Page 66 of How to Love a Duke in Ten Days
He never intended to have a clandestine lover.
He was not his mother. He was not like Rose.
Once he’d married, he’d never stray.
Alexandra Lane would be his one and only lover.
He was her beast now.
May God have mercy on her soul.
It had taken no little doing to calm Francesca and Cecelia down. They’d returned from the ball to find Alexandra missing and had worked themselves into a frenzy of worry by the time she’d slipped through the door.
She should have thought to leave them a note, but in her hurry, she’d taken her pad with her and quite forgot.
Three fingers of whisky had eased Alexandra’s shaking hands and released the coil of tension from her chest enough to recount the evening’s events. As she did so, her friends’ eyes widened in identical, almost comical increments until they resembled two redheaded owls staring at her in disbelief.
“You’re so brave.” Cecelia sighed rather dreamily. She had divested herself of her gown and corset the moment Alexandra had been confirmed safe and stood in the middle of her discarded attire donning her nightgown. “I would have been terrified of him.”
Alexandra frowned at the defensive knot in her stomach. “Why wouldyouhave been?”
“He’s just so big, isn’t he? And ever so fearsome.” She paused, her brows knitted with concern. “What was kissing him like? Was he… gentle with you? Considerate?”
Alexandra had trouble conjuring the word for what she and Redmayne had shared. “He was… pleasant.” She realized the inadequacy of the word the moment she’d said it.
Kissing Redmayne had been pleasant, surely, but it was too tame a word. What could she use, instead?
Agreeable? Enjoyable?
Pleasurable.
That was it. Kissing Redmayne had been a pleasure. She could have kissed him all night. She could have kissed him forever.
“He put me well at ease,” Alexandra explained. “I don’t believe we should have stopped if Rose hadn’t interrupted us.”
“Rose Brightwell has always been a horrid bitch,” Francesca swore as she yanked ruby pins from her coiffure. “Remember when I roomed with her at de Chardonne in the early days? She made everyone so miserable. What Redmayne saw in her I couldn’t begin to imagine.”
“She’s Rose Atherton now.” Alexandra draped herself on the chaise, too exhausted by the entire ordeal to even disrobe. “And she’s really quite beautiful.” If one liked perfect, exotic women with elegant features and a figure straight from a lady’s catalogue.
A sick suspicion curled within her. As she and Redmayne had kissed, as their intimacy progressed, he’d pulled her against him, and she’d felt his… his lust. His sex. Turgid and hard against her belly.
He’d been about to peel away her dress. She’d been about to explore his topography. Minutes later they might have been on the bed.
And then Rose had driven her away. No, Redmayne hadsenther away.
What were they doing now? Alexandra wondered. Were they fighting? Was Rose apologizing? Or…
“Do you think lust is transferable?” As she was wont to do, Alexandra gave the thought voice before it had fully formed.
Cecelia froze in the middle of cinching her robe. “You’re not wondering if Redmayne and Rose are—”
“That’s exactly what I’m wondering.” Alexandra sighed miserably. “We’d… progressed in our intimacies enough for him to… respond physically. Now that he has another beautiful woman in his room, do you think that they might be…?” She covered her eyes with her fingers, wishing she could blind her imagination as well.
“I don’t think that’s how it works, dear.” The cushion next to her depressed as Cecelia joined her on the couch, placing a hand on her arm to pull her hands away from her eyes. “Besides, Redmayne has made it obvious he’s furious with his cousin and Rose. I daresay he detests them.”
“Certainly, but isn’t there a fine line between love and hate?” Alexandra gave voice to the devil’s advocate whispering in her ear.
Francesca leaned forward intently. “The real question is, why does it matter so much to you?”
