My Dangerous Duke (The Twisted Dukes #2)

Chapter 7

“ T here, now,” Mrs. Gaines cooed, placing a kind hand on each of Eleanor’s shoulders. “No need to cry, Your Grace. Your homesickness will fade in time.”

It was not homesickness that had forced the few tears rolling down Eleanor’s cheeks to come forth, nor was it sadness. It was rage. Xander Larsen was without a doubt the most confusing, infuriating man she had ever encountered, she now loathed her father for yoking her to him more than ever.

Not trusting her tone or her words, Eleanor cleared her throat and wiped her tears away, then forced herself to smile at the well-meaning housekeeper.

“I am sure you are right,” she said at last, “There is just so much emotion on one’s wedding day.”

The elderly woman smiled brightly at her as she began to nod furiously. She was a short, lithe woman, perhaps sixty or so, with mouse grey hair and pale brown eyes who exuded a grandmotherly air. Even in the brief moment she witnessed between Mrs. Gaines and Xander, she could tell that even her beast of a husband had a soft spot for the woman.

“I know exactly what you mean, Your Grace,” Mrs. Gaines sighed wistfully. She took Eleanor by the hand and began to lead her to the nearby door, opening it to reveal the large bedroom beyond.

“My nerves were a tangled mess on my wedding day.”

“They were?” Eleanor asked. Though she did not know why, she felt comforted by this tidbit of information.

“Oh my, yes,” Mrs. Gaines laughed, “I think every bride is.” Continuing her tour as they chatted like old friends, the housekeeper walked Eleanor through the vast closet and then to the bathing suite; which made her eyes bulge.

Langley Manor was no small home and the amenities within it had been beyond suitable, but the luxury of the bathing room that lay in front of her was much more regal than she was used to. Unlike her copper tub at home which sat on the floor upon clawed legs, this tub, which was easily thrice the size of her old one, was made of something pearly white and embedded into the white and gray marble floor.

“Did His Grace not tell you what Langley is most known for?” Mrs. Gaines chuckled, clearly seeing the surprise on Eleanor’s face.

“No,” Eleanor muttered, stepping further into the Grecian-decorated room, “He did not.”

“That is just like him, it is,” Mrs. Gaines laughed affectionately, “So modest. We are known for our purifying hot springs, Your Grace, and the Estate has an underground spring running right below it. We pull it straight in with pipes.”

Eleanor was fascinated by this, but her curiosity did not overshadow her further annoyance with her new husband. Like her father, he had told her nothing. He had bickered with her, taunted her.

But that was not what had her body so intensely vibrating with feeling. His kiss, his touch, had made her body turn against her. She had melted like warm honey in his hands, and despite how furious she was at him, she wanted to do it again.

Not allowing herself to get sidetracked by the thought of Xander’s annoyingly pleasurable touch or the luxury of her new home, Eleanor turned away from the bath and went back to her bedroom. It was only then that she noticed how it was decorated. The large, wrought-iron four-post bed had delicate metal vines and flowers that adorned its pillars. Above it hung translucent dark blue curtains, elegantly sashed at the ends of each corner of the bed.

It was a room far more elegant than what she was used to, and as she took it all in, she shifted uncomfortably on her feet, and then she froze. She had been so consumed with being forced to be married that the reality of her new title only now sunk in. She was a Duchess . A leader of people, of a house. A woman of status and finery.

She was still feeling the effects of Xander’s kiss all throughout her body, and she had no idea what to do with herself. Just yet one more reason was she was beginning to hate him.

“I can tell you are overwhelmed,” Mrs. Gaines stated diplomatically. “Come, why do you not sit down, and I will ring you some tea.”

Eleanor still wanted to be defiant, but she recognized that her fight was not with this sweet woman. As she took a seat, Mrs. Gaines smiled toward her proudly, then pulled a golden rope that hung beside the fireplace. When she was done, she came back to Eleanor, kneeled at her feet, and began removing her shoes.

“It is a lot to take in,” Mrs. Gaines stated, her hands working quickly and gently. “This Manor and all. Many a new servant is frightened of its size at first. I suspect it is the same for you. Has the Master given you a tour?”

Mrs. Gaines looked up at her and Eleanor shook her head.

“That boy,” the housekeeper sighed, shaking her head in dismay as she returned to remove Eleanor’s shoes and stockings. “I shall be happy to give you a full tour on the morrow after you are well rested.”

Eleanor murmured her thanks, then in a louder voice asked if she could inquire on Mrs. Gaines.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Mrs. Gaines chuckled, “You needn’t ask permission. What can I tell you?”

“Despite your nerves,” Eleanor mused aloud, allowing her thoughts back on what Mrs. Gaines had said earlier, “Did you enjoy your wedding day?”

“Oh my, yes,” Mrs. Gaines chuckled softly, making swift work of her weathered hands then began to work on soothing circles over the bottom of Eleanor’s left foot, and she immediately felt some of her anger let go. “It was not as beautiful as yours, mind you, but it certainly made me feel like a princess on that day.”

“I am sure it did,” Eleanor agreed, smiling softly. At least there was one thing they had in common. They had both loved their dresses.

“There is your tea,” Mrs. Gaines announced when a bell went off a short time later. With effort, she rose from her knees and went to collect the tray. After preparing Eleanor’s cup to her liking, she placed it carefully in her hands and gave her a satisfactory nod.

“You look like you are feeling better already, Your Grace.”

“I am,” Eleanor agreed, smiling back at her.

“Happy to hear it,” Mrs. Gaines crowed. “Now, I shall go and draw you a bath while you have your tea, and while you have a good soak. After a good night’s sleep, I promise you, you will feel much improved.”

With as sure as Mrs. Gaines sounded, Eleanor very much wanted to believe her. But as the good-willed woman disappeared into the bath while Eleanor sipped her tea, she wondered just how true that could possibly be.

“Mrs. Gaines, not now,” Xander groaned. He had checked in on his cousin and some other personal matters before finally getting to his study, and just as he had been about to sit down to get a few things off his desk, the housekeeper had stridden in after a polite knock, insisting that she speak with him.

“It is about your bride,” Mrs. Gaines insisted, ignoring him. “You were too harsh with her when you left her quarters.”

“Do not start,” he sighed, rubbing his temples, “My bride is fine. She knows what our arrangement is and that I am certainly the man she needs.”

Mrs. Gaines began to say something else but Xander immediately tuned it out. In addition to the stress of the workload he faced now that he was back, Xander was struggling with what he had done in the carriage. He had not meant to keep her in his arms- he was just going to help her sit up and wake. But the moment he wrapped his arm around her, Eleanor sighed and snuggled into him, and before he knew it, his arms had sealed tightly around her and he had pulled her into his lap. Letting go of her in the carriage was difficult but prying him away from the kiss had been borderline painful.

These feelings both bothered and enticed him. On one hand, it was obvious he was attracted to Eleanor. But on the other, he was too disgusted by her father’s blackmail to trust any feelings toward her.

I cannot possibly care for the woman whose family trapped me in this marriage!

“Mrs. Gaines. Leave it be,” Xander stated, using a tone she knew better than to argue with.

The older woman looked at him coolly for a long moment, her jaw working on what was no doubt an impolite response.

“Very well, Your Grace,” Mrs. Gaines stated numbly, at last, curtseying toward him. “My apologies for disturbing you.”

With an annoyed sigh, Xander sat down at his desk and tried to focus on his work. After an hour of failed attempts, however, he pushed himself to his feet in frustration and left the house. Once atop his horse, he made his way back to White’s .

“Well, well. What brings you here, Larsen?” Rhysand Patterson, Duke of Huxton, asked Xander, giving him an amused smile as he walked in.

“Going to best you in a boxing match,” Xander quipped back confidently, approaching Rhys and the bar with purposeful strides.

“Well, I would like to see you try,” Rhys mused, motioning toward the bartender. “Would you like a drink first to numb your pain?”

“After,” Xander insisted, nodding toward the back room.