Duke of Thunder (Regency Gods #1)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

C reak. Creak. Creak.

Eleanor frowned as she opened her eyes. “What is that infernal sound?”

Beatrice sat in their mother’s old rocking chair that Eleanor kept in her room. For some reason, it reminded her of her childhood and calmed her. Unless someone else was sitting in the chair making that awful sound.

“How’s your head?”

Eleanor sat up, confused. Rubbing her temples she looked curiously at her sister. Noticing she was in her bed, fully dressed, she scrambled to sit up. “What… why am I…” Realization hit her, and she looked to her sister. “Oh, please tell me it was just a dream, and I didn’t faint at the Duke’s feet.”

A slow, wide smile spread across Beatrice’s face.

“Oh, no!” Eleanor flopped back onto her bed, covering her face with her pillow. “I’m never leaving this room again. Give my regards to Mama, won’t you? She’ll understand.”

Beatrice’s giggle reached Eleanor, making her cringe beneath her pillowed wall.

“You should have seen your face. You started breathing erratically and shifting in place. I looked at you to ask if you were all right, but before I could get the words out, down you went.”

Eleanor groaned and peeked out from behind a pillow. “Please tell me I was at least graceful about it. Did it look like I swooned? Maybe His Grace thought I was captivated by his looks.”

The thought of having a man think she was the swooning type irked her, but to save some of her pride, she might just have to go along with it.

Beatrice chewed on her lip for a moment. “It was more like a thud.”

Eleanor felt her cheeks heat. “Lovely. Just lovely. Wait a minute.” She sat back up and looked around.

“If I fainted, how did I get up here? There’s no way you, Mama, or Sarah carried me. And poor old Madden can barely lift his own arms. Who?—”

Beatrice bit her lip to stop from laughing.

“No.” Eleanor’s horrified voice came out in a whisper. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Beatrice…” She leapt off the bed and kneeled at her sister’s feet, taking her hands in hers. “Please tell me the Duke did not carry me up here?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Mama says lying is unbecoming of a young woman.”

Eleanor dropped her head on her sister’s lap. “Of all the times you listen to Mama.”

Beatrice moved her hand to comb her fingers through Eleanor’s hair. “I wouldn’t worry about it. His Grace seemed nonplussed about it. Maybe he’s used to women fainting at his feet?”

Eleanor looked up at her sister and furrowed her brows. “Not helping, Beatrice.” She huffed out a sigh. “He must think I’m a complete dolt.”

Her sister shrugged. “He didn’t say much. He muttered something about ‘a grand welcome’ then scooped you up and asked which way to your room. Then he disappeared into Papa’s, er, his study.”

His study. That thought dulled some of the embarrassment and reawakened her issues with the Duke.

“How kind.” Eleanor rolled her lips before standing. “I should thank His Grace for his kindness and help.”

“You should thank him for his strength, too. I’m sure you’d still be laying out on the stoop if you did that with just us around.”

Eleanor looked down at her sister. “Thank you, Beatrice. I think you can leave now.”

Beatrice popped up off the old chair and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Be nice to him. He seems like a gentleman, even if he is a man of few words. Mama says with a house full of women that might be a good thing.”

Eleanor watched as her sister bounded from her room. She turned to look in her mirror, fixing some stray curls and smoothing out her dress. She managed to loosen her corset a bit to increase the air flow and decrease the chance of fainting again.

Eleanor smiled at her reflection. If he was a man of few words, then she should have no problem telling him all the things she thought about him and his late arrival.

Eleanor stood outside her father’s study, her hand poised to knock. She tampered down the sadness that still washed over her when she thought of her father. How many times had she knocked on this door and was welcomed by the smell of a pipe as he ushered her in?

She shook the melancholy that threatened to take over and reminded herself of why she was standing here now. Her goal was twofold. One, she needed to remember her station and thank His Grace for his help and second, to give him a piece of her mind.

Eleanor’s knuckles quickly rapped on the door.

There was a beat of silence. “Come in,” a deep, confident voice called.

Eleanor took a deep breath and opened the door.

Immediately she was hit with the smell of smoke. Cigar, not pipe, but the scent still stole her breath.

“You’re not going to faint again, are you?” the voice asked.

Eleanor blinked. “What? Oh, no. Forgive me, Your Grace. I’m fine.”

She took a step into the room and once more had her breath taken from her. Sitting at the desk was no boney old businessman but a young, virile man. She couldn’t tell much about his height, but even sitting there, he commanded the room.

“Are you sure? You’re looking at me funny.”

Eleanor silently chastised herself. Get yourself together. It’s not like you haven’t seen a handsome man before. You’re about to enter your third season. You’ve seen it all.

The Duke raised one dark eyebrow over eyes the color of the sapphires in Eleanor’s favorite necklace. Squaring her shoulders, she cleared her throat. “My apologies, Your Grace. I just wanted to thank you for carrying me to my room when I was, um, disposed.”

A corner of the Duke’s lip slid up. “You fell harder than a boulder being tossed off the London bridge.”

He mimed a giant splash with his hands and sound effects.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes in his direction. “I am not a boulder.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. I am the one that carried you.”

Eleanor’s eyes flew open in horror. “Excuse me! How dare you say such a thing! It was not my intention to faint, nor did I ask you to carry me.”

The Duke leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his lap. If Eleanor wasn’t mistaken, he was sizing her up. She’s been around enough ballrooms to know when someone was judging the worth of an opponent.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

A sly grin tilted his lips. “What? You can look at me like this, but I can’t look at you with a similar expression?”

Eleanor swallowed and cursed her heated cheeks. She knew exactly what she was thinking about when he called her out for staring. Does that mean he was thinking about me the same way?

“I assure you, Your Grace, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Derek.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Derek, Eleanor.”

The way her name rolled off his tongue did something to her stomach. Something she chose to ignore. She balled her fists at her side. She was not here to act like Sarah and fawn over something sparkly and new. She had thoughts, opinions, and she needed to share them.

“It is not proper to call you by your Christian name, Your Grace.”

He shrugged, returning his attention to the ledger on his desk. “Suit yourself.”

“Why are you here?” she asked pointedly.

The Duke looked up from his work. “Because I am the Duke of Graynor.”

“Yes, you have been for a year now. Why now? Did you not know you had responsibilities here? You should have come once you learned of us.”

Eleanor was aware of their dwindling coffers for some time, but she played the fool when her mother was around. She knew the stress of their diminishing funds was taking a toll on their mother, and she didn’t want to add to it.

If he had come sooner, they might have been in better standings. The thought of her worried mother reignited her vitriol.

“I have significant responsibilities all over England.” His voice grew quiet, but it did nothing to hide the irritation in his voice. “I knew the importance of what waited for me here, and I wanted to make sure my affairs were properly in order before coming here.”

Eleanor shifted her weight under his glare. There was something dangerous in his eyes that set off alarm bells in her mind.

“I see.” She looked down at her now fidgeting hands. Stilling them at her sides, she looked back up to see him working again. Hello! I’m still standing here!

“Um, well, now that you’re here, you’ll be glad to know we are throwing a ball in your honor two days from now.”

His eyes drifted up from the desk. “What?”

Eleanor sighed. She hated repeating herself. “We’re throwing a ball in your honor. You are the new Duke of Graynor after all.”

The Duke raked a hand through his dark hair. Eleanor refused to notice the strand of hair that fell over his forehead.

“Is there a problem, Your Grace?”

“No. I don’t want a ball,” he said as if just by saying the words it was so.

A laugh escaped Eleanor. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I fear it is too late to cancel.”

A gruff “Hmph” was his only response. Eleanor’s weight shifted again. This conversation was going nowhere, and it was becoming irritating. Once again, she opened her mouth only to be cut off.

“If that is all, please close the door on your way out.”

Her eyes widened at his dismissal. Eleanor stood deciding if she should bother to continue this pointless conversation. Saving her strength for another day, she gathered her skirts, and with a quick look of disgust thrown in his direction, she turned and left.

Derek rubbed his temples. He spent countless years meeting people, negotiating deals, making a reputable name for himself. It was not in his plan to be awarded the title of Duke by a distant relation and become in charge of three young women.

The thought of being amongst his father’s peers as a solicitor was enough to have him running towards another life. The irony that he ended up in a higher society than the one he left was not something he could wrap his head around.

Another knock sounded from his door. He pushed out a deep breath. If it was Charlotte to come in to talk his ear off about the ball she was throwing, he was going to reconsider coming here.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, and his old friend and solicitor William Pranton came in.

“Ah, William, thank God it’s you and not another female.”

William looked over his shoulder. “Trouble in paradise?”

Derek laughed. “This is hardly paradise.”

William took in his surroundings. The decor was a bit outdated, but it was spacious, held plenty of room for Derek’s books and ledgers, and had a nice big fireplace he was sure would help his long nights of work in the colder months. But his favorite part was the room had its own door to the outside. He could come and go without interacting with anyone else.

“It doesn’t seem all that bad to me,” William offered, pushing his spectacles further back up his nose.

“The room is fine, it’s the other occupants of the house that cause me grief.”

“Ah. Hence the female comment.”

Derek nodded. William was a bit on the nose with his conversations. Sarcasm was a language William was not fluent in.

“Have you talked to them yet?”

Derek shook his head. “Not yet. When I arrived, the eldest daughter fainted. I couldn’t possibly bring it up then. I wanted to wait until she was feeling better. I’ll wait until after the ball to discuss it with them.”

William scrunched his face. “She fainted? Is she all right?”

Derek offered a shrug. “I’m not sure. The Duchess made a godawful squeak and started squawking orders to their butler, who stood there smiling at everyone. The man must be deaf. Anyway, I couldn’t leave the poor girl on the ground, so I carried her to her room.”

William processed the story. “Quite a welcome.”

“That’s what I said,” Derek admitted. “She just stopped in to thank me and yell at me.”

“Seems like it would have been an intense conversation.”

Derek sat with that comment for a moment.

It wasn’t that the conversation was intense. Sure, it had its moments, but it was more that the woman was intense. And that was something that struck him as fascinating.

“William, what do you know of the oldest? Why isn’t she married?”

William once again reached to push up his sliding spectacles.

“Not much. Everything I hear is she is quite popular and regarded as a societal belle. She has had several suitors in the past, but she has declined them all.”

Derek absently nodded at the information. She practically oozed pedigree, but her ability to state her opinion was more from stubbornness than preserving her property.

“Wait, back up a moment. Did you say there is to be a ball? With dancing?” William’s eyes widened in surprise. It was no secret Derek despised anything regarding the ton with balls being at the top of his list.

“No. A croquet ball.” Derek deadpanned. “Yes, a ball with dancing. Eleanor said her mother is throwing it in my honor. Which means, not only do I have to be there, but I have actively talk with people who would rather see me fail than actually care for my wellbeing.”

Derek had been around society long enough to know that although his life path had been nothing sort of impressive, there was nothing “polite” society hated more than the self-made man. It was either you came from old money, or you were worthless.

Although Derek anxiously awaited the day someone gave him the opportunity to debate that sentiment. He cracked his knuckles at the thought.

“Yes, I assume you will have to.” William opened his parcel bag and pulled out a ledger, placing it on Derek’s desk.

“Here are the numbers you asked for.”

“And?” Derek asked as he paged through the papers.

“It’s not good. It seems Graynor had enough in his coffers to get his family through the next year or so, but it’s dwindling quickly. I’m assuming having three daughters to provide for was the cause. If the oldest was married by now, it most likely wouldn’t be so bad.”

Derek rolled his lips. “I figured as much. Well, that settles that. She needs to be married.”

William scrunched his eyes. “Just like that? You think it will be that easy?”

Derek chuckled. “William. You offend me. I have done with business with some of the most frugal and manipulative businessmen this world has to offer. I can take care of three young women.”

Now, all he would have to do is get through the ball, so he could focus on getting the women married, so he could get back to the life he was meant to live.