Page 23 of To Steal a Duchess

She could not reveal her true passion, not so soon, not when the duke could be vastly against it.

Yet… yet he had beseeched her to trust him, and he had brought her here.

“They are of fine craftsmanship, are they not?” The duke’s voice had her spinning around with a startle, her eyes widening, as though she had been caught out.

Eloise tried to draw away quickly from the display, but she only clumsily bumped into her husband’s chest. He steadied her with a grasp on her waist. Eloise’s breath caught as she felt the warmth of his touch through her dress.

Her lips parted slightly as her eyes moved up to his. He only stared down at her, strong and sturdy. His fingers didn’t let go, not for a long moment. Eloise’s gaze drifted down to his mouth, and she did not even stop herself.

For a second, she let herself take him in as her heart pounded at his touch. He had caught her so easily, and she let herself be steadied.

The duke blinked at her.

“Duchess?” he prompted, as though he was not affected by their embrace, but she saw the flicker in his eyes, the way his own gaze dropped downward to her mouth, and then to where he still held her.

Immediately, he pulled away.

His fingers left warm imprints on her skin, and she looked at his hands before they disappeared behind his back, tucked away. He cocked his head at her as though it had not happened, but her flushed face said otherwise.

“I… I do not know,” she said nonchalantly, trying to put more steel into her voice, hoping it did not shake as much as she thought it did from their touch.

Besides, she truly had to pretend she had no such knowledge, and she tried to focus on that.

But Eloise wasn’t prepared for the gaze he bore into her, as though offended. “Yes, Your Grace?” she pushed, still playing innocent.

“Either I am lacking in intelligence, or you are lying, and I do not like any of those options.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“The models.” He nodded at the display. “You appreciate them. I dare to go as far as to say you like them, that they strike an interest in you. However, given your response, I imagine you think you need to pretend that is not true, but I saw the way you looked at the ones in my study.”

“I—”

“And, furthermore, when I inquired with Mrs. Hale, as I mentioned, about how you were settling in at Oldcliff Hall, she said it had been well, that you spend most of your time on the cliffs, and that you cannot stop admiring the display cabinet in the drawing room, and that you seemed to have some knowledge of ships and boats.”

Eloise’s tongue thickened, and she could not speak for a moment. She stared back at him, her fingers twitching. She ached to run gentle, careful hands over the ships, longed to feel their little sails, or the wire that made up the railings. She wanted to assess the lacquered wood that created a deck, or peek a glance at the portholes and see what detail—if any—had been added inside the vessel.

“Allow me to remind you one of my rules, Duchess,” the duke said, standing closer. “Do not pretend to be anybody you are not when we are alone. No other voice that you think a man needs to hear—and yes, I believe you know the one. The one you reserve for your parents, or for when you think you need to have a facade with me. Drop it altogether, for I wish for my wife to be comfortable in herself. And if you enjoy a topic, or have knowledge of it, I do not want you to hide it.”

She tried not to blanch at that. Her parents had always taught her the direct opposite: to be good, to be what was needed, to be proper. If they knew she had been told to reveal her true self to her husband, and a duke at that, they would be livid.

How was she to be herself when she did not know how to let that come through? It did not come naturally, not after years of forcing who she was down, so it did not show.

“W-well,” she stammered, trying to cover up her shock at his insistence. “There is no point in not hiding it when there is nobody to speak to about it.” Her words grew bolder, and she realized she was rather annoyed with him over his declaration. Who was he to tell her not to hide herself when he could not even care to speak with her anyway? “You are not suddenly going to dine with me just because we happen to have found a common interest. One similar passion does not make for good company.”

The duke did not seem to know what to do with that confrontation, and he frowned slightly before turning away. He gestured with his hand for her to follow him as he led her to the counter, where an older man with thinning hair, spectacles, and a slightly hunched posture smiled brightly at her.

“I hear I have the Duchess of Oldcliff in my presence,” he said, bowing deeply to her.

Eloise, still trying to get used to her new title, managed a smile as she curtsied.

“Duchess, this is Marley Brannon, an artist, and model maker. Of course, he is a collector, too, but his visual work truly speaks for himself.”

Mr. Brannon flicked his hand, laughing. “His Grace is being humble, Your Grace. I just enjoy putting pieces together and making replicas of boats and ships that I see on my expansive ventures. Welcome to the Tent of the World, as I like to call it. Although I believe some villagers of Oldcliff have named my little tent the Maporium. Quite a lovely play on words, I must admit.”

“It is wonderful,” Eloise breathed, looking at the maps pinned behind him at the counter.

The counter itself held another glass-encased section filled with coins from other countries. Some were older and rusted, while others were silver and shining, a vast collection indeed.