Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

T he days following the boat ride were filled with tentative exploration of one another. Phillip was often called away on business or to Parliament meetings, but he spent every available moment he could with his wife. As for Eleanor, she had to admit that things weren't going the way she'd imagined they would on her wedding day. Phillip was nothing like the cold husbands who viewed their wives as mere means to an end, but he also was nothing like the ones who doted on their wives but controlled every aspect of their lives in the process.

Eleanor was surprised to find that Phillip was true to his word. He had not clipped her wings. In fact, the two of them often discussed his affairs at breakfast. He'd discovered by happy accident that she was intrigued by economics and mathematics which had led to a hearty discussion of his investments and the financial markets. Most men would never include their wives in business, dubbing it a man's world. Phillip seemed not to care for such conventions, much to Eleanor's relief.

She found herself praying that the fairytale would never end, but as all fairytales are wont to do, theirs, too, had to end at some point. It ended the day her father came calling during dinner.

Phillip had informed her absently that morning that he expected they might have guests for dinner, and she had instructed Annie to have the other maids set the table for four, presuming that he'd meant the Bedfords. If he had meant the Bedfords, then it soon became clear that they were not the only company he'd had in mind.

Eleanor was busy giving final instructions when the doorbell rang. Frowning, she finished telling Annie what she wanted for dessert. The butler could fetch the door, or if not, one of the maids would. It was still too early for dinner guests to arrive, so she could not imagine the Bedfords were the ones at the door.

The butler ghosted into the kitchen and stood waiting until Eleanor had finished speaking with Annie about the final menu arrangements.

She finally turned to him with a smile. "Who is at the door, Hartley?"

"Your father, Your Grace. The Duke of Fife asked if he might see you. I have showed him into His Grace's smoking room for the moment."

Her father? Here? Eleanor grasped the edge of the table to steady herself and shook her head. "Inform His Grace that my father has arrived. My father must be here for my husband, not me."

"He asked for you specifically, Your Grace."

"I do not wish to see him at the moment."

The look in the butler's eyes was placid, as though it was an everyday occurrence for a woman to refuse to see her father, but the maids exchanged looks. Eleanor didn't bother to chide them. It must be odd to them that a highborn lady would snub her own father like that.

"Then you wish me to tell him that His Grace will be down to see him shortly, Your Grace?"

"I do."

"Very well, Your Grace. I will see to it he is informed." The butler bowed and then hurried out to do as instructed.

Eleanor turned to Annie. "Did His Grace inform you who the guests are and how many, Annie?"

"He told me two at least, Your Grace." Annie looked perplexed. "Is it of great importance? I have cooked enough to feed a few more mouths if necessary."

"I am certain you have. No, it is not important for any particular reason. I merely wished to know." Eleanor drew in a steadying breath and closed her eyes to regain her composure. "Annie, I will be in my bedchamber if you need me. Pray, excuse me. I need to speak with my husband before he goes to greet my father."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Eleanor left the kitchen and rushed through the house towards her husband's study, knowing he'd be working on accounts and would not abandon them in the midst of entries to speak with a guest unless it was of the utmost importance. It was likely one of the things her father had liked so well about him. The two men were much the same in that regard. Avoiding the smoking room's doorway, she went up the steps and stomped down the hallway.

Phillip was just heading out of his study when she caught him. He frowned in confusion when he saw her. "Eleanor? Is your father not waiting in the smoking room? Why are you not with him?"

She scowled. "You should have told me you invited him to dinner!"

"I didn't invite him. Not precisely." He held his hands up to fend off any further accusations. "He asked if he could come visit, and I told him he was welcome. He wanted to come before dinner, so I told him that if he wished to, he could stay for the meal. He was good friends with Bedford's father and knows the Bedfords well. He agreed to take me up on my offer if time would permit, but I was not certain he would stay, so I only gave you a vague notion of who the guests would be."

"I do not want him under this roof, Phillip. Tell him to leave."

Phillip frowned, his confusion replaced with annoyance now. "No. This is my home, and we are not going to throw your father out."

"It is my home too, is it not?" Eleanor argued.

"Indeed it is, but since I am the master of the house, I decide who is a guest and who is not."

"So, my wishes mean nothing to you?" She crossed her arms. "What happened to involving me in the decision-making process? Or was that all a ruse to gain a little peace in our home?"

Phillip took her by the elbows and pulled her close. "Eleanor Lewis, do not attempt to use my words against me. You know full well that I meant every word I said, and I understand that you do not wish to have him here. This is a decision I am making. I know it upsets you, and I am sorry for it, but there are things at play here that you do not know of which make this necessary."

Eleanor clung to him, tears filling her eyes as hurt warred with confusion. "I want to understand, Phillip. Why? Why do you keep insisting he is good? That he did all he did for me? What is it that I do not understand?"

"It is not my secret to tell, my love." He brushed her tears away and kissed her gently. "I know it is painful not to understand, but you will soon, and I am certain you will forgive him once you do."

She pulled away and wrapped her arms around her torso. "Very well."

"Thank you." His voice was gentler now. "Shall we go together, then?"

"No." That was one step too far, even if she would respect his wishes to have her father under their roof. "I will not see him. If he stays for dinner, I shall play the gracious hostess, Phillip, but do not ask this of me. Do not ask me to face him after everything he has done."

"You will have to face him eventually, Eleanor."

"But not today." Her voice was oddly pleading rather than assertive as if she were begging him to say yes to her unspoken request instead of informing him of her intentions.

Phillip sighed and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head. "Very well. Not today."

Eleanor buried her face in his chest and breathed in the familiar musk and amber scent her husband usually bore. It brought some sense of calm back along with the soothing tone of his voice and his loving, gentle arms. She didn't know why she hadn't simply informed him of her intentions, but now she was glad that she had given him the chance to show this small grace. It helped to soothe the hurt caused by his earlier refusal to heed her wishes on a matter she considered of grave importance.

Finally, Phillip pulled away, his expression sad. "I will tell him you were complaining of a headache and needed to lie down in hopes of defeating it before dinner."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He cupped her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead. "I will see you at dinner."

Phillip stepped into the smoking room where his father-in-law sat. When the older man moved to stand in greeting, Phillip waved him back into his seat. "You shouldn't exert yourself too much. Not on my account."

"Where is my daughter?" William asked.

"Indisposed. She was complaining of a headache, and as we are to have guests with us for dinner, she begged me to allow her to rest until then, so I agreed."

"Refusing to see me, then," William remarked wryly.

Phillip went to the sideboard and poured them both a whiskey. "I did not want to say it outright. She will come round eventually, I think. Give her time."

He handed the glass of whiskey to William, and he noticed his father-in-law had a pained and sad look on his face.

"You know, I am sorry for how this has impacted you, Richmond. I… well, I still believe it was necessary, but I know it was not how you wished it to unfold."

Phillip took a sip of his whiskey and turned to face the fire dancing in the hearth, pondering over William's words. "I know you believe it so."

"But you do not."

"No. I believe I could have won her over without the aid of duplicity, Fife. You should have never asked such dishonesty of me. Had I not needed the money, I would have rejected your request outright, and you knew it."

"I did." The older man sighed. "But you know I could not gamble on you, Richmond. I had to be sure of it."

"Yes, so you have said. You have yet to tell me the entirety of the truth, though." Phillip turned to face his father-in-law. "Tell me the truth, Fife. How bad is it, really?"

William looked away, staring down into his glass. "Bad, I am afraid. A month, at most. When it happens, she will need you to be there for her. I know she has a good heart. She will be sorry for her coldness and anger when she realizes I had a good reason for what I did."

"That may be worse than her anger at you. At least now she is not being ripped in two by guilt."

"That is why she will need you. You will be the one to convince her that there was nothing she could have done, that she could not have known because neither of us told her, that I wanted it like this."

Phillip shook his head. "She may hate me for not telling her, you know."

"Does she still hate you for your part in her unwanted wedding?"

"No," Phillip replied. "Things have been well between us, though I am not at all pleased that romancing your daughter had to happen after our wedding. That is not how it ought to be."

William grimaced. "It is often how it is in our world."

"I did a great deal to distance myself from that world," Phillip murmured. "I never thought my brother and father would both die with no one else to pass the dukedom on to but my uncle, nor did I expect that my uncle would then hang himself and die heirless. And so, here I am. In the world I made for myself, a man would romance his woman before he would wed her, not after."

"Well, she is yours whether you romanced her before or after, son." William looked at him with a sad smile. "Eleanor will forgive you this too. Now then, when can I expect an announcement of a grandchild? Before the time comes when she would know the full truth, I hope?"

Phillip shifted and looked away. "Perhaps."

William cleared his throat. "You look uncomfortable, Richmond. Is there something I ought to know? You said things were well between you two."

"They are. The matter of an heir has not come up," Phillip mumbled. "It has been difficult enough convincing her that I am not the devil she imagined me to be. I have been more concerned with trying to gain my wife's respect and trust than I have been with whether or not a child interests her."

William gaped at him. "You mean… Good God have mercy on us! You cannot be serious. If she does not bear an heir soon, people will begin to talk. Have you any idea what that will do to my daughter? No man, no matter how much money he has, has the luxury of forgoing children and heirs, no matter what his wife might think."

Phillip shot the older man a mutinous glare. "People may assume and talk about whatever they please. I doubt very much that it will bother Eleanor that people would make up theories. No one in my household will inform the ton that we have chosen not to do things in a conventional way, and a child is not my chief concern."

"Servants talk!"

"Mine do not. This is no longer any of your business. We shall have an heir whenever Eleanor is ready. You will not be around to meet the child whether there would be an announcement of expectation or not. Besides, you have done more than enough to bring this about. My wife wished me dead on our wedding night because of you, so I concluded we had a long way to go before she would wish to consider the notion of children."

William smothered a horrified laugh. "Truly?"

"This is not amusing!" Phillip hissed, glancing at the closed door and making certain it was still firmly shut. "You cannot behave as though I have been negligent in my duties to her or you when your actions and schemes are the reason why it was so difficult to have peace in my home at all. I want Eleanor's adoration and respect more than I care about producing an heir, and given the reason why you begged me to agree to your terms so that I might wed her, I would have expected you to agree with my decision. If you wished it would have been different, you would not have chosen the course you did."

William rubbed a hand down his face and groaned. "You must rectify this at once, for both your sakes, Richmond."

"And have her believe I was kind only to gain a place in her bed?" Phillip scoffed and finished the rest of his drink. "Fife, I forgive you for doing what you thought you had to in order to get her to the altar, but I will never forgive you if you come between us now. She is mine, whether she wishes for a child now or five years from now. I will consider no other suggestions, not even from you. You robbed her of one choice, but you will not rob her of another, not on my watch and under my roof."

"Very well." William finished his drink and closed his eyes with a sigh. "You make a fair point. It is no longer my place, but you will do what is right for my little girl, will you not? She is more sensitive than you presume, and any talk questioning her validity as a woman on account of her lack of children would hurt her."

"Your little girl is quite the capable woman now," Phillip murmured, taking the empty glasses to the sideboard. "I doubt very much that others' notions of what makes a woman valid will have any effect at all on my wife's self-esteem. Still, I have every intention of doing what is best for her. In my own way, but I swear to you that I will do what is best for her, Fife. That I promised to her on our wedding day, and I promise it to you now. Satisfactory?"

"Satisfactory." The older man rose with a pained groan, leaning heavily on his walking stick. "I shall see myself to the door."

"You do not have to depart before dinner," Phillip said. "She agreed to see you if you stay."

"She is not yet ready, Richmond. We both know that well enough. As you said, you will not forgive me if I come between the both of you now." William's face looked pale and waxen in the light from the lamps and fire within the small room. "Tell her that I love her and am very sorry for everything I have put her through."

"I will, though I doubt she will believe it."

"Tell her anyway." William turned away and hobbled across the room towards the door.

Phillip watched him open the door and leave before returning to the sideboard to pour himself another drink. It was going to be a long evening after their guests would depart. Eleanor would not receive her father's apologies with grace. Of that, he had no doubt.

When their guests had left for the evening, there was no more putting off the matter. Phillip knew he needed to speak to Eleanor about what her father had said in parting. He knocked on the door between their rooms and waited until her melodic voice called out for him to enter.

She looked up when he walked into her bedchamber. "Thank you for this evening."

Phillip shoved his hands into his pockets. "He was the one who chose not to stay," he admitted.

"Oh." She fiddled with her hairbrush on the dressing table.

"He asked me to tell you that he loves you," he murmured.

Eleanor scoffed but didn't say anything back.

"He also asked me to tell you that he is sorry for everything he has put you through, Eleanor."

She remained silent, her grip on her hairbrush tightening. Phillip waited and hoped she would say something, anything, to indicate whether she was angry or accepting. When she refused to be forthcoming, he drifted to her side and knelt by her chair, taking her hands away from the brush. "Eleanor, say something, please."

Eleanor looked down at him, her eyes glassy with tears. "What do you want me to say? I do not know how to believe that, Phillip. Why did he not tell me himself?"

"I expect he would have if you had seen him as he had asked." Phillip ran his fingers along the inside of her wrist gently.

A tiny shiver ran through her, and her gaze locked on his fingers. "I suppose he would have." She sounded broken. "Even then, I am not certain I could believe him. He was so very cruel. How could he not tell me about my own wedding, Phillip?" The tears began to fall. "Does he think a plain apology will fix everything? Will erase the pain he caused? I was terrified on my own wedding day. Do you know why I was in the garden that day?"

"You have never said."

"I went there because I could no longer contain my tears and did not want to fall to pieces in front of our guests on a day that is supposedly one of the happiest days of a woman's life. That is why I was there, and it was at that moment that I heard you and Father speaking. Can you imagine how badly that hurt?"

Phillip lifted her wrist to his lips and kissed it gently. "No, I cannot. I am sorry for all you have endured, Eleanor. Whether you believe his apology or not, can you believe mine? He will not come between us, and if you do not wish to see him again, you will not have to."

She stared down at him, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I believe yours," she whispered. "What else did he want? I know his apology was not all."

Phillip grimaced and looked away. "I became angry with him over not giving me the chance to court you before our wedding when he brought up the necessity of our deal. He told me that you are mine, whether I romanced you before or after the wedding."

Eleanor flinched. "And he believes that will encourage me to accept his apology?"

"I doubt he thought so. He mentioned it merely to make a point before asking me when he might expect a grandchild, and I suspect he did not believe I would share this with you."

She flushed. "So now he wishes to meddle in our marriage and when we would have children? I hope you refused to engage him on such a matter!"

"I told him it was up to you and that it was none of his business. He was most dissatisfied and accused me of failing to do right by you. Apparently, people will talk, though I informed him that I doubted you would care very much."

Despite the color in her cheeks, Eleanor began to laugh. "Oh, Phillip. Of all the responses, that was not the one I expected from you. People will make remarks about you too, not just about me. It will look bad for both of us if there is no heir or at least a child and the possibility of one within the next year or two."

Phillip cleared his throat. "I do not care what they say about me, and so long as their remarks about you do not bother you, I care nothing for those either. When we have an heir will be our decision and no one else's. I made certain your father understood that."

"You are a strange man, Phillip… I have wondered ever since that first night…" She shifted in her seat. "Why did you not kiss me? I have been afraid to ask, but… I wish to know if you will tell me. It was your right."

"My rights as your husband are not the most important thing to me, not if exercising them means losing any hope of gaining your love and respect. That is why I did not kiss you that night."

Eleanor caught her lower lip between her teeth and lifted one shoulder half-heartedly.

"I wanted to kiss you, you know… I thought it was wrong of me to want it when you were so furious with me, though, and I could not bring myself to take what I wanted from you like that," he whispered, then returned to tracing his fingers up and down the inside of her arm. "It has become harder and harder to give you the space you need," he admitted. "It is difficult seeing the distrust in your eyes, and it hurts me when we take two steps back after one step forwards."

She exhaled softly. "I… I do not need you to keep giving me space, Phillip."

He looked up at her and smiled. "I am not certain I believe that. Even if it is true, now is not the time."

Eleanor flushed. "But you have just admitted that you want me."

"Do you want me? Love me?"

Her breath hitched. "A proper lady does not have strong sentiments beyond those of duty and obedience. You cannot ask me such a question and expect me to answer."

He sighed. "You know, it is not only women who need to be wanted and loved, Eleanor… I want you, but more than anything, I want to be wanted in return. Loved in return."

The color in her cheeks blossomed into her ears. "Truly?"

"Truly." Phillip kissed the tips of her fingers. "I know the answer to my question is not yet yes."

She frowned. "What if I never come to the point where I do want and love you like that?"

He sighed. "I suppose it does not matter. I will be here regardless."

"You are insufferable," she grumbled. "Should it not upset you that your wife might never love or respect you?"

He kissed her chastely. "As your father pointed out, however rudely, you are mine whatever happens between us, but that goes the other way around. I am also yours whatever may happen. Heir or no heir, love and respect or none at all. Still, I hope I will be able to change your view of me."

She nodded and laid her head on his chest. "I want you to."

"That is a start. Now then, to bed with you." Phillip pulled away and took her hand, guiding her towards the bed. "You need your rest."

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

"If I stay, will you contemplate what I told you?"

"I promise I will, at least until I fall asleep. Please, Phillip, I simply need someone to hold me and reassure me that it will be all right. I… his presence hurt, Phillip."

"Very well."

He didn't have the heart or the strength to deny her when she looked at him with those pleading green eyes. He hated that lost, sad look in her eyes whenever she thought about her father, and he would do anything to chase it away.