Lady Eleanor Mary Cantwell, daughter of the Marquess of Salford, is a proper young lady. With her golden complexion, raven-black hair, and manners befitting a princess, Lady Eleanor has always been deemed a belle. There is just one problem.
Lady Ele...
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Eleanor tugged at the neckline of her dress as the carriage tumbled down the narrow streets of London, the rain beating harshly against the glass windows.
'Eleanor!' her mother chastised, 'Stop fidgeting!'
Eleanor scowled at her mother who sat across from her in the carriage, decked in the finest of jewels. She looked down at her own dress which was no less fine - if not finer - than her mother's. Layers of blue silk were draped across her petite body and a necklace of sapphires and diamonds drove attention away from her plunging décolletage - her mother had insisted the neckline to be tailored so, to Eleanor's horror.
Although, she thought, that would not stop Daniel.
Choosing not to reply to her horrible mother and ignoring her traitor of a father - who sat beside her - she looked out the window as the carriage made its way up the long and arduous driveway of Huntington Manor in London.
After she had locked herself in her room, a week prior, when she learnt of her impending nuptials, Eleanor vowed that she would find a way out of the mess her parents had made for her. But as she sobbed into the sheets of her bed and wracked her brain for a way she could attain freedom, she realised there was none. At least, no way in which she could do so, without tarnishing her father's reputation. Because, she realised later after her father discussed with her - after a lot of pleading on his part to hear him out - that the mysterious and alluring Duke of Wolverhampton, Lord Nathan Huntington had coerced Lord Salford into the deal. All the same, she could not help but feel her father - her wonderful, amazing father - had betrayed her.
We are in debt, my dear, her father's words echoed in her head. And the duke knows of it - how, I can only imagine. He has consented to aid us in return for you. And if we do not accept his offer, we will be ruined. Absolutely ruined.
Eleanor shook her head to clear her mind as the carriage came to a halt in front of the ornate front doors of the manor. The duke had invited Eleanor and her parents over for dinner where he would formally propose to her in front of witnesses to ensure propriety was maintained. And although Eleanor would normally agree with it, all she could think of now was, Propriety be damned!
As she descended the carriage, she looked up at the building in front of her and felt her lips part slightly. The manor was immense! With statues dotting the lush green lawn which seemed to stretch on for miles around it, the place screamed wealth and grandeur and Eleanor felt greatly intimidated. The little voice in her head told her that this was all going to be hers soon but she shook that thought away. This was not going to be hers; not if she had anything to do about it.
The front doors opened and an elderly woman scampered out, looking frantic. She was short and plump and had the sweetest face Eleanor had seen. She instantly took a liking to the old lady who looked, undoubtedly, like the Head Housekeeper.
'Welcome to Huntington Manor your lordship; your ladyship,' she greeted Lord and Lady Salford, dipping a short curtsy. She then faced Eleanor and repeated the action saying, 'Your Grace.'
