Page 13 of Eliza and the Duke
“A night out in London is out of the question, but a night in my bed isn’t?”
He shrugged. “Yes. One can be done in private, and the other by its very nature must be public. We cannot be seen in public together because it would cause too much trouble for me, and you as well, I presume.”
That was true. “Fine. Not Covent Garden, then. Whitechapel. No one who knows me would go there. Even if I did run across some gentleman, I very much doubt he would notice me out of context.” She had met hundreds of people at balls and soirees in the past couple of months and hardly any of them more than once or twice. The Dove name might be notorious but her face wasn’t. Outside of the proper venue and a ball gown, she’d be virtually anonymous. The likelihood of a gentleman identifying her was slim. It was a bet she was willing to make.
He was shaking his head before she had even finished the word. “No. It’s dangerous there.”
“There would be little danger to me with you at my side.”
“No, Miss Dove. It’s not something I’m willing to risk.” He had made it to the door and was on the verge of fleeing.
Desperation pushed her forward. “There isn’t a risk, though. Not really. Women go there all the time.”
He eyed her dubiously. “Women not of your class.”
“What do you know of my class? I’m not what you think, just as I’m beginning to suspect that you aren’t what I think. There’s more to you beneath that gruff exterior, Mr. Cavell.”
“It’s not going to happen. I will not take you out and I will not bed you, either. You’ve lost your chance.” She opened her mouth to retort that she’d never asked him to bed her, but he hurried on. “I’m leaving this room and we will not speak of this again.”
“I cannot agree to that.” She followed him toward the door. “If you want my silence—”
He rounded on her, his legs eating up the distance between them, and she closed her mouth abruptly. His eyes were alight with aggravation that made her think she might have pushed him too far. What did she really know about him? Though she did feel safe with him, there was no real reason that she should feel safe.
Coming to a stop not a foot away from her, he said, “I’ll think about it. The danger…the planning…it will take time.” His jaw firmed in resolve. “That’s the most I can offer you.”
She knew better than to push him further. “Thank you.”
He exhaled in what might have been relief. She almost felt sorry for him. He clearly had a secret to keep and it was important to him. He gave her a brisk nod and left. The bedroom door didn’t make so much as a thud when it closed behind him.
Seven
The past week had beentorture for Simon. He tried to stay out of sight, and for the most part he succeeded, but he was charged with the Doves’ security and that meant he was always near them. Near her. He heard her, saw her, and even smelled her delicate scent when he was forced to get close to her.
The first time he saw her after the incident in her bedroom, he’d accompanied Eliza and her mother on a shopping excursion to Bond Street. His task was to shadow them and stand outside each shop while they browsed; they didn’t buy very much. He hadn’t been certain of her intentions then—he still wasn’t—so he’d felt anxious as he waited. She’d opened the door of the millinery shop, and the bell had jangled as she’d stepped out onto the pavement. Her eyes had flashed to his, the secret they both knew shining within them, and her mouth had twisted into an intriguing little smile before she’d turned away to head to the next shop. He’d avoided looking at her therest of the day, afraid it would tempt her into spilling their secret.
He had encountered her so closely only once after that. He’d made the mistake of crossing the front hall as she came down the stairs. They weren’t alone, as her mother and sister were trailing behind her. She was far enough ahead of them, however, that she was able to whisper to him, “My offer still stands,” as she passed him by on her way to the drawing room. Her smile had been teasing and unconsciously seductive. The pull of her perfume had had him moving toward her before he’d managed to stop himself. He wished that shewouldrequest a night with him.
All he had to do was close his eyes and the memory of her lithe body against his had him pondering things that were better left unimagined. Things like how thick her hair would feel wrapped around his wrist, the sounds she would make underneath him, or how long her rose water scent would last on his sheets. Not that she would ever be in his bed. The thought was preposterous. He lived at the club, an employee; she lived here in one of the most fashionable neighborhoods in London.
“Don’t tell me Sir Barnaby has written to ask for your hand in marriage yet again?” Eliza’s voice drew him back to the present.
He’d finished his nightly meeting downstairs with the butler, where he’d been briefed on all the planned comings and goings of the staff the next day. He was walking to the parlor at the back of the house to get the family’s schedule for tomorrow from Mrs. Dove. She usually relayed the information to him after the family arrived home from their evening excursion, but they were having a rare night at home tonight.
“The third time, the poor dear.” This came from Jenny,and then a flutter of paper as the letter in question was presumably discarded. Her tone was not as forgiving as her words implied. “He won’t take no for an answer.”
Simon peeked inside the room to see Eliza sitting on the sofa wearing a blue dress with a high satin collar. There was a gap in the front that displayed just enough of her soft neck to draw his eyes. He nearly groaned in frustration at how taken he was with her and forced himself to notice her sister on the opposite sofa. Mrs. Dove was nowhere in the room. He quietly eased back and pressed his shoulders to the wall outside the parlor door and told himself he was waiting for Mrs. Dove to join her daughters. She was probably upstairs refreshing herself before dinner.
It was sound logic that he would wait, but he also knew that he simply enjoyed hearing Eliza’s voice. Truth be told, he liked her. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t confessed his identity or what had happened in her room to anyone. She could have, and he respected that she hadn’t.
Eliza laughed at something her sister had said. There was a lightness to it that he found refreshing. It suggested that she hadn’t been touched by hardship or loss. It floated around the room with an amused, unbothered air and a sweetness that called to him. “Have you considered telling him that you have no interest because he asked for Cora’s hand first?”
“Yes, I did mention that to him,” Jenny said. “He wrote back that he was mistaken. He’d been blinded by my beauty and too overcome by it to ask me, so he asked her instead. He dearly regrets his error.”
“I’m sure he does.”
They both giggled, and he found himself smiling against his will. He didn’t want to like Eliza or her family. She had the power to ruin everything he had worked for. One word fromher, and Leigh and Thorne could send him away from Montague Club for prizefighting for Brody behind their backs. He’d have nowhere safe to bring Daisy once he finally got her. But he couldn’t help it. She was kind and good and he liked existing near her.
“If you jilt Lord Mainwaring, I’m certain Sir Barnaby would offer for you,” Jenny teased her sister.
