Free Eleanor And The Duke (Berkshire Brides Book 1) by Margo Maguire Page B

played croquet in the park on one warm April day the week before they were to have married, and ridden together along the pretty bridle paths near Primrose Manor during their single visit there.
    But with her father so recently in his grave, Eleanor could not come into Reading and indulge in such frivolity. Andrew knew her lossx was not going to be easy for her, not that she’d been close to her sire in recent years. Derington had been an inept father and an even worse husband, if the rumors could be believed.
    Eleanor’s pittance of a dowry had not been an obstacle to Andrew’s intentions. She might have been destitute for all he cared. He had wanted Eleanor and Eleanor alone.
    His sentiments had not changed. If anything, he wanted her more today than he had a year ago.
    “Is that Lord Weatherby, Your Grace?” Carrick asked as they rode away from the solicitor’s office. The secretary tipped his head in the direction of a street leading toward the center of town.
    The man in question turned just enough for Andrew to identify him. “Yes. And Squeers with him. I wonder who they intend to bribe here.”
    A large number of London’s fashionable set had arrived for the race, some of whom were members of Parliament. And with every vote on the labor measure essential, Weatherby could very well do some damage here.
    “Carrick, find me an assembly room.”
    “Your Grace?”
    “I wish to host a party . . . No, never mind. There are likely numerous society parties taking place this week.”
    “To be sure, sir. And no difficulty for you to acquire the right invitations.”
    Which would suit his purpose well. He cared nothing about attending parties, but they would give him the opportunity to speak to his peers and counteract any damage Weatherby tried to do.
    “Go back to Primrose Manor, Carrick,” Andrew said. “I’ll just wander the streets here and get myself invited to a few soirees.”
    “If it’s all the same to you, Your Grace, I’ll stay here and wait for you.” He gestured toward a tavern nearby. “It doesn’t feel right leaving you to ride back with only Matthew to accompany you. Especially after dark, with so many strangers in town.”
    “Very well. I’ll meet you and Matthew here in an hour.”
    They dismounted, and Andrew left his horse in Matthew’s care. Then he walked into the crowded lane and searched for someone he knew. He soon encountered a close friend, the Earl of Woodingham and his wife.

 
    CHAPTER ELEVEN

    Ellie caught a whiff of a savory sausage pie when she returned to the house, but she wasn’t hungry. She saw no sign of Beckworth’s presence, so she carried her things up to her bedroom, feeling vexed. She hadn’t drawn anything even slightly worthwhile. Every sketch had been a study of Beckworth’s eyes – their intensity, their heat – and his mouth – so sensual, so expressive.
    She tore up the drawings and shoved them to the bottom of her portfolio. It was time to confront him about her funds and to insist that he leave her home.
    It felt strange to be back in England, and yet it was almost as though she’d never left. Primrose Manor had not changed in all the years since her mother’s death – thanks to the Thornberrys, who took meticulous care of the property.
    Eleanor had very few fond memories of Primrose Manor. There’d been far too many hours spent at the mercy of her sour-tempered governess, Miss Chilcott, and she’d felt utterly powerless whilst sitting with her poor mother, Martine.
    It pained her now to realize she could hardly remember her mother now.
    Dusk had fallen, so Eleanor lit a lamp and carried it out of her bedroom then ventured down the hall to her mother’s room. She had not entered it in fourteen years.
    She pushed open the door and glanced around, finding the room exactly as it had been during her mother’s life, including the narrow armchair beside the bed and the writing desk against the opposite wall. Eleanor had spent many an hour sitting