“Yet not entirely surprising to you,” Eleanor observed, studying the other woman’s composed expression. “You knew something might draw him back.”
The maid returned with a silver tea service, interrupting their conversation. The proprietress poured for them both, adding a precise amount of sugar to Eleanor’s cup without asking her preference.
“Addiction is a difficult devil to exorcise. Lord Dominic is no exception to that vulnerability,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said after settling comfortably with her tea.
“Have you seen or heard anything about Lord Dominic?”
The Widow’s expression revealed nothing. “No, but perhaps you should ask your husband.”
“He reveals nothing of substance,” Eleanor said, frustrated. “He occupies my house at night, charms my staff, all while refusing to explain his sudden return to London.”
“And yet, I sense your frustration stems from more than mere inconvenience,” The Widow observed with disturbing perception. “Has the duke proven difficult to live with in ways you didn’t anticipate?”
Heat rose to Eleanor’s cheeks as she recalled the dinner on the night of his arrival—the removal of his cravat, the cordedmuscles in his forearms, his lips on her knuckles… “He is unnecessarily provocative,” she admitted stiffly.
The Widow’s smile deepened knowingly. “Ah. I see the arrangement has developed complications.”
“Can it be undone?” Eleanor asked, pushing past her embarrassment. “I’ve considered and offered several approaches,” Eleanor continued, leaning forward. “Renting a separate residence for him, tripling his allowance in exchange for his departure, even making the household so uncomfortable he chooses to leave voluntarily.” She gave a rueful smile. “He has refused the first two options and has yet to be convinced by the third.” An idea occurred to her, and Eleanor looked up suddenly. “And what of his properties? Might there be estate matters requiring his attention elsewhere in the country?”
“His entailed property is apparently in ruins from neglect,” The Widow said thoughtfully. “He returned last year to assess the situation, but I believe he cannot afford the cost.”
“He returned last year? And you didn’t tell me?”
“Why should I? It had nothing to do with your matrimonial contract.”
The Widow tapped her fingers lightly on the arm of her chair. “The duke has been consumed by concerns for his brother for years now. I doubt his ancestral home would hold much interest unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless you gave him reasons to be concerned.”
“Such as?”
“I’m uncertain, but I’m sure one as resourceful as you could think of something,” The Widow said smoothly, then tilted her head thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’ve approached this from the wrong direction, Your Grace. Rather than attempting to drive him away, perhaps you should consider the advantage of a present husband. He was quite influential with his peers beforethe unfortunate circumstances with his brother occurred. His Grace had a natural talent for persuading stubborn aristocrats and resolving conflicts. Surely his skill sets could be of use?”
“Perhaps, but what good are his skill sets if he takes away my freedom?” Eleanor’s exasperation colored her tone. “And he shows no willingness to sign any new documents to give me more assurance.”
“Then you must look elsewhere for answers.” The Widow’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “Your network of investments near the docks—they give you eyes and ears in places a duchess cannot normally access. Use them.”
Eleanor blinked in surprise. “How do you know about my investments?”
The thin smile that curved The Widow’s lips was answer enough. “I know about all notable financial activities in certain quarters of London. Your efforts to provide alternate lending sources for business owners haven’t gone unnoticed.” She leaned forward slightly. “Just as Lord Croft’s interests in those same areas haven’t escaped attention.”
“Lord Croft?” Eleanor’s voice grew cold. “He approached me after George’s death, you know. Made quite the persistent suitor, claiming he could protect my interests better than any solicitor.”
“Ah, yes,” The Widow said with knowing satisfaction. “How fortunate that your mourning period provided such a convenient excuse to decline his generous offer.”
“It wasn’t entirely an excuse,” Eleanor replied tartly. “The man made my skin crawl. All that talk of protection when I could see the calculation in his eyes—he wanted my money, not my welfare.”
“Which is precisely why I arranged your proxy marriage without informing him of the opportunity.” The Widow’s smile turned predatory. “Lord Croft had come to me for help, you know, after your refusal. He was irate when he learned I’dfacilitated your union with the duke instead of encouraging you toward his own suit.”
Eleanor stared at her. “He requested your assistance, and you deliberately chose Westmore?”
“My dear, I’ve built my reputation on reading character. Lord Croft seeks to possess and control. Your duke, for all his complications with his brother, possesses genuine honor. He would protect rather than exploit.” The Widow paused meaningfully. “Though I confess, Lord Croft’s subsequent displeasure with my decision has made our relationship rather strained.”
“Is that why he’s moving against my business interests now?”
“Possibly. He’s a man who doesn’t forgive being outmaneuvered.” The Widow took a thoughtful sip of her tea. “Your alternate lending sources for business owners threaten his territory, but they also represent the independence he wanted to strip from you through marriage.”