“It is not you who are the trouble, Your Grace. I do hope you will not take this as a personal offense.”
“No, no. I know you meant no personal offense, Lady Eleanor. Shall we take a turn in the gardens while we wait for your father?”
Eleanor nodded, though all the talk of marriage lately left her feeling frustrated and anxious. Phillip’s remark only left her feeling more out of sorts. “Only if you swear there will be no more talk of coming to call on me instead of my father, Your Grace.”
“You have my word.” He offered her a smile that looked more pained than genuine. “What shall we speak of instead?”
She suddenly wanted to tell him about the situation she was in, about her loneliness and sadness over it, about her fears that her father didn’t want her anymore. Sarah wouldn’t listen, and Phillip was the only other person Eleanor trusted at all.
“Lady Eleanor?” He guided her out to the garden and then urged her to sit on a bench. “You look upset. What is it?”
“Will you keep my confidence if I tell you something private, Your Grace?” she asked.
He took a seat beside her. “Of course, so long as it is nothing illegal or dangerous.”
Eleanor laughed. “You give a mere woman too much credit, Your Grace. When do you think I had the opportunity to engage in anything illegal or dangerous?”
“You are full of surprises and secrets, Lady Eleanor. I do not find it hard to imagine you would have found a way to involve yourself in things no ordinary woman would.”
“I do not know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”
Phillip’s lips curled into a smile. “A compliment, I suppose. What is it you wish to tell me?”
“My father has decided I am to wed,” she replied. “I have made it clear that I do not wish to, but he does not care about what I wish. I am to wed soon, and he will not give me time to find my own way.”
Phillip remained silent.
“He does not want me anymore.” Eleanor’s voice shook. “He will not even tell me why he suddenly insists upon this.”
Still, he stayed quiet and did not interrupt.
“Speaking of this, my best friend will not even listen to me. She believes that my father must have a reason to do what he is doing, and she thinks it is wrong to feel as I do about the matter. She does not understand. If I marry, my wings will be clipped. No man wants a wife who is as learned as he is.”
“I would not say ‘no man,’ Lady Eleanor.” He said in a low, gentle voice.
“Father will not find a man who wants me. He will find a man who is willing to marry me in exchange for my dowry.”
He didn’t respond to that.
“I… I apologize. You likely do not wish to listen to the distraught ramblings of a woman you barely know.”
“I do not mind,” Phillip assured her softly. “I am sorry for your predicament. Perhaps it will turn out better than you think. You might find grace. Perhaps the man your father will choose will be a good man, one who will treat you gently and kindly.”
“I do not believe God would be so kind as to grant me a miracle,” she muttered.
“Perhaps a little faith is all you need, Lady Eleanor.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by her father’s booming voice behind them.
“Richmond! Wonderful to see you again. I have had the fire lit in my office and tea brought up. Would you join me?”
The Duke, who had been so kind as to listen to her rantings, rose and smiled down at her gently. “It may turn out better than you imagine, Lady Eleanor. Have but a little faith.”
She lowered her head as her tears threatened to spill over. A little faith? She had none at all. There seemed to be no true light in the darkness, no moorings by which she could anchor herself. Phillip was the closest thing to an anchor she had, but he was practically a stranger, and when she would be married, she would lose even him.
William held a cup of hot tea out to his guest. “What were you two talking about? My daughter looked upset when I walked out.”
“She is.” Phillip accepted the cup of tea and took a seat. “I cannot carry this on for much longer, Fife. She is hurting. She believes you wish to clip her wings, that you do not want her.”