Chapter 21

"What a pretty horse you are," Eleanor cooed as she stroked the mare's neck. "And what a lovely mane you have."

The stable hands must have given the horses a brush that morning because their coats gleamed in the sun. Eleanor had chosen a warm honey-colored mare with a slightly cheeky temperament, but she suited her well. She wasn't entirely docile herself, so it seemed only fitting to pick a more high-spirited horse. The duke rode a majestic black stallion with a gorgeous mane and tail. It suited him well in temperament and color because it carried itself rather regally, and they shared the same dark hair color. Eleanor liked the white running through the duke's dark hair, but part of her wondered what he had looked like when he was younger.

"What is your horse's name?" she asked him.

"Sirius," the duke replied. "I've had him for several years now. He was a gift from my wife."

"Did she like horses?"

"She loved them. Her father was in the horse business, so she grew up around them."

Eleanor nodded. His wife must have been fairly active with a svelte figure and likely taller, while Eleanor was the opposite. She could be wrong, but she had a good grasp of what some men seemed to prefer in a woman. Julia was a perfect example with her lovely height, delicate features, and disposition. It made Eleanor wonder what the duke liked about her. He undoubtedly liked her appearance because he had appeared appreciative earlier, so perhaps she was wrong about his wife. However, she did hear once that a man's preferences changed with age.

"Do you ride much?" the duke asked.

"Not as much as I'd like to," Eleanor revealed. "My aunt doesn't think a woman should spend her days gallivanting about on horses. Once or twice a week is acceptable. More if you're part of a riding party."

"That seems to be rather restrictive," he remarked.

"Aunt Helen means well," said Eleanor. "She raised me and only wants the best for me. One can only teach what they have learned."

The duke smiled. "She helped raise an outstanding woman, so I'm not judging her. She is probably worried that spending too much time with horses might result in an accident. Many people have fallen off their horses or even been trampled."

Eleanor winced. "You can sometimes avoid serious injury when you fall off a horse, but getting trampled? Has anyone ever survived?"

"I do not have the statistics on that," he said. "However, some people can be fortunate and survive. I have heard of someone falling off the roof of their house and surviving to walk once again."

"What on earth were they doing on the roof of their house?" she asked.

"Apparently, he was rather drunk and got it into his head that humans were able to fly," the duke replied.

A little giggle escaped Eleanor before she could stop it. Her eyes widened in horror that he might find her insensitive.

"I am not laughing at the man falling off the roof," she explained. "I just wonder how he got it into his head that a human could fly. We do not have the bone structure for flight. Look how long it took to get us off the ground and then to go successfully into the air?"

The duke said nothing but suddenly looked away. Eleanor's stomach dropped. She must have offended him somehow. However, her dread soon turned into confusion when his shoulders began shaking. He certainly couldn't be crying about the situation...unless the incident possibly reminded him of someone else who might have met a grisly end after falling off a roof. Since Eleanor didn't know how the duke's wife died, her mind ran with all sorts of possibilities.

"Your Grace?" she asked tentatively.

He turned to her, and to her surprise, she realized he was laughing. It was so unexpected that she just watched him with what was probably a look of puzzlement etched on her face.

"I apologize," he said, trying to school his features. He wasn't very successful. "I never really thought about the incident in an amusing manner, but I now realize how foolish the situation was. Flying humans? Did he read a faerie tale before he grew drunk enough to believe it was possible?"

The duke's mirth was contagious. Eleanor smiled, but soon enough, she was chuckling along with him.

"I think we might perhaps enjoy a little dark humor," he said once they had sobered enough to talk. "Yet another thing we have in common."

"It seems so," she agreed, still smiling.

Eleanor couldn't imagine herself laughing and talking so easily with Lord Langston. She imagined their conversations would be stilted and forced. Unless he was tipsy, then his tongue was so loose that he spouted a lot of nonsense. His off-putting forward manner and aggressiveness were likely his true character, and the man he usually portrayed was just a mask he donned for social purposes. Eleanor didn't want a man like that. Grant and Aunt Helen would just have to accept that she couldn't marry him even though they approved of him.

They paused near a stream, and she was reminded of her mother's obsession with the sound of trickling water.

"You're smiling," the duke commented. "You must be thinking about something good."

"I am," she confirmed. "My mother loved the sound of trickling water, so my father found someone to create a fountain that made the same sound. She often said it put her to sleep at night, and she always had vivid but peaceful dreams."

The duke smiled. "Flowing water is soothing, isn't it?"

Eleanor nodded. "It is. People who live near the ocean are fortunate. Hearing and seeing powerful waves break daily must be a treat. Once—I must have been around nine or so—we spent a month near the seaside and went to the beach every day to watch the waves. My mother insisted they would calm our minds. My brother was more interested in swimming, but I enjoyed sitting beside my mother with my head in her lap as I watched the waves. We usually fell asleep, and my father would wake us with kisses on our brow."

Eleanor pressed her lips together as a wave of emotion wet her eyes and warmed her cheeks. Remembering all these little moments always affected her more than the big memories. These small snippets of her past revealed her parents' love for each other and their children and the happiness of her childhood. She sometimes wondered how different her life would have been if they were alive.

"I like your memories," the duke told her as they moved from the stream. "They're warm and sweet. Sometimes, we avoid thinking much about our departed loved ones because it brings many sad emotions with the happy ones, but that is normal. It has taken me a while to understand that."

He was smiling, but Eleanor noticed the mild look of pain in his deep blue eyes. He was probably thinking about his wife.

"I am sorry for the loss of your wife," she said without thinking.

She only wished to give him some comfort, but she regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. He hadn't been forthcoming about his wife at that point, so mentioning her might not have been appropriate.

"Thank you," the duke replied, not appearing offended or angry. "Isn't it odd that we do not know much about death other than it is inevitable? For something so set in stone, you would think we would have accepted it by now."

"No one likes to lose something or someone they care about," said Eleanor. "We comfort each other by saying their spirit is still with us because we cannot bear the thought that not only can we no longer physically see and touch them, but we can't even feel their presence. However, I often wonder if that is true."

"If what is true?"

"That their spirits remain with us. It goes against our beliefs, doesn't it?"

"I suppose it does," the duke agreed. "But we have the assurance that we'll see our loved ones one day. Perhaps others do not share this belief and choose to believe that their loved ones' spirits remain near."

Eleanor shrugged slightly. "I suppose everyone has their own beliefs. I have read that some believe we are reincarnated. It's an interesting belief. Everyone would want to be reincarnated into a wealthy family or even royalty."

"I wouldn't want to return to earth as a member of the royal family," the duke said. "I'd be happier as a whale in the ocean, but I suppose I would have to worry about whale hunters," he added thoughtfully.

"Why wouldn't you want to be from the royal family?" she asked, intrigued.

"Their position seems too fickle," he explained. "How many have been dethroned? Beheaded? Hanged? Poisoned? Shot? The list goes on. You're loved today and hated tomorrow. Coming back as a majestic sea creature seems a kinder fate."

"You're right," she said. "One cannot be certain of their position in the royal family—male or female. Even the innocent are killed once the masses decide to hate their monarch. Do you think we will one day cease to be ruled by the royal family?"

"That depends on how far from tradition we're willing to sway," the duke said. "Perhaps they might not be the ruling power they are today, but I cannot imagine them relinquishing complete control. Think of the lands this nation owns. We have established power in several countries and fatten our pockets with their resources. That is too much power. I believe our royals will continue to pull strings in the background no matter how the land is governed in the future."

"The French royals once held much power, but look at what happened during the Revolution," Eleanor pointed out.

"Yes, they had a decent amount of power, but several bad decisions can often tilt the scales of control," he replied. "There is always a limit to everything and they happened to cross the line. They awoke the beast within the common man and paid the consequences. There is no greater power than many people being of one mind. Did God not scatter people across the world when they wished to create a tower that reached the heavens?"

Eleanor nodded. "The Tower of Babel. We all once spoke the same language, but that proved dangerous. Being of one mind can be powerful."

"Precisely," he said. "I'd rather not have to worry about death or social status. Whales are one of the biggest creatures on this earth, so I imagine they do not have many predators. I have more chance of being happy and living a long time as a whale than anything else."

Eleanor considered his words for a moment, her body swaying from side to side with the mare's movements. She was growing a little uncomfortable from having her legs in a hanging position, and her bottom was a bit numb.

"I agree and disagree," she finally said.

"Oh?"

"Life isn't guaranteed," she explained. "No matter who or what you are. I believe people of all social classes can be sincerely happy because it is a mindset, not a circumstance. No one's life is perfect, so it remains for you to decide how you handle the difficult parts. Do you buckle and allow them to overwhelm you until you become miserable? Or do you learn from them and choose to be happy?"

Eleanor felt a little like a hypocrite saying these words, especially when she was unhappy about her situation and was letting her emotions cloud her judgment. The matter of who she should marry was a big headache, and she usually grew angry and sometimes despondent just thinking about it. She had allowed it to steal her happiness.

"Wise words, Lady Eleanor," the duke said. "Your happiness is your responsibility, isn't it?"

Eleanor had grown accustomed to an almost casual interaction, so hearing him suddenly say Lady Eleanor sounded a little jarring. It was the proper thing to do, but it no longer sounded right coming from him. She could let it go or do something that would make her happy.

"This may sound rather forward of me," she began, "especially as this can only be counted as our third meeting, but I think it would be a natural transition if you called me by my first name whenever we're in each other's company. I think going with one's gut feeling is important, so I think we could become good friends."

The duke's eyes widened in response. He was surprised, but she couldn't decipher much else from his expression. She was beginning to think she had likely made a mistake and offended him when he spoke.

"Thank you," he said. His lips spread into a genuine smile. "Thank you for allowing me such a privilege. It is only right if you call me Nathaniel."

Nathaniel. It was a lovely name and suited him well. "It's a name worthy of passing along to the next generation," she said. "I do not think I have met a Nathaniel before. I've met many Peters, Philips, Charles, Williams, and James, though."

"I'm glad my name seems unique to you," he said with a slightly saddened expression. "Unfortunately, I do not have an heir to give it to."

Eleanor disliked how everything was about maintaining power and status. While she had not yet encountered anything she disliked about Nathaniel, he had said heir and not child. Fostering this sort of thinking in the next generation could lead to heartache and dissension, especially if a father had two sons. The second one would always feel less than the heir. Eleanor didn't want that for her children. While it was law that the firstborn inherited everything, she wasn't going to stress one son over the other. She would ensure the second child felt just as loved and important.

"You have grown rather silent," Nathaniel remarked. "Is something wrong?"

"Do you wish to have an heir or a child?" she asked, paying close attention to his face.

He frowned slightly. "Is an heir not a child?"

"That depends solely on the parents," she replied.

Nathaniel observed her for a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes. "I see," he said. "You wish to know if I want a child for the sake of an heir or if I truly want children." He looked away. "I loved my wife, and we both wanted to have children, shower them with our love, and grow our family. I wanted to see little versions of my wife and I running around the house. I have always liked children, and yes, I did wish to pass the dukedom to my son because I believed I could show them the importance of caring for the people who depended on us."

His voice was tinged with so much sadness and regret that Eleanor regretted pushing the topic.

"However," he continued. "I have a brother who understands my affection for the dukedom. I do not mind if it passes to him and his children." He turned to her. "I imagine you would want children?"

"If I was married to the right gentleman, yes," she replied. "However, I have come to the conclusion that perhaps being a spinster is the right path for me. I see myself quite content being alone in a lovely cottage somewhere deep in the countryside. I'll spend my days reading in my library or learning new things."

Nathaniel tilted his head slightly. "And what if you meet someone who wishes to spend their life with you in that lovely cottage deep in the countryside?"

Eleanor laughed. "I doubt any man would be willing to do that."

Nathaniel remained solemn. "Then you would be wrong, Eleanor," he said. His eyes remained steady and unwavering as he stared at her. "The thought of spending my days in a library or learning new things in a tranquil village with someone by my side sounds lovely indeed. I cannot think of anything better."

Eleanor's eyes widened. It seemed he might have admitted to having feelings for her, but she couldn't be certain until he confessed them. However, her heart appeared to believe that perhaps she wasn't the only one sitting with a growing infatuation. It was beating quicker than seconds ago and had almost turned her deaf from the blood thundering in her ears.

"Shall we have a little race?" he suggested. "The horses seem a little restless."

Eleanor smiled. "I would love a race," she said. "We should let the others know before we set off."

She turned around and raised her voice, calling out to the companions that they would meet them behind the church. Mrs. Huxley agreed and waved them off.

"Are you ready?" Nathaniel asked.

Eleanor nodded and took off after a count, taking the lead. It was so unexpected, but she wondered if he had done it intentionally to give her a head start. She wasn't going to waste the opportunity, so she urged her horse into a faster gallop and leaned down, but not so far that she couldn't see the path before her. The exhilaration from speeding past trees until they grew blurry made her laugh with a shout of excitement. Nathaniel appeared out of nowhere and grinned at her, making her heart flutter. He effortlessly tore ahead, but Eleanor didn't mind. She was giddy with all the beautiful emotions she felt within her. This was what she wanted in a suitor—this feeling bubbling within her and making her hope for more moments like these. Eleanor couldn't deny how she felt just to please others. Her brother and aunt would just have to understand.

She finally caught up to Nathaniel and found him dismounted and sitting on a rock as though he had been there for hours. She laughed and shook her head.

"I believe you are showing off," she said.

"No, just enjoying the sun."

"Hmm."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you doubt me?"

"You look rather pleased with yourself," Eleanor pointed out. "I find it hard to believe you are not sitting there to prove you're better than me. I have no qualms with admitting defeat—someone has to lose. Given you're an experienced horseman, it's natural for you to win."

"You take losing quite well," said Nathaniel. "I find that commendable."

"You have low standards if you find that commendable," she replied with a grin. "I think I'll join you, but the grass seems a better option. That rock looks uncomfortable."

She swung her leg and attempted to jump off, but her foot caught on the saddle. She cried out in alarm as she lost her balance and was unable to grab hold of something to keep her from falling to the ground. Eleanor was about to hit the ground and could only hope she wouldn't hurt herself to the point of losing her ability to walk, or worse. It had happened to many others and was one of the most common causes of death after illnesses.

Her arms uselessly flailed as she approached the ground, only to land with an oomph in the arms of a sturdy and broad-chested man. Eleanor's eyes were closed, but she could tell Nathaniel had caught her. He was the only man around, after all. How he managed to dash toward her to catch her before she connected with the ground would forever be a mystery to her. It didn't seem humanly possible to be that quick.

"Are you all right, Eleanor?" Nathaniel asked, his voice filled with concern.

Eleanor's heart was still beating too quickly, and her stomach felt like it wanted to give up its contents, but she managed to nod.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he said.

She did a mental check of her body and couldn't pick up on any twinges of pain. Just shock and embarrassment.

"I'm fine," she said.

"I can take you to a physician to ensure you have no injuries," said Nathaniel.

She finally looked up and met his deep blue eyes. Eleanor gulped. She had never been this close to him before. Her mind had been so busy with what had just happened that it failed to truly realize that she was in Nathaniel's arms.

"I'm fine," she managed to say.

Her mouth felt a little dry, and some heat had crept into her cheeks. She probably looked flushed. Nathaniel nodded and adjusted her body, respectfully keeping his arms in appropriate areas on her body. It felt natural to place her arms around his neck rather than leave them dangling, so she somewhat tentatively brought them up and around him.

"The others should meet us soon," he commented.

She nodded in agreement, unable to take her gaze away from his. "Thank you. You can put me down now. I must be heavy."

Not that she wanted to be put down, but she couldn't expect him to continue holding her. Despite being short, Eleanor was not a delicate and dainty woman. She was abundantly curved and maintained her figure through her love of food.

"Are you certain?" he asked, sounding surprisingly reluctant.

His hold even tightened a little, or perhaps she was imagining it. Eleanor was quite happy where she was and enjoyed the tingly sensations in her belly and on her skin, but carrying her wasn't practical.

"Yes," she said. "I haven't hurt anything, so I should be fine. I'll lean on you if I have a problem."

That seemed to reassure him, so he slowly lowered her until her feet touched the ground. His body was stooped, so her arms remained around his neck. However, as he pulled away, they slowly slid away until her palms pressed against his chest. They both stared at her hands, knowing it was inappropriate, but neither of them protested. Instead, her hands involuntarily flexed, drawing out a soft gasp from him. The sound went straight to her belly and knees.

Eleanor removed her hands as though she had been burned by fire and put them behind her back.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I wanted to steady myself."

It was a lie. Her hands had moved of their own accord. They didn't have to land on his chest, but they did.

"There is no need to apologize," Nathaniel said. His voice was surprisingly deeper as he stared meaningfully into her eyes. "You can lean on me whenever you wish."

His words possessed overtones that brought added heat to her already burning cheeks. Well, if she was uncertain about whether she was truly attracted to him, this moment had just proved it.

Eleanor stepped back. She needed to because she was simply too overwhelmed by the moment. It had never happened before, so it was all new to her. This was what her mother must have meant about wishing to be near and touching the person that one held dear to their heart. Perhaps her feelings for Nathaniel were more than an infatuation.