Page 69 of His Forbidden Duchess
Frustratingly, her mind grew muddled as her fingers trailed over her skin, unable to truly capture the intensity he stirred in her. The longer she tried to find relief the further away it seemed to get. It was a pale imitation of what she longed for.
She huffed and gave up, covering her face with her hands in exasperation. Her body ached to be satisfied, and she felt a sharp pang of emotional longing. He was so close yet so completely unreachable. She pulled the blanket over herself and fell into a restless sleep.
By the time she had awoken and composed herself enough to make her way to the dining room, the setting sun had painted the room in warm hues, casting golden shadows across the table.
To her surprise, Felix sat at its head, his posture impeccably straight, and his eyes focused on a letter that lay on the table. He glanced up at her arrival with an unreadable glint in his gaze.
I see nothing has changed.
“Good evening,” he greeted, rising slightly as she took her seat across from him. There was a formal distance between them that was somehow more painful than a confrontation.
“Good evening,” she replied coolly as she arranged the napkin on her lap. She tried to shake off her frustration enough to manage polite conversation. “I am pleased to see you have finally decided to join me for dinner. I was beginning to wonder when?—”
“I have been busy, Eloise,” he said sharply.
He put the letter to one side as the maids began bringing in their dinner. The air filled with the scent of roasted guinea fowl and rich gravy, crisp roast potatoes and boiled carrots.
The pair began to eat immediately, the clinking of utensils filling the quiet room. After a while Eloise could no longer tolerate the impenetrable silence.
“Has the weather not been delightful today?” she said, hoping to lure him into a conversation.
“Indeed,” he replied although he didn’t bother to look up at her.
The silence resumed. Eloise sliced into her meat, her knife scraping across the porcelain. The wine glugged as Felix’s glass was refilled. He cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Thorpe tells me you were unwell this afternoon. I trust you are now feeling better?”
Eloise felt her cheeks warm. She looked down at her plate, her lips pressed together, and merely nodded. “Y-yes. Just a headache. Nothing serious.”
“Good.”
Again, they fell into the quiet routine of eating. Eloise’s mind whirred in desperation for something to say that would encourage him but nothing clever came to her. She stole a glance across the table, her thoughts drifting to their previous encounters—those rare, stolen moments when intimacy had come so easily.
Sometimes it seems as though Felix is two different men encased in one body.
Finally, as the plates were scraped clean and dessert was served, Felix spoke again.
“We received an invitation this afternoon,” he said simply. “Lady Brimsleigh is hosting a ball next week. She is rather insistent that we attend.”
Eloise’s fingers stilled on her wine glass as a flutter of enthusiasm filled her chest. She hadn’t expected it, but the notion of attending a ball with Felix, a proper occasion where she would be the center of his attention, felt surprisingly exciting.
She had never before cared for such things, but then she’d never had Felix for a husband.
“Do you think we should go?” she asked, keeping her tone light though her pulse quickened as she spoke.
It would also be a chance to see Hannah and perhaps her mother—two people who were once her entire life. She wondered what she would say when Hannah asked about married life. Would she be honest?
“I do not see that we have much of a choice,” Felix replied. “Lady Brimsleigh has a remarkable talent for persuading people to doexactly as she wishes, and you already know, I can never refuse my aunt anything.”
Eloise tilted her head, concealing her growing interest behind a carefully raised eyebrow. “Persuasiveness must run in the family.”
Felix’s eyes met hers with a flicker of amusement. “Perhaps. In any event, we shall attend.”
“As you wish,” she replied, looking at him from beneath her lashes and hoping he wouldn’t detect her true desires.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“It was delivered here not long ago by His Grace’s tailor in London, Your Grace. Is it not simply wonderful?” Margaret stood in the doorway with a bright smile on her face.
