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And it was her domain, whatever the heavy furniture tried to suggest. Books colonized every available surface—the largest tower establishing itself near the fire; three dolls occupied the writing desk in a formation that seemed mid-deliberation; the window seat had been quietly converted into guest accommodation the moment Juliet sat down in it.

Juliet had taken all of this in when she arrived and thought, good. This was a lived-in room. Eloise had made herself thoroughly, determinedly at home within her permitted territory, and the sheer effort it must have taken said a great deal about her that the permitted territory did not.

“Is it really true you’re going to marry Papa?” Eloise said, peeking at her over the book.

Juliet smiled at the child as relief pulsed through her system. The thought that she would no longer have to marry that terrible lecher Penhurst was such a comfort. “That’s right.”

Eloise beamed, but snuck another tentative glance up at her. “Are you happy about it?”

Juliet nodded enthusiastically. Maybe too enthusiastically, but she didn’t. “Oh, I am,” she said. “I am very happy.”

Eloise lowered the book slightly, her smile beaming even brighter. “I’m very happy as well! You’re like a princess!” she said, with evident approval.

Juliet giggled. “And your Papa? Does that make him a prince?”

Eloise nodded. “Yes, Papa is a prince, of course! He told me my drawing of a horse looked very fine.”

Juliet put one hand up in excitement. “Did it?”

Eloise gave her a deadpan stare and said in a perfectly even voice, “It looked like a sausage with ears.”

Juliet could not contain her sudden outburst of laughter. The sound was enough to trigger the child’s own mirth, and she started giggling as well, her whole face transforming.

For that fraction of a second, she looked so much like her father: the same mahogany eyes, the same set to the jaw, and Juliet sucked in a breath.

She still could not believe she’d managed to convince the Duke of Ravenlocke to marry her, but she had. Now she was going to live with a man she truly did not know anything about. Even so, he was still a much better choice than Penhurst, and he truly seemed like a good man.

Stop that right now, she told herself, and quickly cleared her throat. “So, what are you reading?”

Eloise held up the book. There was a boy on a black horse, his red coat flying, with the wide countryside behind him. “It’s a story about a boy who discovers his family’s estate is haunted and must solve the mystery before the next full moon.” She regarded it with satisfaction. “Papa says it is too frightening for me…but I’ve read it twice!” She revealed this in a whisper.

At that, Juliet narrowed her eyes. “Does your papa know about the second time?”

“No.” At least, she had the sense to look a little bit guilty. Then, she added: “He made a list of rules for the estate. I can tell you if you like.” She counted on her fingers. “Not the east wing, no going to the stables unaccompanied. No going past the garden wall without Miss Green. No going past the south field.” Her hand dropped back to her lap. “And certainly no going near the lake.”

Juliet blinked. “That is quite a thorough list.”

“It very much is.” Eloise turned a page. “He never lets me do anything.”

Juliet’s gaze glanced away, her mind turning over the rigid boundaries Eloise had so casually rattled off.

The duke’s list of rules was a fortress of prohibitions, a suffocating architecture of caution designed by a man who clearly viewed the world as a series of hazards waiting to claim his daughter.

To anyone else, the list would paint a picture of a tyrant: a cold, suffocating warden of a home.

Yet, looking back at Eloise’s small, earnest face, Juliet felt her own apprehension soften. Beneath the suffocating weight of those countless edicts, a desperate, protective devotion remained. He did not know how to hold his world close without building walls around it.

Perhaps, in his own heavy-handed, silent way, this was simply how he loved.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” Eloise said again, softer this time. “The house has been very quiet for a very long time.”

“So am I,” she said.

And Juliet found that she meant it.

Chapter Five

“You had better not embarrass me again,” her father hissed without looking at her, facing the closed chapel doors with his hands at his sides.