To Dodge a Duke (Entangled Nobility Book 2)

by Naomi Boom

  Eleanor was placed in a position of honor by the earl, which was far from her cousin. She made sure to chat with those around her, but between conversations, she couldn’t stop the niggling doubt from creeping into her brain. Almost three weeks had passed since she sent her letter to Logan, and he should have been here by now. With barely over a week to her wedding to the duke, she was running out of time. She had no intention of marrying His Grace, but once she broke their engagement she would truly be ruined and no longer accepted in the ton.

  Eleanor lost track of the number of courses served, but it seemed like an endless amount. At one point, she received fish, which almost caused her to run for the nearest chamber pot. Fortunately, dinner came to its conclusion, and Eleanor prepared to leave. The earl had planned some parlor games, but she was too exhausted to think, much less engage in conversation with others. Mrs. Westfield did not mind departing early, so the ladies slipped out into the warm night air to the sight of the carriage waiting for them.

  The instant Eleanor’s head hit the cushion in the cabin, she was asleep. The exhaustion from pregnancy was unlike anything she had ever experienced, so despite the bumpy ride, she slept the entire way home. She awoke to the feeling of Mrs. Westfield gently shaking her. Opening her eyes, she asked, “Oh dear, I fell asleep. Are we home?”

  “Yes, dear. We just arrived.” Concern filled Mrs. Westfield’s eyes and she asked, “Are you coming down with something? It’s unlike you to sleep so early.”

  “I think I must be.” She yawned and smiled. “I had better go to bed and get some rest.”

  Mrs. Westfield agreed, and the ladies parted ways. Eleanor hated to lie to her aunt, but this was one secret she would keep to herself for as long as possible. Reaching her bed, she lay down and was once more lulled into a restful slumber.

  ****

  Eleanor slept through the night and awoke feeling excited for her visit to Laura’s. She ordered a servant to ready the carriage, dressed, and hurried out. Her mother was still abed, but she informed the butler of her plans and then rushed out the door.

  Yet another day had passed without word from Logan, and now she had to make a choice. Should she apprise him of the child she carried or marry someone else? Logan must want his child. He did not seem the sort to father bastards, but could she go to him, groveling on her knees for him to take her?

  The ride was short, and as the coach halted, Eleanor was given a view of Laura’s townhouse. The white house had elegant Greek columns which supported a charming terrace. Vines crept up the lattice covering the majority of the front, as well as what Eleanor could see of the side. She stepped up the stairs to the entry and knocked on the brass lion’s-head knocker.

  The door swung open, and Eleanor followed the butler to a parlor where Laura was already seated. Not bothering to stand, Laura indicated a chair situated across the room from her for Eleanor to occupy. The walls were a light cream, and a large painting hung on a wall of a horse, which made Eleanor grimace in distaste.

  “Have you been able to ride in London?” Laura had always made time to ride. Every single morning.

  Laura’s demeanor was reserved, but she allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she said, “Unfortunately, no. Riding is ill-advised when one is expecting.”

  “However do you survive? You always claimed riding relaxed you.”

  “Gavin helps me relieve some of my tension.” Laura blushed and looked away. “But enough of me. Why are you here?”

  After Eleanor’s inadvisable night with Logan, she could imagine just how Gavin helped his wife. She shook her head. She needed to focus on mending her relationship with Laura, not wallow in self-pity. “I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you. I behaved abominably and regret my actions more than you will ever know.”

  Laura regarded her with raised brow and said in a skeptical voice, “Those words sound similar to the ones you wrote me in your letters. Tell me something that is not rehearsed. After all, words only mean so much.”

  So, Laura had read her letters? That was interesting, indeed. “I can tell you any number of things, but I doubt you will believe anything I say.”

  “Then why are you here?” Laura poured herself tea without bothering to offer some to Eleanor and lifted the cup, looking out at Eleanor with a raised brow.

  Eleanor had dreamt of this moment since she first sent one of her weekly letters to Laura. She had planned an eloquent speech on the benefits of forgiveness and just how much she regretted her behavior, but now her speech seemed wrong. No, she would speak from her heart, and if that did not convince Laura, nothing would. “Allow me to tell you what I have done the past couple of months, and then you can tell me if you believe my sincerity or not.”

  “Very well.” She leaned back and nodded. “You have my undivided attention.”

  Eleanor inhaled and then launched into her story. She started from the very first meeting with Logan and progressed to the house party. She told of her realization that she loved Logan and would marry no other. No detail was left out, not even her shocking night with Logan.

  Laura gasped and placed a delicate hand over her mouth. “I cannot believe it.” Her violet eyes rounded, and she poured Eleanor a cup of tea. “You mean to tell me you have fallen for a baronet and are now to marry a duke?”

  Eleanor shuddered. “Yes. Logan swore he would come for me, but the more time ticks by, the more I fear he will not.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The worst part is I am starting to question what transpired between us. Did I imagine things? Maybe his ardor was not as strong as I believed, and I fell for his tricks as any other young naïve lady would.”

  Her heart spasmed at the thought, and she averted her gaze from Laura’s. Optimism was difficult to maintain in the face of such a harsh, unflattering reality. Silence settled between them, and Eleanor waited for Laura’s criticisms. Only the most foolish young ladies were compromised before marriage, and Eleanor had always vowed to marry well. How could Laura not relish in the irony?

  “Oh, Eleanor. You really have changed.” Eleanor’s gaze darted back to Laura’s, and she was greeted by a reassuring, kind smile. “Your baronet should be here. I am sure he loves you but has been waylaid.”

  Logically, there was no way Laura would know that, but Eleanor needed that shred of hope. “There is one more thing.” She swallowed and said, “I fear I might be enceinte.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Indeed.” Her situation would be so much simpler if she were not with child.

  “This complicates matters.” Laura leaned her chin into her hand and deliberated, and then brought her eyes back to Eleanor’s. “You must go to him. There is no other option. If he doesn’t want you, then—well, we will react accordingly.”

  “I cannot go to him.” Eleanor shook her head, but inwardly, the idea that she could do something was so very appealing.

  “Why not?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. He lives in the northern region of England. I would be ruined if I traveled there by myself.”

  “And you will be ruined if you stay, unless you marry this duke, of course.”

  Eleanor paused. What her cousin said was true. She could not marry the duke, so unless she went to Logan, she would be ruined. Why not take her future in her hands and go to Logan, present him with his impending fatherhood, and grovel at his feet? “How will I leave without Mother noticing?”

  Laura tapped her chin and then raised her finger in the air. “I will send her a note claiming you are under the weather. That will hold her off for at least a day or two.”

  The idea held merit, and the more Eleanor sat around, the more she worried. Doing something would ease her nerves. Otherwise, she didn’t know how she would survive the following week. Raising her eyes to Laura’s, Eleanor nodded, “I think this is the only option. When should I depart?”

  “I would suggest immediately. I can lend you some clothes, and Gavin will make the arrangements. Of course you will take our coach as it i
s exceptionally smooth.” She clapped her hands together and rose with a twinkle in her eye. “Let me go find him.”

  “Does this mean you are no longer upset with me?” Eleanor asked as she leaned forward in eager anticipation to hear the response.

  “As if I could stay mad at you.” Laura grinned. “It was only a matter of time before I forgave you, but your situation expedited matters.” As she exited the room, she said with a sly grin, “To think, I shall hold a higher title than you.” She shook her head. “What an extraordinary turn of events.”

  Laura departed, and Eleanor sank back into her chair. Yes, Laura would hold a higher title as a viscountess, but the realization did not have the impact Eleanor thought it would. Instead, the knowledge was met with indifference. She used to long for the title of countess, and now, the only thing that mattered was Logan. His love changed things.

  Laura returned and preparations commenced. While Eleanor and Laura pilfered Laura’s wardrobe for suitable clothing, Gavin readied the carriage. Gavin attempted to be the voice of reason and suggest she not go, but Eleanor’s mind was made up. In response, he ordered a couple of extra footmen to accompany her for protection.

  Eleanor had been unable to eat as her stomach roiled about anxiously, and when she climbed into the carriage, Laura handed up a basket full of ham and cheese sandwiches. With a few kind words and a hug, Eleanor was sent off to the far reaches of England. She had never dreamt such an excursion possible. Hopefully it would not be in vain.

  Chapter 16

  The ride seemed endless, and with each mile traversed, her doubts increased until she almost convinced herself to return to London. If Logan was at Briarthorn, it must mean he no longer wanted her. On the other hand, he deserved to know she was pregnant and at least be presented with the option to marry her. The problem was, Eleanor did not want to marry a man who only wanted her out of obligation, but she would have to for her child. A marriage of obligation was better than no marriage, even if he hated her for the rest of their lives together.

  As the carriage pressed onward and the days crawled by, the voices in Eleanor’s mind grew louder and louder. She needed a distraction, but aside from a couple of books Laura had provided her, she had nothing to do except sleep and look out the window. None were compelling options, but sleeping was the best of the three. Lying on her side, she closed her eyes and drifted off, hoping they would reach Briarthorn soon.

  The night was perfectly still when the carriage pulled up to a castle-like structure. Eleanor was tired of traveling and ready to stretch her legs, but above all she just wanted her fears to end by seeing and talking to Logan. A full moon hung low in the sky, which gave an eerie glow to the courtyard, but she could not appreciate the sight due to her fragile nerves. The funny thing was Eleanor had always assumed she was too tough to fall prey to her feminine emotions, yet here she was, trying desperately to hide her hysterics.

  The coachman helped her down from the carriage and rushed to the doorway, using the heavy brass knocker to alert the butler of their arrival. Eleanor stretched out her legs and gripped her skirts to hide the shaking of her hands. After several minutes waiting for the door to open, it finally swung wide to reveal a stout, older gentleman. “May I help you?” he asked as he peered into the darkness.

  Eleanor stepped forward, not bothering to smile. “I need to see Logan.”

  “And you are?” he asked, looking down his nose at her.

  She must look a fright after spending days in the coach. The last time she had been afforded the chance to freshen herself was that morning, and that was to splash some water on her face. Yes, she must appear frightful, but she still deserved respect. She drew herself to her full height and said in her most cultured voice, “I am Miss Eleanor Ashford.”

  Her words did not even faze the butler. “I am afraid His Grace is not in residence, but there is a nearby inn you can stay at.”

  At his words, Eleanor stiffened in shock. Had her ears deceived her? “What did you say?”

  The butler spoke louder, accentuating his words as if speaking to a child. “His Grace is not here. You must go elsewhere.”

  A buzzing sound crept into her ears, blocking out all else around her. She clenched her hands together into tight, angry fists and tensed as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Logan claimed Briarthorn was his estate, although she supposed it could be the duke’s, but when she asked the butler to find Logan, he assumed the Logan she referred to was the duke.

  But then who was the duke she had met? This entire situation was much too confusing. She cleared her throat and asked in an attempt at clarity, “Who is Charles then?”

  He raised his eyebrow. “I have no idea, my lady.”

  “Surely you must. Charles is a friend of Logan’s.” Her voice turned pleading as she said, “Please, you must know.”

  A sympathetic look passed over his otherwise impassive face, and he sighed. “I can only assume the Charles you refer to is Lord Thornwick, His Grace’s cousin.”

  The buzzing returned to her ears. Logan claimed his cousin was Lord Thornwick, and Charles himself said Logan viewed Lord Thornwick as his favorite cousin. If Charles was not the duke, and this estate belonged to Logan, then the natural conclusion must be Logan was the duke.

  “Bloody hell.” She clenched her eyes shut as all the past interactions with Logan raced through her mind. Her body trembled, and even the knowledge that Logan loved her could not dispel the searing feeling of betrayal. He must have lied to her from the beginning. Yes, she formed certain assumptions on her own, but he failed to rectify her errors, and then he played on those assumptions in a most callous way.

  What a fool she had been. All the clues were there, staring at her in stark reality. His line that he was often mistaken for the duke, how he knew the Waking Hall so well, even his nonchalant attitude toward breaking precious pieces of pottery. How had she missed such ridiculous lies, other than to blame her foolish, misguided heart? And to think, she had traveled all the way to Briarthorn rather than wait in London to marry him.

  She laughed a cynical, harsh laugh as her eyes reopened. Her gaze focused on the butler, who regarded her with a wary expression. Of course she did not act like a sane person, not in this moment. Not when her dream world burned to a mound of ashes before her feet.

  Aside from Logan’s trickery, Lord Thornwick, Lord Gammon, and Lady Gammon must have been involved. She had trusted those people, and for what? So they could manipulate her and help the duke bed her? At least he had not bedded her for sport. If any good came from this evening, it was to reassure her of Logan’s intentions to marry her. He had not bedded her and thrown her aside as she worried.

  “Are you quite all right, my lady?”

  She narrowed her eyes at the butler, who still appeared a bit frazzled. She was in a calm state of fury, one where she would not be trifled with. “You shall ready a room and send a letter to His Grace notifying him of my location.” When he appeared ready to deny her orders, she smiled, allowing her fury to show itself in that smile. “I will brook no arguments. His Grace would be most upset if you send me away.”

  He considered her words before nodding and leading her into the manor. The halls echoed with the sounds of their footsteps, and the light of his single taper afforded them enough light to see before them.

  “We did not expect company, my lady, and will have to ready your chamber.”

  They rounded a bend in the hall, stopping at one of the many doors lining the corridor. He swung the door open, and she entered to find the furniture encased in white sheets and the scent one of general disuse. He pulled a sheet from an armchair near the cold hearth and then hurried to light a fire.

  Eleanor sank into the chair after seeing a marvelous view of a tranquil river outside. She could not enjoy the scene of the moonlight striking the water, as she could not seem to dislodge her anger toward Logan and his cohorts. How could she? She closed her eyes, not bothering to open them even as the butler’s st
eps receded from the room.

  She remained immobile, unwilling to move from her current position. All her absurd dreams of a quiet life with the man she loved were dashed. She would live the life of a duchess. How Logan must have laughed when she refused his advances, claiming she required better than him. What an amusing joke she must have been for him and his friends. The unwitting lady tricked into loving a man, ripping her dreams to shreds for the man she would throw it all away for.

  Strange, the humiliation over their antics faded in comparison to the hurt they instilled in her heart. She was the sort to guard against such pain, never trusting anyone, but she had trusted them, and they betrayed her. Could she have been a simple game to them? She did not wish to believe Logan capable of such callous actions, but what other reason could he have?

  The butler returned to guide her to a pleasant bedchamber done up in olive and cream with a view of the river outside. He promised to send refreshments up soon, and then left her to her turmoil. She could not rest, not now. Fighting off the urge to break something, she resorted to pacing the short length of the room instead.

  The butler had mentioned Logan was not in residence, and judging by the house, he had not stayed there in some time. Here was yet another lie she must contend with. Where had Logan gone? Was there even a fire?

  Stopping her pacing, she leaned her hands on the cold windowsill and looked up at the gleaming moon before her. Love was supposed to be some simple, powerful emotion, yet her love for Logan was proving to be anything but, and it hurt. It hurt like the cleverest of barbs, except this one had teeth that flayed the very flesh from her soul.

  Well, she had teeth of her own. She would marry Logan, but she would not make it easy for him. He could come to her here, in the far reaches of Northern England. She would marry him, but that did not mean she had to forgive him.

  Chapter 17

  The door swung shut behind Logan as he entered his club. There was a certain rightness to resuming the membership that had been so long neglected. He removed his hat as his gaze landed on his cousin, Lord Thornwick, seated alone at a table. Logan sat beside him, ordered a drink, and greeted his surprised cousin.