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

his hands on a towel as he came toward her. He took an account book from a shelf. “Shall we go into your father’s study?”
    She would rather not go in there just yet, not until her thoughts about him had a chance to settle. “No, we can talk right here.”
    She sat down at the big hardwood table in the center of the room, and Thornberry sat on the bench beside her. He opened the book and began to go over the columns of numbers with her, outlining the manor’s housekeeping costs.
    As they talked, Eleanor felt her brows coming together with worry. Would the annuity be sufficient to sustain them for years at Primrose Manor? It seemed an astronomical sum when all the columns were added together, and yet Beckworth had said nothing about trimming expenses.
    Hardly aware of what she was doing, she took a bite of the jam-laden toast Mrs. Thornberry had set on the table in front of her, and looked up at the butler. “Do you send all the bills to Beckworth, Thornberry?”
    He gave a slow shake of his head. “No. Everything goes to Mr. Evanhurst, in Reading. He is the duke’s man of business in town.”
    Eleanor took another bite of Mrs. Thornberry’s thick, delicious toast and drank her tea, realizing now that she was hungrier than she thought. “How long has Mr. Evanhurst been paying the bills?”
    “For many years, Miss Easton,” Thornberry replied. “He was the one to maintain Primrose Manor on your father’s behalf.”
    And Beckworth had kept him on. Eleanor supposed it was wise of him to do so, for the solicitor knew the history of the house – its typical expenses, what repairs had been done, and so forth.
    Thinking about Beckworth only increased her restless irritability. She had to do something. If she had a horse, she would ride until they both dropped.
    But she did not, and she did not even know if she could afford one.
    She left the kitchen and headed toward the front door, irritated that Beckworth had not yet returned. There were the money issues, and then there was Beckworth himself. If he thought he could just come out to Berkshire and kiss her until she did not know her own mind, he was sadly mistaken.
    “I am going out,” she said to Lizzie, who was just coming down the stairs.
    “Oh yes, Miss?” the maid replied. “Shall I come with you?”
    “No,” she answered. “I’m only going to see Lucy, and Stillwater House is not far.”
    Lizzie gave her a look of concern. “Well, if you are sure you do not need me to accompany you . . .”
    Eleanor nodded, aware that her behavior must seem strange. After all, she’d slept in her clothes in her mother’s bed last night, covered by the blanket Lizzie had pulled over her, and now she was going out walking alone. “Just tell my aunt where I’ve gone if she asks. But not too soon.”
    The day was warm, so Eleanor did not take a shawl with her. She left the manor, shrugging off the weight of her parents’ deception as she walked.
    She set off for the house she’d once known as well as her own. She and the neighboring children had spent long summer days together, and Stillwater House was where she’d gone when life at Primrose Manor became too oppressive.
    She would not think of those days now. Instead, she tried to enjoy the sunny walk across fields rich with growing crops.
    She slipped through the turnstile that led to Stillwater property, and finally approached the house. Before she’d gotten even halfway up the drive, the front door opened and Lucy came out, smiling.
    “Oh, my dear Ellie! You’re here!”
    “Yes,” Eleanor replied. “You sound as though I was expected.”
    Lucy laughed. “Not expected, but I’d hoped you’d come. My father’s sister has arrived from Scotland.”
    And on that news, Eleanor halted and considered bolting.

    Weatherby stared into Andrew’s eyes, but made no reply to his remark. His mouth tightened and his color deepened enough to demonstrate his frustration, and more than a touch of ire. Andrew could not