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)
‘Who mugged who?’
‘You mugged my brother,’ I say tentatively.
‘When did I mug your…’ he fades off, frowning.
I nod, my lips pressed together. ‘Lymington really does not like you,’ I say, digging a little. ‘And I have heard you call Frederick many unpleasant names.’
He nods, thoughtful. ‘But the report didn’t publish.’
‘Porter went missing.’
‘He did?’
‘He left Town abruptly to visit friends.’
‘Interesting.’
‘Is it? Why?’ What’s going on?
‘Let’s not bore ourselves with your father’s newspaper’s politics.’ He shifts his hips and the satisfying fullness disappears. I hiss and close my legs but Johnny, on his knees looming over me, pulls them apart. His face twists a little, and, curious of that look, I peek down to see blood staining the inside of my legs.
‘I should bathe you,’ he says, slowly rising and taking my hand, and then, both of us still bare and exposed, he leads me out of his study and up the stairs.
‘Hercules,’ I say, my eyes stuck to his powerful back.
‘Has retired for the evening, so you need not worry.’
I nod as I am led into a room. His bedroom. The bed is huge and high, the elaborate woodwork glossy, and the rich claret draperies are heavy and, thankfully, drawn. I notice steam rising into the air and see a bathtub in the corner of the room, full of hot water. It must have been drawn only very recently. By request of Johnny? I’m sure. He helps me in and is patient as I grow accustomed to the hot water, my skin becoming red, and, much to my shock when I have finally come to rest on my bottom, he steps in and lowers himself behind me, taking a cloth and starting to squeeze water, very gently and lovingly, across my back. ‘You are washing me,’ I say quietly, and his motions falter, only momentarily, though, before he continues.
‘I am.’
I frown. ‘Because you’ve dirtied me,’ I say, worried about the silent yet alarmingly loud conclusion I have drawn from his actions. ‘It is, isn’t it?’ I turn in the bath to face him, taking the cloth from his hand. ‘You feel compelled to clean me after tarnishing me. Do you not realise, Johnny, that nothing can wipe away what just happened? It cannot be scrubbed away like it never happened, not from my body and most definitely not from my mind.’
He stares at me, a look I am certain I do not appreciate, for it holds sympathy, and I want none of that from him. ‘I cannot bear,’ he says, his voice soft, but he is obviously struggling to keep it that way, ‘the idea of ruining you, Eliza. I cannot stand it.’
‘Ruined?’ Have we not gone over this over and over? He must shake this misplaced guilt. ‘If this is how ruined feels, then I must insist you ruin me every day for the rest of my life.’ I wish for the world to know of this moment. I wish every woman to learn of the heights of pleasure he has taken me to, of the softness he has shown me, of the gentleness of his heart. I withdraw, as I have just comprehended the spew of words I have spoken, and what he must be concluding is not going to benefit me. I drop my eyes to his wet chest. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘How many times must I tell you?’
‘Only once, Your Grace,’ I say curtly. ‘I am not likely to forget it now, am I?’ I stand, completely unabashed, and water pours from my body as I step out of the bath, but his grasp around my wrist halts me.
‘If I could have it any other way,’ he says as I look at him, hating his pained expression, ‘I would.’
‘You are not chained to this life. Only by yourself.’
‘That is not true. I could never marry you, Eliza. I have told you this.’
‘I am not asking for marriage. I am asking for more than marriage’ – something like love – ‘and I, mistakenly it would seem’ – and in a moment of utter stupidity – ‘thought that perhaps you were the only man in this godforsaken world who could give me more than nuptials. Now, if you will excuse me, I have another man waiting in the wings who does want to marry me.’ But whom I do not and cannot love. ‘Goodbye.’ What the heck am I saying? I want to marry Frederick about as much as I want to leave the Duke in this moment.
‘I forbid you to leave.’
I laugh and wrench my wrist free as my skin begins to pimple and my teeth start to chatter. ‘You don’t own me.’
‘You speak spiteful words to hurt me.’
‘You do not want me, so why you hurt is a mystery.’
‘Eliza!’ he bellows, the sound of rushing water surrounding it. I ignore the ferocity of his tone and hurry downstairs to his study. I cannot punish myself in such a way. I cannot! I cannot pretend to claim I knew of the pleasure I would experience here on this eve, and, more than that, I never appreciated the risk I was taking. Not of being caught or ruined.