Page 51 of To Steal a Duchess

Despite their hesitance, the children were clearly eager to have her presence, so she urged Pickle onward and followed them down the path, looking at the quaint, small buildings on either side. Soon, the path opened up into the village center, the fountain clearer up close, its spray encouraging children to splash around, much to the annoyance of their parents.

For Eloise, who had not seen such a large display of life and elation for a while, save for the ton dinner parties and balls—which were stiff with propriety and subtle jabs—she was thrilled.

As soon as villagers saw Pickle, who tugged on his leash, they came closer, intrigued. Some recognized her and curtsied, but others were merely curious, and Eloise at once wished she had dressed down more. Her new bracelet caught the simple lanterns that were illuminating the quickly darkening sky above.

“Your Grace.” One villager bowed to her, his hair long and clothes rumpled but comfortable-looking. “Word has spread of your visits to Mr. Brannon’s Maporium. It is an honor to have your presence at our humble celebration.”

“Of course,” Eloise said, already smiling at how much vibrancy surrounded her. “I wish His Grace could see it.”

“Ah, we do not bother him with our celebrations like this,” he chuckled. “Such a fine pillar of our village deserves the ton celebrations.”

And yet he rarely attends those, Eloise thought, for she knew she hadn’t recognized him upon her first meeting at the chapel.

Still, she nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Well, if you do not mind me partaking, this all looks wonderful. Is there a place I can ensure my dog is safe? He is very friendly, but newly trained, so I do not wish to take him off the leash.”

The villager nodded to a post that would give Pickle a wide berth that Eloise could stay close to without having to go too far to indulge in the party. She made her leave and tied his leash around the post by the handle so he’d have the full length of the leash to prance around on.

She petted his head before kissing between his fuzzy brows. “I will be in sight at all times,” she promised. “Just be friendly. I do not want to have us barred.”

“He’s most welcome here, and if anything occurs, he’ll be watched.” Eloise turned at the sound of another villager, amidst the violins and flutes that filled the space with quick, lively music. She noticed that the woman before her wore a simple, blue dress, but she had several dogs around her heels, all watched for, as if pets were merely a part of this too.

“Thank you…” Eloise paused, waiting for her name.

“Call me Brianna.” She curtsied. “I tend to look after a lot of the animals that villagers keep if they have to leave the coast for business, or venture afar. I am well-trained in their care.”

“Then I am very grateful.” Eloise nodded again, smiling gratefully.

“You know,” Brianna said, her pretty eyes soft and intrigued, “we have heard much about you. Yours and your husband’s generosity have spread through Oldcliff. However, tonight is not a night for spending. It is about dancing and laughing, and, well, perhaps a bit of drinking.” She laughed, a lovely sound, and Eloise immediately felt calmer about intruding. “Enjoy Oldcliff, Your Grace.”

And so, Eloise did.

She immersed herself in the crowd, avoiding the dancers at first. With her penchant for adventure, she had often sidelined her lessons, but she found these were, of course, not the dancing of the ton, with its strict ways. No, hands were clasped, and feet lifted in jaunty, kicked movements, and she knew she would need a glass of something before she felt brave enough to delve into that.

The children she had been brought in with had dispersed, and she spotted some of them laying makeshift, wooden counters with their goods. Another child was being lifted up by a man to adorn a cider stall with garlands of flowers, while another child fisted petals from her basket and tossed them around the fountain.

Gleeful laughter went up when the petals tangled in people’s hair, and Eloise spun, taking it all in.

It was beautiful.

It was her birthday, and nobody knew, and she was glad, for she could celebrate without worrying about any absence of those she’d normally celebrate with—or the man she hoped to share her birthday with.

After two glasses of apple-flavored cider, and another pressed into her hand, Eloise finally felt light enough to step into the gap villagers made in their circle, beckoning her closer. She finished her drink to cheers of success, and she was already giggling as she found her place.

Two rings danced back and forth: one for the adults and one for the children.

The night lengthened, and Eloise tipped her head back, and one ringlet fell loose.

Her skirts swished around her, and she couldn’t stop laughing or speaking with everybody who approached her. Her face was flushed, but soon, she pulled back from the dancing to sit with Pickle. He was busy having been fed a slab of meat, and she let her idly pet him as he ate.

“I wish Dorian was here to see this,” she said into his fur. “The village is so alive, and I think he would like to see it.”

Especially given how generous he was with the village, and how he was reputed, Eloise felt a pang of heartache for the fact they hadn’t been invited, that they were held in too high regard to enjoy such life.

And, deep down, as the cider warmed her thoroughly, her heart ached a little for herself too.

She had wanted breakfast with him, or at least an acknowledgement on a card, or just something. A ‘good morning’ exchange, so she could note it was her birthday, or Dorian noticing Gideon’s flowers and Nancy’s gift, so he could ask what the occasion was.

Instead, there had been silence.