Page 20 of A Duke's Sinful Bargain
Just a few moments longer,a voice inside of her seemed to plead. Anticipation blossomed as she finally drew the carriage door open and found her way to the main entrance. Whether the valet recognized her or not, he did not show it.
“Please, follow me,” he told her courteously, bowing before her as he did so.
“Thank you,” she replied, barely audibly.
He ushered her through the luxurious passageways that seemed to draw out endlessly, each dark corner concealing an even darker secret. Intricate tapestries hung from the walls, gilded frames bore the countenances of the duke’s proud predecessors, but Anna could not pay any attention to that.
Instead, she focused on the soft rustle of her silk gown, which trailed along the marble floors underneath her feet. This cacophony of noise stood in stark contrast to the silence that reigned around her. As she inhaled, her nostrils were permeated by the fragrance of beeswax and fire. She wondered what that evening would bring. Would she find the solution to her troubles, or would she unwittingly create even more?
The valet opened the parlor door, revealing a breathtaking chamber bathed in deep hues of burgundy and gold. Candles flickered in all four corners, their light nestling around objects of beauty and art that adorned the place. Endless rows of books rested peacefully on a bookshelf by the window.
A vase with freshly picked flowers stood on a small table by the armchair. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting prismatic rainbows all over the room, adding to the magic of the moment.
“Your Grace,” the valet said, turning to the man who seemed to have only now emerged from the shadows. “Your guest has arrived.”
“Lady Ravenscroft,” the duke greeted her, bowing gallantly. She drank in the sight of him, his tall and imposing figure dressed impeccably in a dark tailcoat. Hie piercing blue eyes immediately locked with hers, and the corner of his lips danced in a barely perceptible smile.
“Your Grace,” she replied with a graceful curtsey. Her accident had left her physically inadequate, but she had since done her best to rectify that by proving to everyone that grace was not a matter of physical capability, but rather a matter of the spirit. And spirit she had plenty of.
Her eyes glinted with excitement as she gazed upon him, realizing to her dismay that he had grown even more devilishly handsome in the time they had been apart, if such a thing was even possible. The flickering candlelight around them danced on the sharp contours of his face, accentuating his chiseled cheekbones and square jaw, features that had captivated her from the moment she had laid eyes on him.
“I must say,” his voice broke the silence around them, “I feared you might not show up.”
“Me?” She lifted a brow. Almost as if that was his cue to leave, the valet withdrew discreetly, leaving them alone in the warm embrace of the parlor, each at the mercy of the other. “Do you think me of such a fleeting mind, Your Grace?”
“On the contrary, Ladt Ravenscroft,” he told her. “I have to admit that I find your mind quite… alluring.”
She wondered if he found anything else about her alluring, and the thought instantly made her cheeks flush. She cleared her throat in an effort to shift focus from his words and pretend as if they had no effect on her.
“Then you deem me a coward,” she said to tease him, as she could not resist being the cause of that smile that still lingered only in the corners of his lips.
“After your words from last time? Never.” He shook his head fervently. Then he looked away from her. “May I pour you a glass of brandy?” The velvety undertone of his voice sent shivers down her spine, causing her to momentarily forget what she wanted to say.
“Um… yes, thank you, I would like one,” she replied, looking around.
She walked over to the armchair and settled into it. Her outward appearance was, she hoped, a sea of calmness. Her plan was to simply mirror back everything he projected to her. That was the only way to keep her grace and dignity intact.
He took his time in pouring the liquid into the glasses, and the rich aroma of brandy filled the air.Liquid courage,her late husband used to call it. She herself had never been much of a drinker, but this occasion called for one.
Or two. Perhaps there was something to this liquid courage, something that would help her survive that night. When Alexander turned around, with both glasses in his hands, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. Anticipation was building like a crescendo in the room around them, yet neither of them was willing to scratch beneath the surface of why she was there.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the offered glass, not taking her eyes off of his even for a single second, as if she feared losing something precious if she did so, something she would never be able to get back.
“What are we toasting to?” he wondered playfully. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to lure her out, to make her start the conversation herself.
“To… friendship,” she replied, in an equally playful manner.Two can play at this game.
“To friendship,” he echoed.
The clink of the glasses echoed in the quiet space around them. The brandy, with its warm and smooth taste, warmed her up instantly. She held onto it as if she were holding onto courage itself. A small amount of brandy disappeared down her throat, scratching her gently, like the claw of a cat still wondering whether the danger was real or if it was only in her mind.
“You look absolutely breathtaking this evening,” he told her, his eyes surveying her from above the rim of the glass, his lips concealed from view.
She smiled in response. “You flatter me, Your Grace. Your estate is as splendid as the compliments you bestow.”
This time, he chuckled, the sound gripping like a low rumble of a distant thunder. “I assure you, Lady Ravenscroft, the splendor pales in comparison to your radiance.”
She lifted a brow, amused at his insistence. “It is true, then.”
