Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“ F orgive me, Your Grace, but I believe it would be much more suitable for me to escort you to this ball instead.” Christopher proposed as he prepared the Duke for the ball.
“I am not sure you would make a suitable dance partner for me, Christopher.” Frederick countered, pulling on the embroidered waistcoat his valet had given to him.
"But by leaving without proper protection, you might be putting yourself in harm's way again. You should have someone better suited to watch over you. What if the previous assailant sees you and tries to finish the job?" Christopher reasoned with a concerned frown.
“I would personally like to see them try. I have no idea how they were able to surprise me the first time around, but I guarantee it won’t happen again. Especially not tonight, when I will have my duchess with me.” Frederick said casually.
“Why? Do you have a reason to believe that they would not want to attack you because you will be with the duchess? I thought you said you did not wholly trust her.”
Frederick hummed thoughtfully with his eyes closed, smiling to himself as he was able to conjure a perfect image of Eleanor in his arms after he had kissed her.
He had grown obsessed with that picture of her flushed cheeks and red lips. The way her eyes had stayed close for a moment longer, as though she were half expecting more from him had driven him half out of his mind with want.
His wife was quite special. Now that he knew that, he wasn’t going to relent until he had unraveled every single one of her layers.
"I trust her better today than I did last week. And I merely meant to insinuate that anyone who attempts to attack me with her on my arm will not live to see another sunrise because I will put them in the ground for trying to make me look weak before my duchess." Frederick stated causally, open his eyes to study his reflection.
Satisfied with what he could see, he turned to his valet with a dangerous smile, his grin far too wide to not be considered as nefarious.
“Let the hunt begin.”
Frederick went down to the foyer to wait for Eleanor to join him, vaguely wondering if she had to strength to still attend the ball despite spending most of her day outside the house.
She had returned with flushed cheeks and a radiant smile and something in him twisted angrily when he wondered if she might have gone to see her lover, perhaps.
While he did believe that she had been honest about the lack of any sort of romantic interaction between them, he found it doubtful that a woman was beautiful as she would sit at home for a year after being abandoned by her husband and simply devote herself to her garden.
He would understand if she had found someone to make her nights more bearable. And then he would find that person and make them regret every laying their eyes on her.
“I’m sorry. Have you been waiting for a long time?”
Frederick smirked as he turned around to face her, the flirtatious retort at the top of his tongue turning to ash at the sight of her.
She was beautiful, all the time. He had learned that from the moment he had returned to the manor. It was a constant, only ever to shine rather than dim with time.
And in that moment, she looked absolutely divine.
Her dress was a dark green silk masterpiece with sheer long sleeves that sat her skin and body perfectly and brought out her pretty eyes. And her hair had been out into an intricate updo, save for the loose curls that framed her beautiful face. Sitting on top of her hair was a small tiara that resembled a laurel, the gold of the accessory gleaming beneath the lightly.
“Do… do you not approve?” she frowned quietly.
It was then he realized he had just been staring at her without saying anything at all.
“I almost wish I didn’t. At least then I wouldn’t feel so desperate to keep you away from the eyes of those who don’t deserve to gaze upon your beauty. Because you are beautiful, my wife.”
Her cheeks became tinged with color and she began to walk towards the door.
“We are going to be late,” she muttered as she approached the carriage.
“What, am I undeserving of a compliment of my own?” he teased, fascinated by the way color continued to spread over the skin of her face and down her neck.
Oh, how tempted he was to find out just how far the flush went.
She threw a look at him from over her shoulder and he laughed, arriving by her side to help her into the carriage.
When he was settled next to her, she spoke up quietly.
“You do not need me to give you any compliments. You are perfectly aware of what you look like.”
He grinned cheekily. "I would still like to hear it. Let me have some idea of exactly what the sight of me does to you. Does it make your heart race? Does it feel your stomach with want? Do you feel breathless enough to yearn for the air in my lungs?” He whispered leaning in close to her.
Her gaze dropped to his lips, darting back up to his eyes when he smirked.
“This none of that has anything to do with your intentions for tonight,” Eleanor accused quietly.
“You know nothing about my intentions. If you let me, I'll show you exactly what I'm thinking of.” He muttered lowly, tracing up the nape of her neck with his fingertips.
He felt her quiver beneath his touch and just as he had begun to think he had her where he wanted her, she pulled back.
“You are not supposed to touch me. That is one of my rules.”
“One of which you already broke yesterday.” He reminded her coyly, already wishing he could put his hands back on her.
“You would do well to focus on the task at hand. After all, you are the one who is wanted dead.” Her expression dimmed slightly. “Are you sure you wish to do this? Even if it ends up that the worst thing we encounter is more bad gossip, it is still dangerous to feed them too much information about us at all.” She pointed out.
“It will all be fine. Just trust me.” Frederick assured gently.
She looked as though she was reluctant to do that, but ultimately said nothing else on the matter.
The ball was to take place at Lord Pascal’s mansion in London and when the carriage drew up to the Earl’s residence, Frederick regretted his decision to attend the event.
There was a steady stream of people walking into the expensive-looking house, all of them dressed as though there was word of a reward for those who had gone above and beyond to shine.
When they disembarked from the carriage, Frederick offered his elbow to his wife.
“Shall we?”
Eleanor took his arm with a sign of resignation.
“Let us get this over with, then.”
“The Duke and Duchess of Ironvale.”
Murmurs filled the room and Eleanor and Fredrick descended down the stairs into the ballroom following their introduction by the master of ceremonies.
It was all the duchess could do not to turn around and leave. The intensity of their stares was almost too much, to the point she could feel their judgment piercing into her skin.
Slightly, she tightened her grip on Frederick’s arm as he led them to the side of the room that held refreshments.
“It seems I had quite the reputation,” he muttered, picking up a glass of wine and handing it over to her.
“You haven’t the faintest idea.” She mumbled quietly as she accepted the drink.
His hand came to rest on her waist and she straightened her spine, nearly gasping out as his touch seemed to burn through the fabric of her dress.
It took a moment for her to realize his hand was poised over her waist respectfully, with no single flirtatious comment or provocative action.
His memories are returning, she realized. He seems to have recalled his manners.
For a while, it kept happening, his hand meeting her waist gently to nudge her in one direction or keep her close to him as they made their way around the room.
It seemed as though his instincts were supplying the action to him and it was rather endearing to note.
"This is our first public appearance together since we were married, right?" he questioned quietly.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“That explains a lot of the leering.
“Perhaps we should be thankful no one aims to start a fight?—”
"Ah, Your Grace! How wonderful it is to see you here tonight! I had contemplated not coming for this event at all — between you and me, I think that Earl's parties tend to run a little dry after the first hour. But I am glad I decided to attend after all." A man with a rather boisterous voice grinned, stepping in front of them suddenly.
Eleanor glanced at her husband and quickly confirmed her suspicion.
Frederick had no idea who this man before them was.
His expression seemed open, but there was a slight pinch between his brows, a tell she had learned meant he was in deep thought. He was likely trying to recall the name of this person.
“Lord Somerton,” Eleanor smiled gently. “It is always a rather eventful affair, meeting you at the most unexpected moments.”
The man laughed heartily. “I do hope you meant that as a compliment, Your Grace. If you’re trying to hurt an old man’s feelings because you have acquired a charming husband for yourself, I might not survive the night.”
“I am glad to have caught you here tonight, Lord Somerton. Perhaps sometime soon, we should have a drink together.” Frederick proposed, finally speaking up.
“I would be honored to, Your Grace. I shall humbly await your invitation,” Lord Somerton said with a bow.
After the man had taken his leave, Eleanor harbored no expectation for any display of gratitude, surprised when Frederick’s hand found her waist again and this time, his fingers curled around her side almost possessively.
She tried not to dwell on how much she ached to revel in the warmth of his touch. Instead, she forced her focus to shift to the dance floor where people were already gathered in twos, dancing together cheerfully.
This was likely the part of such events that had hurt Eleanor the most during her attendance. She could stomach the ridicule and ignore the fingers pointing in her direction. But the pangs of loneliness that echoed through her at the sight of dancing partners had always been difficult to bear.
Tonight, however… she had not come alone.
Slowly, she looked up at Frederick, her heart skipping a beat to find him already gazing down at her.
“Do… do you by any chance remember the steps to this dance?” she asked quietly.
He was silent at first, then he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor.
Eleanor had to will herself to focus on the steps as he led them through the dance, distracted by his warmth and scent. There was something so cool about the way he smelled, somewhat refreshing like spearmint.
As they moved together, the world seemed to blur away until only she remained, contently swaying and twirling in the arms of the blue-eyed Duke she was married to.
“I have a question for you,” she told him after the first song had ended and another begun and he made no move to take them off the dance floor.
“Now that is a refreshing change. Lately, I’ve been the one saddled with questions. I am relieved to be in the position of providing an answer for once. Ask away.” He said to her.
Eleanor swallowed nervously.
"What do you really think of your accident? I know that you don't recall the details of what happened, but how do you feel about it? Sometimes all we need is to listen to our intuition because it knows more than the mind or our eyes even."
Frederick hesitated for a moment, then he replied.
“I don’t believe it was an accident at all. My intuition tells me there is more to it than that. And if I am right, I will need to look for someone who would hate me enough to try and kill me.”
Eleanor winced. “That… that might be a tad difficult. You’re not exactly the most liked person of the ton.”
Frederick raised an eyebrow.
“Is that so?”
She nodded nervously.
"You are well known, for various reasons. Most of them for your fondness for violence. You were quite famous for getting into fights, prompting duels — which you never lost, but it is rumored that many did at the cost of their life. Many people feared you and it is likely that just as many others hated you enough to want you dead. I heard so many tales before I actually met you.
"I heard you'd slept with the sister of an Earl in their own home and you cut off the Earl's hand during the duel between you both. I heard a businessman had tried to get you to invest in his business and you threatened to rid him of his sight with your butter knife. There are many stories and we don't have nearly enough time to analyze each one of them while we are worried the assailant might come after you again. And with you being the one who experienced all of these, you would have been the most ideal source of the information we need, so that we will be able to sort through fact and fiction properly."
Frederick studied her expression for a moment, then he asked,
“Are you afraid of me, wife?”
Brows furrowed, Eleanor shook her head.
“No. I am not.”
"Then why are you nervous? You have barely looked me in the eye since we began dancing."
A flush rose to Eleanor's cheeks and she tried her best not to cower beneath his gaze.
She did not know how to explain the way being close to him made her feel. It was embarrassing and strange and she was in no mood for his ridicule.
“I am just tired, is all. Don’t worry about it.” She lied as best as she could.
He made an ‘ahh’ sound and then he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"You should be more mindful of how you look if you are intent on me obeying your rule of me not touching you. It is rather unfair to tempt a man and expect him to resist forever. I am only so strong."
He pulled her by her waist, his grip tightening slightly. She gasped at the action but almost immediately, he released her.
“Luckily for you, I remember my manners, so I won’t do more than this. For now.”
Frederick then guided her off the dance floor, with Eleanor’s mind running a mile a minute.
That night after they had returned home, Eleanor found herself unable to sleep.
She could still feel Frederick’s hands on her, unable to forget the gentle pressure of his touch, aching for more than she had been given but somewhat unsure if she could handle it all.
"For the love of God," she grunted, kicking off her covers and climbing out of bed.
She slipped on her dressing gown, tying the straps loosely around her torso.
Perhaps a good book will help me get to sleep quicker, she thought as she left her room and made her way to the library.
Although she had made a small show of studying a few books on some of the bookshelves, there was a particular one she had in mind. A book she had been avoiding for a while now.
It took her about two minutes of fruitless searching before she relented and went over to the bookshelf that had the book she wanted to read.
It was a romance novel and Eleanor had skimmed through the pages when she first found it, mortified when she stumbled upon a page detailing the intimate acts between a woman and her lover.
She had avoided it since then but with Frederick’s words and actions stirring something within her, she needed to understand what was happening. And this was the only source of help that wouldn’t make her wish she could die of humiliation.
She had barely begun to read when a voice asked,
“What are you doing here so late?”
She half screamed, startled to see Aaron blinking at her blearily.
“Goodness! You frightened me! What are you doing, wandering about at this time of the night?” she whispered harshly.
“I had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep so I decided to take a walk. I noticed the library door was open. What are you doing?” Frederick asked again.
With burning cheeks, Eleanor swore, “Nothing!”
“I don’t believe that for a second. You’re here, acting suspicious at this time of the night. You could be conspiring against me for all I know.” He accused.
Eleanor’s heart sank and anger filled her veins.
“You are such a self-absorbed rogue. The worst I have ever met,” she stated quietly, trying to walk past him.
She was almost out of the awkward meeting, nearly out of the library when an arm wrapped around her and pulled her flush against his chest.
Before she could ask what he was doing, his free hand yanked the book — still open to the page that held all the information she sought — from her fingers.