To Dodge a Duke (Entangled Nobility Book 2)

by Naomi Boom

  She left him at the bottom of the staircase and returned to her room as her stomach rumbled. She had forgotten lunch but would make herself wait until supper to find sustenance. She would lie down for a nap before she had to return downstairs.

  ****

  Logan’s troubled thoughts pestered him as he sat at his desk, attending to estate matters. While Ellie had warmed to him, she had returned to her former frigid nature in an instant. He never expected to find a lady he enjoyed spending time with, and now that he had, he could not bear the thought of losing her. Yes, Ellie had some prickly qualities, but she had many endearing ones as well. Beautiful women were easy to come by, but finding one with a personality to complement one’s own was difficult. Impossible even.

  Just as he finished with the last document, a soft knock sounded from the doorway. His butler led a gentleman in and bowed before departing. Logan’s eyes widened in shock as his wastrel of a cousin, Lord Charles Thornwick, stood haphazardly before him. Whatever had motivated his cousin to seek him out today of all days deserved to be riddled with bullet holes.

  Logan straightened in his chair, not bothering to rise, and asked, “What is it this time?”

  Charles grinned and sauntered over to a nearby chair. “Who said I wanted anything? Can’t I just stop by for a visit now that you have finally returned from the continent?”

  Logan raised an imperious eyebrow at his cousin. As one of his only family members, Logan tried to stay on good terms with the man. Unfortunately, his cousin was barely tolerated at social functions anymore and was only accepted due to his title, fortune, and looks. Logan himself had never understood the appeal. While they were similar in appearance, his cousin was much too gregarious and shirked his duties, which might be why women fawned over him.

  Today, as was the usual case when it came to Charles, was a day Logan did not care to spend engaging in chatter with the man. “Yes?”

  Charles rolled his eyes and crossed his polished, booted feet. “I just needed to get away from town, so I thought of you.”

  Logan frowned. Charles must be avoiding something. Otherwise, he would never have departed London. “Well? Why?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Edwin.”

  This gave Logan pause. Edwin was not a troublemaker. “So? What has he done? I cannot imagine he has done any worse than you yourself have.”

  Charles scowled and shook his head. “Of course not. It’s the exact opposite, actually. I had hoped we might mend fences since he is without Dear Daddy, but he will not give me the time of day, and worse yet, he has put it about town that I am a complete drunkard.”

  That was the precise rumor Logan himself had heard. “Well, aren’t you?”

  “Of course not!” He rose and crossed to a decanter. Pouring himself a drink, he turned and grinned. “While I do enjoy drink, I rarely drink to excess.”

  Well, that was news. Logan had never suspected the rumors about his cousin might be false. Granted, he would not put it past Charles to encourage the rumors to irritate his father. His eyes narrowed on his cousin’s face and he scowled. Unless Charles was lying about his habits. Drunkards tended to do that.

  “Normally, I would appreciate your visit, but now is not the time.”

  “Oh?” Charles took a sip of his scotch and raised an inquisitive brow.

  “Yes.” He rose, strode to the door, and opened it. “Now then, I trust you can see yourself out.”

  Undeterred by Logan’s inhospitable mood, Charles shook his head. “No. Unless you can repair an axle on my carriage, I am afraid I will have to stay the night. And where are the servants anyway? I could not find a groom to save my life.”

  Logan groaned, once again closing the library door. “I have some news and some unusual requirements for you if you insist on staying.” He returned to his seat and began to grudgingly fill in his cousin on the circumstances at Waking Hall. Logan did not appreciate the gleam of sheer joy that entered his cousin’s dark gray eyes but felt confident the man would play along nonetheless.

  Charles smiled. “I am elated I chose to visit this week. How exciting. I will just take my things to my room and pretend all is normal.”

  Logan leaned back and shook his head. “That is not possible. I am residing in those chambers. You may use your brother’s room.” He wanted Charles as far from Ellie as possible.

  “Fine,” Charles muttered. “I look forward to meeting this Miss Ashford. Although you might want to watch out. Women fall in love with me all the time.”

  Logan ignored him and returned to his work, which signaled the end of the meeting. His cousin jested, but Ellie could very well decide Charles’s title was worth sacrificing herself for. Logan shuddered at the thought. No respectable woman deserved his cousin.

  ****

  Eleanor and Mrs. Westfield descended the stairs for dinner having agreed both ladies were famished. Their arrival at the landing was met by the scent of baked bread and roasted meat. Eleanor’s stomach growled in response, and she bade it quiet down.

  They turned toward the dining room when Eleanor spied an unknown gentleman, dressed in rich clothing and pleasant to look at. He was tall and thin with dark features and appeared to be on his way to supper as well. His coloring and build was similar to Logan’s, and her stomach plummeted with the realization that he must be the duke. Somehow, she had convinced herself that she would never see the duke, but here he was, and yet she wished he wasn’t.

  The gentleman stopped when he spotted the ladies. Bowing, he kissed first Mrs. Westfield’s hand and then Eleanor’s. Despite his good looks, the brush of his lips on the back of her hand felt lifeless and cold, quite the opposite of Logan’s warm touch.

  His lips lingered on her hand as he raised his gray eyes to hers in a sensuous manner. “You must be Miss Ashford. The reports of your beauty have not done you justice.”

  The man must think himself charming, yet she felt nothing. She smiled anyway and curtsied. “And you must be the Duke of Waking.”

  His eyes froze on hers before he straightened and flicked a small speck from his otherwise impeccable jacket sleeve. “Of course. Who else could I possibly be?”

  She took in his appearance once more and inwardly shuddered while outwardly she smiled in welcome. He was handsome, and she would have been thrilled to meet him, but now Logan occupied her mind. “I trust you have recovered from your illness, Your Grace.”

  “Yes, my illness has gone on for nearly a fortnight. It was most troublesome.”

  A fortnight? As Eleanor tried to assimilate that piece of information, a red flag arose. His Grace should have never invited her here if he was sick, and she had been under the impression his illness had arose suddenly. Unless Logan had known and used the duke to lure her here.

  “Well,” Mrs. Westfield said, “I do believe dinner will be served shortly. No need to stand about dillydallying.”

  The duke agreed and offered his arm to Eleanor. She accepted and was led into the dining room as Mrs. Westfield trailed behind. As they entered the room, Eleanor’s eyes met Logan’s, and she was overtaken by the overwhelming attraction between them. She should be used to the feeling by now, but it still left her reeling. Having been led to a chair, she sank into it so she could focus on the napkin in front of her rather than those mesmerizing green eyes.

  “Charles,” Logan greeted without even the slightest smile.

  Eleanor turned to the duke. “I had not realized your given name is Charles, Your Grace.”

  Lady Gammon suddenly had a coughing spell, and Lord Gammon’s guffaw filled the room. Eleanor glanced from person to person but could not ascertain the cause of everyone’s reaction. It must be an inside joke she was not privy to.

  His Grace pulled out a chair at the head of the table, situated next to Eleanor, and sat down. He smiled at everyone and then said, “It is nice to be able to eat at a dinner table again. A fortnight is much too long to be ill.”

  Silence filled the dining room until Logan asked, �
��Has it been that long? No wonder you were quarantined.” He turned to Mrs. Westfield. “How are you feeling today? I trust your head is better?”

  “Oh yes, all I needed was a good night’s rest.” Her face darkened as she added, “Although I believe it might have been quicker if there were more servants to fetch things when required.”

  The group agreed as everyone shared their own frightful experiences with such a small staff. Instead of joining in, Eleanor chose to focus on her food. She was starving, after all.

  “Slow down,” His Grace whispered in her ear. “There’s plenty more food.”

  Eleanor blushed with embarrassment for eating in such an unladylike manner, in front of a duke, no less. She placed her fork on the plate and took a sip of her rather dry red wine. “One never knows with so few staff. Where are they, anyway?”

  “I would imagine they are in their homes.”

  What an unusual answer. She rephrased it. “Why are there only a handful of servants working at the manor?”

  He refilled her wine glass, eyeing her with a cold look of disinterest. “I only recently returned from the continent.”

  “Ah.” That much made sense. He must have let go most of his servants when he departed years before, but surely it did not take this long to fill the vacancies?

  He waved his hand and said, “You are a ravishing creature, you know. I am surprised Logan has not snatched you up already.”

  The blood drained from her face so she took a drink of her wine. “Who says he hasn’t tried?”

  A curious light entered his eyes and he grinned. “So are you saying you don’t want Logan?”

  She turned her gaze to Logan and froze as the truth sank in. She did want Logan, and only Logan. Not this duke next to her that was once her ideal match. Yes, the duke had his title, money, and influence, but Logan held the greatest sway over her. He held her heart.

  She toyed with her food as she tried to wrap her head around the sudden realization that, indeed, she loved Logan. Despite her rational side telling her love was impossible. She knew unequivocally she was in love.

  The duke broke through her epiphany as he grinned in a lopsided manner and said, “You could marry me and be done with Logan, you know.”

  Eleanor laughed at his absurd suggestion. “I think I will take my chances with Logan.”

  “Interesting,” he whispered before he returned his attention to his dinner plate.

  Had she really just denied a duke? A week ago, she would have said yes without hesitation, not tell him she preferred his friend. No, the duke could not compare to Logan. No one could.

  With the conclusion of dinner, Eleanor stood and professed to have a headache. Her bedroom was her safe zone, assuming Logan did not appear once more. A place where she needn’t worry about doing anything foolish such as agreeing to marry Logan. Besides, she had a painting to finish.

  ****

  The library was lit by a single taper which shed enough light to cast a faint glow in one corner of the room and leave the rest in unrepentant darkness. Logan sat in the lit corner, nursing his scotch and contemplating the shadows around him. Everyone had retired for the evening, but he was unable to sleep.

  Who could sleep after such an aggravating supper? It wouldn’t have been so bad, except Ellie had conversed at length with his cousin, and he had been forced to sit by and watch. There had been several times where he wanted to throw caution to the wind and tell her who the actual duke was, but he held himself back with the knowledge that she would love him. Hopefully.

  “You cannot sleep either?” Charles’s low voice rumbled from the doorway, and Logan turned to glare at him.

  “No thanks to you.”

  Charles’s steps were quiet as he found his way to the chair next to Logan. He crossed his right ankle over his left knee and turned his serious eyes on Logan. “I am doing you a favor, you know.”

  “Oh?” Charles would not fool Logan. He did this for his own entertainment, nothing more.

  “What good is it if she agrees to marry you and regrets it later? Now, she can choose you over the biggest prize in the land—me.” He smirked, stood, and helped himself to some of Logan’s scotch.

  There was a certain allure to what Charles said. If she did not chase after the supposed duke and continued to look favorably on Logan, then that meant she did want Logan. No one else. His pride would enjoy that, assuming she did not turn around and chase Charles. He shook his head. Of course she wouldn’t. He knew his Ellie, and he knew she was not half as mercenary as she led everyone to believe.

  “I suppose you desire my thanks for claiming to be me?” Logan asked, hoping to convey his irritation in his tone as he sipped his drink.

  Charles chuckled and shook his head. “Let us not get carried away. I intend to irritate you as much as possible, so no thanks is necessary.”

  “Good, because I did not plan to thank you. How did you convince the ladies to believe you were I, anyway?”

  “Well, it was all very simple,” he said as he sat down. “Miss Ashford assumed I was he, er, you.” He grinned into his glass. “I could not allow such an opportunity to pass by, so I agreed.”

  Logan could not fault Ellie for making such an erroneous assumption. Of course, now he had to deal with Charles for the duration of her visit. “Just promise me you will not compromise her or offend her in any way.” That was the most he could hope for.

  “I don’t think I will be afforded the opportunity.”

  “Why is that?” Logan asked, leaning forward as a mixture of curiosity and apprehension descended.

  “I think she is very much in love with you, but if I do ruin her, it will be for your own good.”

  Logan scowled as Charles’s guffaw filled the room. He had begun to question his opinion of Charles’s character, and then the man said that. “Very well. If she affords you the chance to ruin her, I am sure she will not mind the outcome. Marriage to a future marquess is almost as good as to a duke.”

  Charles paled, and this time Logan laughed. Charles arched an eyebrow and said, “Oh come now, we both know I would never be so foolish as to marry.”

  “Might I suggest you do not ruin Miss Ashford then?” Knowing Charles, it was only a matter of time before he compromised a lady and ended up leg-shackled. Yes, he gave it a year.

  Chapter 9

  Departing her room after a fitful night, Eleanor was not in the mood to deal with people. She held a letter for her cousin in one hand and her riding crop in the other. As much as she detested horses, they had their uses.

  She entered the stables and waited for the groom to saddle her mare. Even the stables appeared devoid of servants, with only the one groom in sight. As she waited, she toyed with her riding crop but stopped when she saw the duke. He looked handsome, dressed in fashionable riding attire, and Eleanor hoped he would not wish to accompany her.

  “Your Grace.” She forced a smile to her face. “It appears there is but one groom.”

  “Of course there is.” He chuckled as his gaze roamed over her body. Eleanor felt a chill sweep over her. Just why did he have to be the one to join her in the stables? “I suppose I will have to act as my own groom if I wish to ride with you. No point forcing you to wait.”

  She could not tell a duke she did not long for his illustrious companionship, so she agreed and waited for the groom to finish saddling her docile-looking mare. For a stable this size, it lacked in horses, but that was likely due to the duke’s extended absence on the continent. His Grace emerged from a stall with his own stallion in tow, just after her groom finished with her mare.

  They entered the courtyard, and the duke accepted the reins from the groom. He thanked the servant and waved him away. Now, Eleanor would have to ride with him. She had no other choice.

  The sound of horse hooves broke through the quiet morning air. She looked up, and relief washed over her when she saw Logan returning from his morning ride.

  “Good morning, my lady,” Logan greeted Eleanor w
ith a warm smile before coldly asking the duke, “Shouldn’t you be resting, Your Grace? You cannot ride after such an extended illness.”

  The duke inclined his head and grinned. “I am sure my constitution has been restored enough to allow me a ride.”

  The tension was palpable between the two men, although Eleanor could not quite ascertain the cause of the tension in the first place. The best thing she could do was just separate the two. Logan was her first choice, but the duke was much closer to hand, so she turned to him and asked, “Your Grace, would you be so kind as to assist me in mounting my mare?”

  He stepped to her side, helped her on to her steed, and then spoke in a loud enough volume for Logan to hear. “I would be more than happy to assist you in mounting anything you desire.”

  Eleanor had almost reprimanded him for his impertinence when she was silenced by the duke as he said, “I am a very virile male who can easily give you an enjoyable ride. That is, if you would agree to accompany me.”

  Her mouth fell open at his words. Innuendo was common enough in the ton, but his words had skipped past innuendo and straight to vulgar.

  “I think not,” Logan said, his horse prancing beneath him.

  His Grace gave him a wicked smile as he said, “You should remember your place, Sir Logan.”

  Eleanor surprised herself by rushing to Logan’s defense. “I have no wish to ride with a cad such as yourself, Your Grace.” Her stomach plummeted as she insulted a duke. It was unheard of, but she continued to insult him anyway. “It is clear that rank does not signify class. Thank you for your aid. Have a good ride.”

  ****

  Logan sent his cousin a triumphant glance as he turned his mount to catch up with Ellie, who had already departed the courtyard. The very idea that his cousin would presume to act as duke was aggravating, although it was proving useful in determining Ellie’s feelings for Logan. He had almost leapt from his horse to kiss her when she dismissed the supposed duke.