Page 10 of A Winter with the Rakish Duke

Chapter 5

“We’re almost in Sussex.” Uncle Marcus’ frame rocked soothingly as they rode through the puddled roads.

“So soon? I thought we were still in London,” Eloise stretched out her arms, yawning a little.

“My commitment to you attending the dinner must have expedited our journey,” he joked, and she giggled a little too. “Actually, I’ve traveled here many times, I may have let the coachman in on a few shortcuts.”

Indeed, the path ahead of them was tiny and restricting, clearly off route and painted with ice and large rocks, sacrificing a smooth trip for a shorter journey time.

Though it wasn’t Eloise’s first time here either, attending a dinner at a Duke’s castle was a first, so she was a tiny bit nervous. Any mistakes or mishaps would provide the papers with enough gossip for the coming weeks, and the last thing she needed was that kind of unwanted attention.

“Did your Aunt choose that dress?”

“Oh, yes. She looked at a few swatches and thought this design best,” Eloise said quietly.

After another moment of silence, he held her hand in his own. “I’m worried about you.”

“Why would you be worried about me?” she asked.

“I think you might not be fitting in here. I’ve seen the way you get lost in your thoughts around your cousins, and how you isolate yourself.”

Eloise lowered her gaze, unable to deny his words.

“Eloise,” he sighed again. His gentle, blue eyes looked into hers, and calmness washed over her for a moment. “If you need anything, and I mean anything at all, I’m here for you. You’re like a daughter to me, I promise we shall find you a suitor this coming year. You have my word.”

Wait. Eloise’s face grew pale. Had Aunt really hidden her marriage arrangements from Uncle Marcus too? “…Thank you, Uncle.”

“Your mother, she never voiced her worries either, and it eventually got to her, I’d hate for the same to happen to you.” A raspy cough cleared his throat. “Do you promise you’ll come to me with your worries?”

“…I promise, papa.” She supported her head on his broad shoulders. “I love you.”

“I love you too, dear.”

Eloise’s family was largely unknown to her. The only daughter of the deceased Isaac and Helen Brooks meant she was practically raised by her Uncle Marcus at the Lyndon Estate from the age of three. Some vague memories of straddling a horse with the help of her father remained, alongside a familial melody her mother would play for her on the pianoforte every night.

Uncle Marcus took her in after a carriage accident had taken the lives of both, yet spared her own in a cruel twist of fate, and he raised her as his own child. He was correct, she never did truly fit in at the Lyndon Estate, and ever since she could remember, she had wished for marriage to be her one saving grace—to take her away far from the trappings of London society and all that came with it.

But after a failed and…humiliating debut, Eloise had resigned herself to the fate of a spinster. And then James came by, in mere seconds changing everything, giving her hope once more. But now, the thought of marrying him only brought her further humiliation and shame she could not bear.

For the rest of the travel remained a companionable silence as she tried to pry away her mind from the matter at hand. The temperature had significantly dropped, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her body to shield it from the light snowfall.

They finally came to a halt in front of a vastly intimidating Castle.

“Go on now, dear. I’ll be sure to pick you up when it’s time. Your aunt and cousins will hear a word from me when they return,” he said harshly.

The carriage rode away, and she remained still and stiff, facing the intimidating front gates of the Castle. It wasn’t at all like she had imagined. The walls were a dark, distant gray that appeared near-black by the west tower, as raven clouds smothered its crest. Its shadow loomed over the horizon like a ravenous gorge. All that indicated life truly existed in the Castle were a grand, seemingly out-of-place garden behind a violet arbor and an eerily silent stableyard.

The misty wind brushed against her bare skin, pushing Eloise to ascend the stone imperial staircase, as she held her shawl tight. Once she reached the giant arch entrance, she struck the cast iron door knocker.

The door quickly opened, revealing the sight of a young maid, a white bonnet covering her ginger hair and freckled face. “Aye, Miss?”

“I am here for the dinner—I am the…niece of Lady Lyndon.”

The young woman appeared perplexed, but she hurried Eloise inside before the storm could sweep her away. Eloise embraced the warmth of the castle, finding a sense of relief overtaking her.

“Apologies, Milady. Please, follow me to the drawing-room where you can warm up. I’m Fenella.”

The near-soaked Eloise did as she was told, following behind the maid’s trail. They passed through a narrow hallway which was lit up by candelabras placed atop a few antique pedestals. The passageway held an orange color to it, allowing her to take a good look at some ancestral paintings of strange Lords placed orderly on the walls. They finally reached the drawing-room, and Eloise hurried to curl up by the center fireplace to relieve her aching body.

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