Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

“You had better have a good excuse,” Philip hissed as he answered the door. His eyes bored into Dorian, digging for the truth, almost as if prying it out of him with nothing more than a glance. He took in Dorian’s disheveled appearance, and his eyebrows knitted in concern. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I will explain it all later, I swear. Where is she?”

Dorian peered past Philip and was met by the faces of the others, but none of them belonged to Eleanor. His stomach lurched, and he wondered if she was safe.

She has to be safe.

When it came to her, he was sure that Nicholas’s threats had been just that—threats.

Philip kept his arms outstretched to each side of the doorframe, blocking his path. There was a tension in the air, thick and filled with unspoken worry and unanswered questions.

Dorian frowned. “Just tell me, is she safe?”

Philip looked as if he were about to answer, but his words were cut off by a sudden movement from inside the house. Dorian craned his neck and looked past the man, his eyes landing on the staircase.

His breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on her. Relief and awe washed over him, and he felt every muscle in his body relax.

Descending the staircase, with her eyes fixed on him, was Eleanor. She was quite the sight. Her appearance was disheveled, and even from where he stood, he could see the tracks that rolled down her cheeks. Her face was a blank canvas as her gaze lingered on him. It was an icy glare that he was met with, but he welcomed it all the same.

She was a vision, even in her current state.

That gown… is it the wedding gown?

Dorian felt a pang of guilt rush through him. It suited her, fitting her figure well and complimenting the shade of her complexion. Dorian could almost envision their wedding ceremony. He knew she would have been glowing then, but now she stood there, dull and shadowed.

She looked heartbroken, and his heart clenched at the thought.

“Let me explain to you, please,” he implored, his voice carrying across the hall.

Dorian attempted to push past Philip, eager to reach her, but her brother refused to budge. And though it vexed Dorian, and he was certain he could make the smaller man move, he stepped back and frowned.

Eleanor regarded the others with the same icy look, as if she were trying to contain her emotions by showing none at all. She had reached the second to last step, and she stood there for a moment, with a gloved hand on the railing. “Leave us for a moment,” she spoke in a way that left no room for argument.

Dorian watched as the others filed into the sitting room—all but Philip, who seemed to be on the fence about allowing him entry. In a way, Dorian could admire her brother’s protective nature, but at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to shove the man aside.

Philip looked back at Eleanor. “I will be right there if you need me.”

She nodded, her eyes still fixed on Dorian.

Philip left them, but not before shooting Dorian another glare.

Now, they were alone, and Dorian could not take his eyes off her.

It was clear she had been crying. Her eyes were red, and her skin was pale. A pang of guilt ripped through him, leaving an ache in his chest. She stood still as a statue, poised and proper, her expression blank.

“Go on, Dorian. Why did you miss our wedding? Explain to me why you embarrassed me more than words can describe.” Somehow, she maintained her composure. Her tone remained flat. “Please.”

Dorian frowned. “I need you to know that I want to marry you. I wanted nothing more than to be at that church.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I found my brother’s killer,” he said quickly, panic surging through him.

Dorian knew she deserved the truth, but as he stood there before her, his mind was reeling and racing.

There was a slight flicker in her eyes, as if her icy stare had cracked ever so slightly. Eleanor swallowed hard and clenched her jaw, but she did not speak. She watched him, her eyes boring into him, waiting for more.

Dorian took a deep breath, trying to make sense of his own mind before the words slipped from his tongue. “I did this to protect you,” he continued, though it was clear from her expression that she was struggling to believe a word he said—and why would she? “Please⁠—”

“Have you said all you wished to say?” she asked, her voice quavering. He watched her straighten her posture. Her hands at her sides were clenched, and he could make out the whites of her knuckles. “If you cannot give me what I need from you, then save your breath. I can’t stand to hear you, to see you…”

With that, she turned around, as if to run back up the stairs.

Her words felt like arrows piercing his chest.

“I have much I wish to say to you, Eleanor. More than I could in a day, or even a year,” he said softly. “Please, do not turn away from me⁠—”

“Explain everything, then, Your Grace.” She sighed, her back still to him.

“The Earl of Amsbury killed my brother over his debts. We have been receiving threats since I returned to Court. It would have been one thing if those threats had only been directed at myself,” Dorian spoke fast, the words tumbling from his lips like water pouring from a crack in a dam. Never in his life had he felt so helpless, so desperate. “But with me out of the picture, he sought your dowry.”

He watched as her shoulders slumped.

Eleanor looked over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised as she bit her bottom lip. Her eyes were searching his, as if looking for the truth in his words. And then they swept over him, checking.

“Are you hurt?” she asked softly.

Dorian shook his head. “No, I’m quite all right.”

“Why did you not just tell me? We could’ve found a way.” It seemed to be taking all of her strength not to lash out at him. “But instead you chose to ruin everything. Do you not trust me? Do you think⁠—”

“I did not plan for any of this to happen,” he said, defeated and suddenly very, very tired.

Eleanor seemed as though she would shatter. Her body was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and her breaths were quick and sharp. It seemed as though she wasn’t sure if she would laugh or cry—perhaps both. But she did not speak, she only stared back at him.

“Eleanor—”

“I am pleased to see that you are unharmed, Your Grace.” Her voice was colder than ice, piercing through him with a chill that he had never known. He watched as she swallowed back her emotions, her face turning into a blank, stony canvas. “Please, do not humiliate me further.”

“What are you saying?”

“I cannot be your wife.”

“Dammit, Eleanor! I was abducted! If I could have been there to marry you, I would have. I apologize for the humiliation, but please, do not throw this away. Let me make this up to you,” he begged.

Eleanor said nothing in return.

His heart was thundering in his chest, and his thoughts and emotions were a raging storm within him.

I cannot lose her.

Never in his life had he felt this way, and he was sure it would be the end of him.

“If it is due to the scandal, I can assure you it will be nothing but a distant memory in time,” Dorian rasped, wondering if the humiliation had pushed her away from him. “I cannot afford to lose you.”

“Leave,” she croaked, her voice quavering. “Please, leave now.”

Dorian stepped closer to her. But before he could reach for her, Philip and Xander emerged from the sitting room, both ready to toss him out onto the street—if not worse. He eyed them both, prepared to fight them tooth and nail, but as his gaze flicked over to Eleanor once more, he stopped himself.

Her eyes, red and teary, were pleading and frustrated. Dorian knew he had hurt her, and his explanation only sounded like some sort of an outlandish excuse. It dawned on him then that she did not believe him.

How can I convince you?

He had lost.

“Of course, my lady. Forgive me.”

And without another word, he turned for the door and left.

“I feel as though I have made the worst mistake,” Eleanor whispered to herself, watching as the duke disappeared from her sight.

A part of her wished to follow him down the street, to call to him and plead for forgiveness, but the other part, more dominant, demanded she stay rooted to the spot.

His words about Nicholas rang in her ears. It was such a ridiculous thing to say. Eleanor had known the duke to be many things, but now she was almost certain he was a liar as well. But still, the thought left a churning feeling in her stomach.

“Eleanor,” Philip said as he approached her.

She turned toward him, annoyed and upset. “I suppose you’re pleased.”

He looked as though he had more to say. Instead, he simply lowered his head and offered nothing else. His gaze shifted to the doorway of the sitting room, where the others had gathered.

The sight of them only made her more embarrassed. They had seen and heard everything. Could they all tell how her heart had shattered?

With a curt nod, to no one in particular, Eleanor forced a tight smile. “Forgive me, I believe I will retire for the night,” she muttered, despite her attempts to maintain her composure.

Turning, she wasted no time running up the stairs, hoping that she could keep the tears from falling until she reached the confines of her room.

With each step, her body felt heavier, as if she were being weighed down by some unseen force. Eleanor kept walking, knowing that if she stopped, she would crumble into a mess on the floor. She could see her door nearing, but it simply wasn’t close enough.

As her hand turned the knob, a sob rattled through her chest, and she covered her mouth to stifle it. Pushing her way inside, she closed the door quietly, her back pressing against the wood as she slid down to the floor.

I am a fool, a mad fool.

She hugged herself, bitterly wishing and imagining his arms around her. How was it possible that the cure to her pain was also the cause? Eleanor cursed him as she tried to silence her cries, hiding her face in the crook of her arm.

The realization had washed over her, bittersweet.

She wasn’t sure how long she had stayed like that, seated on the floor and losing herself as thoughts of Dorian rushed through her mind. By the time she heard a quiet knock at the door, she couldn’t be sure if only minutes had passed or hours.

Slowly, she forced herself to her feet, and she opened the door just enough to peer out. She had been expecting her mother, or perhaps Beth, but the person standing there was a surprise, indeed. Eleanor frowned and raised an eyebrow in question.

“I need to speak to you.”

Philip was quick to wedge his foot in the door, preventing her from slamming it in his face. No doubt that he was quite happy with the turn of events. Save for the embarrassment to their family and the titles they carried, he was likely all too pleased about this.

Eleanor was half tempted to slam the door anyway. “Came to gloat?”

“No,” he said with a frown. “As I said, I’ve come to speak with you.”

“I don’t wish to speak,” she stated, almost pouting.

More than anything, she just wished to be left alone to wallow in self-pity. But based on the expression on her brother’s face, it seemed unlikely that it would be an option for her.

“Fine, but make it quick, Philip.”

She opened the door slowly and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him.

Her brother did not close the door behind him, but he made himself comfortable. Walking to her vanity, he pulled out the stool and sat down. He was too large for it, and he almost looked childish perched before her mirror.

“I do not care for Dorian Crawford,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Is that why you’ve come to bother me?”

“Let me finish.” He sighed, seemingly defeated, as if the words that were rolling in the back of his mouth were bitter. He ran a hand through his hair and then looked up at the ceiling. “I dislike the man alot. But I am not so blind as to see when someone is good for my sister.”

Eleanor blinked, but she couldn’t think of anything to say in response.

“I have heard some truly disturbing things about him, Eleanor. Things that would not bode well for any union—his bloodstained reputation aside. He had been skulking at night in the most unsavory of places.” He frowned. “But… I now know more than I did.”

“What do you mean? What unsavory places?”

“I’m sure he can tell you in his own time.” Philip sighed.

Eleanor shook her head. “I have no desire to speak to him again.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he scoffed.

Philip leaned forward, his arms draped over his knees and his spine bowed. He looked as if he might touch the floor. But instead, he remained still, his brow furrowed. “I went to the constables, Eleanor. Nicholas Hervey was arrested. What the duke said to you, it was the truth.”

“No.” Eleanor shook her head, turning away from him. “That’s not possible.”

“But it is. I would not be here defending a man I cannot stand otherwise.” Her brother sighed and straightened. Running a hand through his hair, he looked up at her with a frown. “I will not say you should marry him, but I do believe you should hear what he has to say.”

Eleanor’s gaze turned to the window.

Would he even wish to see me?

“There is a horse waiting for you outside. It’s up to you.”

“Philip, are you asking me to do… something scandalous?”

If Eleanor wasn’t so physically and emotionally drained, she might have laughed at the absurdity of putting Philip and the word scandalous in the same sentence.

“If you end up happy, I might allow it. Just this once. But I will have nothing to do with this, of course.”

With that, her brother left.

It’s up to you.