Page 26 of Wedded to the Loveless Duke
“He was not always such a fine dancer, of course,” the Duke of Bedford went on. “When we were young boys, he used to have two left feet, but with his usual stubbornness and determination, he kept at it until he surpassed all of us. The instructor was most impressed as were the ladies, who appreciated it when he finally ceased stepping on their toes.” He bellowed in laughter. “He had always known how to get exactly what he wanted and had always had the patience for it no matter how long it would take.”
Eleanor couldn’t deny that hearing about her husband’s boyish exploits was intriguing. As much as she wanted to hate him for what he had done—no, did hate him—she found herself wishing to hear more about what he’d been like when he was young and what he was like now. She knew so little about him. Some of that was her fault, she knew, but most of it was because he and her father had robbed her of the courtship that would have allowed her to know him better.
Phillip put a hand on the small of her back with a warm smile. “If we do not head for the dance floor, Bedford, I am afraid we shall make you neglect your guests! You and the Duchess should come to dinner soon. It has been too long since we last had the chance to enjoy one another’s company.”
The Duke of Bedford grinned. “We shall have to take you up on your offer, Richmond. Congratulations to you and your bride, once again. Enjoy your dance, Madam.”
Eleanor forced a smile. It seemed that everyone she met was enamored with her husband. She was the only one who held a strict dislike for him. Her hand drifted to the diamonds on her neck as her mind went back to that moment in the entrance hall of his mansion. It had not been by mistake that he had touched her. The contact had been innocent enough on the surface—an accidental brush of his knuckles against her collarbones and the trailing of his fingers along her neck as he was fastening her necklace. But she knew better, as Phillip was not a man who did things by accident.
He swept her onto the dance floor, and she stared up into his face, trying to figure out why he had done it. He hadn’t married her for love or any real interest. He had married her for her money. So why? Why touch her with the promise of intimacy in the way a lover would touch the woman he adored? His expression was soft as he stared back at her, but he offered no answers.
She lowered her gaze and focused on the steps of the waltz they were dancing. Phillip was an excellent dancer as his friend had promised, and she found it easy to follow his lead in a way she’d never been able to do with previous dance partners. That settled in uneasily, but she couldn’t escape the realization any more than she could escape the dance itself and the cage of her husband’s hands on her waist as he guided her.
“Relax,” Phillip whispered. “For just tonight, can we be just us as we are? Forget your notions about me. Forget the money. Just be you, Eleanor, as I will be just me.”
Eleanor swallowed back tears. Was that even possible?
“It is.”
She looked up, startled, and realized she had spoken aloud without thinking. “How?”
He bent his head low to murmur in her ear. “Simple. We see one another for who we are instead of what we want to see one another for. For example, when I look at you, I see a woman who is lovely, stubborn, determined and capable. I see a woman who probably would have forged her own way if allowed, but I also see a woman who is closed off because she so desperately wants to keep her independence and believes she cannot have it if she is bound to a man. But that is not true, lovely lady. Not when you are with the right man who sees you and cherishes you for who you are.”
She blushed and lowered her gaze to her swishing skirts.
Does he really mean it? Is it possible he sees all of me?
“Do you still believe I will clip your wings, Eleanor?” he asked in a whisper, his lips brushing the shell of her ear and sending goosebumps down her arms. “When you are honest, do you?”
Biting her lower lip, Eleanor thought about the question. “I… I…” A tremble ran through her.
The music ended, and she tugged free of his arms. “I need something cold to drink, Your Grace.”
Phillip grabbed her wrist and tugged her close, guiding her off the dance floor. “Then I shall go with you. I find I am thirsty too.”
A quick glance at him made her wonder if he meant the same thing by it as she had. There would be no dissuading him when he’d set his mind on something, though, as she was quickly learning, so she offered no protest when he wrapped an arm around her waist possessively and escorted her to the refreshment tables. There, he picked up two glasses of sparkling red wine, handing one to her with a smile. “You know, I will never forget the moment we met when that red wine stain was spreading across the white tablecloth and you looked so angry at me for laughing.”
Eleanor grimaced and took a large gulp of her wine. “You should have had the manners not to.”
“I could hardly help it. You were so very unlike any of the other ladies. They would never have spilled their wine, even if it meant not laughing at whatever private joke they were enjoying, but you did.”
“So?”
“I truly thought you were making a joke about the redecorating bit, you know?” Phillip took a sip of his drink with a smile. “I never meant any offense.”
“I am certain you didn’t.” Eleanor took a seat at a nearby table.
He sat beside her. “That was the moment I knew I wanted you, Eleanor. You were like a shining star in a sea of darkness.”
She frowned and finished off her glass.
Phillip picked up a refill from the tray of a passing servant and handed it to her. “I would have asked your father for your hand myself if he had not approached me first.” He stared down into his wine with a scowl. “I have never wished I had beat someone to something quite so much in my entire life. Had I done so, your father would have never sullied your view of me with his eccentric demands that I not court you properly.”
Eleanor snickered. “Had you beat him to it, I would have refused to entertain your suit, Your Grace. I am certain my father knew it.”
“Nevertheless,” Phillip continued, sounding bitter and frustrated, “I have never wished more that it had been different. I hate that you believe my debts are the only reason I wanted you.”
She found she was beginning to believe him. No one could behave this well all of the time. His voice was low and grieved as well as intensely bitter, as though he blamed himself for what had gone wrong. “Can we return home, Your Grace?” She finished off her second glass of wine as he finished his.
