Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
‘Travelling. Tell me about your life in the countryside.’
I hitch a brow to the books before me. ‘It was wonderful. Why have you returned to London?’
‘I have business to tend to. Did you read the letter you returned to me?’
I purse my lips. ‘Of course not, it was private. What business?’
‘Family business. How do you know the letter was private?’
‘I assumed. Your family all perished, so what family business could you possibly have to tend to?’
‘You ask too many questions.’
So now he doesn’t like what he hears? ‘As do you.’ I turn to face him, challenge him, and I slam right into his chest. ‘Goodness,’ I splutter as he takes the tops of my arms to steady me. ‘Must you be so close?’ The heat that radiates through me is burning, and I peek up and find blazing eyes staring down at me, a swirl of something I don’t recognise in his eyes. But these crazy sensations overcoming me? I recognise those. They are ever-present whenever the Duke and I are close. Touching. My eyes drop to his lips. They part, and I get a glimpse of his tongue. My whimper is shallow as his mouth comes closer. Closer. Closer. Then he pauses just shy of his lips touching mine, and presses his together. ‘What is it?’ I breathe.
‘You,’ he groans, tightening his hold. ‘You…’ His lips straighten, his look becoming rather grim. ‘You must leave.’ He releases me, and I exhale heavily.
‘What?’
‘Leave now, Eliza.’
‘I––’
‘Leave!’
I jump with fright at his booming voice, startled, and, most disconcertingly, injured. I really have asked too many questions, and now he has demanded I leave? I raise my chin in an act of feigned confidence, because he looks truly angered in this moment, and walk to the door, not looking back. The warm, oddly comforting feel of his presence has been replaced by a frosty atmosphere I can’t say I’m all too fond of. Damn him to hell. He should not entice me into his affections and then callously discard me. How can a man’s manner sway so dramatically, from warm and welcoming, to irritation the most potent I have ever been unfortunate enough to bear? My eyes begin to sting, and it is infuriating. He is not worthy of my tears.
I rush past Hercules, who appears as stunned as I am, though I know not why, for I heard his hushed, angry whispers, and arrive outside, shutting the door with force. How dare he. How dare he make me feel so horrid.
The prompt termination of what was a rather pleasant, albeit challenging, evening is not my only complaint. I am now bloody freezing cold.
I wrap my arms around myself and hurry down the path and across Belmore Square with haste. I am surely in a dither. My reappearance at Mr Fitzgerald’s party would be questioned, for my cheeks are undoubtedly flush with both desire and anger, and my body is shaking with the effects of the cold night on my skin. The anger may be assisting with that too, and yet my options, unfortunately, are limited. I must return.
I choose my moment carefully and sneak back into the house, placing myself by the fire in the hopes that my teeth will stop chattering before someone engages me in conversation, but it would appear that luck is not on my side on this eve.
‘Miss Melrose.’ The silky tone of Lady Dare would surely delight the ears of any man. Unfortunately, for I’m sure she would not treat me with such disdain if I were, I am not a man. My instinct has me not greeting her but searching the room for Frank, and I am relieved to discover his absence.
Inhaling, I face her. ‘My lady,’ I reply, all rather civilised. It’s quite ridiculous. There was no denying the animosity shared between us this morn. ‘What a pleasure.’ Sarcasm drips from my tone, and I cannot help it. My recent dismissal from the Duke’s home is not assisting in bettering my mood, granted. Regardless, I am not appreciating Lady Dare’s obvious dislike of me. And to think I admired her from afar! It is true, she is a somewhat scandalous woman who cares not for protocol, a trait for which I once held her in high regard. Sadly, the notion has been squashed. She is rather unpleasant, and I care not for her flaunting habits. Perhaps now because the flaunting habits I speak of involve my brother.
And the Duke!
No. The Duke is a self-serving, bad-mannered idiot. She is welcome to him.
And what, do you suppose, Eliza, would you have done with him had he not demanded you leave his home? Kiss him? Lie with him?
I should laugh at myself. I wouldn’t know how to do either. ‘Why, Miss Melrose, you look suitably wonderful,’ Lady Dare purrs, her crimson dress, which is naturally the brightest at the party, glowing spectacularly.