Eleanor And The Duke (Berkshire Brides Book 1) (6 page)

Andrew looked on while Eleanor reunited with her old friends. The Stillwater sisters were stunning, each in her own way.

But none could compare to his Eleanor. As he stood beside Stillwater, he admired everything about her, from her grace and poise, to the deep connection she shared with Stillwater’s daughters.

He was about to step in and retrieve her hands from Parris when Reverend Gedding approached him. “My dear Beckworth!” Gedding exclaimed happily, shaking Andrew’s hand warmly. “It’s been some years—”

“Please, it is Beck to you, Robert! ’Tis good to see you.” Andrew said, returning the fond greeting. Reluctantly, he turned his attention from Eleanor and Joshua Parris.

He and Robert had known each other years ago, before he’d come into the title and rank his father had held before him. “Last I heard you were on your way to Oxford.”

“And you to Cambridge,” Gedding replied with a nod.

Andrew turned to include Stillwater in their conversation. “Robert and I were at school together.”

Reverend Gedding laughed. “Where many an adventure was had.”

“I sense a few stories here,” Lord Stillwater said.

“Ah, yes, there are many,” Gedding replied with a grin.

The Stillwater sisters and other neighbors were introduced to him, and Andrew noted that Eleanor stayed as far from him as possible, while she remained close to Parris. It irked him, though he understood her purpose in doing it. She could not have been more obvious in demonstrating how distant she felt from him.

And how close to Parris.

He started moving toward her, deciding her tactic was going to fail. He did not care how brightly she beamed at Parris, or whether she allowed the man to kiss her hand. The kiss Andrew had shared with her in the conservatory must be branded on her lips, for he still felt it on his.

She ignored him and spoke to Parris. “How long has it been since we’ve seen each other, Joshua?”

“Since I went away to school,” he said. “Right after you promised to marry me.”

Andrew nearly choked. This was the last thing he’d expected. Marry him? Marry Parris? Bloody hell.

When she bestowed a tentative smile upon Parris, Andrew felt the urge to grab Eleanor and declare to all that she belonged to him and to no one else.

But he held back when he heard her say quietly, and in an entirely different tone, “I appreciated your letters very much.”

Parris’s pleasant expression sobered. “I wish I could have done more for you when your mother passed away.”

Gesu, they were talking about their childhood. During which time they’d obviously developed a close tie.

“Well, of course you couldn’t,” she replied quietly, turning to glance up at Beck. “Duke, may I present my very dear friend Mr. Joshua Parris, of Long Willow House. He and his sisters live only a mile south of Primrose Manor.”

Andrew greeted the man with a civility he did not particularly feel.

Eleanor held her breath for a moment, aware that Beckworth could make a clever quip about being Eleanor’s second jilted fiancé, but he said nothing. She did notice, however, that his jaw was clenched tight, in spite of his pleasant reunion with Reverend Gedding.

He had decided not to like Joshua.

Which was neither here nor there. If he believed there was something between her and Joshua, perhaps he would just go away.

But Beckworth greeted Joshua cordially, as though he did not comprehend how close she’d been to him – how close she might still be. Perhaps he had not heard Joshua mention her promise to marry him.

Eleanor decided she would correct his misapprehension, as soon as possible. She was going to show the duke how very little she needed him, and how very happy she was to reunite with her old friend.

“Um . . . Joshua and I-I . . .”

Beck quirked his brow just so, bringing to mind a particularly playful moment Eleanor had shared with him aboard his yacht. She shivered with an aching awareness of all she had left behind when she’d fled to Italy.

Everything she’d thought they had together – it had all been so empty. So meaningless.

“Joshua and I . . .” she repeated in a subdued tone, “we were— are! . . . great friends.”

“So I see.”

“Eleanor,” Lucy interjected, “you should come and speak to Mr. and Mrs. Smythe.”

“Of course.” Keeping hold of Joshua’s arm, Eleanor slipped away from Beckworth and went toward the rest of the group, aware that her former fiancé was keeping her in his sights.

“This might not be wise, Ellie,” Joshua said quietly. “Not in present company.”

“Wisdom is not high on my list of attributes at the moment, Joshua.”

“It ought to be,” he replied.

Eleanor laughed bitterly. “No doubt there are others who think so, too. My aunt, for example.”

“Ellie, what were you thinking, running off to Italy the way you did?”

“I don’t want to speak of it, Joshua. Just do me a favor and help me get rid of Beckworth.”

Lucy looked at Eleanor with a shocked expression, and Joshua shot her a confused glance. “You want me to cause offense to a duke?”

“It’s just Beckworth, and he is here only to annoy me. But if he believes you are and always were my suitor—”

“Do you think that would be enough to send him packing?” Josh asked.

“Of course. He only wants to make my life a misery in retaliation for abandoning him. If he knows you are—”

“Ellie . . .” Josh shook his head.

“Just go along with my ruse, and he’ll pack up his things and leave,” she said.

“You’re wrong. This will not work.”

“Of course it will.” Well, it might.

Joshua sighed with resignation. “Fine, then. I will do what I can. For old time’s sake.”

“Thank you. It should not take much.”

Joshua shook his head. “I believe you are wrong. Your betrothal to Beckworth was said to be a love match, Ellie.”

“Ha.”

“It’s what all of society believed. Even I heard of your grand passion, and I hardly run in the same circles as you and Beckworth.”

“I don’t run—”

“A duke and his betrothed are hardly in the same strata as a country gentleman, as prosperous as he might be.”

Eleanor found herself starting to pout, and corrected it. She looked him in the eyes. “It does not matter what he and I once were, but what we are now. Strangers at best. Adversaries at the worst.”

“Really, my poor Eleanor,” Joshua said quietly. “You must have loved him very deeply for him to have hurt you so . . .”

“Hurt me?” Eleanor said with indignation.

“Of course,” Josh said gently. “Else why would you have run so quickly or so far?”

Eleanor shrugged. “I was angry. That’s all.” She would not think about how much Beck’s betrayal had hurt, nor would she allow any of her friends to think it.

“Have it your way,” Joshua said quietly. “I will give my all to the task of convincing your fiancé that our childhood romance has resumed.”

Andrew felt like smashing in someone’s skull. But he was a civilized man. He was long past his school days and did not engage in fisticuffs when his own will was thwarted. If he did, he wouldn’t be in the midst of playing political games in order to get Sir Robert Peel’s bill through Parliament. Instead, he’d have sent out bullies to intimidate his adversaries into voting his way.

Even so, there were a few mill owners he’d like to throttle for their greed and stupidity. And their interference. But for Clive Squeers and a few other mill owners like him, the bill already would have been passed into law.

But Parris’s friendship with Eleanor was an unforeseen, frustrating complication. Andrew kept one eye on the two as they ambled away from the group, wishing she’d looked at him with such delight last night. It was clear he had a great deal of convincing to do. And now he had to compete with Parris while he did it.

“Your Grace, ’tis a pleasure to meet you again,” said Lady Stillwater. “Won’t you take a seat here?”

He preferred to stand and keep track of Eleanor, but he did not care to be seen hovering. He could spend a pleasant afternoon in the outdoors with these people, and he admitted being very pleased to see Robert Gedding again.

He decided his best course was to learn a few things he did not know about Eleanor by keeping his mouth shut and listening.

The picnic was a simple affair, and Andrew suspected it had been arranged quickly for Eleanor’s benefit, to welcome her home. His regard for the Stillwaters increased immensely at the thought of it. They’d made it a casual outing, and early as was often done in the country, so as not to violate Eleanor’s obligation to her father’s memory.

The Stillwater daughters were all talking among each other and a few other neighbors, their animation and excellent deportment a credit to their elders. Andrew noted a warmth about them as they interacted with each other, something that was noticeably missing from many of society’s most fashionable families.

Two of the sisters played badminton on a flat stretch of lawn near the picnic site. Jessamine and Lucy sat opposite their mother, chattering together as though they had not seen each other in a long time.

Lady Stillwater smiled at him. “We were so pleased to hear that you brought our Miss Easton back to Berkshire.”

“I would like to take credit, ma’am, but it is not exactly true,” Andrew replied, turning his attention to the Stillwater matriarch. “Lord Derington’s heir took occupancy of the London townhouse on the day after the funeral. Miss Easton and her aunt came out to Primrose Manor on their own.”

“Ah,” she said, though her tone and expression implied numerous questions, unasked.

Andrew did not intend to explain. His business with Eleanor was his own. And hers, of course.

Andrew heard Eleanor’s soft laughter, and every inch of his body clenched in reaction. They’d enjoyed many mirthful occasions, though he remembered one especially, when he’d discovered an exquisitely ticklish spot on a superbly naked Eleanor.

Andrew cleared his throat and gave a distracted nod.

“Do you plan to attend the races, Beck?” Gedding asked.

“Yes,” he replied, turning his attention to his old friend. “And you?”

“Of course. It will likely be my wife’s last outing before her confinement.”

Andrew noticed the young woman was indeed slightly thick around the middle. “Congratulations, Gedding. When do you anticipate the happy event?”

“In late October. Once we return home, I don’t believe my wife will be able to make the trip again from Richmond until after the child is born.”

“No, surely not.” So often Andrew had imagined Eleanor’s body growing large and round with their children. He had counted on years with her as his duchess, raising their family at Beckworth Park, with the occasional visit to Primrose Manor and the house in London. He was bound and determined to make it happen.

He managed to resist stealing a glance in her direction as he accepted the glass of lemonade from Lady Stillwater. He burned with questions about Parris. “Tell me,” he said, unable to resist asking, “when was Miss Easton engaged to Mr. Parris?”

Robert’s wife spoke up. “Oh they were never truly engaged, Your Grace. It was only a childhood fiction.”