To Dodge a Duke (Entangled Nobility Book 2)

by Naomi Boom

  Someone coughed at her elbow, and Eleanor turned to find Miss Farris standing there. Miss Farris’s cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she had never looked prettier. Eleanor smiled in greeting. “How has your night been?”

  Miss Farris smiled a smile of pure enjoyment. “Most exhilarating, thank you. Have you not been dancing?”

  Lifting her glass to her lips, Eleanor took a sip and shook her head. “It appears I am somewhat of a pariah. I have been keeping myself busy with other things, though.”

  “How ironic that you should try to hurt my reputation, but you end up with the sullied name.” Miss Farris laughed, and Eleanor could only shake her head. Miss Farris spoke the truth.

  Eleanor scowled playfully and said, “Yes, but despite all that, I have managed to play matchmaker.”

  Miss Farris’s eyes gleamed when Eleanor informed her who she had steered toward each other.

  “How delightful. My brother warned me away from Lord Percival before I even had my come-out ball.”

  Eleanor nodded as she continued to observe the crowd. Still nothing. She turned to Miss Farris and said, “I do not wish to offend, but there is something you simply must allow me to help you with.”

  “Which is?”

  “I believe we should meet at my dressmaker for a fitting,” Eleanor said. Life was so much simpler if one spoke without artifice.

  “Why? I have plenty of dresses.”

  Eleanor shrugged. “Yes, but you could use ones more suited to your figure.”

  Miss Farris glanced down in surprise at her own gown. “What is wrong with this one?”

  “Nothing, really, it just doesn’t flatter you the way it ought. You have a lovely figure, but it is not shown to its best advantage.”

  Miss Farris’s fingers smoothed down the folds of her gown, and she tilted her head. “I suppose one visit cannot hurt. Gavin might not appreciate the cost, though.”

  Eleanor waved her hand and laughed. “Yes, but it is a small price to pay for your happiness.” As the dance ended, a dark-haired gentleman approached Miss Farris to sweep her away. Eleanor observed them for a moment, a little envious of all the dancers spinning about.

  Truthfully, she doubted she would care to dance much unless a certain gentleman was the one to escort her. She snared another glass of champagne. She should stop drinking, but what else was she to do? Scowling at the bubbles in her long-stemmed glass, she shook her head. Two weeks had passed. How long should she wait on him before giving up? Hopefully, she would never have to make that decision.

  Chapter 13

  Eleanor spent her morning in bed. The previous night had not gone well, at all. Her hope that Logan would find her at the ball and sweep her away had been shattered to pieces. Logan had not been in attendance and might never be.

  Voices from the foyer drifted to her, and she eyed the mantel clock. She should have dressed and greeted the visitors who came to call that morning but instead chose to relax amongst the soft covering of her bed with a good book. Not that it held her attention, but it was the best excuse she could muster.

  Her mother did not seem to care if she were present or not. Lady Ashford had sent a maid to see what delayed Eleanor, and Eleanor had simply sent the maid away without a reply. She knew her behavior bordered on petty, but there were very few times when she could rebel. It wasn’t as if she could run away.

  She tried to focus on her book and sighed. It was pointless. She rose and rang for her maid to help her dress. Olivia greeted her with a warm smile as she entered and helped Eleanor dress. Eleanor had already chosen her ensemble of a day dress of pastel purple and white, along with a small hat to perch daintily on her head. If there was one thing she excelled at, it was assembling a delightful outfit.

  Once again, Olivia accompanied her into the carriage and sat opposite Eleanor on the thick, padded seats. The day was dreary. The sky was overcast and promised rain, while a harsh wind threatened to carry away Eleanor’s little hat. Olivia had pinned it well, as it remained glued to the top of her head. She congratulated Olivia on a job well done and settled in for the ride.

  Bond Street was not its usual hub of activity. It was too early in the day for the wealthy class and too windy for most others. Eleanor was let out in front of her dressmaker’s shop. She had arrived several minutes before the agreed-upon time when she would meet with Miss Farris and must now wait.

  She stepped from the shop’s entryway and went down the boardwalk. Her hat would stay pinned, but her hair was a different matter. She would have to rearrange her coiffure when she arrived at the dressmaker. After walking for a few minutes on the deserted street, she turned around and began her walk back.

  Her walk brought her past a small jeweler’s, where she stopped as her gaze lit upon the most lovely cameo necklace she had ever seen. The wind gusted stronger than ever, and she hurried into the jeweler’s for closer inspection.

  The proprietor of the shop greeted her with a small bow and his offer of assistance as she approached. If ever Eleanor would have pegged a man to be a jeweler, this would have been the one. He stood several inches shorter than Eleanor, with close cropped gray hair and spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He evidently could recognize a lady of quality and began to fawn over Eleanor. “My lady,” he said as he rushed over, “is there anything I can help you with?”

  Eleanor indicated the window display with her gloved hand. “I would like to see the cameo necklace please.”

  He nodded and rushed to do her bidding, pulling the displayed pendant from the shelf while taking the utmost care in its handling. “You have exquisite taste, my lady. This particular cameo is set in gold and carved from an opal.”

  Eleanor examined it under a nearby wall sconce. The craftsmanship was above reproach, while the cameo itself depicted the image of a beautiful Roman woman. The color of the opal gave the figure an ethereal quality, and Eleanor sighed as she realized the image could easily be a nymph. Such a lovely image deserved appreciation, and Eleanor knew she could be the one to do just that. With a small smile, she took a step back as she realized why she wanted to buy it. Aside from its beauty, she once again was searching for any small reminder or link to Logan.

  “Thank you for showing this to me,” Eleanor said, inhaling the musky scent of the shop. “I shall pass for now.”

  He nodded in understanding and said, “You know where to find it should you change your mind. I cannot imagine a lady it would complement more.”

  A wistful smile tugged at her lips as she departed the cozy shop into the gloomy street. Why had she not purchased the necklace? The answer was clear, in all its stark harshness. If Logan did not come for her, that necklace would serve as a terrible reminder of her broken heart.

  The wind tore through her hair as she hurried along the boarded walkway. The cold wind battered her, but wind was preferable to the way her heart felt. Heavy and cold.

  Eleanor entered the dressmaker as the door slammed shut behind her. The walls were a light blue with white trim. Ornate white chairs were arranged on the side of the room with various sketches of the latest fashions on the walls. Her hair was a mess, and luckily, there were plenty of mirrors in the establishment. Eleanor set herself to rights just as Miss Farris joined her in the elegant establishment.

  “Can you believe this weather?” Miss Farris said in a shocked tone. “I thought the carriage would tip over.”

  “Thank heavens that did not happen,” Eleanor said with a kind smile as the proprietress of the establishment rushed into the room.

  At the sight of Eleanor, she increased her speed and spoke in her heavy French accent. “Miss Ashford! What a delight to see you here. Did you have an appointment?” the pretty, diminutive woman asked with a crinkle of worry on her otherwise unlined brow.

  Eleanor shook her head, knowing full well her business would never be turned away. “No, Mademoiselle Giraud, but we are in dire need of your help.” With a wave of her hand, Eleanor indicated Miss Farris.

&nb
sp; Her eyes followed Eleanor’s hand, and Mademoiselle Giraud observed Miss Farris’s attire. “I see.” She tsked as she circled Miss Farris. “Yes, this will be no trouble at all. Follow me, please.”

  The two ladies trailed after the seamstress into a room meant for fittings. Miss Farris took her position on an elevated platform, and the mademoiselle began to take measurements. As she buzzed about in a positive tizzy of excitement, she said, “My lady, you have such a small waist. It is a shame to hide it. No, we must accentuate it.”

  “How can you accentuate it and keep with the current styles?” Miss Farris asked with a dubious frown.

  Again, the mademoiselle tsked. “Normally, we tie just below the bosom with a ribbon or something else and the fabric falls here.” She indicated the typical spot on Miss Farris and then said, “But with you, we use wider ribbon, and the skirts hug you more as they fall. You shall see.”

  Miss Farris’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she endured the fitting. Her eyes lit even more from the kind remarks the mademoiselle made. By the end of the visit, not only had Miss Farris ordered several new gowns, but Eleanor could almost see a renewed confidence in her.

  Mademoiselle Giraud agreed to send the gowns over upon completion, and Eleanor and Miss Farris left the shop. Braving the wind, the two hurried to a nearby café for a bit of tea. The café was normally bustling with activity at this time of day, but the wind had dissuaded many a casual shopper.

  They chatted until the tea arrived, and then Eleanor finally dared ask the question uppermost in her mind. “How does Laura fare?” She made sure to act unconcerned, as if her query was polite nonsense, but internally she waited with trepidation.

  Munching on a biscuit, Miss Farris rolled her eyes, swallowed, and said, “She is well. I try to avoid my brother and his new wife as much as possible, you know.” She sighed and continued as Eleanor ate up her words. “The two cannot keep their hands off each other, and now that Laura is enceinte…”

  Her words trailed off as Eleanor emitted a small shriek of shock. Eleanor covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her surprise, but it was too late. Miss Farris laughed and asked, “So, you did not know she is with child?”

  Eleanor shook her head, and Miss Farris continued with avid excitement, “Oh yes. The doctor confirmed it a week ago, but she was certain much sooner.”

  “How did she know?” Eleanor asked as she leaned forward with interest. No one ever spoke of such a delicate topic, ever. Aside from Lady Gammon, of course.

  “Well, she said her monthly courses never came, and then she was sick all the time.” Miss Farris rolled her eyes. “It all sounds rather disgusting to me.”

  Miss Farris refilled her teacup as Eleanor tried to comprehend the information she just received. While she was happy for Laura, she was more concerned with the signs of pregnancy. Eleanor felt just fine, but her courses were normally on schedule. Thinking back, she did the math. Eleanor froze as realization hit her. Her palms grew damp, and the color drained from her face. Her insides knotted in a queasy ball as she realized her courses were an unheard-of week late.

  Eleanor placed her porcelain teacup on its saucer with a shaky hand, cringing when the cup made a clinking sound. She could not be pregnant, could she?

  Her silent musings were interrupted when Miss Farris said, “Are you feeling quite all right?”

  Eleanor plastered a smile on her lips. “Of course.” There was still time for her body to disprove her fears, and until then, she would forget all about it. Eleanor changed topics to Miss Farris’s interests and did her best to listen, despite the sickening feeling of dread that pestered her.

  ****

  Logan had not anticipated his business would take so long to conclude and cursed his decision to leave Ellie for so long. After all, he could have kept to his original plan and eloped with her, but that would have been selfish. She deserved better than a hushed wedding followed by unavoidable scandal. He chuckled at the ironies of society. An elopement was deemed scandalous, but his special license to marry was perfectly acceptable.

  The carriage jerked to a stop, and he smiled at the knowledge he would soon set matters to right. He would see her in mere moments. He departed from the carriage and a strong gust of wind hit him with a force that tore the breath from his body. He hurried to the grand house where a butler greeted him. The butler led him to a parlor frequented by numerous ladies, none of which were Ellie.

  After the butler announced his identity, a slender, older version of Ellie stood to greet him. She curtsied in a sweeping, graceful movement and practically glowed with the knowledge that a duke stood in her sitting room. “Your Grace, what a delight,” she gushed as she batted her eyelashes at him.

  Logan’s stomach revolted at her attempt to flirt with him. The smile on her face seemed almost alien to her, as if she needed to practice it just as her daughter practiced dancing. With a quick sweep of his gaze, Logan spoke, not showing even the slightest hint of the disdain he felt for the woman. “I see your daughter, Miss Ashford, is not in attendance.”

  The smile vanished from her face, replaced by a worried expression. “No, Your Grace. I am afraid she is not in.” She craned her neck to view the ornate, gilded clock set on a corner end table and said, “She should be home soon if you care to join us.”

  Logan glanced at the eager ladies in attendance and shuddered. As much as he desired to see Ellie, he could not bring himself to suffer so. “I think not. You may, however, take me to see Lord Ashford.”

  A calculating smile graced her lips, and she turned to lead him from the room, down the hall, and to the library. If fortune favored him, he would have seen Ellie the moment he entered the parlor, but he could at least conclude the formal part of his visit without her.

  Matters with Lord Ashford were completed in a timely manner, and Logan was once more ensconced in his carriage. He had been a little surprised with how swiftly Lord Ashford had agreed to Logan’s request to marry Ellie. Lord Ashford had not even bothered to consult his daughter. Ellie must have already apprised her family of her good fortune, which was why everyone was so quick to comply.

  He was still disappointed Ellie had not arrived in time to see him, but he would return in a couple of days. Until then, he would just have to wait. If nothing else, he had at least accomplished one important task and that was to alert the ton that Ellie was his. Now, it was only a matter of time until she was back into his arms where she belonged.

  ****

  Eleanor returned home and sneaked into her room. Her heart was hammering. Try as she might to ignore her fears, she could not stop her thoughts from returning to her missed cycle. The crackle of the fire was the only sound to interfere with her thoughts, but even its soothing warmth was not enough to calm her.

  While beset with worry over Logan’s absence, that worry was nothing compared to the despair she would experience if she was indeed pregnant. She would have to marry at once. If she did not, well, she would be hidden away in the countryside until the baby was born. She would be ruined beyond any chance at redemption, and not even a fortune hunter would have her.

  Her choice to spend the night with Logan seemed so natural and felt so right, but of course, she should have abstained. All rational arguments pointed to that stark truth, but the more she considered the loss of that precious night with him, the more she failed to regret her actions.

  How could she regret a night ensconced in the glow of shared love so strong as to still leave a tingling feeling in her chest? Nuzzled in the warmth of his arms that night, she had melted when he whispered sweet nothings to her, promises of times to come. How could she choose anything but belief in him?

  Every ounce of her told her to trust him still, but what was she to do when she resided in a haze of uncertainty for not only her own, but a budding life’s future? Logan had better hurry to her, or else she would have very few options indeed.

  In an attempt to clear her mind, Eleanor crossed to her easel and drew a blank canvas fr
om her desk. She sketched the view from her window in all its gloomy glory. She felt a new appreciation for the overcast sky, as its bleakness matched her spirit.

  She performed a cursory sketch and then pulled out her paints, mixing black with a small amount of white. Achieving the precise gray of the sky was important. As the colors blended, she decided to add a tinge of blue to the palette. The blue transformed the humdrum color into an ideal hue of stormy potential, which allowed her to capture its uniqueness.

  With each stroke of the brush, she relaxed, although Logan still haunted her. If her current luck held, he would never come for her, and she would stay forever cursed by unrequited love. She leaned toward the canvas and began to work on shaping a cloud when the fumes from the paint reached her. Nothing could have prepared her for the sudden onslaught of nausea that arose and prompted her to run for the chamber pot.

  Her sickness abated, and Eleanor crawled back to the bed. She moaned as she lay down on the downy mattress. At least now she had her answer. Logan had impregnated her. Her worst fears presented themselves in the form of nausea and a missing groom. How disastrous.

  A knock interrupted her thoughts, and Eleanor started in surprise at the abrupt sound. “Eleanor,” her mother said, her voice muffled, yet as distant as ever.

  Eleanor sat up in time to greet her mother who looked unusually happy.

  “You haven’t ruined everything after all,” Lady Ashford said as she floated to stand before the bed. “His Grace, the Duke of Waking, was here.”

  Eleanor tried to hide her scowl, but it was no use. Her mother’s eyes narrowed on her lips, but suddenly she did not care. She had more pressing matters to attend to than appeasing her mother. After all, an unwanted duke had deigned to call on her.

  Lady Ashford’s excitement dissipated, and she said, “Cheer up. You should have realized this would happen.”