Her Family Sold Her to Pay Their Debts — Until the Ruthless Duke Whispered, “You’re My Destiny.”

Chapter 2

The first week at Blackwood Manor passed in a blur of unfamiliar routines, measured silences, and the constant, oppressive presence of the closed door.

Eleanor rose each morning at seven. Lucy, her maid, helped her dress in gowns that had been delivered before the wedding — elegant, expensive, chosen by a woman she had never met. The Duchess of Blackwood’s wardrobe, prepared in advance, as if her arrival had been a foregone conclusion.

She descended to the breakfast room, where a place was always set for the Duke. He never came. The footman informed her, with practiced neutrality, that his grace preferred to take his morning meal in his study.

She ate alone, surrounded by china so fine she could see the light through it and silver that gleamed like captured sunlight. The food was exquisite. She could barely swallow.

At nine o’clock, Mrs. Thornton arrived.