Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

W hen Eleanor woke from a good night's sleep, she didn't know where she was at first. The dark, heavy canopy curtains draped on all sides of the bed blocked most of the morning light, which was something she was unaccustomed to at her father's house. She wondered groggily what had woken her and whether it was still the wee hours of the morning when a cold nose nudged her ear, followed by a familiar whine and a slobbery kiss.

"Bella?" She sat up and groaned. "What are you doing out of your cage at this time of the morning?"

Or is it evening?

As the grogginess faded, she began to realize where she was, and the events of the prior day came rushing back. She was in her bedchamber in Phillip's mansion. She was married off yesterday to a man she barely knew.

Phillip—no, His Grace.

Eleanor could not bear to think of him familiarly after his betrayal. He had surprised her at the wedding and then again in her bedchamber the previous evening. She had no doubt that more surprises, demands and adjustments were in store.

Bella yapped at her, drawing her from her reverie. She patted the dog's head and was about to climb out of bed when the curtain was pulled aside to reveal Isabel's worried face. "Sorry, Your Grace, she was being quiet, so I thought she would be no bother." The maid reached for the dog, who retreated with a baleful look at her.

"Never mind, Isabel. Bella is most welcome in my chambers at any time. Did my father bring her here?"

"No, Your Grace. His Grace did." Isabel began laying out some gowns for Eleanor. "He had your wardrobe moved as well, but he went to fetch the dog early this morning. Truly, you are a fortunate woman, Your Grace! He must be very fond of you to go himself."

Eleanor wrapped her arms around Bella's wriggling body and buried her face in the dog's soft white fur. "Indeed. Has he indicated what he would like me to choose for this morning's attire?"

Isabel looked up from her task with a frown. "No, he has not. I was merely laying out the gowns I thought you might like best. His Grace indicated that you often wore the emerald silk one whenever he went by to visit your father, and I thought you might like it or something similar."

Eleanor did like the emerald gown, but it was now too closely associated with memories of Phillip, and she did not wish to be reminded of them. Not now, not after his betrayal. Those memories only brought her more pain when she considered how easily she had believed his pretty lies.

Still, Phillip had brought Bella. He had thought to fetch the little dog himself because he knew what Bella meant to her. Had she been too harsh in her judgment of him? She bit her lip and looked over the selection of gowns. "I will wear the emerald one, Isabel. Thank you."

Isabel nodded and began putting the other gowns back into the standing bureau. "Yes, Your Grace. Do you require help with dressing?"

"I can manage all but the hooks at the back, Isabel. You may help me with the lacing on the stays, however." Eleanor rose and pulled on the linen shift Isabel had laid out already. "I think the half stays will do for today."

Isabel started working on lacing the white half stays immediately. Once the tasks of dressing and fixing her hair were finished, Eleanor felt much more prepared to face her husband. She turned to Isabel to handle one last matter before she sallied out to deal with whatever the day would bring her. "Isabel, you have done a wonderful job for me the last two days, and I appreciate that. I will need an abigail, and while you may not have any experience being a lady's maid, I believe we can teach you whatever you do not already know. What do you think?"

Isabel's face lit up with a bright smile. "I would be honored, Your Grace!"

"Then I will inform Annie of the change in your work assignments sometime later today, and you will begin to assist me permanently from now on." Eleanor rose. "We will see about a proper wardrobe for your new position as soon as it can be arranged."

"Thank you, Your Grace!" Isabel curtsied. "You have done me a great honor, and my family as well."

Eleanor nodded with a gentle smile. "We will speak more later, then. Is His Grace already prepared for breaking fast?"

"Yes, Your Grace. He is in the dining room. Shall I show you?"

"No, I remember the way from the previous evening's tour before I retired. Thank you, Isabel."

Later, she would ask Isabel about her family. For now, she had to meet Phillip for breakfast. Bending down, Eleanor scooped up Bella, who had gone to sleep by her mistress's feet, and swept out of her rooms.

She made her way down the winding staircase, noticing the threadbare state of the runner in the middle of the worn cherry wood stairs. The stairs and banisters could use a fresh polish and cleaning too, but she suspected Phillip would handle that with some of the money he now had thanks to her dowry. She strode into the dining room to find him sitting at the large dining table reading the morning paper.

He looked up when she entered and closed the paper, setting it to the side. "Eleanor, did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Perhaps a little too well.

She'd dreamed of him all night, and standing there in his presence was only serving to remind her of the strange exchange they'd shared before he had left her room to return to his own. Eleanor's cheeks were warmer than usual, and she bent down to set Bella on the floor, snatching a moment to compose herself before facing the man who had become her captor the moment he'd said "I do" before half of the ton. She would never admit to the disappointment she had felt when the kiss had not ended more passionately nor to the way his unexpected tenderness despite her poor reaction to the day's events had left her uncertain and wanting.

"It's Phillip, Eleanor. We have covered this."

Eleanor joined him at the table, fixing her attention on the food. There were eggs, a few slices of ham, grapes and thick-sliced toast fresh from the oven with butter and jam on it. A small bowl of seasoned potato cubes sat on the edge of the plate beside her silverware, and a sparkling red wine half filled the glass before her. "I prefer to address you by your title, Your Grace."

"And I prefer you call me by my name," Phillip insisted quietly. "I suppose you will use it when you are ready, though."

"I doubt I shall ever be ready. Shall we say grace?"

He frowned, but he bowed his head and said a short prayer.

The moment he had finished, Eleanor began working on her breakfast in case he decided to ask more questions. She didn't trust herself to answer respectfully or dutifully as a proper wife should, and she didn't want to argue with him that morning, not so soon after the previous night's debacle. She needed space, not another heated argument that might end in yet another frustrating near kiss.

"Why do you prefer to address me by my title?"

She raised an eyebrow and swallowed her bite before replying. "What do you think, Your Grace? It is an accurate depiction of our relationship. Or, more accurately, it is a depiction of the lack thereof. We are strangers after all."

"We spoke multiple times before we wed, Eleanor. We may not know one another well, but we are not strangers."

Eleanor cut her egg into smaller bites with her fork. "I believe nothing of what you said during those days, Your Grace. A man who would hide an enormous secret from someone who is concerned is not a man who can be trusted."

"Nothing I said during any of our conversations was a lie. You misunderstand me. As I said last night, your dowry was not the final reason I chose to marry you."

"Then perhaps you might try to convince me of that. Make the lies good enough, and perhaps I will forgive you for lying by omission for months before our wedding." She took a bite of her eggs and waited.

He scowled. "Then perhaps I ought not to bother, Eleanor. I have no intention of lying to you, and if in the truth you hear nothing but lies, then I best keep the truth to myself until you're ready to believe it."

Eleanor scoffed and sipped at her wine. "I will take that to mean you are lying about your claim that there was another reason at play, Your Grace. You may as well offer the lies to excuse the ones you have already told and to add to this twisted web you have woven about us. Please, I would dearly love to know what excuse you wish to offer."

Phillip's jaw tightened, and he looked down at his plate. He seemed about to cave in when Bella woke, stretched and ambled over to Eleanor's seat. Suddenly, she bounded across the room when she spotted the Duke, barking happily and settling at his feet, her tail wagging wildly.

Eleanor scowled. Even the dog liked him.

Phillip set aside his fork and pushed away from the table, turning to stroke the dog's ears with a gentle smile. "Hello, girl. How fare you now that you have been united with your mistress?"

The little dog stared up at him adoringly and butted her head into his knee when he tried to return to his meal. His laughter came soft and gentle, shocking Eleanor. He hadn't laughed once when they were together at her father's estate, that she'd noticed. He was usually so serious, but now, he was opening up and looking down at Bella fondly. His next move surprised Eleanor even more. He plucked a piece of ham from his plate and offered it to the dog.

Bella took it with a happy pant and scarfed it down. The little traitor whined for more, her attention entirely on the Duke now.

"What is her name?" Phillip turned an inquiring look on Eleanor.

"Bella," she murmured.

"A lovely name. Did you choose it?"

"No." Eleanor returned to her food, an ache settling deep in her chest. "My mother did."

"Oh." The Duke fed Bella another piece of ham. "So, she was your mother's dog?"

"Yes. She may seem like a puppy with that energy of hers, but she is nearly ten years old." Eleanor's stomach twisted at the reminder that her mother was gone. "Bella is all I have left of my mother now."

"It must have been difficult to lose her."

Eleanor pushed her plate away and took a large sip of her wine. "It was. She was my friend, confidante, adviser. She taught me what love is. Without her, the house seemed so cold. My father never loved me as she did. He did not even love me as I thought he did in the end, or I would not be here."

A pained expression erased the soft expression on the Duke's face. "He loves you more than you can ever imagine, Eleanor."

Eleanor shook her head with a harsh laugh. "No, he does not. If he did, he would never have sold me to you like chattel."

Phillip flinched and looked away. "He did no such thing."

Her appetite was entirely gone now, and the wine tasted sour to her as her anger rose. Bella cast her a glance and whined, but she didn't leave Phillip's side. Eleanor scowled and shoved herself to her feet. She stalked across the room and snatched her dog up, backing away from the Duke. "My presence here is evidence to the contrary. Now, I find I have lost my appetite. Excuse me, Your Grace."

The Duke's hands clenched in his lap, but he bowed his head and didn't try to stop her when she spun around and stormed out of the dining room. Eleanor's heart twinged in sorrow and pain as she thought about his claim. She wished dearly she could believe it, but she had asked her father for a reason repeatedly, and he had refused to produce one. There was no excuse, no reason, no extenuating circumstance. William merely wished to be rid of her. And for whatever reasons Phillip had beyond her dowry—if such reasons did exist—he had agreed to take her. As much as it hurt to think it, it was reality, and she did not make a habit of lying to herself or others. Better to hurt while facing reality than to hurt while dealing with the strain of maintaining a delusion. Or so she told herself.