Enchanting the Duke - Lana Williams Page 0,41

breath. Chances were Douglas would see it was from her and not bother to read it. If he did, then at least he would know how much she loved him. She had now done all she could to convince him their marriage should be more.

“But I—”

Eleanor waved a hand to dismiss the maid’s worry. “All is well, Babette. It’s for the best. In truth, you did me a favor.” There was little chance the letter would change anything between them. Now she could move forward with no regrets.

Just because she was living alone didn’t mean she had to act the Dour Duchess. She would follow through with her plan to start anew. But perhaps not until Epiphany was over. Between now and then, she’d find a way to put her dreams of what she’d hoped her marriage might be behind her. She had to stay busy and productive. That was key. Whether it was with the tenants on the estates or charities, she would do all she could to make the lives of others better. No matter that she’d failed to do so with her own and Douglas’s.

The morning passed slowly with Eleanor remaining in the small sitting room just off her bedchamber, pretending contentment as she worked on her embroidery. She did her best to keep her glum mood from the servants, who were all in good spirits because of the holiday. She tried to give them the day off, but Babette advised her they’d all refused her offer.

“It wouldn’t do to have you in the house by yourself on Christmas Day,” the maid insisted. No amount of arguing convinced her or the rest of the staff otherwise.

Eleanor was jabbing a needle half-heartedly into her embroidery pattern a short while later when Babette rushed into the room.

“You have a caller, your grace.” The maid’s face was flushed with excitement, but Eleanor couldn’t imagine anyone who would cause such a reaction.

“Who is it?” Eleanor asked.

“It’s a surprise.” Prodding the maid didn’t convince her to say anything more.

“Should I change gowns?” Eleanor asked, hoping her answer would provide a clue.

Babette studied her simple green gown with a critical eye. “No need. Though a bit of color in your cheeks would be helpful.” She stepped forward to gently pinch Eleanor’s cheeks. “That’s better.”

“Is the visitor in the drawing room?”

“Yes, your grace.” Babette grinned then dipped a curtsy and departed.

Eleanor went down the stairs toward the drawing room, curiosity quickening her steps. Had her parents come to London for some reason? She halted mid-step, wondering what excuse she could give for Douglas’s absence.

Or had Douglas received the letter she’d never meant to send and come to confront her about it? She lifted her chin. She had no reason to be ashamed of her emotions. Yet the reassurance didn’t ease the flurry of nerves as she continued down the stairs.

An unexpected but familiar scent lingered in the air. She sniffed, trying to place the smell. It reminded her of...the woods.

With a puzzled frown, she neared the drawing room, shocked to see evergreen boughs around the doorway and on the table inside the room. Had the servants decided to decorate for Christmas after all? She glanced about, gasping at a tree that nearly reached the ceiling. However, it wasn’t decorated. She looked behind her but none of the servants were in sight.

“What in the world...” she murmured as she took in the brightly burning fire in the hearth with what looked remarkably like a small version of a Yule log. An evergreen bough twined with holly graced the mantle.

She moved closer to the tree, noting the boxes beside it, one with its lid open, revealing red glass ornaments.

Her heart squeezed at the sight of Christmas all around her. In truth, she’d prefer not to have the reminder of the holiday. She only wanted to move past it.

“Happy Christmas, Eleanor.”

She turned at the deep voice, her heart pinching at the sight of her husband in the doorway. “Douglas?”

He moved closer, his sober countenance revealing little. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“For what?”

“To celebrate Christmas.” He reached for her hand and held it between both of his. “With you.”

~*~

“I don’t understand.” Eleanor’s beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “Does this have something to do with my letter?”

Douglas shook his head. “I haven’t opened it yet. I wanted to speak with you first.” He frowned, wishing he had the right words to explain how he felt. He’d hoped something brilliant would come to him when he saw her. But his