Eleanor held out her hand to be kissed. He bowed, touching his lips lightly to her glove. She considered whether he gave it a special pressure, but she couldn't delude herself.
Since the very moment that Gideon had discovered his father's will included a marriage contract wrought between the late duke and Ada's father, he had never touched her in any sort of intimate way. Never.
"We have such exciting news for you!" her mother burst out.
"Mother!" Eleanor protested. "It isn't—"
"Oh tush, Eleanor, the duke is part of our family." And, turning again to Gideon, "Our own Eleanor is finally going to take a husband." She caught herself. "Not that I mean finally as it sounds. Of course, Eleanor could have married anytime in the last few years, but she'd never chosen to do so.
And now she has agreed to a husband."
A courteous smile shaped Gideon's lips, but Eleanor thought she saw pain in the depths of his eyes.
It made her feel better.
"It seems I owe you felicitations, Lady Eleanor," he said.
An uncertain smile wavered around her own lips. She could hardly say, I would have waited forever. "I am grateful for them, Your Grace." There. That was dignified.
"Surely you heard that the Duke of Villiers is looking for a wife?" her mother burst out.
"I had heard that rumor, but I could not believe that Lady Eleanor would consider such a spouse."
Eleanor was starting to feel quite cheerful. After years of trying not to watch Gideon with longing eyes, of trying to erase him from her dreams, it was satisfying to see that flash of fire in his eyes.
Let him experience what she had endured, watching him wait at the altar to marry Ada.
"Yes, the Duke of Villiers," she confirmed, giving him a lavish smile. "I am persuaded the two of us will be remarkably suited. You do remember how I used to beat you at chess, don't you?"
"You know how foolish my Eleanor has always been," her mother put in, laughing. "She announced years ago that she would marry a duke or no one. I was beginning to worry, I don't mind telling you."
"There was never any reason to worry," Gideon said. "I'm sure Lady Eleanor has her pick of eligible men."
"I wanted only a duke," Eleanor said. "And that meant so many men were ineligible. I suppose it was a foolish restriction to set for myself."
"Life does not always give us the choices that we might wish."
He was growing furious, and she rejoiced in every involuntary signal, in the rigid way he held his shoulders, in the firmness of his jaw.
"Luckily for me," she said cheerfully, "a duke came along just at the moment when I had decided to put away my childish feelings."
"Childish," he repeated.
"Yes. You know what it's like when one is very young. One believes in such foolishness... in men who will throw away the world to be at one's side. Fairytales. I had just decided to discard all those romantic notions when, to my great surprise, a duke appeared who seems as charming as I could possibly wish."
"What does your childhood have to do with anything?" her mother said. "You two were always talking in riddles, but you're far too old for that sort of thing now."
"Far too old," Eleanor said, with a rueful smile just for Gideon. "Those riddles are nothing more than nursery rhymes, to be put away as one matures, along with childish emotions."
His jaw was clenched. "I was under the impression that the Duke of Villiers suffered a grievous injury last year after losing a duel."
Gideon didn't approve of duels, which was no wonder, since he'd lost his father as a result of one.
When he and Eleanor were young, they had talked for hours about how unlawful and dangerous these confrontations were. And, since ascending to his seat, he had made it his life's work to convince society to see the duel as an indefensible and horrific act. She was always reading about speeches he'd given on the subject.
The duel alone would make him despise Villiers. Which was just as well, she thought, because once she married that dark-eyed fallen angel, she didn't want to think about Gideon ever again.
"So is dear Ada increasing?" her mother was asking. "I do hope you don't mind my inquiring. I adore her, of course, but she's so fragile. I must have my cook make up a good strengthening lettuce soup for her."
Gideon started to reply, but Eleanor's mother wasn't to be stopped.
"I expect that she is quite nauseated. When I had my first, I was so sick that I could barely stir out of the bedchamber for days. I drank lettuce soup morning and night. I shall send some over tomorrow.
Nay, I shall send over my cook tomorrow to train your—"