Page 57 of From Duke Till Dawn
In this unlikely place, hours after the event had occurred, his arms still felt the warmth of her body as she’d lain within them, sleeping peacefully. He’d never seen her so unguarded, yet despite the softness of her expression, a small line formed between her brows, as if even in sleep, anxiety managed to find her. Would she ever discover a way to fully let go, or would her troubles haunt her always? He wanted to smooth that line away. He wanted to hold her until the strength of his arms gave out. His heart throbbed to see her in his embrace, and a painful yearning thrummed through his body to repeat the experience.
Every step led them into murky waters that showed no sign of clearing.
Conflicting feelings clashed against each other in his heart, his mind, and his body. No denying that he desired her—powerfully—but that hunger didn’t exist alone. It kept company with something warmer, more expansive.
He couldn’t consider this now. The situation with Hughes had to be resolved, and soon. Cassandra was in desperate straits. Ruthless underworld figures demanded money—or her hide.
Following the click of billiard balls striking each other, Alex made his way toward the back.
“Your whiskey, Your Grace,” the footman said, appearing with a glass on a tray.
Alex took the drink and swallowed it in one gulp, then returned the glass to its tray. The alcohol didn’t dull the edges of his emotions, however.
He paused in the doorway of the billiards room, where tables were arrayed, all of them surrounded by small groups of men. In the middle stood the distinctive figures of Langdon and Ellingsworth. Langdon was setting up a shot, but he glanced up and saw Alex hovering in the entryway.
“My God,” Langdon exclaimed after taking his shot. He neatly sank a ball in the pocket. “The great beast awakens.”
Ellingsworth came forward, holding his cue. “Where the hell have you been?” He stuck out his hand and Alex obligingly shook it.
“Been busy,” Alex said tersely.
“Doing what?” asked Ellingsworth.
“Or whom?” Langdon added with a leer.
“Neither of you are named in my will,” Alex noted, “so I fail to see how any of my activities are your business.”
“You haven’t solicited our congratulations,” Ellingsworth said drily. “Clearly, then, you aren’t engaged.”
Alex had forgotten that the last time he’d spoken to Ellingsworth, he’d been on the verge of asking Cassandra to marry him. It felt like several lifetimes had passed since then. He now held the wisdom of a much-older man. Yet he felt more liberated than he ever had in his life.
“Not engaged,” Ellingsworth continued, peering closely at him, “but definitely engrossed.”
“The widow from the gaming hell?” Langdon demanded. Evidently, Ellingsworth had apprised him of some of the particulars. “Did she refuse you?”
Alex stepped forward and ran his hand along the baize covering the table. He’d always enjoyed the feel of the fabric’s nap against his fingers. Why didn’t he play billiards more? He was always too busy with a thousand different responsibilities.
He also couldn’t ignore his friends’ questions.
“She’s not exactly wife material,” he allowed.
“Then she’s mistress material,” Langdon declared.
“She’s complicated,” Alex growled.
“Apparently,” Ellingsworth answered. “Since she’s not a wife and not a mistress.”
“What is she then?” Langdon pressed, leaning against his cue. Their game was forgotten in the wake of this unwanted interrogation.
Alex answered in a low voice, “Some women don’t fit into categories.” Cassandra especially defied all definitions. “I’m not here to discuss her.”
Ellingsworth and Langdon groaned in frustration. “You are the least accommodating person in England,” Langdon said sulkily. “How are we to amuse ourselves if not at your expense?”
“I’ve heard the cure for boredom is work.” Alex folded his arms across his chest and couldn’t resist a smile when his friends both made sounds of horror.
“Sirrah, you will recant those words immediately,” Ellingsworth declared hotly.
“I cannot accept blame if you find the cure worse than the disease.” He looked pointedly at Langdon. “Aren’t you going to inherit a dukedom one day? Surelythatwill entail you dredging up a speck of dependability.”
