Page 1 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
Chapter 1
London 1818
Who was going to break the stony silence first? Her or her father? Thank God the carriage was dark enough so she could barely see him. It was not a comfort though. If she could see him, she had no doubt there would be a dark glower on his face. The tension in the air of the carriage was heavy.
The ball that Countess Heatherdale had put on was the second-to-the-last affair of the London Season, a season where Eleanor had successfully managed to dissuade many would-be suitors. As the last of the season was to come, she counted it as a triumph, but if the stiff stoniness from her father was any indication, clearly, he did not.
On their way from the Countess’ St. John’s Wood manor to their palatial home in Mayfair, Eleanor did not dare try to peek around the thick navy drapes to see where they were, but she was desperate to escape this silence. It ate at her skin and her mind had tripped into overdrive.
What is he thinking? What is he going to accuse me of? What is he going to order me to do?
“You have disappointed me, Eleanor,” her father’s deep gravelly baritone made her jump. “Just like you have been doing for the pastfourmonths since the season started.”
Seeing as the London season had begun in late January and it was now May, her father had been noticing her behavior and had been holding in his anger for almost four months.
“Father, I— ”
“Do you not understand the reason for attending all the balls and soirées, Eleanor?” Her father’s comment was rhetorical. “It is not all dancing and merrymaking, it is for to you to find a fitting husband, and tonight, you have turned away no less thanfiverespectable suitors.”
For good reason! None of them had a lick of common sense,Eleanor wanted to shout but did not dare speak back to her father when he had not finished speaking.
“Eleanor, you are ten-and-nine,” the Duke said tightly. “If you do not give these suitors a chance, how are you going to get to know them and then progress to courtship? Or do you aim to be a blue-stocking spinster like Lady Mariotte Delancey?”
Eleanor flinched.
Lady Delancey was the daughter of a duke but she had never given anyone her hand in marriage. Now, at the age seven-and-thirty, she was mockingly monikered the ‘Nun’ by the whole ton. While some progressive-minded people lauded her for keeping her individuality, many others scorned her as a pariah of society.
More importantly, though, she was mentioned as a scare tactic used by many mothers to intimidate their daughters into marriage by reminding them of what contempt they would suffer after passing the marriageable age.
“That is not fair, Father,” Eleanor said stiffly. “I did exactly what I was told to do. I danced and then conversed during the break of the sets. It is not my fault that none of my partners had a grain of novelty in their dialog.”
“Eleanor,” her father’s voice had dipped to a warning tone. “Not every man is interested or even knowledgeable enough to debate the semantics in Shakespeare's Comedies or reflect on what is happening in the colonies.”
“And I must be interested in what steel is best for swords or which cigar is best to not give lung troubles?” Eleanor replied while keeping her voice as calm as possible.
“It would not hurt topretend,” her father censured. “Eleanor, there is one more ball, the Greyson’s, and I implore you, even if the conversation is tedious, use your prodigious imagination and just play along.”
And lose my integrity in the process.Eleanor fumed,I will not downplay my intelligence to pander to any man.
“If you think that is the best course, Father,” she eventually replied.
Turning her eyes to the softly-swaying curtains, Eleanor was acutely aware that her father knew she had not given him a definitive answer. Her words gave theimpressionof her compliance, but they did not assure it. And, in truth, she had no intention of pretending to be what she was not to get a husband.
If she had to suffer spinsterhood for the rest of her life, so be it. No glittering jewels, grand manors, vacation homes in France, or the scribbling of Lady so-and-so on paper was worth the sacrifice of her integrity.
The stifling silence continued between them until they arrived at their Mayfair home. The house, situated on meager ten acres of property was a little small for a Duke and his servants but it served its purpose. They had moved to this property mere months after her mother, Elizabeth, had died seven years ago. During the mourning period, her father had stated that their home in his county seat of Brisdane reminded him too much of Elizabeth, so they had packed up and left.
However, for the duties of his station, her father traveled frequently to the dukedom and stayed there sometimes for days, even weeks, on end. When he did go, he left her under the guardianship of Miss Malcolm, an old family friend and her chaperone.
“Welcome home, Your Grace and Lady Eleanor,” their butler, Mr. Ambrose bowed.
“Thank you, Ambrose,” Eleanor said as genially as she could while removing her shawl. Her father, on the other hand, just gave the man a curt nod and stalked off.
She traced the butler’s wondering gaze and apologized on behalf of her sire, “You must excuse him, Ambrose, we had a little disagreement coming home.”
Mr. Ambrose’s smile was tight, “I understand, my lady, do you need me to send your usual tea to your chambers?”
“I would really appreciate it,” Eleanor said. “Thank you, Ambrose and good night to you.”
