Page 24 of To Steal a Duchess

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Mr. Brannon said, placing his hands on the counter. “His Grace always comes here to peruse the new wares I bring every time I return to Oldcliff. I travel a lot, you see, and collect a lot of things. I draw ships I see on those travels, and when I come back here, I begin to build them. His Grace has been generous enough to invest in my business so I can buy better materials and tools.”

Eloise half glanced over her shoulder at her husband, but he made himself busy looking through a map book. She turned back to Mr. Brannon.

“Without him, I could not continue the passion and the work I do,” he continued. “His Grace is most kind, and my most valued customer, even without the investment. He is a good man, and I am certain you will only hear more throughout your time in Oldcliff.”

Eloise didn’t entirely have a reason to doubt it, but the duke’s sharp ways and intensity with those rules of his, made him seem unapproachable.

What knowledge did mere business owners have that she didn’t? How often did he venture into the village when London rumors had stated he was often there instead, digging up information on anyone requested of him?

“I believe it is time we move on, Duchess,” the duke said, coming up to her. “However, Mr. Brannon, before we depart, I would like to purchase these two. Duchess, if you would wait outside?”

Casting a questioning look back at her husband, Eloise slipped out without any argument. She didn’t mind; she cared little for his private life, and she had no intention of asking him for any monetary allowance to buy her own model ship, even her heart sung at the sight of them.

Part of her wanted to come back one day and speak to Mr. Brannon about his travels. The duke had given her permission to, as long as her exit from the mansion wasn’t to cause trouble or flee.

Outside, the fresh air wrapped around the hem of her skirts, brushing her ankles, and Eloise hummed, smiling. On the breeze, she could smell seafood, the briny scent of fresh lobster, newly caught, and fish being grilled.

Before she knew it, Eloise had wandered down the main walkway adjacent to the shore, passing stall by stall, and realizing how she was being peered at.

“That is the new duchess, Mama!” A small, young, feminine voice whispered.

Eloise looked to see a young woman leaning into her mother, her eyes sparkling with wonder. In front of them, they sold smelling salts, all perfectly labeled with cursive writing.

Eloise drifted over.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted, her eyes falling on the pale colors of the salts. “I must admit, your stall smells delectable. What are some of your popular sales?”

“Your—Your Grace!” The young girl’s eyes widened. “It is you, is it not? I heard of your arrival, and we saw you walking with the Duke of Oldcliff earlier.”

“I…” Eloise laughed softly. “Yes, I am His Grace’s, erm, wife.” The word barely came out, and she cleared her throat to cover up the struggle.

“Oh!” The girl clapped her hands together. “Oh, Your Grace, it is an honor! Goodness, you are prettier than everybody has said, and His Grace… oh, he is very fortunate.”

“He is?”

“Of course.” The older woman chipped in. “His Grace has often bought from our stall. Apparently, the salts help him find his land legs whenever he returns from a sail around the coast.”

“He sails?”

The younger girl’s smile widened. “You have much to learn about our illustrious Duke of Oldcliff. He loves attending Oldcliff, and can never purchase enough from people like us. He is most generous and, honestly, quite a blessing to this village. If it were not for him…” She shook her head, her gentle curls catching the afternoon’s sunlight rays. “Well, Oldcliff is much better for him looking over it. He is a wonderful landlord to his tenants, and never forgets us residents who reside in the village.”

Eloise did not know what to say to that. She had not known enough of the duke to question whether it was true, but she had trouble envisioning the stoic, stern man she had married in a hurry to entertain sea salts, or making sure the village didn’t just thrive, but prospered with positivity.

Oldcliff is much better for him looking over it.

Eloise recalled her father’s words at St. George’s chapel the day of her failed wedding, of how he knew of the late duke.

The late Duke of Oldcliff always seemed somewhat unreachable, but you… You are doing your father a service, Your Grace.

And although Eloise had no knowledge of either duke to judge, as her father had, she tucked away these bits of information.

Soon, an arm linked through hers, and her body was tugged back gently.

“Duchess.”

Eloise stilled at the deep baritone of the duke, and both women on the other side of the counter perked up. They dipped into a curtsy immediately, as they had for her.

“Your Grace,” they both echoed in tandem, rising slowly.