Page 19 of To Steal a Duchess

“Then we are agreed.”

“We are,” he confirmed.

The duke dropped her hand, but his other hand rubbed at his beard in an almost uncomfortable motion. His fingers went back and forth over the coarse hair that looked softer than Eloise cared to admit. She had not seen many men with beards other than merchants or traveling businessmen who did not always have the time or stationary means to tend to it.

It was unusual to see, and she had thought so since she had first seen the duke, but she tilted her head.

She found it rather suited him, and she could not look away for a moment.

When he noticed her entranced gaze, he dropped his hand.

“Mrs. Hale!” he called out.

And the housekeeper must have lingered nearby in case they needed anything with having newly arrived. She entered, curtseying.

“Your Grace?”

The duke did not look away from Eloise as he stated, “See Her Grace to her room, and I will retire for the night.” Then, he bowed to Eloise. “Goodnight, Duchess. If you need anything, you know who to go to. Again, I will remind you, you have free rein here, so long as there is no trouble. Do not venture to the lighthouse.”

That last reminder came with a lower tone, something sharper and dangerous, and Eloise could only nod, but her husband had already swept out of the study, leaving her in the company of Mrs. Hale, who beckoned her out.

Chapter Five

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Hale’s voice came through to Eloise, jolting her out of her daze.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?” the woman asked.

“I am fine.”

And while she was, she could not tear her gaze from the cabinet in the drawing room. She had noticed it on her first day at Oldcliff Hall, but she had not let herself approach properly until now.

She had spent four days wandering the halls, hoping her husband would give her a tour, only to realize that if she received one, it would not be from him.

“Has something caught your attention? I can tell you anything that you would like to know about this estate, Your Grace.”

“The model ships,” Eloise heard herself say, though she felt as though it had a sense of personal connection to what she saw. “Where do they come from?”

“Ah.” Mrs. Hale shuffled closer to the drawing room doorway, following Eloise’s gaze. “His Grace has a fondness for ships and boats. He likes to collect them from market vendors, or merchants, or have them imported. It is a… passion of his.”

Eloise tried not to show a great deal of interest at that. “A lot of people think there is little difference between a ship and boat.”

“Is there?”

“Of course.” Eloise half-turned to the housekeeper. “You see, a ship is meant for big voyages. Out there, on the open water. They tend to be bigger, grander, able to host more passengers. They’re built for long journeys. A boat, in comparison, is a smaller vessel, ideal for rivers, lakes, and the like. They can only hold a number of passengers. I see His Grace has a mix of both.”

“You are rather informed about this,” Mrs. Hale noted.

Eloise blushed, stepping back, recalling her mother’s warning. A lady was not meant to have such extensive knowledge beyond the feminine topics, and this was certainly not one. “I… I am not, really.”

The housekeeper seemed unconvinced, but did not press the topic. “Well, yes, His Grace enjoys such things. He is a collector, of sorts. They were all brought into the mansion when he took on the title.”

“Where from?”

At that question, Mrs. Hale stalled, but while her voice fell silent, her eyes strayed to the window—to the cliffs, and the lighthouse beyond. Eloise’s curiosity piqued once more, but she asked nothing else.

“Shall we?” Mrs. Hale asked instead, gesturing further down the hallway.