Page 19 of A Winter with the Rakish Duke

After minutes of walking, they reached the study. Simon refused to take a seat, preferring to continue glaring outside the window as the sun rose in between lumbering clouds, displaying the destruction the storm had left behind. It had subdued, but it stirred on still, sealing every possible exit path.

“So, I was wondering, how are our mares and stallions faring?” Simon asked.

“Walter goes outside every few hours to check on them, make sure they’re well-fed, Your Grace.”

The grunt of a laugh escaped Simon’s throat. “That’s great news. But I was referring to those lucrative mixed breeds up in Kensington Farms.”

“Well, upon skimming over some ledgers, I’m afraid it may require some extra funding to keep it afloat for now.”

Simon turned to face his make-shift butler and tapped a finger against his chin. “What say we prepare to finally offload some of those relics hauled up in the art chambers?”

Following another night of tossing about in restlessness, Eloise finally managed to sleep for a few hours before waking to a gentle knock on the door at nine in the morning. Fenella had been sent to call her down for a late breakfast. And so, Eloise dressed and prepared for another long day at the Castle.

With a short and sweet exchange of pleasantries, they made their way downstairs in companionable silence, and after feasting on a different morning meal of the day, she couldn’t deny the subsequent boredom that overtook her. She was used to spending a lot of time by herself at the Lyndon estate; however, here was a different story altogether. She would have to meet the Duke later, at some unspecified time, but until then, she needed to find something to occupy her mind. If she were to sit down and read, her mind would travel back to James and her forced betrothal. And that would only be disheartening.

A sudden thought sprouted in her mind. “I’d love a tour,” Eloise chirped in the quietness to Fenella. “Of the castle, I mean. If I am to stay for the remaining days, then I suppose I should make the best of my time here.”

Well, that wasn’t the whole truth. Eloise couldn’t trust the Duke to make good on his promise of giving her the list of attendees at the Winter Season ball from last night. Therefore, she needed a fallback. To find where he stored it, and under the guise of a ‘tour’, she could go about it all quite unsuspiciously. It was quite the remarkable plan.

Fenella rose and smiled widely, adjusting the white cap tighter around her head. “Of course, Milady. But Richmond Castle is enormous, so a tour might take a while.”

“I don’t mind at all, I have all day. Oh, unless you’re busy, in that case, we can reschedule it for later.”

“No, no. I do have a couple of chores which I can attend to on the way, but to be entirely honest with you,” Fenella lowered her voice to a whisper, “I would prefer a tour too.”

Eloise giggled, jumping to her feet and straightening her maroon gown. “Perfect. Why don’t you lead the way?”

“Follow me, Milady.” The young maid pushed the metal bar of the door as they both stepped into a silent hallway, garnished by a purple rug and wedged between sets of rooms on either side.

Fenella continued her shuffling, finally reaching the first door to their left. She was about to move along further down the hallway, but paused for a moment, in thought, making up her mind just as Eloise opened her mouth to speak.

She pushed cautiously against the door, and a pungent scent of musk and ink reached Eloise’s nostrils.

“I’ve only been to this room once, Milady, but I’ve been told it’s one of His Grace’s many collections. It isn’t off-limits, I just find it uncomfortable to be in here.” Fenella spoke in almost whispers.

Eloise stood confused and perplexed at the sight. Well, that’s…peculiar. It looked almost like an exhibition. Newspapers and documents were sprawled out evenly among the few tables and thick pieces of furniture. Others hung from the dark beige tapestried wall, while the rest were folded gently on the stone floor. It was almost terrifying. As she stepped closer, she allowed herself to study what the parchments contained: plain gossip columns. Running a hand through the papers, she found it almost amusing. Most of them spoke of the Duke’s rakish ways, others spoke of his cursed nature, and others exaggerated some rumors about him.

Who in their right mind would keep papers about themselves?

But upon reaching and walking along some older sections of the columns, her figure paused and stopped in front of only one. ‘The great, failed debutant’. She knew that title far too well, and she recognized the paper in an instant. The date matched perfectly too; April of 1810, the date of Eloise’s debut…and the nightmarish scandal that ensued shortly after.

She scanned the contents once more, her face paling. It spoke of her deceased parents. It spoke of her less than delicate nature, and it lauded the man who mocked her. Dizziness overcame Eloise’s figure, as her heartbeat began pounding ferociously.

In just moments, her eyes blurred from the forming tears. Then, without hesitation, she snatched at the newspaper, crumbling it in her hands and shoving it behind her back. He shouldn’t have this; he shouldn’t know about this. Did he know her?

Eloise whirled her body to face Fenella, who hadn’t witnessed the ordeal. The corners of her mouth twitched as she struggled to fix a smile. She was mere moments away from breaking down, but she couldn’t let anyone know that; certainly not in this Castle.

“Is everything fine?” Fenella asked.

“Oh…yes, indeed! The room is quite fascinating, is it not? Did he set it up all by himself?” Eloise asked as she held the paper behind her back, clenching it tighter with each step toward Fenella. Her eyes flickered around the room, too afraid to fix on anything, until they finally rested on an isolated corner of the room, propping a mildewed gray newspaper sheet. Perhaps the oldest of the lot. It spoke about the death of a woman, apparently a French noble, whose death shook the gentry of both England and France.

“I was told he did, yes. It feels like I’m being watched whenever I’m here.” Fenella shivered as she glanced a last look around the room.

“Is His Grace a detective?” Eloise asked, her voice unstable. “It is a serious question. It seems he has a hidden profession.”

“No, nothing like that, Milady.” Fenella quietly chuckled, “I’ve been told it’s his way of keeping up with high society, though I’m sure there are better ways...”

Indeed, there were. But it was hard for Eloise to focus on anything else besides the paper in her hands.

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