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“How do you know about that?” he demanded.
“The… the ladies at the salt stall told me,” she answered, frowning at him. Despite her confusion at his sharp tone, she didn’t pull her arm away. “They said you leave for sailing adventures and return, and that you cannot always get your land legs beneath you after being on a boat, so you attend their stall for salts—”
“Forget you ever heard that,” he gritted out, pushing past her. “Come, we are leaving.”
“But I wanted—”
“I believe you have explored plenty for one day.”
With that, he turned on his heel, and Eloise cast a mournful look at the food establishments before following him, bristling. It was not her fault he was so secretive, nor was it that the ladies had divulged that piece of information about him.
But why did they know, while she wasn’t allowed to be told such things?
If he liked boats and ships, as she did, why did he not take the opportunity to speak with her about them?
Eloise cast one more look back at Oldcliff before she reentered the carriage.
It was a short but silent drive home, and when they arrived, the duke got out of the carriage, leaving her behind, and shut himself away in the study.
Despite her earlier comment, he did not join her for dinner, although Eloise had to fight a reluctant smile at the sight of a pile of oysters on her plate, paired with a rich, red wine.
Forgoing the fork like a lady would have eaten with, she sucked the meat from the shell directly, for there was nobody there to judge her, and she did not care for propriety in the absence of others.
Soon, she thought, soon, I will get him to speak to me. Just one proper conversation. One dinner time. One hour where I might see if this stern figure is the true duke… or if there is a softer, less composed man beneath.
Then again, who was she to judge about wearing masks? Her own only slipped when she was alone.
And if you enjoy a topic, or have knowledge of it, I do not want you to hide it.
The duke’s earlier words came back to her. It seemed foolish to think about now, for she had offered topics—or so she had thought—and she had shown interest and curiosity, but he had shut her down.
That night, Eloise pulled her hair loose from its coiffure, and let the length fall down around her shoulders and brush her skin through her thin nightgown.
She slipped beneath the sheets and froze as she found two items on her nightstand.
The first was a small, cream-colored travel book, pocket-sized, and a few pages long. It offered an exploration of Grecian cities and where it was best to visit for a traveler, a sailor, a person partial to bakeries, or entertainment.
Eloise clutched it, overjoyed and interested, but her eyes fell on the other item.
She recalled being asked to step outside, and now she understood why.
A small boat with a black, varnished hull was proudly propped up on a stand. Tiny white sails billowed, somehow curved to make them look like they had caught an ideal wind. Railings ran alongside the boat, as was usual for these models, and the decking was made of white, wooden slats. It was dainty and delicate, and Eloise smiled as she assessed it further.
Wire made up the ladders, while a tiny crow’s nest was atop one of the masts.
It was beautiful, but the other part that stood out aside from the craftsmanship was the name.
In neat lettering on the hull, The Eloise was written in white paint.
Eloise’s heart raced, and she looked toward her door, to the hallway, and where the duke’s room were next to hers.
For a moment, she considered going to him, to thank him, to try to push her earlier conversation, to truly uncover what they had in common, especially as he wished her not to be anyone but herself.
But a note caught her eye, slipped beneath the model of the boat.
I never got to give you a wedding gift, so please take this as a belated offering. I saw how you looked at this model, and how your fingers danced over the spines of the books.
Marley Brannon has stated you may visit at any time. Heavens knows he likes to speak about his travels until the sun sets.
