Page 34 of In Scandal with the Duke
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Elizabeth’s returnto her aunt’s townhouse was executed with practiced stealth, her familiarity with the layout allowing her to navigate through the servants’ entrance without a sound. She paused for a moment in the shadows, her ears tuned to the nocturnal sounds of the house settling. Confident that the servants were abed, she quickly made her way up the narrow servants’ staircase. Her steps were light, the soft padding of her slippers barely audible as she moved with purpose through the dimly lit hallway and up another flight of stairs to her own bedchamber.
The night was still young, and Elizabeth knew her mother and aunt would linger at the ball, reveling until the early hours. They had grown accustomed to her early departures from such events, accepting her need for solitude over prolonged social engagements. Grateful for their understanding—or perhaps their distraction—she entered her bedchamber and closed her bedroom door softly behind her.
Elizabeth started undressing herself. With a sigh of relief, she peeled off her ball gown and stays, the fabric pooling around her feet in a whisper of silk. She removed her dancing slippers and silken stockings. Elizabeth then tackled her hair, which was in disarray. Several hairpins were missing, likely lost in the garden. With a gentle shake of her head, her curls cascaded down her back, waves of hair tumbling freely to settle at her hips.
Elizabeth climbed onto her bed, lying on her stomach. The soft sheets welcomed her tired body, and she exhaled deeply, letting the quiet of her room wash over her. As she lay there, the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across her room. Sleep eluded Elizabeth. Her thoughts were alive with memories of the evening, the sound of music still echoing in her ears, the subtle scent of the gardens lingering on her skin, and the feel of James’s mouth against her pussy.
She was also acutely aware of a deep, persistent ache within her sex. Elizabeth swallowed, remembering the invading hardness and the sensation of unbearable stretching. She groaned and buried her heated cheeks into the pillow. Her pussy throbbed longingly when she recalled his heated murmur against her mouth, whispering about the filthy things he would do to her. She groaned and clamped her thighs together in an effort to resist the urge to touch herself.How can I still feel so?
Then she laughed, still disbelieving how wicked she had been with the duke.
Who am I when I am with you, James?
Unable to sleep, she pushed from the bed, slipped on her robe and left her room for the library on the second floor. Opening the door, she smiled to see a fire burning and that a lamp was lit, casting the room in a warm glow. She padded over to the writing desk and retrieved a sheaf of paper. As Elizabeth dipped her pen into the inkwell, she paused, gathering her thoughts before she started writing her letter.
Dearest Cassie,
I miss you dreadfully and wish you were here with me in England. However, I believe should you ever visit, you would be quite rebellious and shock their priggish souls with your wonderful antics. London is as vibrant, the society at times overwhelming as ever, each ball feels like a whirlwind, where one word could soar a debutante as a diamond of the season, or another cutting word could see a young lady’s reputation ruined.
I find myself caught in a peculiar situation that I am compelled to share with you, for it consumes much of my thoughts these days. You might recall me mentioning the Duke of Basil—yes, the very one notorious for his aversion to marriage. Well, fate, in its peculiar humor, has thrown us together on a few occasions. He is unlike any man I’ve met here: infuriatingly arrogant, devilishly charming, and undeniably captivating. When he is near, I feel a rush of feelings that I can scarcely explain. He possesses a charm that is subtle yet evocative, and when he looks at me, it is as if he sees right through the façade that society demands I uphold and somehow understands me.
I like and admire him, Cassie. Yet, with all this said, he is steadfast in his resolve not to marry, and the ton even refers to the duke as a rake. Knowing this should make things simpler, but, my dear friend, it complicates them instead. A part of me longs to indulge in the thrill and wickedness his company offers; another, perhaps wiser part, knows I must guard my heart against the very real danger of falling for someone who will never offer me a future.
I confess, Cassie, I want to have fun, to experience the exhilaration of his regard without the weight of expectations. But how does one dance on the edge of such a precipice without slipping? I also fear developing a tendre for the duke to only receive his indifference. It is a delicious torment, and yet I wonder if it is wise to continue.
I long to hear from you, Cassie, and I miss you dearly. I shall return home in a few months, but I still eagerly await your reply.
With all my love and more,
Elizabeth
She sealed the letter and placed it on the salver for the butler to frank it and have it sent off later. Elizabeth retreated to her room, slipped beneath the coverlet and tried to sleep. The lingering thrill of freedom mixed with an undeniable sense of longing for something, or perhaps someone, stayed with Elizabeth, following even into her dreams.
CHAPTER11
After the duke promised to escort her to Vauxhall Gardens and procured gentlemen’s clothes suited for the occasion, a part of Elizabeth was skeptical she would ever hear from him again. As a known rake about town, it was entirely possible. She had deeply anticipated a night of entertainment, mystery, and perhaps a little mischief under the magical incognito of her disguise, but she had also prepared for disappointment.
However, the following evening, at precisely nine p.m., Elizabeth couldn’t help but marvel at her reflection in the mirror. The transformation from a genteel young lady into a convincing gentleman of leisure was astounding. The tailored dark trousers and matching jacket gave her a sharp, defined silhouette, while the white undershirt and dark blue waistcoat accentuated her eyes, adding a dash of sophistication.
The silken white cravat, although a challenge for the maid to knot, eventually sat perfectly at her throat, completing the upper ensemble with a touch of elegance. Her evening shoes, sleek and properly fitted, complemented the outfit, and the short wig they managed to tuck her hair under was the final disguise that obscured her usual feminine hairstyle. Topped with an evening hat and accessorized with a walking cane, she appeared every bit the part she intended to play.
“I do look incredible,” she said to her reflection, a wide grin spreading across her face. Elizabeth turned to the maid and handed her a five-pound note. She was quite aware this amount was several month’s wages for the young girl.
“Remember, not a word about this to anyone.”
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth,” she said, her eyes wide with delight before bobbing and leaving the room.
It was thrilling to see herself like this, and her excitement for the evening ahead bubbled within her. Downstairs, the house was quiet. Her mother and aunt had already left for their own engagements, having accepted her excuse of feeling tired without suspicion. She hurried down the stairs, her steps confident and a little faster than usual due to her anticipation. Outside, the duke’s carriage awaited. As she stepped out into the cool evening air and approached the carriage, her heart skipped a beat.
The duke was already there, looking exceptionally handsome in his evening wear. The sight of him, so poised and debonair, caused her cheeks to warm with a blush. An unexpected thrill surged through Elizabeth. There was a wicked, possessive gleam in his gaze. She hadn’t anticipated this feeling of uncertain shyness. In the wicked, silver gleam of his eyes, the memory of how he had taken her was there. Her cheeks burned brighter.
James opened the carriage door, and she climbed into the carriage, her attire making the action smoother and somehow more fitting to her guise. “I declare you are a magician. Everything fits perfectly,” she said as they settled inside the equipage.
James seemed slightly amused. “I am glad to hear it. You make a handsome, convincing gentleman.”
“I do,” she said, grinning. Her initial awkwardness melted away. James’s exuded reassurance, and his easy demeanor helped Elizabeth relax.
