Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

She looks ravishing.

Dorian sat at the head of the table, his mother on his left and Eleanor seated on his right. As much as he tried, he could not seem to stop stealing glances at her, and oh-so desperately he tried. It did not seem to matter what he did or how he distracted himself. Each movement and sound from her caught his attention.

She was the picture of elegance and grace. Her soft, green-colored gown draped over her figure, the color of it suited her complexion perfectly– but then again, he was sure that any color would.

The gown looked stunning on her, but he couldn’t help but imagine the dress in disarray, scattered across the floor of his room. It was rare for Dorian to flush, but he still felt the heat rising in his chest and face.

Even now, as she ate quietly, he couldn’t help but let his gaze wander.

And it bothered him, greatly.

“Excuse me,” he said as he rose from his seat, much to everyone’s surprise. He swept his gaze over their faces but was careful to look away from Eleanor the quickest. “I shall return in a short while.”

He needed to get away from her, just long enough to catch his breath.

Dorian walked out of the room, feeling four sets of eyes on his back. He knew it had been rude, but he did not care, not entirely.

I just need to get away from her.

He stepped into the sitting room and made right for the window. He pulled the curtains aside, but there was only darkness waiting. Still, he peered through the glass, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of his thoughts and feelings.

Something was changing, something he did not wish to face.

I cannot get attached.

He was so lost in thought that he did not hear the door creak open.

“Have I done something to offend you, Your Grace?”

Dorian looked over his shoulder, and his breath hitched. Eleanor stepped into the room, closing and locking the door behind her. He raised an eyebrow, and then realization washed over him like a tidal wave.

I’m alone with her, again.

He turned to face her, but he remained rooted to the spot. Struggling to maintain his composure, he offered no answer, only a curt nod. Dorian was not used to holding his tongue or walking on eggshells, but he knew one wrong word or action would ruin him.

She stood there, watching him expectantly.

“You have not,” he said flatly, as if he was bored.

Eleanor cocked her head. “Then why?”

Dorian couldn’t offer her an answer.

He watched as a flush rose to her cheeks, her annoyance reflected in her eyes behind her spectacles.

Eleanor walked up to him, and with each step, he could feel his composure cracking. She stopped right before him, her face tilted upward so she met his gaze directly. “Why, Your Grace?”

Dorian forced himself to look just above her head, knowing if he held her gaze for much longer, he would lose control. The urge to pull her in, to kiss her, and know her completely was stirring in the back of his mind.

“You could at least have the decency to look at me,” she snapped.

“The only way I can practice any decency is not to.” His voice was low, almost a growl. He clenched his fists and stepped away from her, knowing that she was making his walls crumble into dust.

Eleanor reached out, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. His eyes met her own, and he felt a sudden weight in his chest. She was looking up at him, her brow furrowed and her head tilted.

It was clear she was not about to let it go.

“Lady Eleanor, you are testing me,” he warned.

She raised her eyebrows. “I am asking you to speak to me, not avoid me.”

“You are quite demanding, you know that?”

Her gaze flicked down to her hand, which was still holding onto his sleeve. Immediately, she released him and stepped back slightly.

Eleanor straightened and then took a deep breath. “If you cannot stand to be near me⁠—”

His finger pressed against her lips, silencing her words. Dorian turned his head to the door as he suddenly heard a sound. Eleanor glared up at him, but her expression soon softened, realization washing over her.

Someone was outside the room.

The doorknob turned, and then they both heard the sound of the lock turning, which caused them both to freeze. Looking down at Eleanor, Dorian could see the panic in her eyes.

We should not be seen together.

Without a second thought, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward the far wall, where there was a partition in the corner. She did not struggle against him as they rushed to hide behind the panels of carved oak. Dorian had to lean down, forcing himself to be closer to her.

Though he was holding his breath, there was no denying the rush of excitement that coursed through him. She was so close. Her body seemed to fit perfectly into his as they stood there, waiting and listening as the door finally creaked open.

Dorian’s mind turned wicked as he looked down at her, unable to stop his eyes from wandering to the curve of her neck and the swell of her breasts. The mounds heaved as she tried to take small, quiet breaths. More than anything, he wanted to touch her, to see just how silent she could be under his touch. His fingers itched to feel her.

Someone was moving about the room, humming to themselves. Dorian was half tempted to take a peek but did not want to risk revealing their hiding spot. No, for now, they would have to stay and pray that whoever was in the room did not check behind the panels.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the door clicked shut, and he was sure they were alone. Dorian let out a breath and looked down at Eleanor, noting how her shoulders had dropped. She moved to rush past him, but before she could step out from behind the panels, he reached out to stop her.

Without another thought, and not willing to second guess himself, he spun her around to face him. His mouth fell on hers in an instant, his hands sliding to her waist and then her back. Eleanor melted against him, easing into the kiss as if she had been anticipating it.

Her mouth was hot and hungry against his, her lips soft and supple. Dorian groaned, wanting to savor the taste of her forever. And then, just as suddenly as he had kissed her, he pulled back. He looked down at her, breathing heavily.

What am I doing?

He couldn’t afford to want her so much. He couldn’t condemn her to a life similar to his mother’s. Because once he started, he knew he’d want her all to himself. If he was honest, he already did. That’s why he left last night, and that’s why he had to leave now.

Eleanor deserved much better than this. She surely deserved safety, at least. Not that he could say any of that.

“We should be more careful,” he whispered instead.

Without another word, he rushed past her and walked out of the room.

What just happened?

Eleanor leaned against the wall where he had left her, still obscured by the panels, trying to catch her breath. Her mind was a mess of emotions, of which she was struggling to make sense. Her stomach tightened with frustration, and her heart was beating like a drum in her chest.

One moment he acts as if he cannot stand me, the next…

The kiss still lingered on her tingling lips. Eleanor brought her fingers to her mouth, tracing where he had left his mark. She couldn’t make sense of it at all. Her fingers trembled.

Knowing her absence would likely be noted sooner than later, she rushed for the door. But before she stepped into the hallway, she took a moment to ensure her gown was neat and proper, her hair in place, and her nerves steely. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she struggled to think of an excuse.

She had excused herself immediately after the duke, stating that she needed to freshen up after the meal. The dowager duchess had indicated where she should go, even offering to accompany her there, but Eleanor had not wished to trouble her—or so she had said.

In truth, Eleanor knew where he was. Somehow, she just knew.

Opening the door, she stepped into the hallway, and she froze.

Standing there, with a knowing smile on her face, was the maid.

Margaret bobbed a half-hearted curtsy, one that seemed almost mocking. “Did you lose your way, Lady Eleanor?”

Eleanor regarded her as no more than a pest. “It would seem so.”

“I am surprised His Grace did not escort you,” the maid commented.

She knows. Was it her in the room?

Margaret wore the most vacant look on her face, but there was something more, something bordering on dangerous. She was the type of person to happily spread rumors. Eleanor knew she needed to do something.

“Fortunately, you are here,” Eleanor returned smoothly.

The maid’s expression faltered, and she blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You can escort me back to His Grace,” Eleanor said in a way that left little room for argument. There was no way that the maid would deny her, not if she wished to keep her job, and they both knew it.

“Of course.” Margaret nodded stiffly.

Eleanor followed the maid, watching the back of her head as they returned to the dining room. She couldn’t say she felt good about her actions, but she knew that if she was to become the Duchess of Dayton, she could not let the duke’s former lovers wander about the house.

The maid stopped at the doorway, stepping aside to allow Eleanor to enter, with her head bowed. It was clear from her white knuckles and the tension in her jaw that she was seething, but Eleanor found she did not care.

“There you are,” the dowager duchess chirped as soon as Eleanor stepped into the room. It appeared that everyone had finished eating. “We were beginning to worry that perhaps you had become lost, my dear!”

Eleanor smiled. “I did, I’m afraid. But—” She looked over her shoulder to where the maid still stood. “Thankfully, Margaret was kind enough to escort me back.”

Turning her attention back to the table, she noted how everyone but the duke was looking back at her. He was sipping from his wine glass, his gaze distant. And to think, just a short while ago, he had been kissing her.

“We were just discussing the wedding,” her mother said as she returned to her seat.

Eleanor reached for her own wine glass, wanting nothing more than to wash down all the emotions and thoughts swirling within her at that moment. She offered a small smile before taking a sip, her gaze shifting to the doorway.

The maid was still there, but the moment their eyes met, she turned away and vanished down the hall.

Eleanor had a sinking feeling in her gut, and she could do little more than hope that the maid would hold her tongue.

Her gaze flicked over to the duke. Once again, he seemed to be looking everywhere but at her as the conversation about the wedding resumed.

Truly, it was only her mother and the dowager duchess discussing the wedding plans. Philip looked irritated, ready to leave. And the duke looked much the same.

I’m surprised they do not get along well.

“Duke,” Philip said. There was a tension between them, thick enough to slice through. “I think we need to have a discussion about the matter of my sister’s dowry, in private.”

Dorian nodded. “Certainly. Shall we?”

Eleanor watched as the two men stood up, their motions stiff and seemingly uncomfortable. She could not be certain if they were about to have a conversation or a duel. Her eyes followed Dorian as he led the way out of the room, without another word.

When they were both gone, her mother and the dowager duchess wasted no time discussing the finer details of the wedding. And, though it was her wedding, Eleanor found herself unable to focus on what was being said.

Her mind drifted back to the kiss, and she was thankful for the wine so that she might have some excuse for the color rising in her cheeks. But thoughts of the kiss slowly turned into thoughts of what had happened after with the maid. Eleanor could not be certain if she had handled the situation well or only made it worse.

“What do you think of that, Eleanor?” her mother asked.

Eleanor had not been paying attention. “Forgive me, think of what?”

“Oh, never mind.” Her mother chuckled and then happily returned to her conversation with the dowager duchess as if Eleanor was not there. It was pleasant to see her mother so engaged, smiling, even laughing.

At least someone’s enjoying themselves.

She wondered what the duke and her brother were saying right then, and her stomach lurched slightly. The very idea of a dowry had always seemed almost primitive to her, as if she were some item to be assessed and valued. Perhaps it was the wine speaking, but she did find herself curious as to how much she was truly worth.

What was her value as a wife? As a duchess?

Sometime later, the dowager duchess escorted Eleanor and her mother to the drawing room. It was a beautiful space, notably more ornately decorated than any other room, with fresh flowers on nearly every surface. The room smelled sweet, like a dream.

The realization struck Eleanor as she sat on a sofa.

This will soon be my home.

It felt strange then, to look around the room and realize that at some point, it would not feel so new, so foreign. If anything, she found herself feeling almost dizzy, a mix of the wine and her nerves. She swallowed back the feeling, but it still lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Standing up, Eleanor turned to the dowager duchess. “Excuse me, I need some air.”

“Oh, let me show you the way,” the dowager duchess offered as she stood up.

Eleanor shook her head. “I do appreciate it, but please keep Mother company. I shouldn’t be too long, I only need a few moments. And I think I know the way.”

“Of course.” the dowager duchess smiled. “We’ll be here, waiting.”

It did not take Eleanor long to reach the small balcony, but when she stepped outside, she was made well aware that it was already occupied.

Dorian had his back to her as he leaned over the railing. The wind played with his hair in a way that made her wish to do the same.

Eleanor was about to turn and leave when he said, “Stay.”