Page 15 of Wedded to the Loveless Duke
“How very romantic!”
Sarah didn’t seem to notice the sheen of tears or the tightness of Eleanor’s smile in all her enthusiasm, and Eleanor was glad for it. If Sarah couldn’t tell she was both furious and upset, then no one else there would know. Eleanor’s secret was safe between herself, her father and her husband. People continued to come by to congratulate her, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted Phillip there to take the attention off her or if she wished him to stay away lest she tries to strangle him for betraying her. True, they had only spoken a handful of times at her father’s house, but he could have told her the truth at any time! He did not needto pretend he was her friend or that he commiserated with her while he already had her in his grasp thanks to her father.
“You must have dazzled him, Your Grace,” one of the dowagers said with a wrinkled smile. “Young love! I remember those days when my husband and I were still young before he fell ill and God took him. Enjoy them! Where is your husband, anyway?”
It hit Eleanor once again that she was alone and that she did not even know her husband’s first name. She knew nothing about him. The people there knew more than she did. At that moment, she knew the tears could not be held back again. “He had something urgent to attend to. I… I am certain he will return shortly. Please, excuse me, I need a moment.” Her voice fell to a bare whisper. “I simply need to refresh myself. Thank you for coming.”
The guests turned their attention to the refreshment tables that were laden with food as she fled towards the house. Halfway there, she realized she had no idea where she was going and had no wish to run into the Duke in her miserable state. She couldn’t bear to let the traitor see her on the verge of tears. Switching directions, she went around the side of the house, noticing a small overgrown garden a little further down. It was run down in a way that said the estate hadn’t seen a proper gardener’s touch in ages, but it was free of the wedding decorations on the main lawn, at least, and it offered some privacy.
Eleanor fled under the overgrown arbor in the garden, tucking herself away on a small bench hidden from view by a copse of arborvitaes that had grown entirely out of hand. Dragging herknees up to her chest, she huddled on the bench and let the tears roll down her cheeks. She could no longer deny them, and she needed this quiet moment to strengthen her resolve to be cold and distant before she had to face her husband again.
Face buried in her knees, she wept and wondered what would become of her. Most women, even in stations like hers, knew their husbands before they were wed. They spoke with their betrotheds on more than a handful of occasions, and they knew whom they were going to marry, even if something had been arranged. Most women did not discover they were brides in the moments before they reached the assembled wedding guests. Eleanor was not like most women or most brides, and this whole situation was a disaster.
Given that Phillip had hidden his intentions from her, she doubted she could believe any of the things he had said during the times he had visited her. She now knew that he had been there to assess her, not to meet with her father, and that he and her father had colluded together to keep that from her. Her father’s persistent questions about how she found the Duke of Richmond suddenly made sense in an awful, sickening way.
He had been planning this from the start, likely since the day the Duke of Richmond and I first met, when the first argument over my intent to never marry had broken out.
She sniffled and tried to compose herself. If she would stay hidden in the garden for too long, people would come looking for her. As she was about to pull out a handkerchief to wipe her tear-stained face, she heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravelpath that led to the back garden where she was now ensconced. It sounded as if the person was approaching from the front lawn, where the wedding had been held.
More footsteps came from the direction of the house.
William’s voice drifted from somewhere nearby, and she stilled. It might be wrong to eavesdrop, but after what he had done to her today, she felt little guilt for staying hidden and listening in.
“… fulfilled the agreement as per our earlier discussions. My daughter’s dowry will be more than enough to cover the debts and expenses of the estate and to get you back on your feet, Richmond.”
“Do you think she will ever be happy here, Fife?” Phillip’s voice filtered through the small space.
“I hope she will be, but whether she will be or not, she is safely under your protection now, and that is all I care about.”
“Well, I am glad it worked out,” the Duke said. “I have my expenses cared for, and you have rid yourself of your daughter. You will not have to worry about her anymore, and I will not have to worry about whether I can care for her.”
Eleanor hugged her knees tighter, her tears resurfacing. Phillip sounded miserable over the arrangement, but that was no comfort. It only meant he didn’t want her and had married her only for her dowry. She had been chattel in a deal they hadmade, unwanted by both parties but necessary to seal the deal. A part of her wanted to leap from her hiding place and storm out of there to slap Phillip for doing this. The other part wanted to creep away and die before more hurt could be piled on the pain she was already enduring.
No more of this. She could bear no more. Standing up, she slipped out of the back of the garden and headed towards the house, treading lightly on the gravel to avoid alerting both of them that someone was back there listening in on their conversation. She went into the dark, cool interior of the house, thankful for a quiet place to escape the warm summer sun. Then, she pushed open a door that led her into the bustling warmth of the manor kitchens.
When she entered, the cook and the maids stopped and gawked at her. She must have looked terrible coming in there with tear-stained cheeks, red-rimmed eyes and hair that had been disheveled by her tugging fingers as she wept. It was not a sight she wanted her guests to witness, but there was no helping the servants witnessing it. They might as well become accustomed to seeing their mistress sad and broken. She had no doubt it would become a regular occurrence in the Duke’s household after everything she’d overheard in the garden. This was not a marriage that could be happy given what it was built on. Lies and bargains were not a sound basis for love or camaraderie. Regardless of her disdain for marriage, even she knew a marriage built on lies would fail.
A portly woman who seemed to be in charge of the kitchens shuffled towards Eleanor, drying her hands on an apron. “YourGrace, I am Annie Bower, head cook here at His Grace’s estate. What can I help you with?”
Eleanor took a shaky breath. Even the servants knew she was to wed their master before she did. “I need a wash basin to clean my face, a maid to fix my hair and a cup of strong tea before I can go out to entertain my guests, if you please.”
“Right away, Your Grace.” Annie turned to the rest of the staff. “Mary, begin the tea. Put a splash of brandy in it to settle Her Grace’s nerves. Isabel, you will fetch a basin of water and a wash towel. Bring it upstairs to Her Grace’s bedchamber. Then, you will help Her Grace with her hair until we can arrange a proper lady’s maid for her.”
A dark-haired slip of a girl rushed in the direction of the stove and pantry. Another girl with flaxen hair and bright blue eyes picked up a porcelain bowl and went to the water pump by the sink to fill it with fresh water. The cook took Eleanor’s arm gently and led her out of the kitchens. “There now, Your Grace. Let me show you your rooms. You look exhausted.”
“It has been a trying day,” Eleanor murmured.
“Wedding days are always a bit overwhelming, even in the best of circumstances.” The cook eyed her as they walked through the house. “And I have it from His Grace himself that today’s circumstances are not the best.”
Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment, her lips trembling. “No. They are not.”
“His Grace is a good man, Your Grace. It will all work out in the end.” Annie patted her hand gently and then led her up the grand staircase. “I know it may not seem so right now, but it will.”
“While I appreciate your confidence in him, Annie, I suspect that will not be the case. He married me for my dowry after all.”
Annie frowned but said nothing. It was clear she was forcing herself to remain silent. She had something she wished to say, likely in defense of her master. The head cook seemed devoted to Phillip, and Eleanor couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. Until she gets to know the staff better, she wouldn’t know if Annie simply had a great deal of faith in her master or if there was more to it.
“His Grace was kind enough to hire my husband to handle his stables when he had recently lost his employ with another household that could no longer afford to pay him. We all know that His Grace has been pouring thousands of pounds into this estate and our upkeep.”
