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Her eyes strayed to the lighthouse.

Why are you locked up? She wondered. What do you hold so greatly that nobody can access you?

Instead of torturing herself over her new puzzle, Eloise turned back to the book she had taken out with her that afternoon. It was a book of maps, all real, some only half completed with a lot of area labeled as undiscovered. The thought of such endless possibilities of more sea, more land, even, thrilled Eloise, and she had been buried in this book for several days, rereading the pages and maps.

Over the last couple of days, between lonely breakfasts and dinners, between exploring the mansion further, only to find some rooms locked, Eloise had repeatedly found herself hunched over parchment, quill in hand, in the library.

She had begun to draw her own maps.

They were fictional, of course, and her mind chased a fantasy where she could board one of those ships beyond the lighthouse. She imagined herself sailing across the seas, disappearing for good, only to anchor upon a new island, a place of her own, with no demands, no obligation.

Only her, a map, and the open sea.

It was a foolish dream; she knew that, but the cartography settled her anxiety over not seeing the duke for days, and wondering where they stood with one another. Eloise had been brought into the mansion but had not seen her husband since that first night. It was as though they were passing vessels, always missing each other…

Or perhaps one vessel in particular was purposefully steering away from the course of companionship.

She tried not to think about it as she looked at the book in her hands, flipping to the page where her favorite map was, but before her eyes could even properly begin searching the lines and words, a voice came from behind her.

“I am told you come out here frequently.”

Eloise awkwardly turned at the sound of the duke’s voice, the first she had heard it up close in days. Since their arrival at Oldcliff Hall, she had mostly heard it in other rooms, distant, giving orders or asking for information on something or other.

Her eyes fell on him, and the days that had gone by since their last passing had made her forget how severe his handsomeness was.

Eloise could not stand that her eyes lingered on her husband for too long, but she tracked how the wind pulled at his hair, how his eyes were narrowed, and how the fullness of his mouth caught her attention for moments too long.

Her heart stuttered, and she wanted to turn away, to stop herself from admiring him, but she could not.

And then she remembered her politeness. She scrambled to her feet, but the duke held up a hand.

“Heavens, you are my duchess. You need not stand for me.”

“It is still respect,” she countered. “And I have not seen you in some time.”

“Maybe it is because when I come to find you in the house, you are out here.” The duke tilted his head, a small, smug smile on his face. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “We have not dined together once. I do not take my meals out here. I am easily findable, Your Grace, if only you have the desire to find me.”

It was a petty rebuttal, but it sent a message: she did not entirely trust that he had gone to find her at any point. There had been plenty of opportunities for him to find her.

The duke paused again, looking across at her. Then, his gaze dropped to the map book in her hand. “Does this interest you? This book?”

Eloise blinked at him, but she was already nodding before she realized she was letting him have a piece of information that would make her mother keel over. Her love of maps, ships, and adventuring had been a secretive thing, a passion she had honed in private.

“I like thinking of…” She made a vague gesture. “Other places.”

Inwardly, she cringed at this insipid phrasing. She’d wanted to make her interest sound ladylike and had only succeeded in making herself sound the fool. But her husband did not mock her.

“Then let me take you out,” the duke offered, holding out his hand. Eloise offered the book, but he shook his head, curling his fingers in a come here motion. “I wish for your hand, Duchess.”

Hesitantly, Eloise gave it, for adventure was what life was truly about, and as nerve-wracking and strange as it was to be in this new life, it was an adventure, and she craved that above anything.

Her fingers slipped into his, and he pulled her up.

“Where are we going?” she questioned.

“Oh.” His voice lowered mysteriously. “You shall see.”