Page 43 of To Steal a Duchess

“For years, you have often said that you do not care for a love match as much as a typical lady would, but you have valued being known above all. Your parents never let your passions shine through, Eloise, and they ought to have, even if they are not traditional ladylike things, for you look beautiful and brilliant when you speak of them.”

“My husband does not want to know me,” Eloise muttered. “I see Gideon gazing at you as though you make the sun shine in his world every morning, and bring out the stars at night. And that is only two weeks of an engagement! I am ever so happy for you, but I… I can see the desire he has not just to love you, but to know who you are.”

“And you can have that, too,” Nancy assured her, sitting back again to pluck a small piece of cake from the stand, offering it to Eloise as a small comfort. That got her a small smile, for Eloise’s weakness when distressed was sweet treats. “Perhaps you just need to corner your husband and not let him leave.”

“Nancy!” Eloise chided, but couldn’t help a small, disbelieving laugh. “I cannot⁠—”

“I do not mean improperly.” Nancy waved her hand, but she smirked anyway. “Although you could try that, for I assume, based on what you are saying, you have not consummated your marriage.”

“Heavens.” A groan left Eloise’s lips, and she dropped her head into her hands. “This is mortifying.”

“Eloise, eat your cake and listen to me.” Nancy’s voice turned more serious, and Eloise slowly looked up, lowering one hand to eat her cake. Nancy popped another small piece onto her plate.

“Corner him in a way that he must listen to you. Heavens, arrange a day out. Go to his study sometime, and ask him about something you know he likes that you share the interest in, too. Just… let him know that you are not going to linger in the shadows of this lovely house while he thinks it is all right to ignore you, convenient marriage or not. At the very least, you can be companions.”

“That is exactly what I have thought,” Eloise murmured.

“Then chase that. If you cannot have everything you desire, then find out what you can have. Next time I see you, I expect an update that there has been some progress, and perhaps even a dinner with just the two of you alone.” Nancy softened her bold advice with a wink, and indulged in her own piece of cake, looking rather pleased with herself.

Eloise nodded, still thinking.

She didn’t entirely know what her marriage could be like, but she could have the duke as somebody she could speak to.

But the thought of their almost-kiss—at least she was certain that was what it had been last night—lingered in her mind. The way he had kissed her at the church altar followed quickly behind that thought, and she turned her head to her teacup in order to hide her blush.

“You are right,” she said determinedly. “I will find a way to get something out of him.”

Chapter Eleven

Nancy had been gone from Oldcliff Hall for only a day, and Eloise already missed her.

She had shown her friend the village, and, upon their return, Nancy had asked about the lighthouse that jutted out of the cliffs on that craggy walkway, the top main light never being lit, and the windows dark inside as well.

Eloise’s own curiosity had been sidelined in favor of seeing her friend and occupied with her thoughts of the duke, but now she swung Pickle’s lead as he bounded down the beachfront.

Mostly, she stuck to the cliff pathways, but she’d discovered a staircase down to the beach, stone steps engraved into the cliff itself, and Pickle had pulled her down them, daring and excited. Only when she had set foot onto the wet sand had she unleashed him.

The tide was far out enough that she didn’t need to worry too much about him running toward the water, but she knew the closer to the village she walked, the more he’d smell the food and then she would have to chase after him.

Just before Eloise slipped off her shoes, which were utterly terrible attire for a beach walk, she glanced back at Oldcliff Hall. Even from this distance, the mansion stood intimidatingly, and Eloise imagined she could see the duke in one of the windows.

She knew the side of the estate his study was on would give him a view of the beach, and the lighthouse beyond. If he was in there once again that day, she wondered if he would see her. For some reason, she lifted her hand in a wave, and then felt utterly foolish for it.

Bending down, she watched as Pickle flounced about happily, his large paws making his own prints in the sand. She began slipping off her shoes and stockings, wanting to feel the sand beneath her bare feet.

Little did she care in that moment for any sort of social concerns. There was nobody around to see her, to hear her, to judge her. It seemed that, despite his moods, even Dorian did not care about propriety, not out here, with only the cliffs and the sea to witness her.

It was true: he had promised her freedom, and he had given her that.

He had given her fresh air to breathe, and a place to be free, even if she lived within his rules.

Working her second shoe off, she gave a grunt of effort as it caught on her stocking. She tugged at it until both things came off in a tangle with one another. Pickle gave a strong bark, and Eloise finally lifted her head, a gasp catching in her throat when she saw how far her puppy had run⁠—

And where he had run to.

“Pickle!” Eloise called out, bundling her shoes in one hand, and collecting her skirts with the other.

It didn’t help; the breeze off the sea still snapped the skirts around her ankles, but not enough to trip her. It slowed her down, but Pickle was already loping across the beach…