Page 33 of Good Duke Gone Cold

He turned his back on the folly, threw himself on Apollo, and galloped away.

Chapter 13

Marywasexhaustedfromthe day, avoiding Gregory and Margaret took almost as much energy as facing them, so when her head hit the pillow she expected to fall asleep quickly. Sleep proved elusive once Gregory’s face came to mind, and despite spending the afternoon with Lyle, it was indeed Gregory’s face that came to mind.

There was no desire that came from being in Lyle’s presence. There wasn’t even an especially comfortable level with him, not that there was discomfort. There was just…nothing.

After entangling and untangling herself from the sheets several times, she decided it was worth it to seek another means of inducing sleep. She would go to find a book.

Part of her drew her to the study in hopes of accidentally meeting Gregory, but the more cautious side pulled more strongly and she ended up in the library.

She had thought she was in search of a dull book until she found a hidden treasure tucked behindBiological Observations of the Ancient and Modern World According to Naturalism, a bottle of whiskey.

Gregory, for the sake of his sanity and his soul, needed to avoid Mary. For that reason he chose to avoid the study and slipped into the library to find the bottle of whiskey he kept stowed away for moments of crisis.

To say he was vexed to find Mary in the library would be an understatement. To say he was perturbed to find her already deep in her cups drinkinghiswhiskey would be a gross trivialization. And that’s why he didn’t walk away. He was needled that she had found his whiskey, but he was supremely peeved that this hitherto good girl was drunk in the library where she wasn’t supposed to be. It had nothing to do with the stirring in his groin as he observed the tops of her bosoms hardly contained by the ruffles and ribbon holding together her nightwear.

“What are you doing?” His voice should have startled her, so the fact that she didn’t flinch was a testament to how much she had already consumed.

“I came to read a book. Can’t you see?” She chuckled to herself as she lifted her glass to him.

“That’s my whiskey.” He sounded like a child, but he didn’t care.

“Is your name on it?” She chuckled again as she precariously lifted the bottle pretending to look for his name. Just as her sham search was about to lead her to tip the bottle upside down, Gregory marched over to her.

“Give me that.” He tore the bottle from her grasp.

“Lud!” She tried to stand up and stamp her foot but was off balance and plopped back down again shaking loose any tresses that had previously been pinned up. She pushed her hair off her face. “I was drinking that,” she mumbled.

“Yes. I can see you are very adept at reading books.” He shook his head. “Have you ever even had this before?”

“Of course not!” Her attempt at defiance almost brought a smile to his face. She was adorable when she was mad. Adorable? No, her eyes were glaring at him and her arms were now crossed at her chest, pushing up those delectable mounds ever so slightly. Did this woman not understand how any of her gestures were interpreted?

He chose to ignore the yearning that would lead to him reimagining her breasts in his mouth.

“Then why, praytell, are you drinking this, my whiskey, tonight?” He couldn’t himself.

She blew a raspberry with her lips. With great effort, he deflected another erotic image from pervading his thoughts. “You wouldn’t understand.” She leaned her head back against the settee and closed her eyes with her arms holding herself protectively across his midsection.

He should have walked away saying that she was right, and then chastised her for being such a fool and drinking so much hard liquor. He even could have left her to her musings and signaled a footman or lady’s maid to retrieve her and take her to bed. Looking back, there were many things Gregory should have or could have done.

But as he studied her resting back against the settee, he saw her vulnerability. She was no stronghold. No impassive fortress. She was human, and she was protecting herself. All he could think to himself was that he hoped to God she was not protecting herself from him.

“Try me,” he said softly and sat down across from her.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be a woman.”

“I would concur with that.”

His attempted levity was rejected as Mary’s eyes flew open. “You don’t get it! You have choices. You’re a man. You can do whatever you want and people overlook your faults. I’m not allowed to make mistakes. I’m not allowed to have desires, nevermind pursue them. I’m not allowed to be me.”

He could see tears forming in her eyes and he could almost feel the burn of them in his heart. He handed her another drink as an offering and an invitation to share more.

“I have desires. I want to write this play. I want to act in it. I want to see it performed. Do you know what it would do to my reputation to see this through? People will scorn me. I will receive the cut direct from much of theton, including people I would call friends.”

“Forget them.”

“I can’t forget them. I’ve been raised to be them.”

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