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)
And I do, making my tastebuds tingle along with the rest of my body. He has the power of touch, and he is using it like a weapon. ‘Now,’ he says, returning to his chair, leaving me to find my equilibrium. ‘Let us return to the matter at hand once again.’
‘We have already established that I do not believe the rumours about you.’
‘Not all the rumours, though. Am I right?’
‘You are right, albeit a moot point. Whether you are a rake or a respectable gentleman matters not.’
‘No?’
‘No. I am merely here for the conversation.’
He laughs lightly on a shake of his head, and I find myself, quite naturally, smiling myself. It is a true smile, and I remember not a moment in recent times that I have smiled so easily. It is not only heart-warming for that reason. The Duke, if handsome under normal circumstances, is devastating when he smiles. His green eyes glimmer, and I detect a rather adorable dimple on his right cheek. But my observations aside, he is, of course, correct. We need to get back, again, to the matter at hand, or at the very least establish the circumstances of the rumours. Yet I am somewhat stumped by how one should address such a sensitive subject. I am certain the Duke is not guilty of the crimes he’s rumoured to have committed. Of course, he cannot be. He would most certainly have been arrested immediately upon his return to London. ‘How do you find being a duke?’
‘Tiresome. How do you find being a lady?’ He hitches a brow, and I smile.
‘Tiresome,’ I reply. ‘If you want the truth––’
‘I do.’
‘I had expected to be safe from the ton for at least a few seasons.’
‘You mean safe from the single men in need of a wife?’
‘Indeed. Sadly, I fear my fate was sealed before I had even packed my case to leave for London.’
His head tilts, implying interest. ‘You did not choose Frederick Lymington as a husband?’
I laugh. He cannot be serious. ‘No, I did not. Frederick is about as far from my choice as I could possibly get.’
‘Who would be your choice?’ the Duke asks, placing an elbow on the arm of his chair and seeming to get comfortable. ‘If you had a choice?’
‘I would choose no man at all, of course.’
‘You do not want to be married?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘You do not want children?’
Frustrated, I sigh. ‘I do not know what I want, and if you want the truth, which you do because you have told me as much, I am somewhat exasperated by society’s persistent and, might I add, infuriating insistence that a woman is unaccepted or odd if she chooses to remain independent of a man. Worse still, at the ripe old age of nineteen, and with hardly any life experience, I am expected to want to be a wife, a mother, a lady, and Lord knows what else, so long as it fits with the rigorous criteria set down by… whom? Who made all these rules?’ I take a moment to take a breath. I had expected the Duke to appear bored to tears by my tirade, but, instead, and it is quite refreshing, he appears unperturbed. In fact, he is smiling rather fondly at me. ‘You don’t think I’m odd?’
‘Not in the least. In fact, I wholeheartedly agree with you.’
‘You do?’ I am shocked to my core.
‘I do,’ he says simply, and on this occasion, his touch on me is not required to shut me up. ‘Sad as it is, though, my sweet Eliza, my opinion matters not. You are expected to marry and marry well. You are expected to bear children and raise them to be good little lords and ladies.’ He pauses for thought, and I am not sure I am going to appreciate those thoughts. In fact, I am certain of it. ‘I expect most females of your background would be delighted at the prospect of becoming a lady. A true lady, by title. You will be a countess, Eliza, and that is a title that carries a lot of clout.’
‘Not as much as a duchess,’ I say without thought, flinching because of my own clumsy words. I have not the faintest idea where they came from. ‘I mean…’
His forehead has taken on a confused frown, and my mind is not working nearly fast enough to talk my way out of my clumsy mishap. ‘I will never marry, Eliza.’
‘Good for you,’ I say grimly. ‘And you will never be forced to, either, so I believe your life is in a better state of affairs than mine.’ I do not sip my wine, but rather down the entire glass, my thoughts, words and situation making me feel so very depressed.
‘I doubt that,’ he says quietly. ‘Do you have any damaging rumours following you around?’