Page 48 of To Steal a Duchess

“Come on, Pickle,” she cooed. “It’s lunchtime for you.”

At once, her dog galloped toward her, and she welcomed him with open arms, wrapping herself around him before she leashed him up safely. He’d already started to learn how to fetch a stick, even if he got distracted by the waves’ motion, or the sound of villagers in the distance, or the scent of food.

Still, he was loyal, and he always came back to her. She stood up, smiling down fondly at him.

“Let us go home,” she said, jingling the chain of his leash as he trotted on alongside her.

He did not know what home truly meant, but with her, she hoped Pickle had found some sort of home.

Once they entered Oldcliff Hall, Eloise freed Pickle and let him find his place beneath the settee in the parlor, where he usually curled up once he was tired. When he did, Eloise walked through the hallway, seeking out Mrs. Hale.

She found the housekeeper in the kitchen, her commands ringing out in the stone-walled space. Eloise interrupted the instruction on how to present the main course, and she cleared her throat.

At once, the kitchen staff stood to attention, curtsying.

“Good day, everyone. Is there anything I can help with?” she said, needing to distract herself, and needing to prove she could be a worthy duchess.

“Your Grace.” The second chef stepped up, bowing. “There is little for you to do down here. Please, allow us to take care of your dinner arrangements tonight.”

“Yes, but if there is anything I can do, I would like to help.”

“Do not worry yourself, Your Grace,” another kitchen hand said with a polite smile. “We are ensuring all is well here.”

At a bit of a loss, Eloise left the kitchen with grace and wandered upstairs to the main hallway of rooms. She wandered into the library, quite outdated. There were two maids, one cleaning the windows and sills, and another dusting the bookshelves.

“May I help you in here?” Eloise asked aloud. Both maids turned, surprised. “I think the library could use some redecoration.”

After all, her husband had told her she could renew anything she saw fit. So, Eloise sat on the outdated, drab curtains.

“These,” she said, holding the thick, gray fabric. Both maids came to her attention. “I would like them taken down and perhaps renewed with something livelier. Red, I think.” She tilted her head in thought. “Yes, red. Thick and heavy. Enough to block out the sun in the afternoon, but not so much that it will hinder the early day light.”

“Of course, Your Grace. We shall arrange this for you.”

At once, the maids hurried out, onto their next task, but Eloise was flitting out of the room on their heels, seeking her next distraction. She found her way into the music room. The duke had not once entered here, and while it was pleasant enough, she forced herself to find flaws.

The upholstery on the chairs could be updated, and the instruments themselves were dusty and practically unusable. Eloise fell into the flurry of fixing, for if she could not fix her internal hurt, then she had to work on what she could do.

Fortunately, there were plenty of rooms in the house to decorate.

Soon, she had maids and stewards scuttling around her, taking down curtains and removing furniture, and she herself placed orders to have things replaced. By the end of the day, she collapsed into the drawing room, the doors of the cabinet open, her fingers dancing along the models.

“If he will not speak to me about them, then why keep them at all?” she mused, but she knew this was one thing she could not replace. These were important, even if they were apparently not something that she was permitted to discuss with her husband. Eloise felt that in her stomach.

So she left the drawing room be.

Instead, she finally retreated to her room, hearing footsteps in her husband’s room next to hers, and she yearned to knock on his door, to ask him what was happening between them, because this distance, right after such closeness, was unbearable, but she refrained.

Eloise collapsed into bed, Pickle curled up at her side, and she picked up one of her new map books, and began exploring. Her mind went wild, picturing every wave and storm she might encounter, if only she was the person writing and drawing such a thing.

Chapter Thirteen

Several days later, Eloise was back in the garden, realizing it had been three weeks since she had moved into Oldcliff Hall. She looked around herself, taking in the blooming flowers that had been planted in advance for her birthday.

They blossomed in various colors, all beautiful against the skyline of the sea in the distance.

A stone path cut through the main garden, veering left toward a stone archway decorated with leafy tresses, and went right to lead down to the cliffs after passing through a rose garden.

Just a few feet in front of her, Pickle was going between sniffing the flowers, and rolling around in the new beds that had been planted.