Page 19 of From Duke Till Dawn
“And yet...?” Ellingsworth prompted.
“And yet...” Alex took the bucket and strode toward the pump in the courtyard. He pulled on the handle, and fresh, cold water poured from the spout. When the bucket was full, he brought it back to the horse and resumed his work.
“You went to her,” Ellingsworth exclaimed.
“I kissed her,” Alex admitted.
“Judging by the look on your face right now, it wasn’t very good.”
Alex opened his mouth to speak, but his friend cut him off.
Ellingsworth continued. “The kiss wasn’tvery good—it was a thing of unequaled magnificence.”
Heat bloomed in Alex’s face. He wanted to deny it, but then nodded in acquiescence. Everywhere he was hot, even thinking about what it was like to taste Cassandra again. The desire between them was fiercer than before.
Ellingsworth clapped his hands. “Langdon owes me a hundred pounds!” He grinned. “He was convinced you’d simply walk away from the woman, but I had faith your blood wasn’t made of sleet.”
A flare of outrage blossomed, that his friends would actually bet on him. But he should expect no less from two rich, idle men.
“Take your hundred pounds and damn the both of you,” Alex muttered.
Ellingsworth raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, then lowered them. He peered closely at Alex. “There are no scratches on your face.”
“What of it?” Alex demanded.
“She must have enjoyed the kiss.”
“Was that another bet?”
Ellingsworth didn’t bother looking affronted. “For a man who kissed a beautiful woman, and she took pleasure in it, you’re terrifically choleric.”
“She did enjoy it.” He’d felt the way she’d opened for him, the tight press of her body against his, her frantic breath. He’d seen her passion-glazed eyes and swollen lips.
He struggled to push those images away. “But it matters not, because I can’t have her.”
His friend straightened. “Whyever not? You’re a duke—the Prime Minister hangs on your word. Dozens of noblemen will leap like jackrabbits to obey your command. Anything you want is yours.”
“That’s why I can’t have Mrs. Blair.” Alex tested the water coming off the horse again and was satisfied to find it cool. He wanted to dump the rest of the bucket over his own head—or maybe throw it at Ellingsworth.
Instead, he grabbed some drying cloths from a peg and wiped down the animal. “A genteel widow with nothing to her name. No possessions. No family. She’s at the mercy of the world.” His jaw tightened. “All the power belongs to me. I could ruin her with my attention.”
“What if,” Ellingsworth posited, “your attention was more honorable. Take her as your mistress.”
Alex straightened. His hands clenched into fists. “What?”
Ellingsworth appeared to warm to the idea. “You can remain lovers. Have new kisses of unequaled magnificence—and more. And you’d keep her generously supported. A house of her own, jewels, servants, a carriage. Women love carriages,” he added confidingly. “More than jewels.”
It took every measure of Alex’s control to keep from punching his friend. “How the hell can you suggest that?”
Ellingsworth held out his hands as if even discussing the topic was ridiculous. “Lady Emmeline is an earl’s daughter. Who is Mrs. Blair’s father?”
Alex struggled to recall, but his mind came up with nothing but haze. “Can’t remember. Some landed gentleman who must have been the son of a baronet. I’m not certain.”
“Exactly my point,” his friend said, aiming his finger at Alex. “She was working in a gaming hell, for the love of Christ. It’s not as though she has outstanding prospects. Becoming your mistress would be an advancement for her.”
Alex tossed down the cloth he held and strode over to Ellingsworth. He gripped his friend’s neckcloth in a vise and gave him a shake.
“Don’t ever insult Mrs. Blair again,” Alex said through gritted teeth.
