Chapter 3

“Ithink I will stay in tonight,” Eleanor said, eying the dress laid out primly on her bed. She felt a pang of guilt for not mentioning it sooner, since Beth had already gone through the trouble of preparing the ensemble.

Concern flickered in Beth’s gaze as she turned to Eleanor. She cocked her head as she regarded her. “Are you feeling all right, my lady?”

“Yes, just tired,” Eleanor admitted with a reassuring smile. “And I will need to be well-rested for the ball tomorrow night. I think the sleep will do my complexion some good.”

After Beth returned the gown to the wardrobe and helped her undress, Eleanor dismissed the maid for the evening.

Beth seemed almost hesitant to go. She hovered for a moment. “I will be in my room if you need me,” she said before closing the door behind her, leaving Eleanor completely alone.

I wonder if she has left her room…

As Eleanor walked down the hallways, the clicking of her shoes against the tiled floors echoed off the walls. A feeling of dread lingered, churning in her stomach.

Berkley Estate was a large house, pristine when it came to cleanliness and order, with a lingering scent of fresh linen and lavender. Eleanor had lived there her entire life, and yet it still felt lonely.

She paused outside her mother’s door, staring at the intricate carvings on the wood. How many times had she stood in this very spot? Eleanor frowned, reaching out as if about to knock, but she hesitated.

What would I even say to her?

The thought left a sour taste in her mouth and a weight in her chest.

She turned away, listening to the sound of her gown rustling around her legs as she moved quicker than what would be considered appropriate within the house, but she did not care. There was no one there to chastise her. Philip was away for the evening, no doubt trying to find himself a wife, and her mother could scarcely move from her own bed.

Back in her room, Eleanor was now dressed in her cotton nightgown. Her hair was braided down her back and tied with a rose-colored ribbon. She stood in the middle of the room as she eyed her bed with a frown. It was late afternoon, and the sun still hovered in the sky.

The ball tomorrow would be an ideal time to find some potential matches, she knew, but the idea still filled her with dread. She did not wish to find a husband, to act completely enamored with a man she could barely stand to speak with, and yet she felt as if she had no choice at all.

It seems I truly have no choice.

Her gaze shifted to her vanity, focusing on the small drawer that was built in below the mirror. Walking toward it, she could feel her heart thundering in her chest, her stomach lurching at what waited inside. She opened the drawer and rummaged through its contents until she found it—an envelope with nothing inside but a folded piece of paper.

Some time ago, Celia had written out five dares—one for each of them. At first, it had seemed like a harmless little game of sorts—things Eleanor might have enjoyed in her youth. But now that youth was escaping her, did she really have time for such silly, little things like this?

Unfolding the paper, she read the dare with a frown. She was half tempted to toss it into the fireplace, to pretend that perhaps it had been lost, but she knew that Celia was nothing if not determined. If Eleanor did not appear with this ridiculous little note, then Celia would surely make another.

Eleanor tossed the paper onto the vanity and sat on the small, plush stool. She sighed, dropping her head in her hands and massaging her temples. She peered at the note, which lay open and facing her. Celia, she had to admit, had lovely handwriting.

Rereading it again, Eleanor sighed.

For a day, you must act and say the exact opposite of what you normally would, with no exceptions.

* * *

Opulentwas the word that came to mind when they arrived at the estate of the Duke of Edwardsburg. The mansion reminded Eleanor of a castle and less of a house. It sat with an expansive garden, featuring fountains and even a paddock filled with stunning tan horses who watched curiously as the carriages rolled down the path.

Eleanor peered through the curtain, watching as other ladies and gentlemen were escorted from their carriages to the large front doors. She made a note of the gowns, the shades and styles, and she glanced down at herself with a frown.

Everyone else she saw appeared to be in shades of green and blue. Had she not been informed of the dress code? Her stomach twisted—this was not what she needed on this night.

“You will behave yourself here,” Philip warned as the carriage rolled at a snail’s pace in line with the rest. His mouth was a tight line, and his eyes were fixed on her, daring her to argue with him.

It was clear he was not in the mood for it, and neither was she.

Eleanor turned back to the window. “Do not fret, brother. If the Marquess of Jameston makes a fool of himself, I will not point it out again.”

Philip was about to comment, his patience clearly wearing thin, when the carriage door opened. Two men stood, dressed in the same coats—in fact as far as Eleanor could tell, they were twins. The one closest to her held out his hand to her, which she took, allowing him to help her down from the carriage.

Outside, the air was chilly, with a slight fog. The sun was setting behind them, casting shadows while illuminating the facade of the mansion so that the stones seemed to sparkle and shimmer. Behind her, Philip stepped out of the carriage and stretched, before linking arms with her.

He leaned in as they climbed the steps to the front door, careful to keep his voice level and tame. “I expect to see you dancing with every gentleman that asks you,” he said, squeezing her arm slightly, not enough for it to be painful, but enough to make his words truly stick.

Eleanor said nothing, instead opting to lift her chin and straighten her posture as they came to the door. Standing there was the Duke of Edwardsburg himself, a short, gray man who leaned heavily on his cane.

He was just finishing a conversation with another guest when he saw them approaching. “Ah, the Duke of Berkley,” he said, his voice raspy but kind. His eyes flicked to Eleanor, almost as if confused. “And who might this lovely young lady be?”

Philip bowed. “May I introduce my sister, Eleanor Burton?”

“Lady Eleanor, it is a pleasure.” The older man bowed his head.

Eleanor offered her sweetest smile. “The pleasure is mine, Your Grace.”

“You will have to excuse my rudeness, but my grandson—he is in attendance. May he ask you for a dance?”

“She would be delighted,” Philip answered, much to her annoyance, but she did not let her expression betray her.

She nodded in agreement, stating she would be anxiously awaiting him, before they excused themselves from their host.

As they walked, Eleanor maintained her most composed expression as they passed ladies and gentlemen with polite nods and comments. It wasn’t until they were out of earshot that she stopped and turned to her brother, freeing her arm from his.

“I do not appreciate you speaking for me, brother. It is one thing to expect me to marry, but to?—”

“The Duke of Edwardsburg is a wealthy man, as you can see. His grandson is set to inherit it all,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing, but his posture remained the same, in case someone were to notice. “I am setting you up to be successful, Eleanor. Fight and argue all you want.”

“You said I had until the end of the Season.”

Philip nodded. “But that does not mean I will avoid making those connections, in the event that you fail to find a suitable match.”

Eleanor had more to say, but she did not dare to utter what was truly on her mind. Instead, she bobbed a stiff curtsy and turned on her heel, determined to find her friends and let this evening end.

She stepped into the ballroom, shuffling past groups of people until her eyes finally settled on Celia’s fiery auburn hair. Eleanor let out a sigh of relief as she approached, seeing the others gathered near a table with drinks and countless stunningly garnished pastries.

“We were worried you were not coming,” Diana said in a soft voice. She was dressed in a soft shade of rose, which only seemed to bring out the flush in her cheeks, but it looked quite stunning on her.

Eleanor offered a small smile. “Philip and I had some words before I could slip away. I swear, he intends to throw each man at me during this party.”

She moved to stand beside Violet, who had just made her return to Court since having Jonathan. She looked uncomfortable yet excited, but she looked beautiful either way.

“Did you bring it?” Celia asked.

Eleanor blinked. “Bring what—oh, you mean the dare.”

Grace stepped to her side, sipping on a glass of champagne. Of everyone, she was the one who looked as if she did not belong at the ball. Her entire frame was stiff, and she kept tugging at the bust of her gown. “Well, what does it say?”

I should have burned the thing.

Eleanor sighed and pulled down the hem of her glove, where she had slipped the small piece of paper before leaving. She unfolded it and handed it to Grace, who immediately grinned with delight. Her friends were far more excited than she was about this situation—it was evident on their faces.

Celia’s laughter rang out, punctuated by her mischievous grin, her voice so loud that it drew the attention of nearby groups. She did not bother to compose herself. Instead, she only leaned in closer. “Do not look so gloomy, Eleanor. It is only for one night.” She smiled. “Have fun with it.”

That seemed nearly impossible.

The ballroom was adorned with intricate floral arrangements, and the scent of fresh blooms mingled with the faint hints of perfume. Eleanor glanced about the massive room, noting the shades of green. Even Celia was dressed in an olive-green gown.

Eleanor was about to ask when she felt a pair of eyes on her, making her shudder. She looked over her shoulder, scanning the faces, surveying the room, when her gaze met the Marquess of Jameston’s.

His eyes were fixed on her, a look of unmistakable disdain. Instinctively, she was about to turn away and ignore him, but she considered the dare.

I might as well have some fun with it.

Summoning a smile, Eleanor met the marquess’s gaze with a prettily crafted smile. She nodded to him while peering at him from beneath her eyelashes. This had the desired effect, as the marquess appeared completely bewildered before he turned his back to her.

The music swelled, enveloping the room in a graceful cadence, and soon partners moved to the center. Eleanor observed the elegant choreography. Their movements, for the most part, seemed flawless. She felt it then in her stomach. At some point, she would be forced to dance.

Eleanor turned to the refreshments table, her gaze fixed on a sweating glass of lemonade. She could almost taste it as she reached for it.

Celia, of course, stepped in the way, plucking a dainty glass of champagne and handing it to her. “Given the fact that you should do the exact opposite of what you would do normally, I believe this suits the occasion much better, do you not agree?”

Eleanor opened her mouth to protest when the master of ceremonies’ voice echoed through the room, drawing everyone’s attention. She turned, subtly placing the glass down beside her in the hope that Celia might not notice.

“Announcing His Grace, the Duke of Dayton, and Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Dayton,” the master of ceremonies boomed, his voice crystal clear.

Silence fell over the ballroom, leaving only the music. All the attendees turned around, their eyes flicking to the doors and the staircase that led inside.

Eleanor, admittedly, was curious to see the Mad Duke as well.

She slowly turned and allowed her gaze to settle on the pair. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt her entire body tense. She was grateful to have set down the drink, for she was sure she would have dropped it in surprise.

He walked with graceful determination as he scanned the crowded ballroom with an almost bored look. He was tall, taller than any other gentleman in the room, with broad shoulders and a frame that did more than hint at his well-built figure. His dark hair was tied back, but there was no mistaking the carefree way it was styled.

No, it cannot be…

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