you now, Duchess.” His voice was a low murmur, and she couldn’t deny her yearning for him. “You do not have to use such affectionate terms.”
“And what if I wish to use them anyway?”
He blanched and pulled back, once again tense. A muscle twitched in his cheek, and she wondered if she had flustered him or annoyed him—again. She thought of the space between them, of theton’sclaims of it being like a wall separating them.
She thought of the connecting door between their rooms at Everdawn Hall and the thin wall separating them in the townhouse.
She thought of pressing her head to the wall, just as she had done last night.
“Have any of you read the tale of Thisbe and Pyramus? They were separated by a wall, too.”
