Page 24 of Wedded to the Loveless Duke
He walked over and put a hand gently on her shoulder. “Eleanor?”
She stirred with a gasp and lifted her head as she blinked and looked about blearily. “Yes? What? Am I needed for something?”
“Calm yourself, Eleanor.” Phillip smiled softly. “It is only I.”
She finally fixed her eyes on him, and the familiar scowl returned. “Oh.”
“I know I have not pressed you to spend time in my company as of late, Eleanor, but tonight, you must accompany me to the Duke of Bedford’s ball.”
Eleanor closed the book in her lap carefully. “Oh. Very well, Your Grace, as you wish.”
He crossed his arms. “That is all? As I wish, and that is the end of the matter?”
“Do I have any say in this?”
Phillip hesitated. In truth, no. Neither of them could show up to social events without the other this early in their marriage. It would do nothing but lead to talk and gossip. He needed her by his side, even if she did not wish to be there.
“I suppose not. I would have refused the invitation on account of our recent marriage, but Bedford is a very good friend of mine, Eleanor.” Phillip willed her to understand. “I would not ask you to accompany me if it were not important.”
“You did not ask me at all.” Eleanor rose and wandered towards one of the aisles of shelves, placing the book back carefully into its spot. “You told me.”
“I suppose I did,” he murmured. “I know you do not like social events, but?—”
“You need me there. I am your wife, and it is my duty to appear beside you at such events. I understand my place, Your Grace.” Her voice was neutral, but the tight clench of her jaw told a different tale. She was angry about this, but she wasn’t going toblame him for it this time. “We both have parts to play in this disastrous story we call life.”
“I suppose,” he muttered. “Though I do not think you have properly judged yours.”
“I think I judge it quite properly.” She turned to face him. “Would you like to choose my gown as well, Your Grace?”
“No. Wear something suitable for a duchess. Oh, and Eleanor?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Leave the jewelry off.”
She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I will look silly if I do.”
“I promise you will not. Please, humor me on this?”
“Very well.”
Eleanor didn’t sound pleased, but she didn’t argue with him.
“We must leave at six sharp. I will see you then.”
She nodded and walked out of the library, leaving him by himself to wonder how things between them had ended up in such a tangled mess. Before he’d inherited his dukedom, he hadimagined he would marry a woman he loved and who loved him. He had never dreamed he would end up marrying a woman who thought he was after her money or that he would be finding himself falling deeper in love with the stubborn beauty with each day he watched her from afar, all the while knowing that she loathed him more with each passing day. It was a strange kind of pain, one he prayed would soon pass, for he feared it might break him if it would not.
Phillip glanced at his pocket watch for the fifth time that evening. It was now exactly six o’clock, which was when they had to leave, but Eleanor still hadn’t appeared. He was beginning to wonder if she’d forgotten the time and was curled up by the fire, reading away the minutes. He paced the length of the entrance hall once, then twice, then thrice.
Should he go up to see if she was ready? She should be. Unless her maid had forgotten entirely about his orders to see to it that Eleanor was ready in time, he doubted his wife was still in a state of undress. Perhaps he should go up.
Was it acceptable to do so, though? If she were in the middle of putting the finishing touches on her hair or gown, she might get upset if he barged in. What if she were in the midst of changing because the first dress had not been to her liking? She would likely murder him in his sleep if he walked in on that. But she was his wife, and he had every right to enter her chambers, whether she was dressing or not. He shouldn’t worry aboutwhether she would be upset if he came to check on her after she failed to come down and meet him at the specified time.
Having convinced himself that there was no reason not to check on her, he turned and took the first step towards the staircase. A door opened upstairs, and he hesitated. Before he could take another step, Eleanor swanned into view at the top of the staircase. The light from the candle sconces on the walls glinted off her high, alabaster cheekbones and her dark hair. Her lips were reddened with some cosmetic.
The real beauty, however, was not the makeup or the hair piled atop her head with pearls decorating it. No, the real beauty was the gown. A deep blue silk and brocade ensemble, it drew out the rich mahogany of her hair and the sparkle of her brown eyes. In this light, with her delicate beauty, he could well imagine more poetic men than he composing rhymes in her praise.
Eleanor frowned and descended the stairs towards him. “Your Grace? I hope I did not keep you waiting too long.”
