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Enjoy your treasures, and know that you may ask for anything here, within reason.

— D.

Her fingers traced over that signature of a D.

She smiled, tucking the note into her nightstand drawer. She positioned the model to face her as she tucked herself into bed.

For the first time that wasn’t while she looked out over the cliffs, Eloise felt somewhat peaceful, and as though she might start to be able to find her footing at Oldcliff Hall.

Chapter Seven

It was only two days later that, when the duke was out on business, Eloise decided to tour the exterior of Oldcliff Hall. She had exhausted every unlocked room in the mansion, and had explored some of the cliffs, but she had yet to properly explore the gardens and the grounds beyond.

One of the lads prepared a horse that a stable hand tried to protest was less than suitable for a duchess, only to be met with Eloise’s protests. Eloise swung her leg over the mare she had picked.

“Your Grace!” the stable hand continued to argue, “His Grace has⁠—”

“I will have this one,” she cut him off.

She did not care what horse her husband may have assigned to her. If he was going to tell her which horse was worthy of his wife, he ought to have done so himself. In the absence of such a thing, Eloise deemed herself fit to pick any horse she pleased, and that was a gray mare that was smaller than what she was used to at Wittby House.

“Do you have a name, hm?” Eloise asked, atop the mare, as she stroked down the horse’s neck.

Of course, she received no answer, but the stable hand, a boy who looked at least a couple of years younger than her, gaped at her for a moment.

“Well?” she prompted him. “I assume all of my husband’s horses are named.”

“They—they are, Your Grace,” he stammered. “Her name is Primrose.”

Eloise, without thinking, scrunched her nose up. “A terrible name for such a strong girl. I shall rename her.” Her fingers threaded through the silvery mane of her horse, her face lowering to its own. “Would you like a new name?”

Her ride gave a soft whinny, and she smiled.

“I shall think of one, but for now, will you let me ride you around the grounds? I promise not to push you too hard or far.”

She received a toss of mane in answer, and she grinned.

“Then let us go.”

With a slight press of her thighs, she urged her horse into a trot out of the stables.

Soon, the gravel path gave way to open field and grass that spread out for at least a mile. Eloise’s eyes widened as she took it all in. That exit led directly to the cliffs, but this way she could venture through the main exterior.

She nudged her horse into a gallop, until the wind tugged fingers through her hair that quickly became loose from its hold. She laughed freely, the sound swallowed up by the fresh air. Inhaling it, Eloise realized just how stifling Oldcliff Hall could be, with its closed doors and absent master.

All that lingered between them was the harsher words they had exchanged as they’d departed the village. They had not spoken since, and although Eloise was grateful for the reprise of bickering, or wondering exactly who her husband was, it was a strange, this new silence.

It was as though they had taken tentative steps—especially with her gifts and note—and now she did not know where they stood.

Her horse gave a loud whinny, as if to knock those confusing thoughts from her head. Right now, she was free, and outside, and riding without boundaries, as she had always wished. It was not quite the same as hailing a small sailing boat, as she had long wished she could, to feel the salty breeze coating her face, but this was as close as she’d get while on land.

She rode through the grounds and along the cliff path. Never daring to go far, Eloise always kept the mansion in sight, but the call of the cliffs came, as it often did, and she stayed on proper land. The fields and grass beneath her horse’s hooves, and the endless roads leading away from the estate. It was all hers.

There was a sparse patch of woodland up ahead, and although closely packed trees didn’t call to her, for it was not the freedom of open air, she guided her horse toward it anyway. She wanted to map out her new home; it would be something to do, and also logical, if she ever got lost.

Eloise tracked the route in her mind, a mental map forming. She had read enough map books to know how they worked, and she had worked on her own recently to keep herself busy. She did now, drawing another map—this one in her mind as she rode. Her thoughts connected one bit of land to the other, noting the stables and the mansion, what pathways crossed others, the quickest and longest ways to get to the cliffs.

Her fictional maps from the recent days became real as she let herself explore, the map expanding. In her mind, she started to see the whole area of Oldcliff, even beyond the mansion.