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“That’s the reason, plain and simple, Atlas,” he muttered. “The next time she wishes to argue with me, which I assume will be soon, I shall let her talk and talk without response. She will not ensnare me in her net again.”

Atlas sneezed.

Gabriel went through this again.

“Make sure Eleanor enjoys the Season. Not survives. Enjoys.”

Gabriel placed the list on the table and looked at Atlas again.

“What a fool I’ve been. Nathaniel gave me this list not only to help Eleanor through the Season, but to help me, and I’ve completely ignored it. If I had stuck to the list, I would not have her coming in here and somehow turning a rant about turnips into me wanting to kiss her. I am a changed man from this moment on, Atlas.”

He realized that he had been lecturing Eleanor about the Season, then leaving her to experience it on her own. And what had happened? She had become overwhelmed by the attention, then bored by her suitors. She was surviving, but she was not enjoying herself.

He got out of his chair, folding the paper back up and stuffing it in his pocket. Then he headed for the door, not only to see what Lady Margaret had done, but to talk with Eleanor and make things right.

He stopped when he was halfway across the room and turned to Atlas.

“And how am I supposed to do it?” he asked. “How am I supposed to ensure a woman so stubborn enjoys her time over the summer? This is not what I signed up for, is it?”

Atlas gave a low bark that sounded more like a humph.

“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Gabriel agreed. “I must at least try.”

CHAPTER 15

When the coach stopped outside the Vauxhall Gardens, Eleanor was still suspicious of the whole affair.

“Why did you have to agree so readily to the engagement, Mother?” she asked.

“Why would you not agree?” Margaret asked. They sat in the stationary coach. The footman waited by the door to open it when they were ready. “When a duke invites you for a late morning stroll, you don’t say no to that.”

“Yes, but I don’t understand why,” Eleanor protested. “He is supposed to escort me to events, but this is not an event. This is personal. Is this personal? Did I miss something?”

“Oh, maybe,” Margaret replied. “I wasn’t listening to everything he said. His Grace was speaking so quickly that it was hard to keep up. Still, whether it is a private event or public, it matters not. His Grace has asked for your time, and you must give it to him. He likely wants to talk about your plans for the rest of the Season. That reminds me. We must go dress shopping soon. The latest fashions from France will have come in, and your debut Season is a wonderful excuse for both of us to have some new clothes.”

Before Eleanor could protest further, Margaret gestured to the footman to open the door and help her out.

As soon as Eleanor reached the door, she almost recoiled in surprise. The duke was waiting for them at the main entrance. He had agreed to meet them, but after being late to the ball and not showing up for the garden party, Eleanor wasn’t sure what to expect.

She alighted the coach and opted not to take a parasol. Margaret took one, and the two of them walked toward the duke.

Eleanor regarded him with suspicion, which was hard to do given how elegantly he was dressed. She knew wolves could dress in sheep’s clothing, but something about the simple yet elegant tan suit the duke wore gave him an air of honesty.

He was incredibly handsome in his attire. However, her mind flashed back to the previous afternoon, when her mother had knocked over and almost smashed a decanter by dancing through the hallway for reasons known only to herself.

He had followed her out of the room, but instead of being angry at her mother or at her for talking far too much about turnips, which wasn’t entirely Mr. Carlisle’s fault, he had invited her for a walk in Vauxhall Gardens.

And something about the reason didn’t sit right with her. He claims he wanted her to enjoy her Season, just as Nathaniel had asked, but Eleanor was sure he wanted to keep an eye on her after leaving her alone for too long.

Yes, that’s exactly it. I made a joke about kissing Lord Fairfax, and he seemed jealous of that.

Before Eleanor had time to reason why he might be jealous, the duke greeted them.

“Good morning, Lady Eleanor.” He took her hand and kissed it. “And Lady Margaret. How are you both this morning?”

The warm welcome only made Eleanor more suspicious.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Eleanor replied, determined to be as polite and congenial as possible while she worked out his game.