Chapter Eleven
“And that—that concludes our lesson for tonight, children,” Elinor’s voice came out steadier than she felt.
Green, attentive eyes had been on her for the last quarter-hour of the lesson, and she could not keep her focus from straying to the man who sat cross-legged among the children as though a duke had no better place to be. He had watched her with the same rapt attention as his smallest pupils, and she had caught him scribbling something on his slate.
He had not needed to stay. Their ruse was solid enough without this. But he had chosen to, and Elinor wanted to believe that meant something, even if she did not think she deserved to.
Their responses came in waves, a chorus of thank you’s and pleas for Newton to attend next time, and Elinor laughed softly.
“Thank you,” she said to the room. “I love teaching you all, and I hope you all know how much joy it brings me. And, yes, if I can get Newton out from his comfort spot beneath my bed, then he shall be present on the desk during the next lesson. But Billy, you cannot tug his tail this time.”
She gave him a mock-stern look, and Billy saluted her, grinning.
“And, regarding coming again,” she added, “I can never say for certain, but I will always try my best to be here as much as I can.”
“Lady Elinor,” Angelica spoke up, “even if you could only give us one lesson each month, that is still everything. We always love these hours.”
Her heart warmed so much it ached. Elinor’s brow pinched with a brief wave of emotion as she nodded at the little girl, her throat tight.
“Then I shall continue them,” she swore. “Always. Now, you all must retire to your comfortable beds that His Grace has given you. Sleep well, children, and know that tomorrow will always be a new day.”
At once, the children filed out, stacking their slates neatly on the box Elinor always kept by the door so she could easily collect them upon her own exit. She watched them leave, a fondness growing.
Soon, only the Duke of Fairmont remained, his head tilted in interest, as he often did when he looked at her, as though she was an enigma he had not yet figured out. Part of her liked that. She liked being unknowable, a puzzle to find the right pieces in the right order to form.
“Yes?” Elinor dared ask boldly.
“You are a brilliant tutor, Lady Elinor,” he told her. “I did not know just how much, but you are right. It was good I sat in on a lesson, even if partially. You teach them well; you capture their attention.”
“I think they just want the distraction,” she dismissed, busying herself with shuffling her lesson notes, gathering them into a neat pile.
“No,” the duke answered, “no, they wantyou.They want your every word. That much is so very clear.”
Elinor bit her lip, turning her back on the duke to collect herself in face of the praise. Her cheeks burned, and she breathed as evenly as she could. But when she turned, she found him right there, closer than she had realized he had moved.
“Your Grace?” she murmured.
“I have a proposition,” he said, his voice low and rough, and entirely too attractive for Elinor to keep her rational mind.
“Yes?”
“Call me by my name,” he offered. “We are … we are close enough to form a fake engagement, so perhaps we can be close enough to drop titles. I am tired of beingthe duke,orHis Grace, or whatever else comes with this inheritance. For once, I wish to be known as who I am.”
“And who is that?” she breathed, lifting her gaze to his. She was pinned immediately by those emerald eyes that she denied to herself had captured her.
“Lucien,” he murmured. “I am Lucien Stanton. And you are?”
Elinor smiled at the pointed question. “I am Elinor.”
“No.” He shook his head, laughing softly. “No, whoareyou? Beyond the title, beyond the poise, beyond the composure the ton forces you into.”
Elinor hesitated, biting her lip. When she had spent four years quelling everything about herself since her father had departed for the countryside, and she had been forced to stay with her stepfamily, it was strange to be asked to, essentially, be her authentic self, unmasked.
“I …” she hesitated.
“It is all right,” he told her quietly. “In this room, at least, this building, we can simply be who we are. No expectations, no judgement or pressure, and definitely no stifling.”
That emboldened Elinor a little more, and she inhaled deeply. “Then, I am Elinor Caverleigh, and I am very much my father’s daughter, a lover of science and poetry and politics, and everything a lady ought to keep her nose out of.”