Page 50

“Excuse me.” Eloise stepped into the room, clearing her throat. At once, they turned to her, discreetly stepping in front of the paper. They clearly knew they’d been overheard. “I wish to see the story you are speaking about regarding His Grace and me.”

“It—it is nothing, Your Grace,” the first maid said, the one who’d seemed more aggravated at the gossip in the first place. “It is mere⁠—”

“Gossip, yes,” Eloise said, keeping her composure. “And I wish to know what the ton is saying. If news is reaching beyond London, and it is about me, then I wish to read it. I am certain His Grace already has, and that is where your copy has come from, so I will be informed as well.”

Sheepishly, the second maid nodded, as if knowing this was now an order, not a simple request. She picked up the paper and offered it to Eloise. Her eyes scanned the paragraph, lengthy and unnecessarily opinionated and descriptive, with Eloise’s marriage market history, and a mention of Lord Sarling, as well as the duke’s own shadowy investigation business.

But she pinpointed out the main story of the scandal.

It is a wonder that, despite the haste of their wedding earlier this month, the Duke and Duchess of Oldcliff have not once made a single Society appearance. One would question why there was such haste to their union, then, especially as no news comes from their honeymoon in Oldcliff.

We all know, of course, we await news of an heir. How long will His Grace hold off on that? Does he find his hurried bride disappointing? Perhaps her performance of her marital obligations is found wanting.

The piece continued, but Eloise could not read any further speculation.

Dorian had taken her as a convenient bride, and that was why she could not let herself feel the sting of hurt over the scandal sheet.

Sensing the maids’ attention on her, Eloise settled herself.

She knew the arrangement or her marriage, but the ton did not. She owed them no answers, even if she now felt as though she did.

“Your Grace⁠—”

“Thank you,” Eloise said, quickly shoving the paper back at the maids before she turned on her heel and left the room.

Later that afternoon, she had Pickle trotting at her heels as she walked through the village of Oldcliff. She’d passed the market stalls, and the lighthouse was a monument behind her.

The pendant on her new bracelet brushed the inside of her wrist as she jingled Pickle’s lead, guiding him through the old, worn pathways. His nose turned for every new scent they passed, and Eloise’s misery from that morning lifted with every step.

The fresh air was helping, but her eyes kept straying off to the lighthouse, remembering the duke in there, and how the footman had been so desperate to get her to leave, and how there had been a whole world of adventure in that place that looked so abandoned.

As she walked on, a group of children rushed past her, their laughter filling the air as they ran with boxes full of vegetables. A ball of cabbage fell out, and Eloise picked it up before Pickle could dive for it. She offered it to the little boy who gaped at her with wide eyes.

“T-thank you, Miss,” he said, taking in her lovely gown and her expensive jewelry, and although Eloise knew she looked out of place there, she had wanted to cheer herself up with small niceties.

“Miss!” one of the other children echoed. “That is the Duchess of Oldcliff, Thomas! My mama said so.” The little girl stepped forward, her grin wide and toothy. “Aren’t I right? You are, you are, I know it! You’ve been the talk of the village, Your Grace.”

Her interest was keen, and Eloise blushed, nodding.

“Yes, but you must not go shouting about it,” she laughed softly. She noticed Thomas hadn’t taken back his cabbage ball, and that her presence was slowing down the children. “I must ask, where are you all rushing off to with your boxes?”

She noticed a couple had vegetables and fruits, while two others’ boxes overflowed with flowers. At once, Eloise was intrigued.

“We are having a village celebration!” Thomas told her, his nerves ceasing in his excitement. “It’s the first one in a while, so we’re trying to help all we can with what we can supply.”

“What are you celebrating?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Dodd own a cow who has had two very healthy calves! They are twins, exactly alike, and they have been hoping for such success. Oh, it is such wonderful news!” The girl twirled on one foot, giddy with enthusiasm.

Eloise looked further down the village path, into where a great, stone fountain sprayed from a statue of a mermaid. Distantly, she could hear music. She thought of her own dull birthday and of having nothing planned, and perked up.

Pickle gave a friendly bark at the children, already snuffling toward the fruit and vegetables, before getting distracted by the flowers.

“May I join you?” Eloise asked.

The little girl looked at her in surprise. “To a village celebration, Your Grace?” She looked at the other children as if to ask what to do. “I… I don’t mean to be rude, but your celebrations are far grander than ours. To you, this could be just a lowly thing that won’t be all that exciting to you, but to us it is.”

Eloise tucked the cabbage into the crook of her arm. “Anything that is important to the village of Oldcliff is important to me. Come, lead the way, for I am in need of a good, spirited evening.”