Page 69 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
She was not defenseless. So she nodded, urging her husband to go with his friend.
“I will be quite fine here,” she assured him. “Besides, I am wearing a mask. I am practically unrecognizable to most people. Forgotten.”
Spencer didn’t look certain, but Lord Avington was already tugging him away.
He brushed a hand over her waist and murmured, “I will not be far, should you need me.” And then he was gone.
Left alone, Eleanor looked around the room and then went to the refreshments table.
The night was warm, and although gauzy drapes billowed in the open doorway of a terrace, very little air flowed into the ballroom.
She was accosted by a man in dark clothing, embroidered with golden thread. His mask was a deep mauve, ringed black around the eyes, with silver thread on the edges.
“You look like a swan, pure and innocent. Yet, you and I both know that you are anything but that, do we not?”
That voice sent a cold shiver down her spine. But she swallowed down a gasp of panic. She was no longer in a cell, where he could hurt her and nobody would stop him. No. She was in a packed ballroom, and she had to believe that she was safe.
So, steeling herself, she forced a smile. “Lord Belgrave.”
“We meet again, Your Grace.”
“I do believe during our last meeting you said I was not worthy of any title.”
“Things have changed, from what I have heard around London.”
His smile was wide but sinister. How had she never seen past his charm all those years ago?
“You are a duchess now.”
“You heard correctly.”
She met his eyes boldly, wanting him to know that she held more power now than ever. That she was not cowering on the cold stone floor of the convent, listening to his mockery.
She hadrisen.
“Then perhaps you will allow me to… apologize for my past behavior by doing me the honor of dancing with me.”
Every inch of her being recoiled at the request, but she thought of Charlotte. Compliance meant she remained safe; it meant giving in for a moment to secure protection for the long term.
And so she gathered her courage and nodded. “I will.”
Lord Belgrave led her to the dance floor. She tried not to tremble, tried not to think about the last time she had danced with him and what had happened afterward.
Her heart pounded as she looked at him, the man who should have been her husband. The man who had sent her to a hellish convent on false accusations.
He had ruined her life. In turn, she woulddestroyhis.
Eleanor smiled as he bowed to her. She hated how close he stood to her as he led her in a slower dance. It felt loaded, tense—a dance that determined her safety.
“You must humor my curiosity, Your Grace,” Lord Belgrave began, his expression perfectly charming beneath his mask. Only his icy blue eyes were visible. “The last time we spoke, you were hardly deserving of your title, as you pointed out moments ago. Yet, now you stand before me as the Duchess of Everdawn, apparently madly in love with a duke. Considering you spent the last three years… atoning for your sins, one wonders how you met him.”
Eleanor did not falter at the threats wrapped in polite inquiry. “You are wrong, Lord Belgrave. One cannot atone for sins that were not committed. At least not by me.”
“Thetonsays otherwise.”
“Beneath your influence,” she countered.
He gave a tight smile, caught for a moment before he smoothed over the pause. “Regardless, I do hope you are adjusting well at Everdawn. I have heard it is rather beautiful. Conveniently close to St. Euphemia’s, no?”
