Lady Eleanor Whitmore's breath trembled as she looked at her reflection in the room's gigantic mirror, and unconsciously played with the delicate lace of her gown. She had thought the Duke of Langley was going to propose, but had not expected an exquisite sapphire engagement ring set in gold to be placed on her finger. The Duchess of Langley brought with her vast sums of wealth that promised great security and luxury, although this caused a lot of worry and concern within her. "Has love that was not picked set in stone?" She asked herself, clearly lost, pacing back and forth around expecting an answer.
Her mother, Lady Beatrice Whitmore, entered the chamber with a satisfied smile. She clasped her hands together, grinning her eyes brimming with pride. "A perfect match, Eleanor," she said, her voice echoed with approval and excitement. "The Duke is a man of power and influence. This union will secure your future."
Eleanor swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Yes, Mother, he is indeed a man of power and influence."
Lady Beatrice's gaze sharpened, her eyes piercing down at her daughter "I do hope you will not allow foolishness to cloud your judgment. The past is behind you Eleanor, it's time to move on. Your duty lies ahead."
The name they didn't dare say lingered between them, "James Harrow." As they looked at each other.
Eleanor lifted her chin, avoiding to look at her mother's face while trying so hard to mask the storm of emotions growing within her. She had since learned that defiance was met with disregard from her mother. And so, she played the role of the dutiful daughter. "Of course, Mother. I understand my responsibilities."
Her mother gave a satisfied nod, touched her cheek and walked out of the room, leaving Eleanor alone with her thoughts.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see the Duke of Langley stepping inside. He was a very fine gentleman, a man every lady dreams of, tall and commanding, with sharp cheekbones and piercing gray eyes that held an air of mystery. There was something about him, something dark and compelling. She felt it whenever she was near him that strange pull but still, the Duke never made her heart race. She closed her eyes, tears welling up, My heart will always belong to just one man she thought, it remained still at the thought of him, James Harrow son of a modest baron. He single handedly possessed her heart. Their love was something destined, reckless youth and innocence was love itself, but her family was against it, they wished for an arranged match and demanded she follow through. Given the status of her family James was deemed unfit to be accepted as her husband by The Whitmore. Though of gentle birth, was not wealthy enough to secure their approval.
"You seem quiet, my dear," the Duke said as he moved a little closer. His voice was deep and smooth, but it did not send shivers down her spine the way James's whispers used to.
"I am merely overwhelmed, Your Grace." she replied, forcing a polite smile.
The Duke gently took her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "You shall make a fine duchess."
She swallowed, her heart aching. A duchess, yes. But never a woman truly in love.
The Duke studied her carefully, as if reading the doubts in her eyes. "Do you have any concerns, Eleanor?"
She shivered as a sudden chill ran down her spine. Was it possible that he knew? That he suspected the battle she was fighting within her?
She quickly masked her emotions, offering a soft smile. "No, Your Grace. I only hope to be the wife you've hoped for."
His lips curved slightly, though something unreadable flickered in his gaze. "Good."
As he turned to leave, Eleanor let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
The engagement was sealed. The future was set.
And yet, her heart was still bound to the past.