Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
E loise sat in the quiet of the morning room, the soft murmur of the household drifting through its walls, and watched the rain run down the windowpane.
It had been a week since Felix had left, a week since she had seen him, spoken to him, felt him.
It had been a long, hollow stretch of days that felt even emptier in his absence.
She had received only a brief note from him, a single line telling her he would be in London, nothing more. At least he’d had the basic decency to let her know, so she didn’t have to spend her days worrying that Jeremy had proposed a duel or something equally ridiculous.
After Felix had left, Eloise had spent the first few days in a stunned fugue replaying the fight, their anger, and the hateful accusations that had taken place between Jeremy and Felix. But after days of moping and pacing the echoing halls of Kingswell, her brooding had turned into outrage.
Neither Felix nor Jeremy had shown her an ounce of respect. As her husband and her brother respectively, she had expected more from them.
She stood, gave herself a quick glance in the looking glass, and inhaled a deep breath, ready to face the day with fresh resolve, when there came a knock at the door.
“Your Grace,” the butler said with a slight bow, “Lady Danridge is here to see you.”
Eloise sighed at her own reflection. Her mother’s theatrics were all she needed right now though she supposed it might be a welcome distraction. She was about to suggest she meet her in the drawing room when the familiar ring of her mother’s voice echoed down the corridor.
“Eloise! My darling, where are you?”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” the butler whispered. “I did ask her to wait in the vestibule but?—”
“It is all right,” Eloise replied. “I suppose my mother is welcome any time.”
Squaring her shoulders, she left the morning room to meet her mother in the hall. With concealed amusement she observed her mother’s wide-eyed delight as she took in the splendor of Kingswell Hall.
“Ah, there you are!” Lady Danridge exclaimed, pulling Eloise into an embrace before sweeping her gaze around the room with barely disguised glee. “Oh, Eloise, this place is magnificent! My daughter, Duchess of Kingswell!” She turned, clasping Eloise’s hands with a gleam of pride in her eye. “How fortunate you are, my dear. It is everything I dreamed for you.”
Eloise managed a faint smile, her heart too heavy to truly share in her mother’s enthusiasm. “Thank you, Mother, but you act as though you have never been here.”
“Not at all,” Lady Danridge said with a wave. “It is just that is stuns me every time I visit. So magnificent! Now, are you going to offer me some tea or are we going to stand here in the corridor all day? You know, if you are to be duchess, you must remember social etiquette when you have guests.”
Eloise blinked and forced a smile. Her mother had no idea how to run a household, yet she thought to lecture Eloise on it.
“Of course,” she managed. “The drawing room?”
“The drawing room, an excellent idea!” Lady Danridge grinned, but her eyes held a sharpness that made Eloise’s pulse quicken as they made their way through the house. “There is quite a lot we need to discuss.”
“There is?” Eloise asked her mother’s back. It seemed that Lady Danridge already knew her way around the house.
“Well,” she said over her shoulder, “you must know that London has been whispering. They say Felix has been seen at the gaming hells and other establishments of even lesser reputation.”
Eloise’s heart clenched. She had suspected as much; what else would a man like Felix do? But part of her had hoped he wouldn’t partake in his old ways.
Lady Danridge marched into the drawing room and took a seat at a small mahogany table by the window.
“Tea, darling,” she said throwing her daughter a serious look.
Eloise nodded to the maid, who quickly scuttled off to prepare the same.
Lady Danridge pursed her lips, shaking her head with a tut of disapproval. “If you must know, people are talking, Eloise. You should be listening out for such gossip so that you can manage it properly.”
“I do not care for gossip, Mother; you know that about me,” she replied.
“Well,” Lady Danridge said, her handkerchief in one hand and her other pressed against her heart. “Dear Eloise, they are wondering what sort of marriage you are truly leading. It is awful, I tell you, to hear such gossip about one’s own daughter. Do you ever think of my nerves?”
The words struck Eloise like a slap, but she held her composure, her hands folding tightly in front of her. “Mother, it is hardly anyone’s business except mine and Felix’s.”
Lady Danridge sighed, a note of exasperation in her voice. “It is the Ton’s business, my dear. People watch. They wonder. And what of me ? Do you not consider how all this is affecting me ?”
“I can honestly say that had not come to my mind,” Eloise said.
The maid came in and laid the tea out before them, the pot steeping as steam rose from its spout. Eloise smiled at her in thanks.
“And then, of course, there is your brother,” Lady Danridge continued, not paying Eloise’s words any heed. “Poor Jeremy. He stormed back from Kingswell in a state. All he can talk about is how betrayed he feels, and he complains that you have not been in touch with him since. Eloise, you treated him terribly, and now, our family is torn apart. Does that not make you feel dreadful?”
The old, familiar sense of guilt rose in Eloise’s heart, but a quiet, simmering anger smothered the progression of her self-reproach. She had spent her life apologizing and bending to her mother’s expectations. She had listened to her mother’s wailing sorrows and dramatic happiness. But this…
This was too much to bear.
She and Felix had both made great sacrifices to help her family, but neither her mother nor her brother were grateful for what they had done.
“Mother,” she began, speaking through gritted teeth. “Do you even realize what Felix has done for us? For you? Do you understand that he took on our family’s debts, debts I would never have been able to settle on my own?”
Lady Danridge blinked, surprised, but Eloise pressed on, her voice growing stronger. “This entire time I have been the one holding everything together. You may have been there, but I was the one worrying, making plans, and handling everything as I have since Father died and Jeremy left.” She met her mother’s gaze, her tone becoming more resolute. “I was the one who had to play the role of mother, not you!”
Her mother’s mouth opened in protest, but no words came out.
Eloise took a calming breath, her own frustration and sorrow mingling with a newfound clarity. “You talk about my life and this marriage as if it is a fairy tale. But Felix and I married to protect you, Jeremy, and myself—to keep our family safe. I did what I had to do, and for once, I would like to feel that I have your support.”
Her mother let out a choking sob, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief that seemed permanently on hand.
The sight of her mother’s distress stirred a pang of guilt, but Eloise held her ground, unwilling to apologize for finally speaking her mind.
“Oh, Eloise,” she cried. “How could you be so terribly cruel?”
“ I am the cruel one?” Eloise scoffed incredulously. “Mother, I have never known a human being as selfish and childish as you.”
Eloise’ raw words lay on the table between them.
Without a word, Lady Danridge pushed her chair back noisily and fled the room, her sobs echoing in her wake.
Eloise watched her mother go, her own heart aching over the turn her life had suddenly taken through no fault of her own.
She needed love, companionship and friendship, but she would not ruminate over Felix’s hasty departure any longer. She did not wish to deal with her brother’s petty pride, and she most certainly wanted nothing more to do with her mother’s drama.
With a sigh, she walked to the writing desk, took out a sheet of parchment, and wrote a letter to Hannah, asking her to join her at Kingswell for a week.
She needed one sane person beside her. Otherwise, she didn’t think she could bear this at all.
The gaming hell was alive with laughter and the clink of glasses, but Felix barely registered the sounds.
He slouched in a dim corner booth with a half-empty glass of brandy in his hand as Percy sat beside him and regarded him with concern.
“You know,” Percy said slowly, swirling his own drink, “most men come to places like this to escape their troubles. Yet here you are, drowning in yours.”
Felix took a long drink, setting the glass down with a thud and calling for another. “Trust me, Percy, I have tried, but it does not appear to be working in my favor.”
Percy raised an eyebrow, studying him. “So I take it Jeremy did not give you his blessing?”
Felix snorted and graced Percy with a hard smile. “He responded to the news exactly as I had imagined he would. I cannot argue with his accusations about my character. He is right, you know. I was a fool to think I could change. To think I could become someone better than I was. You cannot change a skunk’s stripes, even if you can make it smell better.”
Percy sighed, leaning back. “Well, you may have been a very naughty boy, but you are no skunk, Felix. You make it sound as if the world is ending. Look, Jeremy is angry. Fine. He will come around. The real question is, why are you here? As much as I hate to admit it, your softer side suits you far better.”
Felix’s expression hardened. “Because it is the only thing I know I can do without causing more damage.”
Percy shook his head, his gaze solemn. “You know, there are better ways to love someone than by leaving them.”
The words struck a nerve, and Felix looked away. “It does not matter,” he muttered, more to himself than to Percy. “She deserves someone far better than me.”
Percy watched him for a long moment before sighing. “Perhaps you are right,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “But I would say the only way to know for sure would be to ask her.”
Felix pursed his lips as he considered his friend’s advice. It made sense, but he couldn’t do it.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. He looked up from his glass to face Percy. “Since I am back here in London, back to the old me—the real me…will you join me?”