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)
‘What the devil is going on now?’ the Duke asks, his eyes following us. ‘Is that your sister?’
‘Yes, I am!’ Clara pipes up, full of indignation. She shrugs me off and plants her hands on her hips, pointing her interested attention the Duke’s way. She looks at Frank. ‘I believe it is I who should be asking what the devil is going on.’
‘I have been rescuing Frank from an imminent fate worse than death,’ I declare. ‘And what have you been doing? You were with Governess enjoying some embroidery.’
Clara snorts, and I don’t suppose I can blame her. Neither of us enjoy embroidery. ‘What is he doing here?’
Naturally, I follow her lead. ‘You were with the stable boy,’ I fire accusingly.
‘At least not a murderer.’
‘Clara!’
‘For the love of God,’ the Duke mutters, carrying Frank over to the steps and releasing him somewhat carelessly. I rush over to assist, and Frank groans as his body sprawls out across the steps.
‘Goodnight,’ Clara snaps, stepping over Frank’s body and disappearing into the house. The Duke takes my hand, and I start, looking at him. I find an odd expression passing across his face. It looks like regret. Sorrow. His eyes are stuck to my lips, and I hold my breath as his face slowly comes towards mine. My God. My God, my God, my God. Is this it? Finally? Should I stop it? I cannot stop it, for I burn for his mouth on mine. To swallow down my words. Blind me to nothing but the pleasure he can give. I close my eyes and wait. And wait. Increasingly breathless. Anticipation killing me. His scent invading my senses. My heart pounding. But a few long seconds later, I am still without his lips on mine, and he releases my hand. The absence of his warmth is a cutting loss.
I open my eyes and find he has moved back, his forehead heavy, his gaze hard.
‘Thank you for your help,’ I say quietly, hating the regret and pain I see in his stare.
He does not bless me with a reply, passing his attention to Frank on the steps. ‘Your father must have done something appallingly wicked in a previous life,’ he says quietly.
His statement makes me pause for thought, the tone of his voice so solemn, but, in truth, I cannot argue with him. Here we are, all three of my father’s offspring, all behaving in the most inappropriate of ways and dallying with the most inappropriate of people.
‘I must go,’ the Duke says, straightening his jacket, his focus set on his attire. ‘Goodbye, Miss Melrose.’ Without looking at me once more, he leaves, and with every step he takes, moving him farther and farther away from me, I feel my heart sinking more. His goodbye felt so… final.
Chapter 11
Blackmail, it would seem, was the only way forward. It was also the only way I could get Frank into the house without being detected and landing us all in Father’s or Mother’s black book. It matters not that I myself have some rather shocking secrets to hide. Revealing mine would be to reveal Clara’s, and that is a weapon I shall use unashamedly. And did. She was quite eager to come back out and help me drag Frank to bed, and we managed to do so in the nick of time, notwithstanding losing various items of his clothing on our way – Frank, unfortunately, thought he was already in the privacy of his bedroom and started stripping. As luck would have it, Papa and Mama were jolly, a result of too much wine, I suppose, when they arrived home from their evening socialising at the Fallows. They were quite oblivious to my minor mishap of leaving Frank’s cravat strewn on the stairs, where I found it this morning on my way to the dining room.
What a night!
It is not even past eight when I give up on sleep and take myself downstairs. My early appearance catches Dalton off guard, and he rushes to finish dressing the table and fetch coffee, spewing many unnecessary apologies. ‘It is all right,’ I assure him, pouring myself a cup and lowering to a chair at the unusually quiet table. ‘Try as I might, I cannot sleep, Dalton.’
‘Are you feeling better, Miss Melrose?’
‘I fear I have taken enough rest in the past week to last me for one lifetime.’ I smile and sip, waiting until he has left the dining room before I rise and take myself to the window. To be expected at this hour, Belmore Square is without the hustle and bustle I am usually greeted with upon arrival to the dining room for breakfast. My eyes are drawn towards the Winters’ residence, my mind being pulled in a thousand directions. My resolve to sever my contact with the Duke. My conclusion to continue. My vacillation is driving me positively mad! But, and I don’t mind confessing to it, I am, it would seem, rather attached to the broody oaf, yet, I hasten to add, perhaps in an attempt to ease my afflictions, I have seen softness in the hard, cold Duke. His smiles are like the sunniest of days, which, frankly, is ironic, because they are as rare as sunny days. His quick wit is refreshing. His touch is…