Page 33 of To Steal a Duchess

“Ah! Here she is, the new, lovely Duchess of Oldcliff,” Lord Langford said loudly, spreading his arms as though to embrace her, but it was more of a gesture than anything else. “You look radiant, Your Grace.”

He kissed the back of her hand once she drew close enough, but it was a fleeting thing. His eyes flicked to Nancy, and that charming smile from Eloise’s wedding breakfast reappeared.

“And Lady Nancy, it is good to see you again,” he told her friend.

Eloise expected some comment from her friend, something bold and a little outrageous, a teasing thing. Perhaps to counter that she did not share the sentiment, just so she could tease him. Instead, she could have sworn a light blush rose to her cheeks as she let her hand be kissed.

“Lord Langford,” Eloise dared to speak up once he straightened, “my husband has said there is a chance you might be staying for dinner.”

“Oh.” The Marquess clapped his hands together in delight. “How wonderful.”

“Indeed.” Eloise smiled back at him politely, finding her own standing in the room as a Duchess. “So, if he will not, then I shall formally invite you to join myself and Lady Nancy for dinner.”

“Heavens,” he chuckled. “Two ladies, dining alone? I cannot allow such misery to be heaped upon you, my ladies.”

“Not alone.” The low comment came from the duke, and Eloise hid her smile by turning her face away. “Not alone, Gideon. The four of us shall dine. So, shall we?”

It was not quite the couples’ dinner that Eloise had wished for, but at least her husband had taken her bait.

Without waiting for an answer, the duke tensely stalked out of the drawing room, and Eloise beckoned their guests to the dining room, where places were laid, and candles were lit. Surprisingly, the duke pulled out Eloise’s chair for her, his eyes fixed on the wall past her.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him.

He only gave a rough noise in response before retreating to his own seat.

“May I, Lady Nancy?” Lord Langford asked, trying to pull out Nancy’s chair.

“I am capable of taking my own seat, thank you, Lord Langford.”

There was no bite to Nancy’s voice, no haughtiness, but there was a small smile as she gave into his offer.

“Please, do call me Gideon. You too, Duchess. We ought to drop formalities at this point, I believe. We can all be friends. Titles impose such distance, which I have no taste for. So, shall we stop with all that fuss?” He glanced at the duke as he took his own seat. “Am I not right, Dorian?”

Eloise stilled at the sound of her husband’s name. She could see that signature on the note on her bedside table next to her gifts from nights ago.

—D.

It was for Dorian, not just Duke.

Eloise watched him from across the dining table, sliding his name into place in her mind, pairing it with the man she saw.

“Dorian?” Gideon prompted.

When he did not answer, Eloise spoke up. “I would like that very much, Gideon.”

The casual use of his name felt wrong a little, but she went on, trying to let her demand for formality dim. She had been given explicit allowance to drop titles.

“Excellent,” the Marquess beamed. “So I shall call you Eloise?”

“No,” Dorian growled.

“Yes,” Eloise said at the same time.

For a moment, the dining hall fell silent as she looked at him, and he bore his attention into her. Her pulse fluttered at that growl, the possession in his voice, the… jealousy, maybe?

Eloise closed her fingers into her palms, trying to still their trembling from how much he affected her. The room remained silent as they stared at one another, a silent challenge, and Eloise would not be defeated, even if her neck warmed beneath her gown.

Her chest rose and fell, and his eyes dropped down to the motion. Eloise felt as though she could not breathe. She inhaled deeply, her breath catching, as she tried to compose herself and win this quiet game.