Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

Istill didn’t get any answers.

The carriage rumbled down the uneven road, the journey home stretching longer than she had anticipated. The interior was exactly as the duke had described—discreet, simple, devoid of the opulence to which she was accustomed. It lacked the plush benches and polished woodwork she had always known. Instead, it was plain, with worn cushions and no lighting.

But she was not ungrateful.

Eleanor leaned against the side wall, peering out the small window as the lights of London appeared in the distance. They were like fireflies, flickering and fading. The world outside the carriage passed in shadows and silhouettes, and there was no sign of the sun on the horizon.

She had not thought to check the time, but she was sure that if she arrived home on time, she might be able to get a bit of sleep. Much needed sleep. Her body ached in a way she had not known before—a reminder of the night. A part of her was almost sure it had been a dream, but the throbbing in her core told her otherwise.

A flush rose to her face as she thought of the duke, and she was entirely grateful that she was alone. She allowed the thought to linger. The sensations of his skin on hers were fresh in her mind.

Eleanor had wanted to stay, to wake up beside him, but she understood why he sent her away.

In a few short hours, she would be preparing for their wedding.

The thought sat heavy in her stomach, and she closed her eyes, willing the feeling to subside. Her body moved with the motion of the carriage, which was much like being thrown about in a box. She listened to the sound of the wheels on the ground, of the rhythmic clip-clop of horses’ hooves.

She had gone to the duke determined to know what he was keeping from her, and why he had been so distant, but she left without answers. But something told her that she would know soon enough. Or so she hoped.

He will tell me in time…

When she arrived home, Beth was waiting at the front door, ready for her. Eleanor alighted from the carriage, which quickly departed before she could address the driver, though she did not think much of it. As she started up the walkway, she was met by the maid’s curious gaze.

Eleanor’s stomach twisted when she realized that Beth was not looking at her with such a narrowed gaze, but her dress. She straightened, her head held high as she pretended that there was nothing amiss. The duke had skillfully removed her gown, but apparently he didn’t possess the same skills in redressing.

“Welcome home, my lady,” Beth greeted with a curtsy.

Eleanor nodded to her, not wanting to break her confident facade. If there was anyone who could detect a half-truth in her, it would no doubt be the maid.

Beth had known her for years, more intimately than any of her friends, and Eleanor was certain that the maid was already suspicious of the duke’s clumsy attempt to tie her gown.

“Beth, will you fetch me some warm water? I wish to wash my face,” Eleanor requested as she stepped past the maid and into the house. “I will meet you in my room.”

Beth closed the door behind them and wasted no time scurrying away.

Eleanor seized the moment and all but ran up the stairs, rushing to her room quicker than she ever had before. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and her mind was a whirlwind of messy thoughts.

In her room, she moved to her vanity and made quick work of opening a bottle of perfume. She dabbed some of the sweet liquid on her wrists, rubbing them on every inch of exposed skin. Anything to get the smell of sweat and the duke off her skin.

Beth entered just as she was putting the bottle down, holding a pitcher of water. Steam rose from the top, swirling in the dim light of the room as she poured the water into the basin.

“Did you enjoy yourself, my lady?”

More than you’ll ever know.

“Ah, yes, quite,” Eleanor responded. “Celia had me trying on gowns.”

Beth blinked but seemed otherwise convinced. “Lady Celia has such exquisite taste,” she said almost dreamily.

It was evident, by the dark circles under her eyes, that she had stayed up, waiting for Eleanor to return home.

“You will have to tell me more about it tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Eleanor smiled.

Beth helped her undress, and if anything was amiss, she made no mention of it.

It seemed that Eleanor managed to convince her, and for that she was grateful. “Go now, Beth. We both need some sleep.”

“Are you sure, my lady?” Beth asked, though she was already eyeing the door.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Eleanor smiled.

When the maid had left, Eleanor moved to the basin and splashed some of the very warm water on her face, then quickly wiped down the rest of her body. A shiver ran through her as she rubbed the small cloth across her collarbone, as if the feeling had triggered a memory of the duke’s lips against the same spot only a short while ago.

A sigh escaped her, and she surrendered to the thought, letting it overtake her as she closed her eyes. Once she was done, and confident that she was mostly clean, she made for her bed wearily.

By the time her head hit the pillow, she was already asleep.

Dorian had returned to the study after seeing Eleanor off only to find it more of a mess than he had thought. The bottle of brandy had shattered into countless pieces beside the desk. The liquid had splashed across the wooden planks, and now the entire study reeked of brandy and sweat.

Papers were scattered about the floor as well, but it was an envelope that had caught his eye. He recognized the handwriting immediately, and a feeling of dread washed over him.

Kneeling, he plucked the letter off the floor and staggered over to his chair. Dorian sat down in a huff, hesitating to open it. He turned the envelope over and over in his hands. The candles flickered, casting shadows on the walls as he took a deep, steadying breath.

His fingers delicately tore at the edges, working slowly as he pulled the letter out. It was a small note, fitting in the palm of his hand, with ink as black as night. A restless feeling, mixed with fatigue, churned within him as he read the words.

“Tomorrow, before you see your beautiful bride, join us to congratulate you,” he read aloud, letting each word sink in deeper.

Turning the note over in his hand, he saw an address scribbled on the back.

Dorian cursed under his breath, the weight of what was written settling heavily on his chest. He was exhausted, but rage was simmering inside him steadily. At least this threat was directed at him alone, and for that, he found himself grateful.

Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he leaned back in his seat and stared up at the ceiling. Emotions churned within him, crashing and twisting in a tempest of frustration and weariness. He closed his eyes and cursed again, louder this time, the sound echoing off the walls and back to him.

He had no intention of missing his wedding for such cowards.

After all, I did promise I would be there.

Tossing the letter onto his desk, he slowly rose to his feet. He was careful to avoid the shards of glass as he moved for the candles in the room. One by one, he blew them out, watching the plumes of smoke rise until they faded.

Grabbing one of the candles, spared to be his guide through the darkened hallways, he gave one last glance to his desk. He thought of her then, and a small, tired smile spread across his face.

Dorian should have waited until tomorrow night, but she had some sort of a hold on him. Eleanor had been irresistible, bewitching, and he was helpless against her charm and her body.

He had been with women before, of course, but none had the same effect on him. Whatever had happened between them only a short while ago, he could not wait to experience it again and again.

Dorian sighed and turned for the door.

Each step to his bedroom felt heavier than the last, despite the fact that he had spent much of the day asleep. Perhaps it was the contents of the letter or the aftermath of what had transpired between him and his betrothed, but either way, he found himself completely exhausted. And yet, if she were here with him, he was almost certain he would have her again and again.

His room was dark, but his bed was welcoming. Dorian blew out the candle and set it on his bedside table. With a groan, he fell onto his bed without covering himself. But, to his surprise, he did not fall asleep immediately.

He lay there, his mind returning to the study, to the desk, to her. He thought of how she had broken every rule to come to him, not just this once but every time before. A small smile touched his lips, despite himself. Whatever this was between them, it was more than simple lust.

I need to tell her tomorrow, to explain it all.