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“Ladies.” The duke tipped his head at them. “I presume you are having a fortunate day in sales?”

“We are, Your Grace,” the younger woman said excitedly. “We have made twenty sales in just one hour already! It seems that sea sickness is a high-priority treatment as of late, so people are finding their way to our stall.”

“Word is spreading of our stall,” the woman’s mother said, “and as you know, Your Grace, our salts are of the highest quality.”

“Indeed, they are. They have helped me many a time.” He glanced at Eloise. “Which reminds me…” He extended a hand toward her. “Duchess, have you any need for any smelling salts? Any swooning issues? Headaches? Or perhaps—” He paused, swallowing hard. Something passed over his face, unreadable, but intriguing. “Perhaps scented salts for a bath? These wonderful ladies also sell oils for your skin, too.”

Eloise lifted a brow, cocking her head. “I… Can I?”

“Of course. You may have anything you wish.”

“Oh, so generous as always, Your Grace,” the mother gushed, while her daughter pressed hands to her flushed cheeks. “We do love when you visit our stall, and I hope it becomes a frequent occurrence, now that you have your Duchess. Perhaps the two of you can become popular patrons.”

“Indeed,” he said again. “Duchess?”

Eloise looked over the wooden compartments filled with salts and oil bottles, taking in the fragrance labels.

Lavender.

She had never been partial to that, the scent too heady.

Rose water.

A pretty scent, but it sometimes felt too feminine for her, although that could have been partially due to the fact that her mother had always stocked it in their bathroom at Wittby House, encouraging her to smell as lovely as possible.

Jasmine.

Her interest was piqued; it was rich and sweet, almost floral, she thought.

Eloise pointed out the jasmine salts and oil. “Can I have these ones, please?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The younger woman started bagging them up, and Eloise looked toward the grilled fish establishment, where steam filled a wooden deck around the building itself, and fire blazed with the hot coals beneath the grills themselves.

Her mouth watered, but she was distracted when she heard the duke speak. “And this one, too, please.”

Eloise turned around to see what he had bought for himself, but it had already been bagged. The duke took the products and nodded in farewell to the ladies.

“I must admit, Your Grace,” Eloise began, purposefully leading him to one of the grilled fish stands. “You seem to be rather highly regarded in the village.”

At that, the duke paused his steps, glancing at her. “You thought otherwise?”

“I… have limited knowledge.”

“Then do not be surprised or judge if you do not know me.” The duke’s smile tugged into a bemused grimace that was not quite a smile. “I enjoy being in Oldcliff, and I enjoy seeing what vendors have on sale when I visit.”

“You do not seem to get to visit a lot,” she pointed out. “Word through London was that you were often in your townhouse or spending time at seedy establishments to find out information on people that you were asked to investigate.”

“You did your research, Duchess,” he noted.

Eloise nodded, biting her lip. “When I wrote to you, I had to be certain I was writing to the right person. I had to ensure I was not putting myself in jeopardy for a farce.”

The duke nodded. “You are correct, but when I am not working on finding somebody for someone, I am here. Oldcliff Hall… it is somewhere I have spent years of my life, and I enjoy the village life more than the one I have in the city. It is quieter and… and⁠—”

“And you have the opportunity to sail,” Eloise interrupted.

At that, he stopped again, but Eloise was already moving forward, following that scent of fish.

Fingers wrapped around her arm, halting her own steps. His touch wasn’t rough, but it was hard enough that she could feel how his fingertips pressed into her skin.