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The coach jerked after hitting a particularly deep rut, and Margaret fell forward, letting out a burp. She quickly sat back into her seat and brought her hand to her mouth.

“Oh, excuse me, Eleanor. Lady Whitmore’s pickled herring must not have been fresh.”

“Yes, it was the herring and nothing to do with all of that wine you drank,” Eleanor said quietly.

“What did you say, my dear?”

“I only said that while Lord Carlisle was an interesting man to talk with, his cousin was most definitely not. Five minutes into a conversation with him, and it felt like I was serving a prison sentence. And he managed to corner me at almost every spare moment to retell the same stories over and over.”

“Oh, stop it, Eleanor. I’m sure you’re overreacting.” Margaret brought her hand to her chest and looked like she might burp again. “You say that everyone is boring if they are a pirate or something like that. You live in a dream world sometimes. I spoke to Edwin today, and he was not boring at all. I remember him saying…Well, I’m sure he said some interesting things, or I wouldn’t have spoken to him for so long.”

“I’m sure,” Eleanor replied.

“And I wouldn’t have invited him to call on you tomorrow afternoon for lunch if I did not think he would make a fine match.”

“Mother!” Eleanor gasped. “Why did you do that without consulting me?”

“I am your mother, Eleanor. I know what is best for you.”

“You should have consulted His Grace,” Eleanor said.

Margaret fell silent for a moment. “Well, yes, perhaps. I would have if he had been there today, but he must have been busy with other things. I don’t wish to trouble him with such trivialities, but I shall, of course, pass on word to him that Mr. Carlisle will be calling.”

Eleanor knew there was no point in fighting it, and she knew that Gabriel wouldn’t stop the lunch. She went back to staring out of the window, and wondering why His Grace had not attended the garden party.

If something had happened to him, someone would have known, especially his friend, Lord Fairfax. Still, Eleanor couldn’t help but worry about the duke.

Why do I wish to go to him so terribly when the sensible thing is to focus on my lunch with Mr. Carlisle? When I think of Gabriel, all sense seems to fly out the window.

CHAPTER 14

Gabriel tapped his fingers against the document he was supposed to be reading. There was a space at the bottom for his signature, and even though his eyes had traced their way across the document three times, he hadn’t retained any of the information; he was on his fourth read of the paper.

He glanced over at Atlas on his blanket, and the dog lay there watching him with a knowing look.

“Stop it, Atlas,” the duke complained. “I am thinking about her, but only because I have left her alone for so long and I’m worried that she will have gotten herself into trouble. Any trouble she gets into this Season is a direct reflection on me.”

Atlas turned his head to the side and closed his eyes.

“Not that I care,” Gabriel muttered. “Society likes to talk, so why not give them something to talk about?”

Gabriel shook his head, trying to shake thoughts of her from it, and then looked down at the document again. He had just started reading and absorbing the information when there was a knock at the door.

“Your Grace,” the butler said. “The Dowager Viscountess of Blackridge and her daughter have arrived.”

“I will be with them promptly,” Gabriel replied. “Can you show them in⁠—”

Gabriel didn’t have the time to finish before Eleanor burst into the room, repeating something over and over. It wasn’t until she reached his desk and placed her hands down on it that he recognized the word she was proclaiming over and over.

“Turnips!” she exclaimed.

Gabriel looked into her eyes and wanted to burst out laughing. He looked past her quickly and inclined his head to inform the butler that everything was under control and that he could leave.

“If you would like some boiled turnips, I can have the kitchen make some for you.” Gabriel had to tighten his lips to stop from laughing, and the ire on Eleanor’s face, contrasting with the ridiculousness of the word, only made that worse.

Eleanor threw her hands up in the air and turned away from him, giving some welcome respite. She let out a frustrated groan before turning around to face him again.

“Where were you?” Eleanor demanded. “For three days, you have left me alone, and you have been nowhere to be seen.”