Page 88 of How to Tempt a Duke

She smiled at Eleanor through her tears. “I am not pleased with your decision.” Her mother jabbed a glare at Charles. “But I am pleased to have you home.”

Pain twisted at Eleanor’s heart. Was she herself glad for her decision? Or would she come to regret it in a wash of loneliness and hurt?

The Countess pressed a kiss to each of her children’s foreheads, going on tiptoe for Evander, and then pulled away. She swept at her cheeks and smoothed her immaculate blue day dress.

“Yes, well...” She sniffed. “Excuse me a moment. I must freshen up. And then we will all take tea.”

Eleanor sat silent and stiff through tea, letting her mother and Evander do the talking. Charles remained at her side, equally quiet, his constant glances at her the only indication that he suspected something might be wrong.

She should tell him, and yet she could not quite work out the best way to say the words.

How could she possibly ask him to forgo the stone and stay with her in London?

Chapter Thirty

Charles was not so foolish as not to know something was amiss with Eleanor. Nor was he daft enough to wonder at the cause, when she had said it so plainly herself prior to their departure from Comlongon.

The loss of love was far more painful. And all for treasure.

He knew he should not go on his journey, and yet how could he forgo his opportunity to find peace with his father? How could he sacrifice the excitement of the world to simply stay in dreary, dull London for the rest of his life?

And love... What was love? It was not what he had felt for his father—that had been respect. Nor was it what his father had felt for him—that had been obligation. Perhaps it was what he felt for Lottie—but surely even that was sisterly affection?

He knew he enjoyed Eleanor’s laughter and her smiles, that they made his heart swell when he elicited them. He knew he’d never once hesitated at the thought of traveling until he’d known her. And he knew he was frightened that he might somehow lose her.

Later, upon their arrival at Somersville House, and after a brief introduction of Eleanor to the household staff, she immediately went up to her rooms with her maid. It was then that Grimms informed Charles that Lottie had sent over a letter, in the short time he had been at Westix Place. He expected to read of Lottie’s heartache, considering what had transpired between her and Westix.

Charles made his way to the library, where he firstly extracted the key from the safe and then opened Lottie’s note. His heartbeat quickened with delight as he read.

It seemed Lottie had received a considerable amount of mail in the short time of their travel—all of it from mothers, and even some fathers, with daughters in the ton who might benefit from her instruction. She would no longer need a protector.

Smiling, he set the letter on his desk beside a bottle and pile of unopened letters.

Bottle? The smile faded from his lips.

Why the devil was there a bottle on his desk when he hadn’t been home long enough to have put anything there? The last one had been thrown out with the rubbish. He’d seen to that.

But there it was, with a card dangling from its thin neck, glinting with the imprint of a compass.

This bottle was full—new. Which meant that whoever had put it there had been in the house—and most likely very recently. A shiver of warning went up Charles’s spine and he felt an immediate and sudden need to ensure Eleanor was safe.

For in his gut he feared she was in danger.

Eleanor had not expected such grand rooms—though, considering the vastness of Somersville House, she ought to have known the Duchess’s chambers would be glorious.

Amelia had agreed to come to Somersville House to ready the rooms when Eleanor had left for Scotland with Charles. Now she fluttered about like an excited child while she detailed every feature of her new residence.

“And the best part, if you don’t mind my saying, Your Grace...” Amelia pushed at the wall. A quiet click sounded and a portion of the wall popped out to reveal a hidden door. “It leads to the Duke’s chambers.”

Eleanor pulled at the hidden door. It slid easily toward her on silent hinges. She looked at Amelia, who grinned and nodded toward the passage.

“Go on,” Amelia said. “I believe your Duke said he’ll be joining you soon.”

“He did...”

Eleanor kept the trepidation from her voice. She had known that the closer they had drawn to London, the sooner Charles would be leaving. It was unfair to ask him not to go, and yet... And yet it had been impossible not to soften her heart to him even in her ire. How could she possibly do it while they lived together? Shared a bed together?

She slipped through the hidden door, which immediately clicked closed behind her. The chamber she stepped into was powerfully masculine, with heavy mahogany furniture and artifacts used in its decoration throughout. The familiar exotic spice of Charles’s scent filled the room and set her pulse pounding.