Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

“It’s called coquelicot,” Beth said, her accent emerging just slightly as she tried to pronounce the word.

Eleanor did not comment on it, knowing that the maid tried desperately to hide her roots. With a look of determination, Beth knelt down, tugging on the skirt of the dress as she adjusted it to fit Eleanor’s frame.

Why must they name things in such a way? It is simply red.

The silk gown she had chosen was a vibrant shade of poppy, with an embroidered pattern running vertically down the front of the skirt. It was new, never worn, and ridiculously expensive. But it was beautiful.

Eleanor’s hair had been styled into luscious curls, pinned and gathered atop of her head. Loose strands framed her face, making it look more round. Fresh flowers and a strand of lace were weaved through her hair, almost like a small crown.

Eleanor found herself wondering if the duke would like the look.

“You look beautiful,” a voice, hauntingly familiar, cut through the silence.

Beth turned immediately, nearly jumping out of her skin, it seemed, but Eleanor turned more slowly, as if not wanting to see the figure in the doorway. A gasp bubbled up her throat but did not make it past her lips.

There, standing before her, was her mother. The woman seemed shorter, older, and thinner than Eleanor recalled. The dowager duchess’s complexion was pallid, which only seemed to highlight the dark circles under her eyes.

“Mama,” Eleanor whispered, a mix of disbelief and shock lacing her voice.

She straightened and composed herself, erecting an invisible wall between them. When was the last time her mother had left her room? Even more so, when was the last time her mother had complimented her?

The dowager duchess offered a small, weary smile. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“How do you feel?” Eleanor asked in a polite but strained tone.

“Well enough.” Her mother nodded, her gaze turning to Beth.

Without a word, Beth scurried out of the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Eleanor alone with a woman who might as well have been a ghost to her.

The dowager duchess walked to the bed and sat on the edge, her tired eyes taking in Eleanor’s appearance with a rueful smile. There was longing, almost sadness behind her eyes, but Eleanor did not linger long enough to look deeper. She turned her back to her mother, pretending to stare at her reflection in the mirror once more.

Why is she here?

“Philip said he would not allow you to go,” her mother said.

Eleanor frowned and reflected on the previous night—what her brother had said on the matter.

Did he truly tattle on me to Mother?

“And you are here to say the same, then?”

She could see her mother’s reflection in the mirror.

The dowager duchess shook her head and turned her gaze to the window. Outside, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow on the glass and the floor.

“No, I am here to tell you to do as you please.”

Eleanor turned around, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

The dowager duchess met her gaze. “But it seems you already intend to.”

The room seemed to shrink, and Eleanor felt closer to her mother than she had felt in… well, longer than she could recall. They had never been close, not in the way that she had always hoped. There had always been something there between them—an unseen force, a wall. But now, was it possible that there was a crack in that wall?

“I am pleased to see you up,” Eleanor said in a cautious tone.

Her mother chuckled. “You are more surprised than pleased, dear.”

She was not wrong about that, and Eleanor was certain that the look of shock had barely left her face, despite how much she tried to school her features into a nonchalant mask.

“I see myself in you.” Her mother’s voice became distant, like a sound echoing from far away. Her tone was sad, heavy, and sinking like a stone into the ocean.

Eleanor looked back at her, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of what her mother meant. They were nothing alike, and she could not imagine what her mother would see of herself now.

The dowager duchess turned her gaze back to the window. “I lost myself when I married your father—a man who did not know love, only duty. And I so desperately wished to be loved.” She sighed, her voice quavering. “But there was no room for love, no room for anything but what was expected of me—of us all. And for that, I am sorry. But now, you are at a crossroads, and I do not wish for you to make the same mistake that I did.”

“What are you saying?”

Her mother stood up, crossing the room to stand before her. She put her hands on her shoulders as she peered into her eyes. “This spark of yours, this fire, do not stifle it.” Her voice was firm, yet there was a touch of gentleness. “If you do not wish to marry, then do not. You do not need to heed your brother, nor do you need to marry the duke.”

Eleanor smiled. “There is not a man on this earth who can force me to do something I don’t want to do.”

Unexpectedly, but not unwelcomed, her mother pulled her in for a hug. It was something Eleanor had not known since she was a child, and she could not help but melt into the embrace.

Her mother sighed in relief and said, “good, that is what I hoped to hear. Now, you should go.”

Eleanor was half-tempted to ask her to join her, but something in her gut said that her mother was not quite ready to leave the house. Leaving her own room seemed to have sapped most of her strength, but it was a step in the right direction, and Eleanor was more than pleased with it.

Descending the grand staircase, her gown trailing behind her, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. She was still in disbelief that her mother had emerged from her room, and she had said such things! Was this perhaps a dream?

Or a nightmare…

Her gaze fell on Philip, who was standing at the front door, with his hands behind his back. He looked up at her, an eyebrow raised and a frown on his face.

Eleanor paused. “Are you planning on barring my way, brother?”

“I considered it, but knowing you, you would simply find another exit.” He sighed.

He stepped toward her as she stepped off the last step, and at that moment, she saw so much of their father in him.

There was a stern look on his face, his expression suggesting that all of this was an inconvenience to him, one he could do without. And he seemed almost disappointed, but not surprised to see her dressed and ready to leave.

“I am going to the duke’s party,” she stated, her head held high, leaving no room for argument.

“I know,” he replied calmly, his tone giving away nothing. “And I have sent word that we will be arriving shortly. I will join you, Eleanor. But only to see just how the Mad Duke fares as a potential suitor.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow as a smirk tugged at her lips. Her brother watched her, looking most displeased, but he said no more on the matter. Turning to the door, he opened it and motioned for her to step outside into the cool night air.

As she passed him, he said, “Do not make me regret this, Eleanor.”

Dorian stood at the window, his gaze trained on the illuminated driveway leading to the front doors of Dayton Hall, the flickering torchlight casting an amber glow over the well-manicured lawn. Three carriages approached, one shortly after the other.

Downstairs, the estate bustled with activity that had not been witnessed in some time. He could not recall when there had last been guests, save for family members. He knew that Eugene had thrown lavish parties, full of music and drink, but he had not been able to attend.

I was rotting in the asylum back then…

His mother, dressed in perhaps one of her finest gowns, stood at the front doors, ready to greet the guests, no doubt excited to have some life breathed back into the halls. She had been fussing all morning and afternoon, wanting everything to be completely perfect, whereas Dorian only had one thing on his mind.

Eleanor.

Dorian’s gaze remained fixed on the driveway below. The carriages came to a graceful halt, and figures began to emerge, revealing the identities of the guests. He recognized Diana, but not the others. The other women seemed like a collective blur, but that was because his mind was focused on one person only. His eyes only wanted to see her.

The unmistakably tall, elegant figure emerged from the last carriage. Even from his vantage point high above, he could make out her luscious red gown. It was a bold color, snagging his attention immediately. Even from a distance, she was completely captivating.

Turning away from the window, he steeled himself for the evening ahead. A part of him wished for something more intimate, just the two of them, even if it were to look over the countless books that lined the shelves in the small library or his own private collection.

But that was pushing too far, though the thought of stealing her away still lingered in the back of his mind. He had noted that her brother, surprisingly, had joined her as well. Dorian had invited him only because it seemed to be the proper thing to do. He had not expected him to attend at all. It would be very difficult to sneak into the shadows for a moment with her brother lingering.

Dorian wanted to kiss Eleanor, to feel her against him once more.

And if he saw the opportunity to do so, he planned to seize it.