Chapter 3

Eleanor tugged at the neckline of her dress as the carriage tumbled down the narrow streets of London, the rain beating harshly against the glass windows.

'Eleanor!' her mother chastised, 'Stop fidgeting!'

Eleanor scowled at her mother who sat across from her in the carriage, decked in the finest of jewels. She looked down at her own dress which was no less fine - if not finer - than her mother's. Layers of blue silk were draped across her petite body and a necklace of sapphires and diamonds drove attention away from her plunging décolletage - her mother had insisted the neckline to be tailored so, to Eleanor's horror.

Although, she thought, that would not stop Daniel.

Choosing not to reply to her horrible mother and ignoring her traitor of a father - who sat beside her - she looked out the window as the carriage made its way up the long and arduous driveway of Huntington Manor in London.

After she had locked herself in her room, a week prior, when she learnt of her impending nuptials, Eleanor vowed that she would find a way out of the mess her parents had made for her. But as she sobbed into the sheets of her bed and wracked her brain for a way she could attain freedom, she realised there was none. At least, no way in which she could do so, without tarnishing her father's reputation. Because, she realised later after her father discussed with her - after a lot of pleading on his part to hear him out - that the mysterious and alluring Duke of Wolverhampton, Lord Nathan Huntington had coerced Lord Salford into the deal. All the same, she could not help but feel her father - her wonderful, amazing father - had betrayed her.

We are in debt, my dear, her father's words echoed in her head. And the duke knows of it - how, I can only imagine. He has consented to aid us in return for you. And if we do not accept his offer, we will be ruined. Absolutely ruined.

Eleanor shook her head to clear her mind as the carriage came to a halt in front of the ornate front doors of the manor. The duke had invited Eleanor and her parents over for dinner where he would formally propose to her in front of witnesses to ensure propriety was maintained. And although Eleanor would normally agree with it, all she could think of now was, Propriety be damned!

As she descended the carriage, she looked up at the building in front of her and felt her lips part slightly. The manor was immense! With statues dotting the lush green lawn which seemed to stretch on for miles around it, the place screamed wealth and grandeur and Eleanor felt greatly intimidated. The little voice in her head told her that this was all going to be hers soon but she shook that thought away. This was not going to be hers; not if she had anything to do about it.

The front doors opened and an elderly woman scampered out, looking frantic. She was short and plump and had the sweetest face Eleanor had seen. She instantly took a liking to the old lady who looked, undoubtedly, like the Head Housekeeper.

'Welcome to Huntington Manor your lordship; your ladyship,' she greeted Lord and Lady Salford, dipping a short curtsy. She then faced Eleanor and repeated the action saying, 'Your Grace.'

Eleanor shook her head fervently. 'Oh, I'm not "Your Grace",' she said, defending herself.

The woman smiled kindly. 'But you will be soon.'

Eleanor silently prayed that that would never come to be.

'I'm Mrs. Smith, the Head Housekeeper,' the lady said. 'If you will follow me, I will show you to His Grace.'

Mrs. Smith turned to go back up the stairs leading up to the doors and disappeared through it with Lady Salford hot on her heels. Eleanor stayed where she was, dreading to go up those stairs - those stairs which would lead her to her fate, one which she wanted to avoid at all costs.

'Well?' her father, who had not gone in, held out a hand to her. 'Shall we go?'

For a moment, Eleanor wanted to take his hand and relish the feeling of being her father's darling once again. But anger and hurt got the better of her and, giving him a cold look, she walked past him and into the palace, ignoring the hand that had once held her own as she learnt to walk, play and laugh amidst the cruelty of life.

**********

'The food is absolutely delicious, your Grace,' Lady Salford said, not for the first time, as they dined amongst the nobility of London.

'Thank you, Lady Salford,' Lord Wolverhampton, who sat at the head of the table, said - again. 'I will make sure to let the cook know of your compliments.'

Lady Salford giggled - coyly, Eleanor noted with disgust - and went back to eating her food.

Eleanor, herself, had not touched a thing on her plate. She merely played around with her food and drank the wine to feign hunger. How could she eat when the man who planned to ruin her life as she knew it sat right next to her?

'Lady Eleanor?'

Eleanor looked up from her plate to see everyone looking at her expectantly. With a jolt, she realised that the duke had been speaking to her and she turned to face him.

'Yes, Your Grace?' she asked, finding two stunningly blue eyes boring into hers.

'How do you like the food?' the duke asked, unblinking.

'The food?' Eleanor asked blankly. She was fighting the colour that had rushed to her cheeks - she hated attention and the darned duke had placed her at the centre of it.

'Yes,' Lord Wolverhampton replied, a look of amusement crossing his face. 'I hope it is to your satisfaction.'

'Y-yes, Your Grace,' she said, stuttering. She heard a few snickers from around her and the redness of her cheeks deepened in colour.

Blast! she thought. Why did I have to stutter?

After dessert was served, the men retired to the gameroom for brandy and 'fellowship' as Daniel - the bloody bastard had come! - put it and the women, to another room for gossip. However, as she followed the snickering women down the hallway, a hand shot out from the side and pulled her into a hidden alcove.

'What in bloody hell -' she began to curse but stopped as she came to face her supposed 'kidnapper'.

'Your Grace,' Eleanor gulped, losing herself in Lord Wolverhampton's gorgeous eyes.

'Lady Eleanor,' he stated, returning her burning gaze.

Eleanor looked down to where her wrist was being held captive by the duke. He, following her gaze and realising the proximity, let her go quickly, as if her touch had burnt him.

Eleanor looked back at his devilishly handsome face and found herself shocked. Was he...blushing?

'Lady Eleanor,' he started, masking his emotions with nonchalance. 'I hope you know what is going to take place tonight.'

Eleanor slowly nodded her head. 'Yes,' she said softly. 'You will propose to me in front of everyone and I will accept. Everyone will be surprised but would think of us as young and in love and it will be the gossip for some time. Thus, they act as witnesses and cover up our shockingly fast wedding so that you can attend to your work as you so call it without the questions of the ton.'

Lord Wolverhampton gave her a shocked smile when she finished relaying to him the plan. The plan had, indeed, been concocted by the duke and her father had taught her all that she should do to make people believe that the soon-to-be-engaged couple were deeply in love. This way, her father had told her, the number of questions regarding the exceedingly little time between the engagement and the wedding would be limited; they would blame the hurried wedding on the fact that the couple was young and in love or - according to Eleanor - they would think she was with child. And although the idea was fine, she doubted anyone would believe the duke of Wolverhampton capable of loving - the man had just returned to society for heaven's sake! And that too, in love with her -a wretched servant girl who stumbled upon luck as described by the Marchioness of Salford?

'I see you are thorough,' the duke noted in an amused tone and Eleanor found herself irritated. He was constantly amused by her antics although why, she could not for the life of her fathom.

'Yes,' she snapped. 'I have to be, don't I, unless I want my father's reputation in shambles?' Not that she really did care, if she was being honest with herself. But he did not need to know that yet.

A dark look shadowed Lord Wolverhampton's face as he said, 'I never blackmailed him. I simply offered him help in return for your hand in marriage. It is not like I threatened to ruin him.'

'It is still the same, is it not?' Eleanor asked, angrily. 'Either way, I am the one who loses.'

'But my love,' the duke whispered softly and Eleanor's breathing hitched at his use of nickname. He was standing close - too close for her liking - in the dingy alcove. 'Who said you would not gain from this union?'

Eleanor's head snapped up to look at him square in the eyes. 'What do you mean? I do not gain anything from this sham of a marriage except a husband which I did not ask for!' she bellowed, her chest rising up and down from the pent-up anger she released.

The duke tsked softly. 'On the contrary,' he said, a sparkle in his eye, 'you have much to gain.'

Eleanor narrowed her eyes at the infuriating duke. 'How so?'

'Well, my love,' he said, using the nickname which she was beginning to hate by the second, 'to begin with, I am only marrying you for the benefit of my work.'

Eleanor's eyes widened to the size of saucers. 'Beg pardon?' she asked, thinking she hadn't heard him right.

'The reason I wish to wed you, Lady Eleanor, is because I must wed for my work. A man, truth be told, has no need for a wife except to produce an heir. I, on the other hand, do not wish to do so for I am going to pass on my estate and inheritance to the people after my death.'

'The people?' Eleanor asked dubiously, her face going white as a sheet.

'Yes,' the duke nodded, 'I have no interest in the Crown which would only exploit my vast wealth. The public, however, will use it for their betterment.'

'But-but,' Eleanor stuttered, her mind trying to reel all the information, 'we are a monarchy! Your wealth must be handed over to the Crown.'

'Or someone specifically. I plan to hand over my wealth to a specific commoner who will use it for the benefit of the people.'

Eleanor stared at the man in front of her in shock. This was traitorous! If his original intentions were to be made clear, he could be hung for treason to the Crown! Well, maybe not treason, but it would be a scandal nonetheless.

'But, why do you need to marry me? You could easily choose to remain a bachelor without drawing concerns or ill-fitting rumours,' Eleanor said.

'Ah, but you see, my love, you are the only one who can help me with my work,' he said, inching closer to her. Eleanor moved back with each step he took until her back was against the wall of the alcove an her hands gripped the ledge behind her tightly.

'What work?' she asked, her lip trembling as she said the words.

'You need not concern yourself with it now,' Lord Wolverhampton said, his eyes staring into hers with such force that she was sure he could wrench out her darkest of secrets. 'But, it is in India. And you are the only one who can help me with what I am going to do there.'

Eleanor stared at the him in shock. India! Her homeland which she knew nothing about but her homeland nonetheless. Now, it all made sense to her; why else would someone be willing to marry her? But along with understanding came anger. This man was marrying her just for his benefit. He did not care twopence for her; like everyone else, he too only wanted her for their own personal gain. Of course, he did not want her for pleasure as the majority of gentlemen - and a few ladies - did, but it was personal gain nonetheless.

'But I do not know anything of the place, Your Grace, even if it is my homeland,' Eleanor stated, deciding not to voice her opinion out loud. Something about him told him he was dangerous, especially his "work" and she did not want to get on his bad side. 'I have not been there since my father took me away from there when I was but a child.'

Lord Wolverhampton waved away the concern. 'That does not matter. What I want of you does not require anything of the like.'

'And how do I gain from this arrangement?' Eleanor asked curiously.

'Freedom,' he stated blandly. 'Freedom from all the norms and rules of England; is that not what every girl secretly desires? Although, from what I have heard of you, you do well to uphold those norms. Which is why I have offered financial support to your debt-ridden family. After you have married me and secured my work, you can go anywhere you wish. I shall not be a hindrance to you. I shall set no boundaries. You will not be withheld from your wishes in the slightest - even if the wish is to bed another man. You have my word on it.'

Eleanor felt a shiver crawl down her spine as she processed what he had said. Freedom! She had not really thought about freedom before. The way he had said it, it certainly seemed like a fairytale come true. A life without the restrictions placed on her since birth - ones which she tried to uphold. It was too good to be true, she supposed but this was a better alternative than running away with no money or means, which is what she'd originally planned.

Yes, the deal was a fine one, indeed.

'It is a deal then, Your Grace,' she said, standing up straight, although the Duke still leaned over her. 'But I am doing it solely for my freedom; not for my parents.'

'Not for your parents? I thought freedom would just be an added bonus. Surely, some part of you wishes for your family to live in comfort.' he asked, a frown etched on his forehead.

Eleanor shook her head. 'My mother was never my parent,' she said, her eyes lowering to meet the floor. 'And my father; he stopped being one when he agreed to the wedding without my consent. They can both go to hell for all I care.' She said the last words softly but he had heard it for she had heard the sharp intake of breath at her profanity.

She felt a finger at the base of her throat before her chin was tilted up.

'Look at me.' Gulping, she raised her eyes to meet his gaze and found herself captivated by the brilliant blue of his irises. They arrested the viewer in their steely regard.

'Why is it,' he continued, still holding her in his gaze, 'that a lady such as yourself would wish to do something so dishonourable?' The ghost of a smile danced on his lips.

Regaining some of her confidence and staring him straight in the eye, she replied. 'Because, sometimes, even the most proper of ladies wish to defy.'