Chapter Six: The Lion Among Men

The long table stretched before him like a battlefield. Sunlight poured through the windows of the great hall of Langley House, casting gold across the polished wood, the fine maps, the sealed letters bearing crests of power. The Duke of Langley sat at the head, fingers drumming slowly against the carved arms of his chair as men spoke, argued, and begged for favor.

They were Members of the Privy Council, landowners, lords of distant countries who bowed to him not because of blood, but because of fear. The Duke of Langley didn't ask for power. He took it, shaped it, wielded it like the blade resting near his thigh under the table.

 When his eyes scanned the room, more than one man looked away. They spoke of him in whispers, how he had single handedly shut down a nobleman's trade line after a betrayal, how he had outmaneuvered half the council during a vote on royal tariffs, and how he'd once arrived late to a duel but still left his opponent half dead.

He was feared. And for good reason.

He hadn't slept.

Not since that night.

Not since James.

Not since Eleanor.

His jaw tightened as one of the lords talked about shipping tariffs. His mind moved back to the way her lips had parted beneath his, the brief shock in her eyes, then the way she'd melted under his touch before running from him like fire was chasing her. He had meant to intimidate her, to take control, but instead he had come undone himself. Her taste still lingered on his tongue longer than any wine ever had.

"Langley," Silas's voice cut through the murmurs, "they're waiting for you to speak."

The Duke stood slowly, letting the silence deepen. All eyes turned to him.

"You may do what you please with your taxes," he said coolly. "But if any vessel crossing my waters dares to move without my permission, I will burn it myself. Gentlemen, this is not a democracy. This is Langley territory."

Tension crackled in the air. Not one man spoke.

The woman was nothing but a distraction. She questioned him, tested him, and tempted him. He had ruled over men more powerful than most kings and commanded armies, yet she made him weak.

Enough. He thought to himself…

"I'll have my answer on the trade matter by tomorrow," he said, already turning toward the door. "Or don't bother showing up again."

No one moved until the echo of his boots faded.

Later, in the private lounge of his estate, Silas poured him a drink, the firelight casting shadows across the Duke's sharp features.

"You're quiet today," Silas said, swirling his glass. "She's gotten to you."

Langley downed his scotch. "She's nothing."

Silas smirked. "Oh, is that what you call the only woman who's made you lose control in years?"

Langley said nothing. Instead, he stared into the flames, jaw clenched.

"You're slipping," Silas added. "I watched you last night. That wasn't just desire. You looked like a man possessed."

"Don't mistake curiosity for weakness," the Duke growled.

But even as he said it, doubt was worming its way in. Why did she haunt him like this? Why couldn't he shake the image of her running from him, looking guilty and breathless? Why did he care what she thought?

"She'll ruin you," Silas said, more serious now. "Unless you ruin her first."

Langley rose from his chair, the glass shattering as it fell from his hand.

"I am not some lovesick poet. I've built an empire, crushed dukes and kings alike. I do not fall."

"And yet," Silas murmured, "here you are, burning."

—

Meanwhile, Eleanor sat in the old greenhouse on the east side of the estate, a place no one visited anymore, not even her mother. The air smelled of jasmine and dust, vines curling over ancient stone. She used to come here with James to hide from the world, to dream.

But today she sat in silence, arms around her knees, her eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep and crying. The memory of last night clung to her skin like a second garment, his mouth on hers, his hands gripping her waist, the taste of guilt and desire.

And James.

Where was he? What had they done to him?

The Duke's silence terrified her more than his threats ever could.

She reached beneath her gown, pulled out the folded note hidden against her corset, and read the words again. She didn't know who had sent it, only that it spoke of a prison beneath the Hall. A place where secrets went to die.

Eleanor rose to her feet, spine straightening.

If James was still here, if there was any chance.. she had to find him fast, before it's too late.