Page 7 of Wedded to the Loveless Duke
Eleanor met the Duke’s gaze and then looked away quickly, her eyes fixed on the floor as her blush intensified. “You will have to speak to my father. I am sure he knows better than I if I will do you the honor,” she mumbled.
“Eleanor,” William warned.
Phillip’s eyes flicked from father to daughter and back again, but he didn’t ask any questions about the strange response, yet. “I am afraid I must bid you farewell, for now, Lady Eleanor.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I have business with your father.”
“I presumed as much when you came to call,” she said, her tone quieter and more subdued now. “Good day, Your Grace.”
“Good day, Lady Eleanor.”
Eleanor swanned past her father, who waited until he was certain she was gone before sighing and going to the side board to pour Phillip a glass of whiskey. “Shall we stay here or move to my study? I am afraid these old bones will not permit me to go up the stairs again so soon, but the study is quite comfortable as well.” It had better chairs that would ease the pain in his hip and back too.
Phillip eyed him and accepted the proffered glass of whiskey. “The study would be a delight. I should think it more private too.”
William chuckled. “My daughter has too much pride and good breeding to eavesdrop on doors, Richmond.”
Phillip sipped his whiskey and nodded. “Still, perhaps the study would be best. And please, call me Phillip. I think we can move past the formalities given our intentions for this meeting.”
“Phillip it is, then.” William led the way to his study, opening the door and ushering the man he hoped would become his son-in-law into the spacious room. One of the maids had tidied it up and lit the fire in expectation of the Duke’s arrival. William sat by the fire with a relieved sigh. “This room has the best chairs in the house.”
Phillip joined him with a smile. “They are quite nice. I shall have to see if I can acquire some for my library. They seem perfect for long afternoons or evenings spent reading or doing accounts.”
“Indeed, they are.”
“Your daughter seems a little stiff today. She was most vivacious when I met her at the ball a week and a half ago. I admit, she made an impression.” Phillip sipped his whiskey and stared into the fire contemplatively. “She was still quite lively today until I asked if I might see her again.”
“Eleanor has only recently been informed that she is required to wed,” William admitted. “She is not yet aware of whom she will wed. I will deal with it if you decide you would like to marry her.”
“You know my situation is dire,” Phillip murmured, still staring into the fire. “I do not have the luxury of time on my side in taking a bride, and I do not have the luxury of marrying for love. Does that not bother you?”
“I know my daughter’s chances for marriage at her age are slim, Phillip. I am not trying to find her a love match. I want her married to a man who can provide for her, who will not squander the fortune I intend to settle on her for her marriage, and who will be faithful to her whether anything beyond mutual respect ever develops. My brother tells me you are this man.”
Phillip smiled. “Your brother thinks very highly of me. Too highly, perhaps. But you may rest assured that if we strike a bargain for her hand, I will do all three.”
“That is all I need to know, then. You will not hurt her, but you will protect her. It is all I ask of the man she is given to.”
“You have my word.”
“And what of you?” William eyed Phillip with a smile. “What do you really think of my daughter?”
“I think she is headstrong, opinionated and a breath of fresh air in a crowd of dreadfully false-faced women, Fife. Whether or not she and I can ever come to love each other is something I will not venture to predict, but I do think we can learn to respect one another. She is quite well-read and knowledgeable for a woman.”
“I am afraid that is my doing,” William admitted. “I really could not refuse her anything after her poor mother died of consumption. She reminds me a great deal of my Isabel, and I could not bear to deny the poor girl books if that was what brought her comfort.”
“I do not think it a poor quality, Fife. I plan to nurture it if she becomes mine.” Phillip finished off the last of his whiskey. “If I have your blessing, I would like to court your daughter properly.”
William grimaced. That would end in disaster. Eleanor still believed she could find a way around his demand that she marry. She would never agree to this. Still, it would not do any harm for her to develop some level of familiarity with the man she would be wed to. William just had to make certain that Phillip knew the score so that he wouldn’t inadvertently step into a hornet’s nest. “About that… she has no notion that we are arranging her life here, Phillip. Go gently. If she believes you intend to marry her and are not merely enjoying her company when you come to visit me, she will balk, and we will have a fight on our hands.”
“I am not a man to back from a challenge when it is something I want, Fife.”
“I did not think you would. Still, I would prefer not to deal with this particular challenge.”
“If you wish for her to be wed to me, how do you propose that happen if I cannot court her and propose properly?”
“There will be no proposal.” William crossed his arms. “We will arrange everything once you and she have had time to become a little acquainted. In due time, I will arrange a special license. I have a business relationship with the Archbishop of Canterbury. He will be happy to help after I assisted him in finding a positionfor a friend of his last year. Then, we will hold the wedding ceremony at your estate.”
Phillip frowned. “And what will Lady Eleanor be told?”
“Nothing.”
