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)
‘Oh,’ I hiss, as Frederick steps on my toe. ‘Ouch!’ I yelp as he tramples on my other foot.
His lips press into a straight line, and he carries on, looking past me, his chin still high, as he turns me. I see Johnny and the intention in his eyes a second before he crashes into us.
‘Apologies,’ he grunts, a definite curl to his lip as he twirls Lady Dare off in another direction.
‘He did that on purpose,’ Frederick cries, outraged, releasing his hold of me and straightening himself out. ‘Father is indeed right, he is a menace.’ Lymington seems to have quite an aversion to Johnny Winters. ‘I should have him thrown out.’
‘You absolutely should,’ I agree, scowling fiercely.
‘And for his blatant disregard for the dress code.’
I find the Duke on the floor again, and I notice for the first time that he is wearing black trousers. They are the only ones in the room, every other gentleman wearing knee breeches. He looks rather lovely, although I would never admit it.
‘Yes, I agree, he should be removed at once.’ I pat Frederick’s shoulder. ‘Why don’t you go and make sure of that.’
Nodding to himself and pulling his jacket in, Frederick walks off to see to his grievance, and I sag in relief.
‘Eliza,’ Mother coos, beckoning me. ‘You danced with Frederick, how lovely.’
‘Did you laugh?’ I ask seriously, my watchful eye on Frederick who is now speaking with a barrel of a man whose breeches are so tight, his gut hangs over the waist. They are both looking at the Duke, who is still twirling a delighted Lady Dare around the floor.
‘I did nothing of the sort!’ Mother protests.
‘You’re a terrible liar,’ I say, not so much as having to look at her to determine that whenever Mother lies, her voice rises just one octave.
‘Oh, what is going on?’ she asks, moving in close, her attention now caught by Frederick and the fat man who is interrupting Winters’ and Lady Dare’s flawless waltz. He speaks quietly in the Duke’s ear, the Duke replies, and then he’s off around the floor again, apparently unbothered. ‘I see my quiet word with Lady Dare has had the desired effect and she has moved her sights onto another,’ Mother muses.
‘What!’ I blurt, making Mother’s eyebrow lift. ‘I mean, good. Yes, very good.’
‘Eliza?’ she questions, somewhat suspicious.
‘Ah, here’s Frederick,’ I say, escaping her, thoroughly scorning myself for being so transparent. I loop my arm through his and let him walk us away from my curious-looking mother. ‘Let us get a drink,’ I suggest. ‘Did you deal with the Duke?’
‘Not quite.’
‘What did he say?’
‘I’m afraid such language cannot be repeated in front of a lady, for your ears will surely bleed.’
‘What a horror he is,’ I muse, my eyes following him around the floor with Lady Dare, who is so obviously in her element. How many kisses has she shared with the Duke? How many tingles? How many butterflies? I look at Frederick, my suitor, and wonder for the first time if he is a better match after all. Safe. At least with Frederick, I will not be constantly questioning myself. I will not doubt myself. But that kiss, my first kiss, was so very intoxicating. And yet my only kiss. All kisses could feel that amazing for all I know. Wouldn’t that be a marvellous thing? In a moment of pure compulsion and utter recklessness, and maybe revenge because he surely twirled Lady Dare around the room to spite me, I drag Frederick, much to his distress, into a dark corner.
‘What are you doing?’ he cries, alarmed.
‘Quiet, Frederick,’ I order, peeking around, making sure we cannot be seen. And then I slam my lips on his and kiss him, waiting, hoping, praying for the sparks to find me and consume me, but I am devastated to find that I feel nothing, and it isn’t because his mouth appears to be sewn shut.
‘Eliza!’ Frederick yells, outraged, shoving me back. ‘We must not!’
No, we mustn’t, because it was plain underwhelming, and I should like not to feel such disappointment ever again. ‘My apologies, Fred––’ I am cut short when the Duke appears behind Frederick, almost a head above him, looking positively furious. His jaw is twitching, his eyes are wild, not with desire, I should mention, and his body looks poised to kill. ‘Finished dancing?’ I ask, narrowing my eyes on him, goading him.
‘What?’ Frederick questions in plain confusion, a look, I have come to realise, that is frequently on his face. Yes, the man looks persistently confused, or, now I’m thinking about it, alarmed. ‘Nothing,’ I mutter as the Duke moves away, not before landing me with a look of pure threat. Why is he so confusing? And what on earth does this mean?
Chapter 13
Mother did not shut up the entire way home, though, I noted, her words were somewhat slurred. In actual fact, she was well and truly drunk, something that Papa too observed, when she unceremoniously threw herself into his arms upon our arrival. She sang about her wonderful evening, detailing the many stories of gossip, which, thankfully, did not include my encounter with the Duke, but did include, much to my despair, news of Winters knocking Frederick over on the dance floor. Such an embellishment! I am sure Mother was born to be a journalist. Father certainly raised a brow at the news but avoided my eyes when I looked at him in question. Yes, the Duke barged my betrothed off the dance floor.