Page 19 of Wedded to the Loveless Duke
Eleanor nodded with a gentle smile. “We will speak more later, then. Is His Grace already prepared for breaking fast?”
“Yes, Your Grace. He is in the dining room. Shall I show you?”
“No, I remember the way from the previous evening’s tour before I retired. Thank you, Isabel.”
Later, she would ask Isabel about her family. For now, she had to meet Phillip for breakfast. Bending down, Eleanor scooped up Bella, who had gone to sleep by her mistress’s feet, and swept out of her rooms.
She made her way down the winding staircase, noticing the threadbare state of the runner in the middle of the worn cherrywood stairs. The stairs and banisters could use a fresh polish and cleaning too, but she suspected Phillip would handle that with some of the money he now had thanks to her dowry. She strode into the dining room to find him sitting at the large dining table reading the morning paper.
He looked up when she entered and closed the paper, setting it to the side. “Eleanor, did you sleep well?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Perhaps a little too well.
She’d dreamed of him all night, and standing there in his presence was only serving to remind her of the strange exchange they’d shared before he had left her room to return to his own. Eleanor’s cheeks were warmer than usual, and she bent down to set Bella on the floor, snatching a moment to compose herself before facing the man who had become her captor the moment he’d said “I do” before half of the ton. She would never admit to the disappointment she had felt when the kiss had not ended more passionately nor to the way his unexpected tenderness despite her poor reaction to the day’s events had left her uncertain and wanting.
“It’s Phillip, Eleanor. We have covered this.”
Eleanor joined him at the table, fixing her attention on the food. There were eggs, a few slices of ham, grapes and thick-sliced toast fresh from the oven with butter and jam on it. A small bowl of seasoned potato cubes sat on the edge of the plate beside hersilverware, and a sparkling red wine half filled the glass before her. “I prefer to address you by your title, Your Grace.”
“And I prefer you call me by my name,” Phillip insisted quietly. “I suppose you will use it when you are ready, though.”
“I doubt I shall ever be ready. Shall we say grace?”
He frowned, but he bowed his head and said a short prayer.
The moment he had finished, Eleanor began working on her breakfast in case he decided to ask more questions. She didn’t trust herself to answer respectfully or dutifully as a proper wife should, and she didn’t want to argue with him that morning, not so soon after the previous night’s debacle. She needed space, not another heated argument that might end in yet another frustrating near kiss.
“Why do you prefer to address me by my title?”
She raised an eyebrow and swallowed her bite before replying. “What do you think, Your Grace? It is an accurate depiction of our relationship. Or, more accurately, it is a depiction of the lack thereof. We are strangers after all.”
“We spoke multiple times before we wed, Eleanor. We may not know one another well, but we are not strangers.”
Eleanor cut her egg into smaller bites with her fork. “I believe nothing of what you said during those days, Your Grace. Aman who would hide an enormous secret from someone who is concerned is not a man who can be trusted.”
“Nothing I said during any of our conversations was a lie. You misunderstand me. As I said last night, your dowry was not the final reason I chose to marry you.”
“Then perhaps you might try to convince me of that. Make the lies good enough, and perhaps I will forgive you for lying by omission for months before our wedding.” She took a bite of her eggs and waited.
He scowled. “Then perhaps I ought not to bother, Eleanor. I have no intention of lying to you, and if in the truth you hear nothing but lies, then I best keep the truth to myself until you’re ready to believe it.”
Eleanor scoffed and sipped at her wine. “I will take that to mean you are lying about your claim that there was another reason at play, Your Grace. You may as well offer the lies to excuse the ones you have already told and to add to this twisted web you have woven about us. Please, I would dearly love to know what excuse you wish to offer.”
Phillip’s jaw tightened, and he looked down at his plate. He seemed about to cave in when Bella woke, stretched and ambled over to Eleanor’s seat. Suddenly, she bounded across the room when she spotted the Duke, barking happily and settling at his feet, her tail wagging wildly.
Eleanor scowled. Even the dog liked him.
Phillip set aside his fork and pushed away from the table, turning to stroke the dog’s ears with a gentle smile. “Hello, girl. How fare you now that you have been united with your mistress?”
The little dog stared up at him adoringly and butted her head into his knee when he tried to return to his meal. His laughter came soft and gentle, shocking Eleanor. He hadn’t laughed once when they were together at her father’s estate, that she’d noticed. He was usually so serious, but now, he was opening up and looking down at Bella fondly. His next move surprised Eleanor even more. He plucked a piece of ham from his plate and offered it to the dog.
Bella took it with a happy pant and scarfed it down. The little traitor whined for more, her attention entirely on the Duke now.
“What is her name?” Phillip turned an inquiring look on Eleanor.
“Bella,” she murmured.
