“I Helped a Duke Find His Lost Dog,” She Told Her Mother — Then the Garden Gate Opened
Chapter 4
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"I have come to return this, Miss Vale," he said, his deep voice carrying easily in the quiet garden, "and to thank you properly for your intervention this morning. Bracken and I are both in your debt."Eleanor accepted the ribbon, her fingers brushing the smooth fabric. She looked up at him, a sudden, clear realization taking hold of her thoughts: he could have sent a footman. Any gentleman of his rank would have simply dispatched a servant to return a piece of ribbon with a polite note. Yet he had come himself."It was entirely unnecessary to trouble yourself, Your Grace," Eleanor said, keeping her tone light. "But I am glad to see Bracken has not led you on another chase.""He seems to have remembered his manners," the Duke replied, glancing down at the dog, who was currently resting his chin on Eleanor's shoe. "Though I suspect he merely prefers your company to mine."Mrs. Vale, observing the quiet exchange, smiled warmly. "If you and your dog are fond of our garden, Your Grace, you would be most welcome to join us for tea on Thursday."Eleanor held her breath, expecting the polite, evasive decline of a man who had already fulfilled his social obligation.Instead, the Duke did not hesitate. "I would be delighted, Mrs. Vale. Thank you."He offered a final bow and took his leave, calling Bracken to his side. As the garden gate clicked shut behind him, Eleanor looked down at the ribbon in her hands. The small disruption of the morning had passed, but as the quiet settled over the garden once more, she realized she was already anticipating Thursday.Thursday arrived with a gentle breeze that rustled the ivy along the garden wall. When the Duke of Alderwick was announced, he entered the parlor with the precise, measured strides of a man accustomed to formal scrutiny. He was dressed impeccably, his expression carefully arranged into a mask of polite social inquiry.Before he could offer his initial pleasantries to Mrs. Vale, a familiar scrabble of claws on the polished wooden floorboards announced a second arrival. Bracken trotted past the Duke, entirely bypassing the formalities, and immediately wedged himself beneath Eleanor's chair, resting his heavy head affectionately on the toe of her slipper.The wooden legs of the Duke's chair scraped softly against the floor as he took his seat, his composed facade breaking into a brief, genuine expression of defeat.