Page 1 of Wedded to the Loveless Duke
CHAPTER 1
Eleanor Reeves, daughter of William, Duke of Fife, stood in a corner of the crowded ballroom with her best friend, Sarah Thorn. As usual, the two of them had sequestered themselves from the rest of the attendingtonto discuss other things. In reality, Sarah was simply Eleanor’s accomplice in avoiding the attentions of any interested gentlemen.
“I heard from Lady Mary Weston that there is a new shade of gold silk thread that absolutely puts to shame what all of us have been using,” Eleanor told Sarah. “I thought perhaps we ought to make a trip to the town market tomorrow to see it for ourselves. If what she said is true, we simply must switch out the threads for that embroidery project we have been working on. I am also out of the indigo I have been working into that little blue bird on my stitching canvas, so pray, help me remember to look for it while we are there!”
Sarah laughed. “Trust you to be thinking of your embroidery when there are men to dance with, Eleanor Do you not think we could spare a little time to dance tonight?”
“Why should we?” Eleanor grimaced. “Our projects are so much more entertaining, Sarah. Tell me, what will you do for your next project if we do find the thread Lady Mary mentioned?”
Sarah stared longingly at the attendees dancing in the center of the ballroom, but she obliged her friend with an answer, even as she kept an eye on the dancers. “Oh, perhaps I shall embroider that floral piece I have designed. I think it would look lovely with gold threads in it. Or perhaps I should shock everyone and use the black and gold thread technique my tutor from Spain taught me. It would certainly be eye-catching!”
“Yes, you must! Black threads with a little gold worked into the design would be the envy of all the ladies.”
“And will you begin a new project too, Eleanor?” Sarah was only half-listening by now, an aggravating habit she had when they were at these events.
“I think I shall simply finish what I have already begun. But you are only half-listening to me now, Sarah! Whatever is so intriguing about the dancers that I only have half your attention?” Eleanor crossed her arms and stared at the contrast of the flowing colors of the ladies’ gowns against the dark hues of the men’s suits with a frown. “Everything looks as it always has.”
Sarah was moving ever so slightly in time to the music, mimicking the movements of the waltz the attendees were now dancing. “I do so love dancing,” she said. “Let’s dance, Eleanor. Just tonight. It is only one evening I am asking for.” She stared down at her empty dance card with a sigh. “Mother will befurious with me if I do not dance with at least one or two eligible bachelors. Please, do not be sour with me over it. She wishes me to bring a suitable, rich gentleman, and you know I shan’t manage it by hiding with you all night.”
Eleanor heaved a sigh. “What is it about bringing suitable gentlemen that has all the ladies so occupied with it? I cannot see the appeal, and I think I shall never marry.”
Her friend gasped. “You should never say such things, Eleanor! Of course you will marry! You merely have to find a man who will cherish you dearly enough to entertain your eccentricities. Then, you shall see it is not so bad after all.”
Eleanor scoffed, “I shall never find such a man! Have you ever known a man who did not wish to lord over his wife, Sarah? Really, the things you say sometimes can be so very fantastical.”
Sarah flushed and hid her face behind her fan. She was about to respond when her brother, Duncan Thorn, approached. He bowed to Eleanor with a smile. “Lady Eleanor, you look beautiful, as always. I hope you will not mind my borrowing my sister.” He turned to Sarah. “There is someone you simply must meet, Sarah.”
Sarah lowered her fan and glanced at Eleanor apologetically. “You do not mind terribly, do you, Eleanor?”
“Of course not!” Eleanor would miss her friend, but she understood that other duties would call Sarah away at suchevents, and she wouldn’t be seen arguing with Duncan over whether or not his sister ought to fulfill them.
Sarah placed her hand in the crook of her brother’s elbow and let him lead her away, gaily chatting with him about this new acquaintance he wished her to meet and asking if he knew which gentlemen had not already danced too much to think of dancing with her.
Eleanor groaned. While her friend was always very supportive of her apathy towards the idea of marriage—which bordered on disgust some days—Sarah did not share her disdain for the concept or her desire to remain free. In their world, spinsterhood was a scandal and simply unimaginable for most ladies.
Eleanor could afford to remain single thanks to her father’s fortune, and she tried to be understanding of Sarah’s inability to afford such a scandalous position. Yet, it didn’t make it any less difficult to bear her friend’s absence or the boredom she faced at these events, since she preferred not to dance and refused to entertain a conversation with most of the attendington.
She left the corner they were hiding in and walked towards the refreshment table, plastering a pleasant smile on her face and wishing more than anything that whoever designed the set-up for these parties would stop placing the refreshments in the center of the room.
It is hardly a refreshment if you go to fetch your food only to be accosted by every eligible gentleman in the room without apartner or bothered by every woman seeking to climb the social ladder.
As a duke’s daughter, Eleanor was usually accosted by both, much to her dismay.
At the refreshment table, she picked up a glass of red wine. If she had to endure the rest of the evening, she might as well do so with some wine to make it all seem more enjoyable. When she would throw her own balls, she would make sure to never place the refreshment table in the center of the room. She settled at a nearby table, and the absurdity of the idea dawned on her then. Why would she ever throw a ball, to begin with? She despised such events after all.
A laugh escaped her, and she tipped her glass by mistake. A little bit of wine spilled over the edge, dripping down her fingers and onto the white tablecloth, staining it. Blushing, she glanced to her left to see if anyone heading for the refreshment table had noticed. It was hardly becoming of a duke’s daughter to be so slovenly at a public event.
I really should have chosen the white wine.
There was a quiet, deep laugh on her right, and her blush intensified. Of course someone had noticed. It was likely some wizened old lord who had nothing better to do than to hang about the refreshment table and laugh at the young ladies’ foolishness. She set her glass on the table and turned, intending to tell the man that he hardly had reason to laugh given how shaky his own hands must be at his advanced age.
However, she came face-to-face with a tall man with neatly combed brown hair that looked as soft as her embroidery threads. He was staring down at her with a bemused smile and a flicker of humor in his hazel eyes. She stared back, her insult momentarily forgotten along with her embarrassment. This was not the sort of wizened lord or simpering member of thetonshe had expected to face. This man exuded command despite his amused expression.
Eleanor’s blush returned full force when she realized that she was staring at him, and she hid her face behind her fan. “It is rude to laugh when someone attempts to bring a little color and variety to the decorations, Sir. These ball decorations are always the same, bland and monotonous. I was doing them a favor, truth be told.”
She expected the man to grimace and walk off, either chastened by her cutting remark or put off by the inane excuse for her mistake. Instead, he laughed, this time more loudly. Askance, Eleanor lowered her fan, indignation overcoming her embarrassment. “Whatever are you laughing about?”
The man stopped laughing and stared down at her, a thoughtful expression replacing his amusement. It looked as though he was deciding whether to engage her further and what to make of her question, but he finally smiled and glanced down at the stain from her wine. “I had believed it a joke, Lady Eleanor. I meant no offense.”
