Enchanting the Duke - Lana Williams Page 0,36

wife. The thought nearly stole his breath.

He couldn’t bear for that to happen. Not when he’d already worked so hard to improve the estates. Not when it meant breaking his vow to his grandfather and himself. While the previous duke might not have been right about everything, if a man couldn’t keep his word, then he had no honor.

It would be best if he moved Eleanor to one of the other estates or the house in London. He could visit her monthly until she was with child and then he’d keep his distance so the temptation to love her would be removed.

Love her. He closed his eyes as the words settled inside him, taking hold of his heart. Damn. He already loved her. Removing her from his daily life was going to be painful, worse than when his mother had died, Worse than when his grandfather had sent away his nanny.

However, he’d lived without a woman in his life for decades, and he could do so again.

Duty first. Self never. That was what his grandfather had taught him. He, Douglas, didn’t matter. Only the duchy and its entailments did. His personal feelings weren’t worth consideration.

Now he need only to convince his heart.

~*~

“Thank you, Morris.” Eleanor’s lips curved at the elderly butler as he cleared her barely touched dessert plate that evening. She couldn’t call it a smile when her world felt as if it were coming apart.

Never in her dreams had she expected to spend the days before Christmas like this—in silence with an angry duke. There was no other way to describe his mood. She couldn’t bear it anymore. If she’d done something he didn’t like, why couldn’t they discuss it? They should be able to work through it and come to some sort of understanding.

“I would appreciate having a private word with you in my study.”

Eleanor looked at Douglas in surprise. Those were the first words he’d spoken directly to her since the ball the previous evening.

“Of course.” Her heart thudded painfully. She reminded herself that she wanted to speak to him as well to clear the air of whatever had upset him. Surely it was a misunderstanding they could discuss. She rose from the table first, wanting to take some small measure of control of the situation. “Shall we do so now?”

“Yes.” He stood and gestured for her to lead the way.

Eleanor dug her nails into her palms as she walked down the hall toward his study and entered. Though she rarely had a reason to come into this room, it was the one area in the house that Douglas had claimed as his own.

The inkwell with a medieval knight standing guard beside it. A gold clock with hunting dogs on either side of the face. A crystal paperweight with swirls of blue and green inside. They served as glimpses into his personality, and she wished they had the sort of relationship where she could ask what each one meant to him.

Based on his stern expression, that day might never come.

He moved to stand behind his desk, placing distance between them, and her heart sank a little more.

“I think it would be best if you move to either the house in Lincolnshire or the London townhouse. I’ll advise you when I intend to visit.”

Eleanor stared at him as a terrible pain clutched her chest. “Why?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her as if she were an annoyance he didn’t know what to do with. “I didn’t realize you had plotted to become the Duchess of Rothbury.”

“I didn’t.”

“The Marchioness of Westridge suggested otherwise.”

The hot heat of shame filled Eleanor’s cheeks. “I made the mistake of mentioning to her that I thought you particularly handsome and intriguing.” How embarrassing that he now knew the extent of her feelings for him. He must pity her for that.

“Hmm.” It almost seemed as if he didn’t believe her. The chill in his green eyes made her shiver. “Nevertheless, it would be best if you leave. I have much work to do here and—” He stopped abruptly. His jaw tightened as if he were wrestling with how to finish the thought.

“And?” Part of her didn’t want to hear how he’d complete the sentence. The other part desperately did.

“I would prefer to focus on my duties.”

And not her. Nor their marriage. The crushing weight on her chest made it difficult to breathe. To think. To argue.

“Douglas—”

He lifted one finger to halt her as if she were unworthy of more. “No discussion is necessary.”

“I beg