Athena was married to a cove, damn his eyes, who appeared content to leave her and her sisters to their own devices. What sort of man did that make him? Hopefully, a dead one. Eli couldn’t imagine anyone abandoning a precious flower like Athena for any lesser reason. She was reluctant to speak of her husband and wore no ring, but that meant little. Perhaps she was fleeing a brutal husband. The very thought filled Eli with a towering rage. The urge to ride back to Whispers’ Hollow and assure her she was now safe, became more pressing by the second.
All in all, his Athena was an enigma. He could make her cottage habitable, ensuring her prolonged tenancy. He could, and hopefully already had, secured a market for her lace, providing her with an income. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to do more for her. So much more. He wanted to dress her in the finest style, enjoy her laughter and glowing eyes, worship her body, and protect her from the harsh realities of the world.
Eli looked around his fabulous home as he made his way to his rooms. There was activity everywhere as maids and footmen—all of whom bowed or curtsied and then flattened themselves against the wainscoting as he passed—cleaned, polished and brushed every inanimate object to within an inch of its life in preparation for the house party.
A house party that would see him selecting the woman with whom he would pass the rest of his life. Eli expelled a hollow laugh. Did his mother but know it, he had already found her. She was currently living in a hovel in his woods, and there wasn’t any way in the world he could even include her in the festivities.
Was there?
He paused to glance out the nearest window, caught by the sight of a dozen men harvesting the corn in the nearest field, and rubbed his chin in thoughtful contemplation. For the first time since returning home, he felt the urge to smile.
Perhaps there was one more way in which he could assist Athena, and see a little more of her in the bargain. Of course, it would mean she would discover his true identity, but it was only ever going to be a matter of time before that happened anyway.
He entered his rooms and found Salter awaiting him, Athena’s jar of herbs clutched in his hands.
‘I need a bath, Salter.’ He pulled his soiled shirt over his head, and unfastened his breeches.
‘Already organised, your grace.’
‘Good man. How did it go in the village?’
‘Miss Dawson was delighted to be of service to your grace.’
Eli rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘She took all of Mrs Defoe’s merchandise, I understand, and thinks she will have no difficulty selling it. Apparently it’s exquisite.’
She will certainly sell it if she puts out word that I endorse it. Eli refrained from indulging in another eye-roll. Quite apart from the fact the gesture tested his injury, and not in a good way, had he not deliberately thrown his name behind Athena’s merchandise for that precise reason? He had never done anything of that nature before, and it was bound to create interest, and speculation. It would also guarantee Athena’s success. There wasn’t much point in being a duke if he couldn’t use his position to his advantage, occasionally.
Eli eased himself into his steaming bath and sighed with pleasure as the heat seeped into his aching body. He had scrapes down one side where he’d fallen from Byron that he hadn’t noticed before. The water made them sting. If only a certain copper-haired siren was here, with her soft, healing touch, he wouldn’t feel the pain. His cock twitched and then hardened at the prospect. If Salter noticed it poking above the water, he had the good sense to remain silent on the point.
‘May I enquire what this jar contains, your grace?’ Salter asked deferentially. ‘Mr Archer said I was to take the greatest care of it.’
‘And so you must, Salter. It’s a herbal concoction that will heal my head wound. You must apply another poultice this evening before I retire, and then two more each day for the next six days.’
‘Pardon my saying so, your grace, but would it not be better to summon a physician?’
‘The same charlatan who has done so much to aid Lord Shelton’s condition?’ Eli twisted his lips in bitterness when he considered his brother’s continuing decline. ‘No thank you, Salter. We will do this my way.’
‘As your grace wishes.’
Salter held out a towel. Eli rose from his bath and wrapped it around himself.
‘Get me something to eat, Salter. It’s a while before dinner and I’m sharp set.’
Athena had offered to feed him again before he left the cottage. Much as he would have enjoyed the excuse to linger, and to make sure she ate something herself, he couldn’t bring himself to steal more food from their hungry mouths.
No sooner had Eli expressed a need for food in his own establishment than a sumptuous array of cold cuts, bread and pasties was laid out in his sitting room. He ate quickly, barely noticing what he put in his mouth, satisfying at least one of his hungers.
The other would be far harder to gratify.
Fifteen minutes after he finished eating, Eli was dressed in pristine evening clothes. He was unrecognisable as the person who had chopped logs in the grounds of a tumbledown cottage a few hours earlier, apart from the bandage around his head, of course. He glanced at his hands. Blisters were forming where he’d wielded that axe with so much force. He was glad of them. They were a tangible reminder of just how much he had learned about himself that day. If he was master of his own destiny, he wouldn’t hesitate to put that new-found knowledge to good use.
But Eli was not, and never would be, free to please himself.
With a heavy sigh, he straightened his already perfectly tied neckcloth, and headed for the drawing room, where he knew his mother would be lying in wait.
‘Good heavens, whatever happened to you?’
Beatrice, who aspired to title herself Dowager Duchess of Winsdale, Eli’s adored and respected mother, looked up from her embroidery and frowned at her son. She was the most level-headed lady of Eli’s acquaintance. She possessed a quick wit, wasn’t given to fits of the vapours, fortunately, and eyed Eli with a combination of amusement rather than alarm.
‘A slight disagreement between myself and my horse, mother. No lasting damage done. No need to concern yourself.’
‘Fortunately, I’m not in the least concerned about your head.’ His perspicacious mother fixed him with a gimlet gaze. ‘But I am curious to know if your accident is the only reason for your delay?’
‘What other reason could there possibly be?’
‘That is what I would give much to know. When you were a small boy, I always knew you’d been up to no good if you answered a question with one of your own.’ His mother’s lips twitched. ‘That was most of the time, by the by.’
‘I’m cursed with an enquiring mind,’ Eli said, recalling telling a certain green-eyed siren the very same thing just a few hours previously.
‘You haven’t abandoned that habit, and I can see right through you,’ his mother continued. ‘I was on the point of sending out a much bigger search party.’
Eli frowned. ‘I’m very glad you did not. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.’
His mother’s lips twitched. ‘So I see. I also know you’ve been sowing your wild oats, which probably accounts for your tumble from your horse, if that’s what really happened to you. I won’t ask you anything else.’
His little sister, Susan, grinned up at him. ‘You look like a pirate with that bandage wrapped around your head.’
‘You will frighten off all your would-be wives,’ added Charlotte, his older sister, now Lady Baintree.
‘I very much doubt it,’ Eli replied, swishing the tails of his coat aside and seating himself beside his mother. ‘How is Harry?’
‘Not so good.’ His mother shook her head, looking anxious and distressed. ‘I shall have to send for the physician. There’s no help for that. I dare say he will bleed your brother again, but what good that’s likely to do for an infection of the lung, I haven’t the slightest notion.
Still, he’s the expert, so I suppose we must bow to his superior knowledge.’
Eli also frowned. ‘I’ll go and see how he is before dinner, if he doesn’t come down.’
‘I doubt if he will,’ Charlotte said. ‘All this upheaval, getting ready for the party, exhausts him, even though he isn’t required to do anything. He likes peace and quiet.’
‘Go and see him by all means, Eli,’ his mother said. ‘Your society always cheers him.’
‘You can tell him what you’ve really been up to,’ Susan added with a mischievous smile. ‘I’m sure that will make him laugh.’
‘What makes you suppose I’ve been up to anything, minx?’
‘You never fall off a horse, Eli,’ Susan replied. ‘Not unless you’re intoxicated, or…well, I don’t know, distracted in some way.’
Distracted? Eli’s lips twitched. Yes, he’d certainly been that.
‘Just three days to go, Eli.’ Eli turned his attention to his mother, grateful for the interruption to his wayward thoughts. ‘Are you ready to look at the names of the ladies I’ve invited for your inspection?’
‘Heavens, no!’ Eli scowled. ‘The less I know about them, the better.’
‘You’re such a romantic,’ Susan scolded.
‘Having young ladies paraded before one like a string of race horses in training hardly inspires romantic notions.’
‘You might be surprised,’ Charlotte said, knowingly. ‘My friend Lady Cynthia is quite convinced she understands your character and will make a perfect duchess. Furthermore, she’s determined to make you fall in love with her.’
‘So is every lady on Mama’s list,’ Susan added, grinning. ‘Poor Eli.’
‘I don’t expect you to make up your mind immediately, Eli,’ his mother said. ‘Take the entire week to get to know the ladies in question better, see how they behave in company. Not that I would expect them to let you down in that respect. They’ve all been trained from the cradle.’
Eli tried very hard to appear interested, knowing how much trouble his mother had gone to on his behalf and well aware it was his duty to go through with this damned cattle market and secure the future of the Shelton dynasty. ‘I dare say.’
‘I thought we might have a grand ball on the penultimate evening. A masquerade,’ his mother said. ‘People tend to act true to their real characters when their features are hidden behind masks.’
‘Oh, Mama!’ Susan jumped up and clapped her hands. ‘What a lovely idea. What do you think, Eli?’
Eli laughed at Susan’s enthusiasm. ‘You’re just hoping for an opportunity to trap my friend Johnson with your feminine wiles.’
Susan laughed and blushed simultaneously. ‘Why, Eli, the thought never crossed my mind.’
Eli groaned. ‘Of course it didn’t!’
He leaned forward and twitched Susan’s nose. He was inordinately fond of his little sister and exceedingly protective of her interests, too. Susan, at least, could follow her heart’s desire, and Eli knew her interest had been fixed on Lord Johnson for more than a season now. Hopefully, his friend was similarly minded, and this party would see the two of them engaged by the end of it. Johnson had certainly mentioned something during their carousing, drink having made him a little less reticent than normal. Eli couldn’t remember what he’d said in reply—it was all a little hazy—but he hoped he’d given him suitable encouragement. Nothing would give Eli greater pleasure than to see Susan happily settled. Well, one thing would, but that was forbidden to him.
‘Have a masquerade by all means,’ Eli said to his mother casually. ‘But personally, I shall be more interested to see how my would-be duchesses behave towards the tenants at the harvest dance.’
‘Would you now?’
The duchess sent Eli another of her probing glances. Since this was the first sign of interest he had shown in the proceedings, Eli couldn’t entirely blame her. It was a Shelton tradition that a party was held to celebrate the harvest, the gentry rubbing shoulders with the tenants on the sculpted lawns of Winsdale Park. It wasn’t uncommon to see an earl or marquess treading a measure with a milkmaid or farmer’s daughter. It just so happened that this year’s event fell three days into his mother’s house party. The way his mother’s protégés conducted themselves with the tenant farmers and villagers would tell him a lot about their characters and, perhaps, help him to make a choice. More importantly, it would give him an opportunity to help Athena and see something of her.
‘I assume you plan to use the large barn in the west paddock as the hub of activities, as usual?’ he said casually.
‘Yes, what of it?’ His mother looked at him askance. ‘Are you sure that bash on the head hasn’t addled your wits, Eli? You’ve never shown any interest in the arrangements in the past.’
‘Perhaps we should decorate the inside of the barn,’ he said casually.
‘I beg your pardon!’ Three female voices spoke in unison.
‘It always rains,’ Eli replied, ‘and that barn is a deadly dull place, especially when full of damp bodies.’ He sent his mother a droll glance. ‘Whatever will my would-be brides think?’
‘I’m very glad you’re so conscious of their feelings, my dear.’
‘Knowing you are championing their respective causes, Mother, I wouldn’t dare to neglect their feelings.’
‘Harrumph!’
‘Well, I think it’s a splendid idea,’ Susan said stoutly, and Eli could have hugged her for her timely intervention. ‘We could decorate the place with corn dollies, and…well, harvest-type things from the fields and woods. I’m not sure what, precisely, but I expect inspiration will strike. It would look lovely. Can I take charge of that, Mama?’
‘If you wish, darling,’ the duchess replied, still sending Eli thoughtful glances. ‘I’m not sure I can spare many servants to help you, though. We’re stretched rather thin.’
Eli tried not to laugh. Winsdale Park was inundated with helping hands. His wily mother was obviously trying to find gainful employment for Susan, who would probably enjoy making the decorations. Except Eli recalled seeing an exceptionally fine decoration on a drab window sill in a tumbledown cottage, and had no intention of allowing her to tackle the project alone.
‘Excuse me, Mother,’ he said standing, having achieved his objective. ‘I shall go and visit Harry before dinner.’
Eli made a detour to the estate office. Bairstowe looked anxious when Eli walked in, making him rather ashamed of the way he’d behaved earlier. Bairstowe had been bamboozled by a siren determined to have her way at all costs. He doubted very much if any man could resist Athena for long when she had her mind set on a particular course. Eli counted himself amongst their number. She intrigued him on many levels, and he was more determined than ever to discover what, or whom, she was hiding away from. Besides, had Bairstowe stood firm and obeyed Eli’s orders then Eli and Athena would never have met. Worse, Eli might actually have bled to death on a bed of dried leaves in Whispers’ Hollow.
‘Bairstowe,’ he said in a cordial tone that saw his estate manager immediately relax. ‘When you send your team to Whispers’ Hollow tomorrow, there’s something I need you to do for me.’
‘How can I be of service to your grace?’
Eli told him. He then went off to visit Harry, vowing to have a quiet word with Susan about his plans when the opportunity arose.
Chapter Six
The thing Athena loved the most about Whispers’ Hollow was the ethereal stillness in the woods at daybreak. The tranquillity, the oneness she felt with nature as the first fingers of daylight filtered through the leaves was worth the sacrifice of leaving her warm bed an hour before it was strictly necessary to do so. Peace and quiet, the opportunity to assemble her thoughts, was a luxury unavailable to her during her busy days.
Besides, the mushrooms would be gone if she left it any later.
Athena smiled at the typically practical turn her mind had taken. So much had happened since she had last come to Whispers’ Hollow jus
t the previous day. Was it really only one day? It seemed more like a year. And yet, she had found a market for their products and had a fat purse to prove it, had saved a man’s life and had at least a week’s worth of firewood chopped.
She pulled her shawl closer about her. The wind was picking up and she smelt rain in the air. Autumn was almost upon them. Her boots crunched over the leaves that had already fallen. She would have to look for somewhere else to live very soon, but at least she could afford something a little better. It was a shame they couldn’t remain where they were. She really liked Whispers’ Hollow. She felt safer in remote locations, where people were less likely to drop by unexpectedly and ask awkward questions about her past. She and Millie knew precisely how to respond to such inquisitions, but the twins were still so young, and their mouths sometimes ran away with them.
She bent to pick up a stick and threw it for Boris. The stupid mutt’s woof disturbed slumbering birds. They took off from their leafy perches with a loud clatter of wings as Boris loped off in pursuit of the stick, ears flapping back against his head. She laughed at his antics when, stick discarded, he stopped to sniff the air, woofed again, and ran off in a different direction.
‘Rabbits,’ she said aloud, knowing Boris would never catch one.
Athena crouched to pick mushrooms, her thoughts returning to the previous day. She had discovered Mr Franklin in this very spot, slowly bleeding to death. All signs of his presence had been eradicated, and she might almost have imagined it all. He really was the most fascinating man she had ever encountered—and mysterious, too. She was in a better position than most to know when a person was cutting a sham, which is why she hadn’t asked any awkward questions of him. His activities were none of her business, just as her affairs had nothing to do with him. Even so, she couldn’t help being curious. That horse, its quality saddle and bridle, Mr Franklin’s fine boots—all those things suggested he was a gentleman—and yet the rest of his clothing, his lack of a coat or attendants, told a very different story. She shook her head, wishing she had asked where he was going. She would have liked an excuse to see him again, but only to check on the progress of his injury, of course.
To Defy a Duke: Dangerous Dukes Vol 1 Page 6