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

sight, and Eleanor wondered how they’d managed to escape.
    Eleanor caught Caroline’s expression of chagrin as she followed her hostess to the back of the house. Once they were in Lord Stillwater’s small study, Lady Stillwater turned to face Eleanor. “Sometimes I find it is better to absent oneself from my husband’s sister for a time, then start afresh.”
    Lucy rolled her eyes. “Perhaps we shall just go for a walk instead, Mother.”
    “That would be fine, too,” Lady Stillwater said with a smile. “Why don’t you pick a bouquet of wildflowers down by the south hedge. I could use a bit of color and fragrance in the dining room.”
    Lucy smiled happily, kissed her mother’s cheek, then grabbed Eleanor’s hand. “Let’s go, before Aunt Arden comes looking for us.”

    Lady Claymere’s garden party was far more elaborate and sophisticated than the Stillwater picnic. And considerably less enjoyable to Andrew’s tastes. As he grew older, these ostentatious fetes became more and more tiresome.
    There was a time when he’d enjoyed being surrounded by people he’d believed were devoted friends. They’d said the things they thought he wanted to hear, and taken him to entertainments they believed he wanted to see. With all those fashionable followers, he’d managed to please his father for a few years.
    Andrew had managed to behave as the old duke wished, until his father ordered him to wed Lady Claire Moncrief.
    He had always expected his marriage to be arranged for him. But he refused this match, angering his father, of course. But Lady Claire was hardly more than a child, and she failed to stir his interest even slightly. The girl might have had a good name and an even better fortune, but Andrew had no intention of enduring a life-long marriage like the one his parents had had.
    He wanted the kind of relationship his maternal grandparents had shared – one of mutual respect and understanding – and perhaps a little more, if he were lucky. A year after his father’s death, he’d met Eleanor, and he’d known there would be no one else for him.
    Claymere’s large garden overflowed with guests and servants, and there were tables of food and drink. As Andrew walked toward his hostess, Lady Claymere extended her hands to him, smiling broadly. “Your Grace! We are so honored to have you join us!”
    Andrew returned the greeting but did not mention that Eleanor was close by. He knew Lady Claymere would be put out with him, but he did not want any further distractions at Primrose Manor, and Ivy would insist upon visiting.
    “How is the heir?” Andrew asked.
    Ivy smiled proudly. “Johnny is hale and healthy, thank you. He’s just started to walk.”
    “Ah. I hope he does not give his nanny as much trouble as his father did.”
    “Your hopes are in vain, Beck,” Ivy said with a laugh. “He is already a tiny terror. Claymere Castle has had to put all its valuables away.”
    They strolled across the lawn to where her husband stood talking with a group of people Andrew knew quite well. They belonged to the fashionable London set, having come out to Berkshire for the races.
    They’d come to see and be seen, just as Andrew had done in the past, taking a prominent place in society to please his father. But he had no such interest now. He wanted to talk to the men who would be voting on Sir Robert’s bill and get back to Eleanor as soon as possible thereafter.
    He spoke briefly to his host, then extricated himself to move in the direction of his quarry. “Ah, Lord Otley,” he said to the Marquis, “I expected you might be here.”
    Otley gave him a pleasant smile. “Yes, Your Grace. We usually do come up for this race. Have you never been?”
    “Oh, I have, on occasion,” he replied congenially.
    “Then you know there will be a good showing on the course.”
    Andrew nodded, taking note of Weatherby’s entrance into the garden. “Have you been in Reading long, Otley?”
    “No, we only drove out