Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the elegantly set dining table in Lady Penelope's home. Eleanor smoothed her hands over her new gown, a stunning emerald silk that complemented her auburn hair perfectly. The diamond on her finger glittered in the firelight. Ambrose had given it to her yesterday when she’d finally accepted his offer of marriage after a week of courtship. As Sarah had pointed out. She really didn’t have a choice.

Redington’s men will have reported that Ambrose was there alone with her in a state of undress. Grounds for Redington to take her son.

She felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach as she awaited Ambrose's arrival. What would their marriage be like? Could it grow into more?

“You look absolutely radiant,” Penelope whispered, giving Eleanor's hand a reassuring squeeze. “The Duke won't be able to take his eyes off you.”

Eleanor smiled, grateful for her friend's support. “Thank you, Penelope. I can't believe how much has changed in such a short time. I’m marrying a man I have known as an acquaintance for six years, yet I hardly know him.”

“I’d never seriously considered him for you before, due to him being married. But now the divorce is granted… He is just the man to take on Redington.” Penelope seemed so happy for her it helped ease her worry.

Did she have these feelings merely because of her son? Was he simply a means to help her keep her son? Was that fair on a man who’d thought he’d had a love match once before? Was he expecting her to love him? Her head whirled.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the door opened, and Ambrose strode in, looking impossibly handsome in his evening attire. His eyes lit up when he saw Eleanor, and he made his way directly to her side.

“My dear, you look breathtaking,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hand. Eleanor felt a warmth spread through her at his touch.

As they took their seats, Eleanor couldn't help but marvel at how natural it felt to be by Ambrose's side. Over the past week, their courtship had blossomed, filled with stolen kisses, long walks in the park, and tender moments that made her heart soar. Was this the start of a love? She pushed the safety of her son aside. Even without Harry, she’d probably be feeling this way. Like a young debutante, she let the giddiness of the budding romance embrace her.

The first course was served, a delicate soup that filled the air with a savory aroma. Conversation flowed easily around the table, with Penelope and her husband Jonathan keeping everyone entertained with amusing anecdotes. No one seemed at all surprised by their betrothal announcement, and for that Eleanor was grateful. The Duke’s interest was pretty obvious. And Jonathan made it very clear.

“I must say, Hampton,” Jonathan said, raising his glass in a toast, “it's good to see you looking so content. Lady Eleanor has certainly brought a spark back to your eyes.”

Ambrose smiled, his gaze warm as he looked at Eleanor. “Indeed, she has. I count myself fortunate every day.”

Eleanor felt her cheeks flush with pleasure at his words. She was about to respond when a latecomer bustled into the room.

“Oh, I do apologize for my tardiness,” came a breathy voice. Eleanor looked up to see a stunningly beautiful woman with golden curls and a daring décolletage. “The traffic was simply dreadful.”

“Lady Arabella,” Penelope said, rising to greet her. “We're so glad you could join us,” but she cast a worried look in Eleanor’s direction.

Eleanor noticed a flicker of something—recognition? Discomfort?—pass over Ambrose's face before he schooled his features into a polite smile.

As Lady Arabella took her seat, her eyes locked onto Ambrose. “Your Grace, how wonderful to see you again. It's been far too long.”

Eleanor felt a prickle of unease. There was a familiarity in Lady Arabella's tone that suggested a shared history. She tried to catch Penelope’s eye, but her friend avoided her. Where had she seen this woman before? Or had she merely heard her name?

Dinner progressed, but Eleanor found her appetite waning. She couldn't shake the feeling that Lady Arabella was watching Ambrose and Eleanor, her gaze filled with a mixture of curiosity and something that looked suspiciously like longing. However, Ambrose, on his part, seemed to be immune.

After the main course was cleared away, Eleanor excused herself and stepped out for a breath of fresh air. The night was cool and crisp, and she welcomed the momentary solitude to gather her thoughts.

She was about to return when she heard voices drifting from an open window nearby. Her heart clenched as she recognized Ambrose's deep timbre.

“Come now, Hampton,” came a male voice she didn't recognize. “So, you’re marrying Lady Eleanor. A sensible choice. You need an heir.”

There was a pause, and Eleanor held her breath, waiting for Ambrose's response.

“I do indeed. Eleanor is... perfect,” Ambrose said, his voice measured. “She's sensible, intelligent, and not silly enough to want love. I've done that once, and never again. We will be quite content. She’ll have the children and I’ll have my work and other amusements.”

“Amusements like Lady Arabella?” and the man laughed so she could not hear Ambrose’s reply.

Eleanor felt as though she'd been doused in ice water. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the cold stone of the balustrade.

“At least you know she can give you a son.”

“Indeed,” Ambrose stated. “She'll do to give me a son, as she's already proven capable of bearing one. And she'll make an excellent duchess—poised, dignified, and not prone to flights of romantic fancy.”

“So, it's a purely practical arrangement?” the other man pressed. “And what of mistresses? I see Lady Arabella is here. Did you invite her?”

“No. That relationship was over long ago and a mistake. Beautiful women are not to be trusted.”

Eleanor's vision blurred with unshed tears. His words indicated he did not find her beautiful. She knew that she wasn’t a great beauty, but still… each word felt like a dagger to her heart. How could she have been so foolish? She'd allowed herself to believe that Ambrose was falling in love with her, that their tender moments and passionate kisses meant something more. That she would finally have a marriage filled with love. But she should have known the fortress around his heart was impenetrable. Especially for a sensible, plain widow who would have his sons and yet he’d be out romancing his mistresses.

It had all been a carefully orchestrated performance. She was nothing more than a convenient solution to his need for an heir and a duchess. His heart was firmly protected behind a stone wall. But then, hadn’t she been thinking about the duke as a way to save her son? Both of them had other agendas. It made her feel less mercenary.

Struggling to maintain her composure, Eleanor slipped back into the dining room. She avoided Ambrose's gaze as she retook her seat, focusing instead on the dessert that had been placed before her.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Penelope whispered, her voice laced with concern. “You look pale.”

Eleanor forced a smile, though it felt brittle on her face. “I'm fine, thank you. Just a touch of a headache.”

As the evening wore on, Eleanor felt as though she were drowning, struggling to keep her head above water in a sea of polite conversation and false pretenses. She laughed at the right moments, smiled when appropriate, but inside, she was crumbling.

When at last the evening drew to a close, Eleanor couldn't escape fast enough. She made her excuses, claiming her headache had worsened, and fled to the sanctuary of her waiting carriage.

“Eleanor, wait!” Ambrose called, catching up to her just as she was about to step inside. “Let me accompany you home.”

She turned to face him, struggling to keep her emotions in check. “That won't be necessary, Your Grace. I'm perfectly capable of seeing myself home.”

Ambrose frowned, clearly taken aback by her formal tone. “Eleanor, what's wrong? Have I done something to upset you?”

For a moment, Eleanor was tempted to confront him, to ask him to stop the pretense. But what would be the point? He had made his intentions clear, and she had been fool enough to think there could be more between them. She was sick of feeling powerless in life, but now she understood she always would be. Not a beauty, no assets to her name. Her one priceless endowment was her son and Harry’s happiness must come first.

The duke would be her means to an end, just as she would be the Duke’s.

“Not at all, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. “I simply need some rest. A headache, of sorts. Good night.”

Before he could respond, Eleanor stepped into the carriage and shut the door firmly behind her. As the vehicle pulled away, she finally allowed the tears to fall, her dreams of love and happiness shattering like delicate glass.

Back at home, Eleanor moved through the quiet house like a ghost. She paused at Harry's room, pushing the door open to gaze at her sleeping son. Her heart clenched as she thought of the future she had imagined for them—a loving family with Ambrose and Lillian. She could still have that for both Harry and Lillian and any other children, but once again, she faced a loveless marriage. She just hoped it was a better marriage than her first one.

In the solitude of her bedchamber, Eleanor sank onto the edge of her bed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. How could she have been so na?ve? She had allowed herself to hope, to believe that she could have it all—love, security, and happiness.

But Ambrose's words echoed in her mind, each syllable a painful reminder of her foolishness.

As the first light of dawn crept through her windows, Eleanor decided. During the dark hours, a fortress built around her heart too. She would turn into exactly what the Duke wanted. A sensible, non-demanding wife. She’d share all her love with Harry and Lillian and other future children.

The sun rose fully, casting a golden glow across her room. Eleanor squared her shoulders, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Despite being knocked down, she would rise again, stronger and wiser for the experience.

Her eyes were wide open, and for once, she would get what she wanted. If not for her, then for her son.

Harry would be safe from Redington.

That’s all she cared about now.