To Dodge a Duke (Entangled Nobility Book 2)

by Naomi Boom

  She sighed and settled into her chair. Nothing held her attention, except her art. There, at least, she could rest her weary mind and just be. In answer to her ceaseless worry, Eleanor had created a bit of an art studio in one corner of her bedroom. She spent most of her time there, much to her mother’s annoyance, and even now occupied the space. She had one canvas propped against the wall beside her in case she needed to cover the canvas she now worked on. No one could see her current art, no one but Logan.

  She had smuggled her drawing of her soiled bed to London with her, and it had transformed into something she could be proud of. What once was a literal drawing of the bed was now a veritable sea of gray-blue satin and in its center, a nymph with blonde hair. She faced away from the viewer, allowing the smallest portion of her bare back to peek from the covers. Eleanor had poured her heart into the painting for Logan. For truly, every shadow and every line was made for him.

  She stared at the canvas, lost in thought, until the door swung open. Her mother entered, bringing with her the cloying scent of lavender and an air of coldness. Eleanor tried her best to act unaffected by the intrusion, even as she shuddered. How terrible her mother’s reaction would be to see Eleanor’s artwork.

  Lady Ashford strolled in with her usual reserved dignity and went to Eleanor’s vanity. She picked up Eleanor’s silver looking glass and eyed it for several moments before she turned to regard her daughter. “We have been invited to a ball tomorrow.”

  Her brows rose in astonishment. They had not been invited anywhere. She had begun to think they were ostracized from all of society.

  Her mother’s sharp eyes narrowed on her. “Wipe that expression from your face this instance. Do you wish to get wrinkles?” Eleanor did as told and waited for her mother to continue.

  “It is vital you are positively flawless tomorrow night, and if the duke is in attendance, you will dance with him.”

  Eleanor continued to stare at her mother, keeping her features flat. There was a time when she idolized the woman, back when she had been too young to know better. As she grew, so did her knowledge that her mother was not worthy of such a high pedestal. And now, she knew she would not turn into her mother, no matter what.

  Her chance to break away from her mother’s influence was at hand, her chance to turn into the exact opposite of the woman before her. Love was key to such a move, and it was imperative she convince her mother of Logan’s suit, no matter how difficult.

  She leveled her gaze at her mother and smiled as she spoke in a dispassionate voice. “Did you know Sir Logan is best friends with both the Duke of Waking and Lord Gammon? He is also nephew to a marquess.”

  “And?”

  “And those are better connections than many members of the ton can boast. Most barons would be lucky to claim even one.”

  Without missing a beat, her mother sighed. “Yes, but a baron has a vote in parliament. The most we could hope from Sir Logan is to convince his friends or uncle to use their vote. It is not the same.”

  Eleanor set her paintbrush aside and rubbed at her temple. The clashing scents of lavender and paint fumes created an unsettling mixture. “You base my happiness on one vote here, one that cannot even be counted on. Who knows if this duke will cast his vote in favor of Father’s issues?”

  “It will be your job to change his mind, my dear.”

  Of course it would, even though the duke she met did not seem the swayable sort. “Shouldn’t my feelings matter?”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Her mother scoffed as she stepped to the striped pink and white bed. She took a seat and paused to consider Eleanor. Raising a delicate brow, she said, “You speak as though you imagine yourself in love with this Sir Logan.”

  Eleanor’s heart sank. If admitting her feelings would help her situation, she would, but her mother would not be swayed by such emotions. Even now her mother’s eyes had hardened beyond their icy indifference. Imagine if Eleanor confirmed the accusation?

  Lady Ashford shifted and the bed creaked, drawing Eleanor’s attention back as she said, “You do believe yourself in love, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl. You and I are not the sort to love. You might believe yourself to be in love now, but it will fade. What won’t fade is a title and money.”

  Eleanor shook her head. She was not the same as her mother, and her love for Logan proved it. Of course, if he did not come for her, she might have to resort to the same actions her mother would take. Her waning spirits sank lower at the thought, and she shut her eyes to the horrid thought. She could not allow such a fate to happen. Not anymore. Not after she had tasted the sweetness of a future with Logan.

  Reopening her eyes, she squared her shoulders and cocked her head to the side. “You would rather I choose a man that told me one woman was as good as another? He has no interest in me aside from my beauty, Mother.”

  “Of course you are replaceable. Why do you think young ladies are provided dowries? Even with your looks, if you did not have a dowry, you would have a difficult time making a good match. All because women are replaceable.”

  Eleanor froze as each biting word hit her. She could not believe what was said. No, Logan loved her and would not replace her so easily. After all, he had reassured her he did not care for her dowry. He wanted her no matter what. She bit her lip and shook her head as she looked her mother in the eye. “Sir Logan does not believe I am replaceable.”

  “He has to say something to convince you to choose him.” Lady Ashford smiled, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Once you have provided him an heir, he will forget about you, just as your father forgot about me.”

  “What?” she asked, bewildered by the change in topic.

  “Yes. Did I forget to mention that?” She tsked. “You are old enough to understand how a modern marriage functions. Whoever you marry will take a mistress, just as your father did one month into our marriage.”

  One month. The words sank in, and Eleanor shuddered. How could her father behave with such callous disregard for her mother’s feelings? Logan would not consider taking a mistress, would he? Something in her told her he would not, and she smiled at her mother. “He will not, and I will marry him, Mother.”

  Her mother rose from the bed and crossed to the door, resting her slim hand on the knob while looking over her shoulder at Eleanor. “Really, Eleanor, you will not marry him.” Her gaze turned scornful, and she spoke as she opened the door. “Laura would never have disappointed me so.” Then she left the room, shutting the door with a firm click.

  Eleanor scowled just to spite her mother, and then stopped herself. There was no point in behaving childishly. She stood from her stool and opened the window to her room. She needed air to clear her head.

  Returning to her easel, she picked up the larger canvas from the wall and fitted it over the smaller painting. The larger canvas managed to leave enough space so the paint did not smudge. It was not the best conditions for drying wet paint, but it was better than someone seeing her work.

  She stretched before ringing for her lady’s maid. Once readied, she stepped from the house with Olivia as her companion. She would need a few things in order to attend a ball the following night. A ball could either prove exhausting, or maybe she would happen upon Logan. It could be he had no way of contacting her and haunted ballrooms in hopes of finding her. Her spirits rose at the thought.

  Bond Street was packed with what appeared to be every member of the ton in attendance. Of course, no one approached her as she walked down the long row of shops. Everyone chose to believe the rumors that swirled around, but hopefully the dress she wore would dispel the juiciest untruth of her supposed pregnancy. Her day dress emphasized her slim waistline with a row of heavy buttons down the front. Any of the other rumors were much more difficult to disprove but were also not as ruinous.

  As she walked through the crowd, she could feel the cold stares of past acquaintances on her. Funny how in the past, those same stares would have been eager smiles yearning for her approval
. Her eyes roved the shops as she strolled past.

  She entered a ribbon shop and perused the wares with disinterest, until her gaze alighted on a dark green silk ribbon. With a bittersweet sigh, she pulled it to her. The color was the exact shade of Logan’s eyes, and she would keep it close to her henceforth until she could replace it with him.

  She completed her purchase and went to the next shop and then the next, searching for nothing, yet unwilling to leave. With each shop, she grew more and more weary. What was the point of shopping when nothing held her interest? She turned with a disheartened sigh and began to exit the sweet shop, when she caught sight of Miss Farris.

  Her pulse raced with the realization that now was the perfect time to make amends. She strolled to Miss Farris’s side and surveyed the beauty. Her dark brown hair and bold blue eyes remained unchanged, but Miss Farris had gained at least ten pounds since Eleanor last saw her. Truthfully though, the extra weight made her look even lovelier.

  Before Eleanor could greet Miss Farris, one of the debutantes, a Miss Fernly who had once tried to curry Eleanor’s favor, spoke in a too-loud voice as her friend grinned wickedly beside her. “Why, if it isn’t Miss Farris. Whatever are you doing in a sweet shop? This should be the last place you frequent.”

  Eleanor rolled her eyes as Miss Fernly’s friend giggled. Why did women have to be so catty? The color drained from Miss Farris’s face, and Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. While she could not do anything about Logan, she could do something about this harridan.

  She coughed to gain their attention. “Her figure hardly needs improvement.” Her eyes roved over the slender, flat-chested girl that had spoken. “You are obviously unaware that gentlemen prefer curves on women.”

  Miss Fernly turned to Eleanor with a glare, although the only thing Eleanor noticed was Miss Farris’s look of gratitude. Pride at her timely intervention coursed through her before the rude girl said, “Miss Ashford, what a pleasure.” She smirked as she turned her venom on Eleanor. “I thought you would stay hidden away in the country until the delivery.”

  Eleanor gasped. While certain rumors followed her, no one dared say such damaging things to her face. Hiding her shock with a soft smile, she raised a condescending eyebrow at the chit. “You poor dear. You try so hard but are never quite up to snuff, are you?” Reaching over, she patted Miss Fernly’s hand in commiseration before turning to Miss Farris and giving Miss Fernly the cut. “Miss Farris, would you care to stroll with me?”

  Miss Farris agreed, although Eleanor could tell it was a tentative acceptance, and Eleanor led her from the shop. “I had hoped to run into you. Thank you for accompanying me.”

  Miss Farris nodded. “It would not have been beneficial to say no after you helped me, although I think that confrontation was more troublesome for you than for me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She inclined her head and smiled. “I was a bit surprised by her candor.” Eleanor paused to take in a window display of various stockings and said, “Now I know this is a bit of a surprise, but I hoped to ask a favor of you.”

  “I doubt I will agree to your favor,” Miss Farris said with an upraised eyebrow.

  “Oh, just hear me out.” Eleanor rushed on. “I behaved poorly when we first met. I thought I wanted something that you were trying to steal from me. As a result, I lashed out in an exceptionally cruel way.” A feeling of deep regret accompanied her words. If she were in Miss Farris’s shoes, she wouldn’t forgive herself in one hundred years. “The favor I ask is that you forgive me.”

  Miss Farris stopped walking and turned to face Eleanor as her eyes turned a tumultuous blue. “You almost ruined my come-out ball.” A scowl crept over her face and she said, “People still whisper about me, wondering if you spoke of me rather than Laura.” She looked down at the wooded walkway. “Now to top it all off, I keep gaining weight.”

  “Truly. I am sorry for all of that. One’s come-out ball is difficult enough without a scandal. I am sorry.”

  “Yes, well, it could have been better.” She inspected her gloved hand and shook her head.

  Eleanor scowled. When she had first orchestrated her attack on Miss Farris, it had all seemed so normal. Now, however, she could not understand what she had been thinking. No, she could. It was precisely the sort of thing her mother would have approved of. Any means was acceptable to gain a titled gentleman, and she had stooped to using any means. It was sickening.

  She took Miss Farris’s hand in hers and smiled when Miss Farris returned her gaze. “Don’t be angry with me because of your weight gain. If anything, you should thank me.”

  Miss Farris appeared confused as she asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  “I spoke the truth in that shop. Men love curves on women. You had none before, and now it appears your weight has settled into your bosom and hips. Both of which are places men like more rounded.”

  Miss Farris turned a hesitant gaze on Eleanor. “I have noticed a few looks from men, but assumed they were noting my expanding figure in a negative way.”

  They began to walk once more while Miss Farris remained deep in thought. They stopped in front of a shop near Eleanor’s coach, and Eleanor asked, “So, is all forgiven?”

  “I suppose so. I have always been terrible at holding a grudge.”

  “Thank you.” A weight lifted from Eleanor’s shoulders. Now, she could make amends with Laura.

  With parting words, Eleanor left to return home, thankful for Miss Farris’s forgiveness. She would attend the ball the following evening, and then visit Laura in hopes of a happy reunion, and if Logan appeared before then, well, she could readjust her plans.

  ****

  The following night, Eleanor was once again dressed in all her finery in preparation for a ball. Her hair was done in an elaborate style piled high on her head, and she had donned a stylish gown of light blue that almost seemed to shimmer when she walked. She looked her best, but how else should she dress when she hoped Logan would sweep her away?

  Right before her gown could be laced, she stopped Olivia and went to her jewelry box. There, she found her green ribbon, kissed it, and placed it within her camisole. He had to be there tonight. He just had to be.

  The ride to the ball was filled with silence except for her mother’s clipped words, which advised Eleanor to behave. She did not deign to respond and instead turned her attention to the cobblestones as they flew by. Still, her mother chatted on about Eleanor’s need for propriety.

  Engaging her mother in conversation right now would be futile, so Eleanor closed her eyes and breathed. The carriage rocked to a stop, and her mother ceased speaking. As they entered the decadent ballroom, Eleanor could feel all eyes drift to her. She squared her shoulders and held her head up high. Instead of cowering in a corner, she would spend her time drinking champagne and searching the crowd for Logan.

  Her heart stopped when her eyes landed on a tall gentleman with the same colored hair as Logan. He was here. He really had been searching for her. She smiled. What a fool she had been to think he would not come for her. He turned his head, and the smile on her face faded. It was not him.

  No matter how many times she scanned the crowd, she failed to spot him. Finally, she reached the conclusion that he was not there. The realization was too much to bear. She drank the rest of her champagne and searched the crowd for any welcoming face. She must do something to occupy herself. Otherwise she might just crumble into a mess of tears.

  She spotted Miss Farris as the girl danced beneath the glittering candlelight of the ballroom. Miss Farris probably did not wish to speak to Eleanor, although she would benefit from some advice from Eleanor in terms of fashion. The girl was not dressed to her best advantage.

  She turned to find the retiring room when a pleasant-looking young gentleman approached. She shuddered at the realization that her mother would still be able to find her a match, as long as there were fortune hunters in need of a dowry. “Lord Percival,” she greeted as he grasped her hand in his.<
br />
  “My lady.” He bowed and placed a delicate kiss on the back of her gloved hand. “I am overjoyed by your return to society.”

  “Indeed.” She did not desire to spend time with Lord Percival. In fact, she would rather spend the evening without a dance partner and alone than to engage in any dance with him. She scanned the crowd as she tried to formulate an excuse to end her conversation with him when her eyes alighted on the rude girl from Bond Street, Miss Fernly.

  Eleanor whipped her fan out and smiled at him as she fanned her face. “I just had the most wonderful idea, my lord.”

  Lord Percival nodded. His eyes were trained on her décolletage, and he did not even bother to look at Eleanor’s face as she addressed him. Annoyed, Eleanor felt justified in her suggestion. “Have you met Miss Fernly? She is the young lady next to the refreshment table.”

  That query caught his attention, and Lord Percival followed her nod to the indicated lady. With an unreadable expression, he said, “I do not believe so.”

  Eleanor leaned toward him and whispered, “It is rumored she has quite the sizeable dowry.”

  Lord Percival scoffed. “I doubt that. I would know if she did.”

  “Well, she does.” Eleanor whispered the rumored amount to him and smiled as his eyes grew round. He muttered a few words in parting and hurried away, intent on his new quarry. She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she held and relaxed as she was once again left alone. She almost smiled when Lord Percival was introduced to the girl and led her on to the dance floor. She had never met two people more deserving of one another.

  Eleanor left the ballroom and entered a hall decorated with more of the orchids that adorned the ballroom. She liked orchids, but tonight they did not hold their usual appeal. She spent a lengthy amount of time in the retiring room, and then made her way back to the ballroom. There, she found another glass of champagne and once again searched the crowd for Logan. Still, he was not there.

  Her eyes remained glued on the doors to the ballroom, but Logan never entered. Several dances went by with Eleanor staring at the doorway, her ever-increasing feeling of anxiety building with the thought that he would not come for her. Surely, he would come. Just not tonight.