Page 11 of A Scandalous Love for the Enticing Duke
Benjamin was already laughing and shaking his head at him, even before he finished speaking. It did not bother him a bit.
“You are impossible, dear friend. I had hoped you were joking when you announced it on the ride over, but I should have known better. You finally attend a ball, after missing an entire season, and you would be sitting this one out in a library?”
Nicholas tried to hold back a smile at how amused Benjamin sounded. He reckoned he should know better. After so many years together, very little was supposed to surprise him where he was concerned.
“Benjamin, I have no interest in all of these. You know how socially awkward I can be. I am only here to honour Mother and Father’s wishes, but I hear the introduction would not be for another hour. I met with Fortham junior a week ago, and he boasted of his father’s excellent book collection. If I am to be completely honest with you, I am here more for them than the woman who is to be my wife. I have been eager to step my feet into that library since Fortham spoke of it. Surely, you must understand this.” Nicholas’s barely bridled excitement covered him like a cloak.
Benjamin shook his head, and Nicholas knew what his friend was thinking. How did they ever make it this far, with such drastic difference in personalities? Benjamin was the gentleman of the ball. A bit of a rake, many would accuse him of being. Alas, he continued to insist that it was no fault of his, and that he had been born with an overload of charm which the ladies always seemed to fall for. When they came, pleading desperately that he loved them, Benjamin usually found himself unable to deny them his ‘magic touch’ as he so often called it. It was only sad that after a taste of him, these women seemed to believe themselves irrevocably in love with him. That was where the problem came in. His best friend did not do love, thought the notion silly and impossible to happen to him.
As for Nicholas, well, it was no secret that the future Duke of Yorkshire had already found his first love – books. He knew he was a puzzle to many, especially the gentlemen of the ton. How anyone would choose inanimate objects to the live delight that were women baffled them. It made Nicholas smile. If only they knew how much better his world of books was.
“Frankly? I do not understand, Nicholas. However, I know you, my friend, and I know nothing will stop you from leaving this ballroom. All the better for me, I reckon. One less competition, more women,”he ended, wiggling his brows, causing Nicholas to chuckle.
“They would be your death. You know this, yes? Let me take my leave now. If Mother and Father seek me, you know where to find me.”
“Indeed I do. Buried in lies, when truth is happening all around you. You live a boring life my friend, I must confess, I do not envy you.”
Nicholas did not miss a beat. “Of course you do not, as long as Mother’s love is not in question. And they are called fiction, not lies.”
“So, so, so, if it’s not making any sense, it’s gibberish. See you later, Stamford.”
“And you too, Witherspoon.” He tipped his hat in his friend’s direction, and in one swift move, fixed it back upon his head.
Benjamin gave him a curt nod, and he turned to leave, assured that his absence would not be missed. He could also trust Benjamin to remain in the ballroom long enough for Mother and Father to get across to him, whenever he was needed. It would have been just as easy to keep an eye on time, himself. Not that he would not try to, but he also knew that once he started flipping through the pages of a good book, he tended to lose cognisance of all else.
As he wandered down the hallway, in search of the library, he let his mind wonder about the woman he would be meeting today. He was curious about her, had been ever since he accepted the news from his parents weeks ago. They had assured him she was fair and sensible. Still, he was curious to see for himself. A part of him hoped that he would find her agreeable so that he may make his parents happy by carrying on with the marriage.
These thoughts kept him occupied until he found the library after several turns and cursing himself for being too proud to enlist the help of a servant who would have easily shown him around. Music floated in the air, and voices engaged in conversations could be heard. These were proof that the people underneath him were actually enjoying the ball, having a good time while he ran from it. A completely different world from the one he was about to enter. He did not mind one bit. He was a scholar, and this was where his heart laid.
As he reached the huge wooden doors, he grabbed the handle and pulled down, hoping that it had been left unlocked. When it came open with a click, he smiled, glad.With a push, he increased the width for his entrance and stepped in.
He was fully in before he turned and closed the door behind him, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It did not matter that he had gotten permission to be here. He would rather not be found out by someone who would cause a scene.
As the door clicked close, he turned around to behold the room that had plagued his dreams since Fortham told its tales. As he did, the first thing he noticed was that it was lit, and he wondered if Fortham had lightened the place up for visitors. Thankful that he had one problem less, he began to examine the room. However, it was not the big space filled with shelves occupied with books that held his attention. No indeed, it was the angel that stood right in the middle of the room, staring at him, eyes widened with alarm, mouth slightly ajar, and body frozen from surprise.
For some reason, even before he could take in all of her, he felt air leave his chest.
Chapter 8
A thousand thoughts were running through Eleanor’s mind as she stared at the stranger in the room. Her first thought when she had heard the door open was that Samuel had followed her to see that she arrived safely. When she turned and saw the formally dressed man with a tricorne hat resting on his head, she knew this was no butler. Her second thought was that it might have been her partner from her second dance, Vincent Eastwood, who had been very sad to let her go after the dance ended. She wondered for a brief moment if he had followed her in hope to get a private moment with her. Alas, when the man in question turned around, and she gazed upon his very unfamiliar face, fear caught up with her.
He was a total stranger! What was a strange man doing in the Fortham library, and why was he locking the door behind him? If he was here to harm her, she would make sure to make it extremely difficult for him. She would scream down the heavens and bite and scratch until someone came to her rescue. Although, she knew that was unlikely. With all the noise and activities going down below, it’d be a miracle for anyone to hear her struggles. She suddenly wished she had not made this detour.
Resolved, she willed the fear that held her in place to loosen its hold on her so she could spring into action. Surely, there must be something here she could use to protect herself with. A candle stand, an ink dart, a lamp, anything!
It was not until she thawed, looked around the room, and looked back at the stranger, that she saw what fear had blinded her from seeing, initially.
The strange man was regarding her with as much awe as she was him. In fact, his eyes too were slightly widened in amusement. Mayhap, he was simply an innocent man who meant no harm, whatsoever?
Realising that she had slumped, she quickly collected herself and adjusted her posture. He looked like a noble in his fine attire. He had on a pair of grey trousers. A dark blue double-breasted frockcoat over a grey buff waistcoat. From the Vee of the waist coat, she could spy a white shirt and could also easily see the white cravat, craftily tied around his neck. On his feet, she could glimpse black Hessian boots. All in all, this strange man was definitely dressed for the occasion, and as the daughter of a Duke, equally beautiful in her cream-coloured dress, she had to hold her head high and demand appropriate respect.
Clearing her throat softly, she spoke.
“May I help you with something?”
No reply came for some time. Silence reigned as the strange man stood, looking at her as though he had not heard her speak. Slightly irritated and running out of patience, she broke the quiet spell.
Perhaps he had not heard her the first time, so she inched her voice higher this time as she asked again, “May I help you with something?”
