Page 8 of A Winter with the Rakish Duke

Chapter 4

Afew days had passed since the ball, and it was already time for dinner with that rakehell Duke the gossip columns wouldn’t stop yapping about. Eloise dreaded it, exclaiming her wishes to remain home, knowing full well it was all in vain.

Now she sat by the pianoforte, allowing the light keystrokes to speak to her, though they seemed to come out in sounds that could only be described as a fox’s shrieks—she was a horrendous pianist. It only made sense as no one had ever taught her how to play. Her hopes of finding and impressing the masked man with her newly found ‘skills’ were dwindling each day, and her life was slowly returning to normalcy. She groaned in defeat.

“Eloise, dear, you don’t need to lash out at the piano. Some of us are trying to sleep in our chambers.” Aunt Alexandra walked cautiously into the drawing-room, the fabric from her pleated, raven gown following behind like a tail.

“I’m sorry, I must have lost track of time.”

“That’s all right. Perhaps we can arrange a tutor to do something about this, it’s no use for a Lady to be such a clumsy pianist… Though, I suppose, with your forthcoming marriage, it shouldn’t really matter.” Aunt Alexandra appeared deep in thought, ransacking the drawing-room in search of something.

Eloise froze, then turned to face her Aunt. “My marriage?”

“Oh, yes, your marriage,” Aunt replied cheerfully. “With Lord James Hackberry, of course.”

Eloise’s ears began ringing so unbelievably loudly; the noise of the piano seemed like a sweet memory. Lord James? Her mind had buried that part of that fateful night. Was her aunt perhaps planning an elaborate ruse?

“But mama, you had not conferred with me on this matter,” Eloise quickly said. “And if you did, you would know—”

“You do not need to present yourself as a modest wallflower around me, dear. I realize how excited you must be,” Aunt chirped, halting her search. “We have scheduled a dinner in a week’s time where we shall discuss the betrothal, the gowns, perhaps you can even invite a couple of friends for the ceremony!”

Eloise clenched her fists, standing up from her seat. Her future was being planned behind closed doors, and no one had the decency to even ask for her say in it.

“But Aunt. Lord James won’t want to marry me, I know this. Does Uncle even know about this? Shouldn’t I—” Eloise grasped at any excuse she could think of in her desperation.

“Oh, nonsense. Of course he will accept. His family is thrilled, and so is ours. You ought to be as well.”

Did Uncle really agree to this? Eloise shook her head before uttering, “I refuse. I want to marry by my own accord—”

“Quiet. We shall continue this discussion after the dinner this evening with His Grace, Duke of Richmond, though there is really nothing to discuss.”

Eloise wanted to speak, but Aunt quickly turned away, stepping out of the drawing-room, chin high, and leaving her alone. Her hands trembled, and her mind quickly returned to the events of the ball, the memory of seeing James kissing that woman, a woman that wasn’t her. And now, she would be forced to marry him.

She could not let this happen to her.

Eloise donned a simple beige dress Aunt had insisted on, and her hair was styled from hours ago in an elaborate bun with a few brown twirls falling over her oval face. And while waiting for the others—who were taking an unreasonably long time to prepare, she had decided on helping Letitia around the estate a little.

After the brief exchange with Aunt this morning, Eloise had spent the day moping about, only uttering a few words.

Strolling closer to the dresser, she took a seat, preparing some finery: a set of pearl earrings passed down from her mother and a necklace gifted to her by Uncle Marcus. The necklace felt light in her hands, though it appeared anything but—it was golden, embellished with an agate stone, Uncle’s favorite. His hobby of stone collecting was oddly fascinating, and for being his last creation before falling bed-ridden, the gift meant a lot to her. Why he would approve of the betrothal without asking her first, she was still unsure.

The constant uproar of voices from the nearby rooms was far too loud. Aunt Alexandra and her two daughters continued to frantically search for their final pieces of accessories, making sure everything was in perfect order.

“Felicity, where is your Jasmine perfume?” Aunt Alexandra called out from her chambers.

“I don’t know! Kate, don’t tell me you took it.”

“Why would I—”

Eloise blocked out the noise, turning her attention back to the mirror. Letitia stood behind her, helping untangle the earrings from the golden necklace.

“You look beautiful, My Lady,” she said.

Eloise smiled. She appreciated Letitia trying to make her feel better, but she didn’t care to look beautiful at this moment. Her mind was elsewhere. “Thank you,” she sighed.

Tilting her head, she allowed her thoughts to drift to the masked man. His voice was melodic and charming, and his words were oddly reassuring though he hadn’t said much.

“Letitia?”

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