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“I’ll wear that,” Eloise stated, and the maid helped her change.
She had been nervous the whole day. She looked at herself in the mirror, checking every detail of her appearance, knowing this was to be a particularly important occasion for the ruse she was engaged in. She and Jackson had known one another for only a few days. But in that short time, their destinies had become entwined in such a way as to ensure each was reliant on the other for what was to come.
“It’ll be all right, My Lady, I’m sure. But you’ve got to hold your nerve. I don’t envy you,” Delphine said softly as she finished pinning up Eloise’s hair.
“We’ll see what happens, won’t we? It’s all very… new,” Eloise exhaled.
She was only now beginning to grasp the enormity of what she was engaged in. This was a pledge of marriage. It was a commitment that could last her whole life. She remembered Jackson’s words about an annulment once her sister was found, but would it really be that easy? She imagined him falling in love with someone else and the pain that would cause, for both of them.
“Take care, My Lady. I don’t want to see you heartbroken over this. It’s all too easy to fall in love, but far harder to fall out of it,” Delphine counselled.
“Oh, nonsense. I’m not going to fall in love with him,” Eloise blurted out, shaking her head.
But as she made her way downstairs to wait for the carriage, a niggling thought suggested otherwise. Her father was waiting there, and he looked her up and down approvingly.
“You look very pretty, my dear,” he said, smiling at her and holding out his hand.
Eloise took it and smiled back at him. Their relationship could be tempestuous, but at its heart was love. The love between a father and a daughter. She missed their closeness, even as she well knew the reason for their drifting apart.
“I really like him, Father. I think he’s an excellent match,” she sighed, and her father nodded.
“One step at a time, Eloise. But he does seem to be proving himself, that much is certain,” he acquiesced.
The carriage arrived a few moments later, and a liveried footman hurried up the steps to convey Eloise to the Duke’s residence. He led her to the carriage, opened the compartment door and helped her inside.
“Is it far?” she asked.
“No, My Lady. And we’re to make all speed,” he replied.
They set off at a brisk pace through the streets, taking a direct route around the park and onto a busy thoroughfare, from which they turned into a side street of elegant townhouses. The Duke’s London residence was a fine house, set back slightly from the road, and with a flight of steps going up to a pair of black double doors flanked by two stone lions and covered by a portico, from which a lamp hung. The footman jumped down from his place next to the driver and opened the carriage door for her, helping her down, as the door to the house was opened by none other than Jackson himself.
“Ah, I’m glad to see you. Come in,” he called to her, and she hurried up the steps to greet him.
“I’m a little nervous,” she whispered, slipping her hand into his.
“You don’t need to be. You look ever so pretty, Eloise. Pretty as a picture. Come in,” he said, leading her through the doors and into the entrance hall.
It was an elegant space, the floor marbled in black and white, and the walls covered in pictures and portraits. A staircase led up to a landing above, and in the center was a large table, highly polished, on which stood a large statue of the Greek god Apollo.
“What a beautiful house,” Eloise breathed, and Jackson smiled.
“It does us good when we’re in the capital. But Kent is our home. The Kenwood seat is Loxbury Abbey. It’s a fine old pile. You’ll see it, of course.” He smiled at her.
Eloise was about to speak when a shout came from across the hallway, and an elderly man, half-stooped and with white wispy hair, appeared before them.
“Jackson! Is this her?” he demanded.
“My uncle,” Jackson whispered.
“Speak up, boy,” his uncle shouted.
“Yes, Uncle, this is Miss Eloise Snowden, daughter of The Viscount Snowden. Eloise, may I present my uncle, The Right Honourable Lord Xavier Kenwood, Baron of Loxbury,” Jackson announced.
“Lord Kenwood.” Eloise stepped forward and curtsied. She knew she had to make a good impression. She held out her hand to Jackson’s uncle, who peered at her suspiciously.
“Viscount Snowden’s daughter… yes, you’re the ones who lost a daughter, a sister to you,” he thought aloud, and Eloise blushed.
“Uncle, please. First introductions…” Jackson mumbled, looking embarrassed.
