Page 25 of A Deal with her Forbidden Duke
“I would not do you the dishonor of pity. Pity does nobody any good.”
She leaned closer to him, and their hands almost touched. Her heart pounded furiously, and it was the first time she had felt this for a man.
A rush of desire.
Not just warmth to chase away a cold loneliness but actual desire, and want. Heavens knew her husband never had prompted that. He had swathed her in dresses and never once admired her in them.
It was an arranged marriage from the beginning,she thought mournfully.
But this…
In here, with the Duke, with her breath catching, and his eyes sinfully looking at her as though he was the first person to see her in a long, long time, she could not tamper her feelings down the way she ought to.
“I do not love him,” she whispered, lifting her gaze to his, meeting the blue eyes that understood so much.
“I know,” he said. “I can see that. You deserve a lot more, Lady Kinsfeld.”
“Do not call me that,” she murmured. “Not right now.”
“Then I shall not use words at all,” he responded.
The Duke’s face was close, sending her heart pulsing faster. His mouth was inches from hers, and she ached for the press of them.
Her hand placed over his. “I am not a sinner, or a cheater, Your Grace.”
The Duke shook his head, “No, my lady, you are not.”
Still, he came closer, his eyes dropping to her mouth.
“Your Grace,” she uttered as a warning.
The Duke cleared his throat and nodded, “Yes. I apologize,” he said and quickly sat back in his seat, putting distance between them.
Somehow, the air suddenly felt cold to her.
A moment later, the carriage lurched to a stop and the door was opened by a footman.
“We are here,” the Duke’s voice was rough. “I will—” he cleared his throat again, “I will look further into the dock sighting. LordKinsfeld will be found. He will not get away with doing such things.”
She nodded, biting her lip. The Duke did not look away from where she caught it between her teeth.
“Good night, my lady.”
“Good night, Your Grace.”
She hurried inside her carriage, her face still burning as the wheels rolled down the London streets, and back to her townhouse.
Still, she could not get the Duke out of her mind.
Chapter Nine
“You are silly for fretting,” Madeleine told herself in a hushed, furious voice three days later.
Just because you have not heard from His Grace since that night, that does not mean anything. He is simply investigating.
She inhaled, and tried to stop her pacing in the parlor. She had practically worn a track in the rug for all the restless pacing she had done in there over the past three days. How could the Duke not send word? He knew she waited for it.
“Lady Kinsfeld,” her butler said, interrupting her pacing. “The Countess of Easthall is here to see you.”
