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Nathaniel gently rubbed Eleanor’s left shoulder while putting his other arm around his mother. “This is your very first London Season, and I know how much you have been looking forward to it. I want you to take your time in everything you do and enjoy every moment of it.”

Eleanor’s mouth was drawn into a tight line. She nodded.

“And try not to make Gabriel’s life too miserable when I’m away,” he teased. “He doesn’t have a sister, so he doesn’t know how they can be.”

“Oh, Eleanor will be on her best behavior,” Margaret claimed.

Eleanor had to physically bite her lip this time to keep from saying what she really wanted to say. Her lips turned upward into a small smile.

“I will try my best,” she said.

“I know you will,” Nathaniel agreed.

Nathaniel turned from his sister and headed outside, taking his hat from the footman. Two other footmen were loading the carriage with the rest of his cases.

Eleanor stepped outside with her mother, holding her hand as Nate got into the coach, then hung out the window to say goodbye again as he set off and headed South. The three of them waved to each other for as long as they were still visible, and then he was gone.

And when they turned back, another coach had replaced the departed one.

Margaret’s grasp on her daughter’s hand tightened.

“It’s time to go,” Margaret told her.

Eleanor didn’t reply. She stood, holding her mother’s hand, thinking about her brother on his way to France.

She didn’t want to think about her own carriage ride. Although she didn’t want to be late either, she was sure the duke would be annoyed.

They were expected at Ravenshire House. The first invitations had come in, and there was much to talk about.

* * *

“Please come in,” said the butler, who welcomed them when they arrived at the door of Ravenshire House.

Eleanor followed her mother into the duke’s home. She hadn’t been sure what to expect once inside, but there didn’t seem to be a lot of personal touches that hinted at the duke’s personality. Except for, perhaps, the large portrait of him on the wall facing the front door.

When Eleanor looked up above the portrait to where the marble double staircase met at a landing, she saw the duke himself, framed by a large stained-glass window. The light shone brightly through the glass around him, drawing her eye to him; he appeared as a shadow in comparison—all dark and brooding. All except for his eyes, which watched her carefully.

He looked down on them, not saying a word, before disappearing from view.

Eleanor looked at the painting again. She was sure the artist had made some embellishments to make the duke look more handsome than he actually was. She remembered the straight cut of his jaw, but was it as perfect as in oils?

Footmen appeared to take their coats, and they were led by the butler to the drawing room. They were shown into the empty room.

“His Grace will be with you momentarily,” the butler told them.

“Thank you,” Margaret said.

The butler left them in the room. Eleanor took more time to explore and try to understand who the duke was. That was impossible to do in a room that looked like every other drawing room she had ever been in. One thing she did know about him was that his father had been the duke before him, and the decor likely unchanged since then.

Eleanor circled the room before going to her mother, who stood in the middle of the room.

“I bet he’s making us—” Eleanor began before being interrupted by the duke entering the room.

“I apologize for making you wait,” he told them.

Eleanor immediately compared him to the painting. She let out a barely perceptible sigh when she saw that the duke’s jaw was as angular as the painting suggested. He was clean-shaven and had a freshness about him. He had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a charcoal topcoat over a cream linen shirt, but his elegance was still casual. He wore no cravat, and shoes instead of boots.

“We didn’t have to wait at all,” Eleanor claimed.