Page 23 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
She quickly fought with herself.
Desire should not tug me closer to him, she thought,I am a married woman.
“Fine,” he finally agreed. “Have your driver follow my carriage, and do not say you were not warned.”
They pulled out of the driveway, and went through the busy streets of London.
Soon, Madeleine’s carriage pulled to a stop, and a knock came on her door. Surprised, she opened it to find the Duke of Silverton standing there.
“Quickly, get into my carriage. Your driver shall divert back to your estate. We will be more inconspicuous where we are going if we ride in the same carriage.”
Madeleine leaned back, hesitant.
“Lady Kinsfeld,” he said impatiently, and she snapped into movement, getting out of her carriage before ordering her driver to return to her residence without her.
Highhope Street was a darker, down-at-heel area of the city, and Madeleine felt grimy just looking out at it, before her shoe even hit the ground.
“Do not say a word,” she muttered to the Duke when he saw her wince at the splash of a puddle hitting the edge of her dress.
“I would not dream of it,” he mocked her. “Come. The Horseshoe Pass is right on this corner.”
Madeleine’s heart hammered in her heartbeat. “That is the very same place where Lord Turnhew turned up…” She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
“Dead last month? Yes.”
She shuddered.
It was not love that had her hoping her husband’s fate was not the same but fear. If he was dead, she would be truly left with nothing. Her title, her financial stability, her home—all of it would be gone. She had no son. And she was certain that Donald’s relatives would want nothing to do with her because of that.
She ignored those thoughts and pressed on with the Duke but before they entered, he paused.
“Take off your jewels,” he told her quietly. “Leave them in the carriage. You have your cloak with you. Put that on as well.”
The instructions were swift and sharp, leaving her no time to argue. She did as he asked.
They entered the pub, and immediately, all eyes swung to Madeleine and him, and she had never felt more peeled back and exposed.
Heavens above, this place would eat me alive.
Eyes raked over her even with her gown covered and her jewels gone, and the Duke cast her a warning look as he strode deeper into the pub. He approached a bartender.
“I am looking for the manager. I wish to speak with him.”
The woman’s wide eyes fixed on them, and she glanced towards a wooden, closed door. “He don’t like to be disturbed, mister.”
“I do not care. He will be disturbed tonight.”
Madeleine could not take her eyes off him for a moment, flushing at the command he had over the room, over the barmaid, who nodded again.
“Y-yes, my lord.”
There was a charge in the air as he corrected the barmaid, a quiet authority that seemed to ripple through the room and settle beneath Madeleine’s skin.
Heat flared in her chest, spreading upward to her cheeks as she watched him, unyielding and commanding, effortlessly bending the moment to his will.
It wasn’t just his tone—it was the way he carried himself, the confidence that made others obey without question.
Something primal stirred within her, unbidden and unwelcome, and she tamped it down fiercely, refusing to let her thoughts stray toward the Duke in any treacherous way.
