Chapter Eleven
“Where are we going?” Anticipation moved through Eloise’s veins as the duke escorted her along the corridors of the hunting lodge, made more difficult due to the cravat used as a blindfold he’d once again put over her eyes.
“Do you have wicked things on your mind?” After what they’d gotten up to last night, she didn’t know if she had the strength, but she would certainly try.
He was much like an addiction she couldn’t break loose from.
“Not straightaway. I merely want to spend time with you outside of the carnal, thought you might enjoy this afternoon.”
A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Why?”
“Why not?” Then his lips were at her ear. “Perhaps I’d like to show you a different side of me… Perhaps I… wish to see if there is a possibility to change.”
That was different, for last night he was convinced he couldn’t… wouldn’t. “Where are you taking me?”
“Just here.” With an arm about her waist, he guided her into a room.
Seconds later, he removed the cravat from around her head.
“Since it’s such a horrid day outside with the whipping wind and heavy rain as well as being so damned chilly, I thought to give you a picnic of sorts in the drawing room. ”
As he spoke, the sound of that rain against the windows sank into her consciousness.
“What do you mean?” Then he led her to the opposite side of the room.
In front of the fireplace where cheerful flames danced behind an ornate metal screen, the furniture had been shoved to the sides.
A thick, plush blanket had been spread out over that section of floor. “A picnic? Here?”
“Yes. Why not?” He took her hand, led her to the blanket. “My cook packed us a basket loaded with all sorts of lovely things once I told her what I needed it for.” With his free hand, he gestured at the fire. “We’ll be warm and dry but still able to enjoy ourselves.”
When she glanced about the immediate area, her gaze fell on Phantom, who watched them from his spot on a sofa. Then, they apparently proved too dull, for he decided to start a bath instead of assuaging his curiosity about what was happening.
“This is quite lovely.” The fact that he would even plan something like this boggled her mind. “Have you gone on many picnics in your life?”
He grunted. “No. This will be the first, and I rather hope I’ve done it correctly.”
“It’s wonderful. I can’t help but wonder why.” Before she stepped onto the blanket, she removed her half-boots. “Oh, that fire feels lovely.”
“In answer to your question of why? Well…” A muscle ticced in his cheek, and he appeared so awkward she wanted to laugh but didn’t want him to think she made jest of him. “Well, I thought you might be missing home.”
“And you think France and picnics go hand-in-hand?” It was a stretch.
“In a roundabout way, I suppose.”
Grief twisted through her stomach. “I do miss my father. He must be worried sick.”
“I wrote him a letter, and had it posted two days ago, and we shall rectify that soon enough.” With stiff movements, the duke sat on the blanket next to the willow basket whose contents were covered by a tea towel. “I thought you might miss that village in France.”
“What? Allanche?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “When I was there, the weather was fair. There were times when I enjoyed dining al fresco, for some of the villagers were pleasant and accommodating to me and my men.”
Accommodating. And when we weren’t that to the French—their own damned people—they took what they wanted anyway.
Tears welled in Eloise’s eyes. “My mother, when she was well enough, liked to take tea in the garden of our cottage. She kept a corner of it strictly for growing herbs for the kitchen. Another corner was for herbs and flowers used in teas and tinctures. Mama was a lovely healer.” Her chin trembled.
“I wish I had learned more about such things from her.”
“I have a feeling you learned more than you think; you just set it aside because your mind has been in other places since the deaths…”
“Right.” With a nod, she dashed the tears from her cheeks. “She left all her journals for me and her recipes for various things people in the village asked for.”
“Ah, the spells you referenced before?”
Was that joking in his voice? With a smile, she shrugged.
“That’s what some called them, but to me, they were nothing more than teas, tinctures, and poultices that healed.
Didn’t matter why.” Suddenly, she had to be close to him.
“Thank you. This is wonderful.” She dropped to her knees on the blanket in front of him. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I rather think I did. After the turbulence I’ve treated you to… Well, I wanted to show you I am not always like that.” He was so somber that she lost a piece of her heart to him.
With a sound that was unintelligible even to her, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, but before he could sneak his arms around her, she moved to sit on the other side of the basket.
Good heavens, she might be falling in love with the duke, and that was folly, for he would never return those feelings.
That simply wasn’t the sort of man he was.
Or was this merely a result of spending too much time with him, feeling sympathy for her captor, misinterpreting it as a bond?
She glanced at him as he rummaged through the basket, pulling out various items. No, surely not that last bit. What she felt was real; she remembered feeling something similar with Jean-Claude except with him, it had been far weaker and much less exciting.
“Woolgathering, Elli?”
His use of her shortened name sent shivers of need down her spine. She would always remember him for that. “Perhaps. I apologize.” Lightly, she touched his hand. “What has your cook packed for us, hmm?”
Over the course of the next couple of hours, she and James enjoyed the food and drink in front of the fire.
There was a nice herb-baked chicken brushed with butter, soft crusty rolls, a hunk of cheese, cold beef tongue, and several jam tarts that were apparently one of the duke’s favorites.
A bottle of weak lemonade was a treat, but he preferred a bottle of ale that he told her came from the Lake District where his country seat was located.
They laughed at the antics of Phantom, who stole bits of chicken and licked at the clotted cream leftover from a few scones. More laughter echoed through the room when the cat played with a ribbon from her hair Eloise took from her hair.
“You know, I rescued Phantom from certain death a few years ago,” the duke said when the animal decided he’d had enough exercise and returned to the sofa where she’d originally seen him.
“Oh? How?”
He removed the jacket of sapphire superfine that she’d complimented him on earlier in the week then rolled the sleeves of his lawn shirt up to his elbows.
“I had been walking through a village in France shortly after I was in yours. A group of damned French soldiers were throwing rocks at him, had him cornered in an alley between a church and a rectory. I shot one of the soldiers, landed another a facer thinking they were antagonizing a child or a woman. When the other two ran off, I went into the alley and found a cat. It was surprising, but he seemed to trust me, came right up to me and put a paw on my boot.”
“What happened then?”
“I picked him up, put him in the pocket of my greatcoat, and he’s been with me ever since. Even demanded that he stay in hospital with me when I was shot in the thigh. That injury ended my career as a spy.”
She glanced at the cat and then back at the duke. That simple act of kindness had her heart squeezing. “I knew you were a good man deep below all the ugliness you’ve witnessed.” The urge to confess her darkest secrets and shames to him… and she hoped he wouldn’t see her differently afterward.
Eventually, she sat on the blanket with her back against a mound of decorative pillows they’d gathered from various pieces of furniture. Blackhawke laid down with his head in her lap.
“Shall I read to you from Shakespeare or from a favorite poet?”
“Uh…” She peered down at him, held his gaze with hers. “Would you mind terribly much if we talked instead?” Though her stomach was in knots of worry, she needed to tell him her story, then perhaps she’d stop dreaming about that time.
“Of course.” He took one of her hands. “What about?”
Not knowing what to do, Eloise finger-combed his hair with her other hand. Her heartbeat raced. “Would you mind if I shared some of the horrors of my past with you?” Even speaking that aloud made her want to retch.
The duke squeezed her fingers. His gaze didn’t waver. “I wouldn’t mind. After all, I shared some of mine last night with you.”
“Right.” She nodded. “That was brave, and I know it cost you much to say that.”
“That wasn’t exactly bravery,” he said in a low voice.
“You are wrong. Bravery comes in many forms, Your Grace.” Pressing her lips together to still their trembling, she swallowed.
“I don’t know if I can ever be that myself; I certainly wasn’t the day my whole life changed.
” Because she couldn’t bear to be so close to him, that he might distract her, she abruptly dumped him from her lap and stood.
“Whatever it is, I won’t judge you. Lord knows I’ve done horrific things over the years.” He stood, reached for his cane then joined her beyond the blanket from their picnic. When he took her hand, he held it and met her gaze. “Start at the beginning. Even if it’s bad.”
“In January of 1814, I was happy.” When the duke didn’t interrupt her, she sighed, and unable to stay in one place, Eloise began to pace. “Well, as happy as I could be with my mother slowing dying of cancer in her stomach.”
“I’m sorry, Elli.”