Page 44 of To Steal a Duchess

Right toward that abandoned lighthouse.

“Pickle, come back here!” she called, trying to lift her voice, but Pickle had found something, and she remembered too late that he had hunting instincts.

Eloise let out a frustrated noise, but chased after him, hoping to catch him before he got to the lighthouse.

She sprinted down the beach as fast as she could, panting and calling for her curious, excited dog, but it was no use. Pickle had already made it to the walkway, and Eloise’s heart pounded in her throat as she ran after him, praying he wouldn’t fall or enter the lighthouse.

As she grew closer, she noticed the door was slightly open, and, further up into the towering lighthouse’s structure, somebody passed by the window. It was enough to make Eloise freeze, giving Pickle long enough to surge through the door.

Eloise was several paces behind, panting and her hair loose with the chase.

“Pickle!” Her voice was a hissed whisper as she slowed at the wooden front door, curved at the top, with a heavy, black circular handle.

Outside, flowers bloomed, but they weren’t vibrant. It looked just kept enough that it wasn’t a terrible sight for anyone passing through Oldcliff, or curious enough to wander by the lighthouse. Still, it possessed a mysterious air.

It certainly wasn’t lived-in; that was obvious enough.

“Pickle, come down here,” she whispered again, wondering who had unlocked the door, and who the figure was she had seen. “Pick⁠—”

She stopped her efforts when she heard the hasty tap of his claws echoing from inside the lighthouse’s staircase. Glancing over her shoulder, Eloise dared to step back inside, not even wasting a moment to put her shoes and stockings back on. In a place so abandoned, who knew what safety was lacking at the top? She had not noticed if the lighthouse’s exterior even held a barrier.

She didn’t know what danger could be lurking inside. All she knew was that she had to get her puppy back.

Hastily, she ducked inside, speeding up as she went round and round, up the curved staircase. By the time she reached another open door at the top, her forehead was slick with sweat, and she clung to the doorway as she beheld the sight in front of her.

Pickle was all but bouncing back and forth, his paws heavily landing on the wooden floorboards. He barked happily at a small man who held a broom aloft. Eloise choked back a noise when she realized Pickle was trying to bite the handle of the broom⁠—

When she realized the poor footman likely saw him as attempting to bite him.

“Pickle.” She had been soft-spoken with her newly found dog, but now she forced command into her voice, only to stop and stare around at the wide, round room she had barged into.

“Oh.” The exhaled word left her lips in wonder as Pickle finally stopped jumping at the man’s ankles.

Eloise didn’t even give notice of who the man might be; she just could not tear her gaze from the walls and countertops around her. She stepped further into the room, turning on her bare feet.

Distantly, she heard the man speak her title, an startled questioning, rather than a demand.

Surrounding her, there were maps painted in stunning colors, depicting the continents and seas in their layers. Blue, yellows, greens—they all bloomed over the walls. There were some handwritten notes that she couldn’t read from this distance, but she could see the fine print and care they had been written with.

Compasses were framed, gold and silver alike, along with charts that told a person how to get from one island to another. Strings connected destinations.

Eloise’s breath was thoroughly taken. Her mouth had parted, and she knew the look in her eyes would be one of wonder, and she circled again, taking everything in.

This room… it felt like all she had hoped to find but hadn’t known she was searching.

For a moment, she imagined herself on one of the ships, sailing towards the night. The breeze in her hair, the open horizon…

And Dorian’s arms around her.

She gulped as the image came into her mind unbidden.

“Excuse me, Your Grace.” The man’s voice prompted her out of her fascination, and she jolted, finding the man in a uniform not so different to the footmen in Oldcliff Hall. Her heart slowed.

“I do not wish to disturb you,” he said, “but we must leave, Your Grace. Please, come with me. You and your dog. We have to leave⁠—”

His voice faded out again as Eloise, distracted, caught sight of a beautiful map of the entire world. Continents were labeled in a hand she knew now, for it was the same one that had penned her note that had been tucked in with her gifts from Oldcliff Village, signed off with —D.

Dorian.