To Dodge a Duke (Entangled Nobility Book 2)

by Naomi Boom

  It was most unusual for a duke to drop by for a visit. In fact, it had never happened to the Ashfords. Eleanor uttered a noncommittal sound which her mother took as encouragement to continue. “I was naturally appalled that a duke should call when you were not receiving, but then the most extraordinary thing happened. He asked to speak with your father.”

  An unfamiliar gleam of approval was in her mother’s eyes, and Eleanor understood precisely what her mother insinuated. “So, Father agreed to a marriage between myself and the Duke of Waking.” A bitter taste filled her mouth. Why had His Grace asked for her hand in the first place? The last time she spoke with him, she had expressed her desire to marry his friend. Why would he disregard hers and Logan’s wishes?

  Her mother nodded, her expression returning to its former cheerful mien. Eleanor should have expected her parents to act this way, but it still hurt they cared so little for her preferences. She clenched her hands into fists and modulated the tone of her voice to a calm and cold tone. “So, you willingly sell me off to the highest title you can find despite my desire to marry a different man?”

  A harsh mask settled onto her mother’s face. “Your wishes are unimportant. You will marry this duke and you will be grateful when you are a duchess. This pathetic love match of yours is over, and you had best forget it.”

  With an indignant huff, Eleanor’s mother departed the room. Not long ago, Eleanor would have been overjoyed by the news of the duke’s interest, but that time had passed. A hot tear trickled down her face as she realized the repercussions of her mother’s news. She had threatened Logan with finding a different man to marry, and now he would think she chose one of his best friends as her match. With a sob, she buried her head in her pillow and began to cry. Logan would never come for her now, not when he heard she was engaged to the very duke she had once desired to marry.

  Chapter 14

  Whipping his horse to a smooth canter, Logan sped through the unoccupied grounds of Hyde Park as he attempted to calm his mind. In relative terms, his problems were small, but he couldn’t seem to ease his frustrations no matter what he did. Ever since going to visit Ellie, an unsettled feeling had lodged in his chest, making it almost impossible to gain clarity of mind.

  Not that he blamed Ellie for her absence, but he just couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around her behavior. He knew that she had been in London for some time now, yet she had not once written to him. He assumed they would communicate via missive, if not in person, yet she had not put forth any effort to contact him. At the very least, she could have sent a letter over the previous evening after his visit.

  He shook his head as he guided his steed around a bend and set him in the direction of home. The trees were resplendent in their green leaves, which were no longer mere buds, and the dew of the morning had not yet disappeared. Such a day was ripe with promise.

  As he rode, he glimpsed a couple through the trees and recognized Viscount Dunbar. He veered away from the couple in an attempt to avoid small talk, but not before noticing the shared smile between the viscount and his blonde companion. The couple’s look spoke of a deep love for each other, which only sank the piercing feeling of loneliness further into his soul. There really was only one choice left to him, and that was to go visit Eleanor once more.

  He returned home to his townhome a mere four blocks from the Ashfords and scowled as he entered his room. His house seemed lifeless and in desperate need of a blonde-haired vixen to grace its halls. He stopped in front of his bed and surveyed the room. Would she like his home? The townhouse did not concern him as much as his home in Briarthorn, as that estate held all his childhood memories.

  Moving from the bed, he rang for a servant to draw a bath. No, Ellie would not mind the décor, and if she did, she would have free rein to change it. After all, his memories would remain even if the aging wallpaper did not.

  Logan completed his ablutions and ate a hearty breakfast. The clock suggested the time was a bit early for a visit, but he was too antsy to wait at home. He could imagine the smile on Ellie’s face when she saw him again, and that smile demanded he not keep her waiting.

  Of course, as a duke, he could do better than just show up on her doorstep empty-handed. Thrusting his top hat on his head, he tucked his walking stick under his arm and left the townhouse. His carriage awaited him, and he directed his coachman to Bond Street.

  He would find her the ideal gift, but choosing such a trinket was not as simple as he thought. Flowers were too typical, and she had more than enough clothes. His only other option was jewelry, but it had to be something special. Something to commemorate their love.

  He stepped from his coach and scanned the shops. There seemed to be an unending amount of them. In the past, he sent someone to find appropriate gifts, but that was not acceptable this time. He continued to regard the shops until his eyes alighted on a jewelry store that seemed to beckon to him.

  With sure steps, his strides ate up the distance to the store’s entrance. He entered the well-lit shop and was greeted by the scent of an aging, musky interior. He had spent his entire life in homes that smelled similarly, and he chose to think of them as buildings that smelled of history, rather than mildew.

  A short, older gentleman rushed out to greet Logan as he perused the wares on display. As the man took in Logan’s attire, his smile grew broader and he said, “May I help you with something, my lord?”

  Logan raised an eyebrow. What was worse? To point out a man’s faux pas, or to leave it unaddressed? “You may address me as Your Grace.”

  The shopkeeper blanched as he stammered a hurried reply, “Of course, Your Grace. My apologies for my ignorance.”

  Logan ignored the kowtowing and said, “I require a gift for my future duchess. Something unique.”

  Nodding and appearing deep in thought, the shopkeeper leaned his chin into his hand as he considered Logan’s request. After several seconds, he raised his index finger and said, “Give me one moment, Your Grace. I have just the thing.” He rushed to the window display and pulled a piece from the case. He set out a velvet tray and draped a necklace over it. “Here is jewelry fit for an emperor, or a duchess.”

  Logan glanced down at the piece, which was a cameo of a Roman goddess or other ethereal beauty. His breath caught as he smiled and picked it up to examine the craftsmanship in finer detail. He had never seen such an exquisite piece of jewelry before.

  The shopkeeper continued speaking, despite Logan’s inattentiveness. “That particular pendant belonged to the emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte. He held a special appreciation for such jewelry, and this one is an exceptional piece.”

  Logan nodded in agreement. He couldn’t care less who had owned the cameo in the past, but he did care that the image could easily be Ellie. His water nymph was once more in his hands. Lifting his eyes from the image, Logan asked the shopkeeper the price and was apprised of the sum. Despite the high cost, he agreed and waited while the man wrapped the item.

  The shopkeeper continued to speak as he secured the parcel. “You know, Your Grace, there was a young woman in here just yesterday that almost bought this. You are lucky it’s still here.”

  Not caring to chitchat, Logan didn’t reply until the cameo was in his hands, wrapped, and ready to go. “Thank you. If my lady approves, you may just see me here again.” Logan ignored the speculative gleam that entered the jeweler’s eyes, and departed, pleased with his choice and ready to see Ellie.

  ****

  With his arrival at the Ashfords’ townhouse, he began to regret his decision to visit at this time. Unlike the previous day where the sitting room held a small handful of guests, today it was packed. The butler announced his arrival while Logan once again searched the crowd. His search was futile as Ellie was not in attendance.

  Lady Ashford stood to greet him with a proud smile. She rushed to his side and said, “Your Grace, what an honor.” The volume of her voice increased as she added, “Two days in a row.”

  Logan bowed, al
beit with great reluctance. Sometimes, good manners were most tedious. “Is Miss Ashford receiving guests today?”

  Lady Ashford shook her head. “My dear daughter is under the weather.”

  “Did you tell her of my visit yesterday?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Lady Ashford simpered, batting her eyelashes at him while laying a gloved hand on his arm.

  He shrugged her hand away. “And?”

  She blinked. Logan could only assume she was unused to his treatment of her. “Naturally, she was overjoyed, Your Grace.”

  He nodded. That sounded accurate. “What ails her?”

  Lady Ashford lowered her gaze and said, “I believe it is a megrim.” She brought her eyes back to his and asked, “Would you like to meet with her? I’m sure she will come down for you.”

  “Yes.” He glanced about the room, noting all in attendance listening with avid interest and added, “I will wait in a separate room, of course.”

  “Of course.” Lady Ashford led him to a smaller parlor and curtsied before departing the room. He turned to a large, ornate longcase clock and settled in to wait.

  ****

  Eleanor did not feel quite the thing and refused to leave her bed, despite her mother’s firm admonishments. Nothing could sway her to face the hordes of people that morning, and there would be hordes. A duke did not pay a visit without inspiring the masses to do the same.

  So, instead of dressing and pasting a fake smile on her face, she slept. At least, she attempted sleep, but her nausea and incessant worries over Logan’s whereabouts made that desire nigh on impossible. Her desires almost won, when she started with the sound of the brass knocker on the front door. Her room overlooked the streets, which meant she resided above the front door.

  Many more knocks followed, until she gave up, propping herself up against several pillows and ringing for breakfast. Olivia soon entered with a tray of tea and toast. Eleanor could not stomach much else that morning.

  “Thank you, Olivia.”

  Olivia bobbed a curtsy and left, leaving Eleanor to her breakfast. She munched on a piece of toast but stopped when the door swung open. “Mother?”

  Hurrying to Eleanor’s wardrobe, Lady Ashford shuffled through the gowns until she pulled out a powder blue one. “Get dressed. His Grace is here to see you.”

  “I will not,” Eleanor said in as neutral a tone as she could muster. “I will not marry him and will not go down to meet him.”

  Lady Ashford stilled. “Yes, you will.”

  Eleanor shook her head as she crossed her arms across her chest. “No.”

  With an angry shriek, Lady Ashford grabbed one of Eleanor’s wrists and began to drag her off the bed.

  Eleanor cried out in panic, “Mother! What are you doing?”

  Her mother stopped her physical assault and dropped Eleanor’s wrist. “You cannot refuse to see a duke. It is unseemly.”

  She would not go down there. The duke should not have made this call in the first place. “Tell him I have contracted his own illness and must be quarantined.” She scowled. “Actually, tell him whatever you wish or nothing at all. Either way, I will not go.”

  Her mother muttered a litany of unladylike words, and then said, “I may not be able to force you downstairs, but you will marry him.” She spun on her heel and left Eleanor as abruptly as she came.

  Eleanor shuddered. She quelled a hysterical laugh at the sheer absurdity of her predicament. She could not hide away in her room much longer, but she also could not marry anyone other than Logan. Her heart demanded that much of her.

  ****

  Logan paced in the small parlor, listening for the sound of Ellie’s approach. Finally, he heard light footsteps and stopped as the door opened. His welcoming smile disappeared when Lady Ashford entered, unaccompanied.

  “Does she not wish to see me?”

  Lady Ashford shook her head. “Of course she does, but she is not well, Your Grace. She says she has contracted your illness. Whatever that means.”

  Logan’s eyes narrowed. She must not have overcome her anger toward him. After three weeks, she should have been overjoyed to see him, but evidently she was not. What could she hope to accomplish by claiming an imaginary illness? Nothing that he could deduce, and he was not one to pander to her silly whims by begging to see her. He was a duke, after all.

  His mood sank to an angry sullenness, and Logan turned his attention back to Lady Ashford. “Tell her she may contact me if she wishes to. Otherwise, I will see her at our wedding.”

  He left then, not wanting to spend another minute in the house where her scent lingered, calling to him in faint whispers. No, he would go home and await a letter from her. Otherwise, she would have some explaining to do on their wedding day.

  Chapter 15

  Eleanor awoke the next morning to find her mother in a state of shock. His Grace had sent a missive that morning, explaining his desire to wed two weeks hence, and no one dared object. Except for Eleanor, naturally, but her complaints were met by deaf ears.

  Within a day, word of the duke’s interest in Eleanor reached the ears of the ton, and the Ashfords’ drawing room turned into the most sought-after locale in all of London. Everyone conveniently forgot the gossip about her, instead attempting to curry the favor of a future duchess. Of course, Lady Ashford encouraged the rumors, which resulted in a steady stream of invitations.

  Eleanor could only shake her head and smile her most polite and reserved smile. After all, people were idiots, but she could not shun the lot of them, even if she dearly wished to. One particular invitation stunned her more than the others, despite its relative simplicity. She was invited to attend a dinner party, held by none other than the earl she had insulted earlier in the season.

  Her mother ordered Eleanor to attend with Mrs. Westfield as her chaperone, which was why she found herself stepping foot in the earl’s lavish townhouse. Of course, the interior could not compare to the ducal manor, but it made a fair attempt with its deep burgundy walls and ornate carpeting. And then there were the candles. She had never seen so many tapers lit in a room this size. While the entrance hall was almost double the size of her bedroom, it did not need candles lining every wall.

  “What an honor it is to see you again, my lady.”

  Eleanor’s attention jerked to her host, who placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand as he bowed. Tonight, the earl did not wear the same color as the servants.

  He stood and said, “I really must thank you. Your thoughtful reminder of my attire several months ago has reinvigorated my attention toward fashion.”

  Eleanor held back an unladylike, derisive snort. A week ago, Lord Lamhurst still held a grudge, but now he thanked her. She smiled in response and said, “I try to help out whenever I can.” Which was about the only response she could formulate to his surprising acknowledgement. Really now, what was the world coming to that an earl would thank her for an insult?

  He turned to greet other guests, and Eleanor scanned the room. She stopped her perusal when she spotted her cousin, Laura. Laura’s light brown hair was swept into an elegant French twist, and she wore a gown of deep purple. She appeared almost unchanged except for a becoming glow of happiness that surrounded her like an aura. Eleanor stepped toward her cousin and attempted a serene expression despite the nervous butterflies fluttering about in her stomach.

  Laura turned with a welcoming smile as Eleanor drew near. The welcoming smile was evidently for anyone else and disappeared as she recognized Eleanor. Her eyes narrowed and she said, “Eleanor, I should have guessed you would be here. After all, it appears you have accomplished your mission and snagged a duke. Is he in attendance tonight, as well?”

  Now was not the time or place to reveal her situation. She ignored her cousin’s brusque tone and said, “Not that I am aware, but enough of me. I hear congratulations are in order.”

  A fleeting expression of surprise swept through Laura’s violet eyes as she asked, “And you know this how?”
<
br />   “Through Miss Farris, although it would have been preferable if you had told me yourself.”

  “Would it now?” Laura asked with averted eyes, and Eleanor’s heart constricted at her indifference. They used to be so close.

  The guilt returned to eat at her, and Eleanor whispered, “I know I have hurt you. Please, give me the chance to make amends. Miss Farris did, and I daresay we are something of friends now.”

  Laura inhaled a weary breath. “I heard the rumors, but I just cannot understand why I would want to give you a chance. Judging by your engagement to a duke, you have not changed much.”

  Eleanor opened her mouth to inform Laura of her desire to marry Logan, rather than the duke, when she saw Lord Farris approaching with a ferocious look on his face. Instead of telling Laura her secret, she clasped her cousin’s hand in hers and brought her pleading eyes to Laura’s. “Just give me a chance. Let me call on you tomorrow and explain matters. You can judge me afterward. Please.”

  Laura nodded, although her expression was a smidgen skeptical. “Fine. Tomorrow morning.”

  Eleanor’s heart soared with renewed hope. While her faith in Logan’s rescue dwindled, at least she would get the chance to gain her cousin back. Unfortunately, it would have to wait until tomorrow, as judging by the look on Lord Farris’s stern face, she wouldn’t get much more time with Laura tonight.

  “Thank you,” Eleanor whispered as Lord Farris joined his wife’s side and grasped Laura’s small hand in his large one.

  “Darling,” he said with noticeable concern, “you look exhausted. Allow me to find a chair for you.”

  Laura nodded, and he led her through an impressive set of doors into what must be the dining room. The guests continued to mingle, some disappearing through the same set of doors Lord and Lady Farris had, while the rest remained until the butler announced supper, whereat the rest of the guests ventured into the dining room. While Eleanor hungered, she longed for sleep more than anything. Exhaustion overwhelmed her as of late, and tonight was no exception.