Page 19 of In Scandal with the Duke
“Hmm.” He took the decanter, and she presumed he tilted it to his mouth.
“We should stop meeting in shadows,” she whispered.
“When there are no expectations and pretentiousness, that is where the most extraordinary encounters happen.”
Her eyes widened at that enigmatic reply. “I—” her words strangled in her throat as the lady moaned loudly.
Something hot and uncomfortable once again shivered low in Elizabeth’s belly. A most provoking reaction whenever the lady moaned or whimpered her delight.
The lady did it again, and the gentleman snapped, “Darling, you will bring people down on our heads!”
The lady giggled and murmured something. Soon after, both parties gasped, and a muffled scream followed.
Elizabeth’s entire body felt overheated. “Are … are they finished?” she asked when no more moaning came.
“Yes.”
“Five hundred and two seconds.” She cleared her throat. “They took a bit over eight minutes.”
The duke’s low chuckle rasped over her senses.
“You counted.”
Elizabeth sniffed. “I have an affinity with numbers and did so without much thought.”
There were a few rustles behind her, and then footsteps hastened away. While Elizabeth should have felt relieved the couple left, her senses remained peculiarly heightened, and her awareness that she was alone in the dark gardens with the duke swirled through her.
“Frightened?” His voice broke through the stillness, his tone lightly teasing yet undeniably provocative. “Do you want to leave?”
The question hung in the air, charged and waiting. Elizabeth felt the immediate instinct to say yes, to escape the scandalous intensity of the moment and the inherent risk. Yet the word that emerged was a surprise even to herself. “No. I am not afraid.”
Fear did not define her feelings—instead, there was an exhilarating rush, a curious thrill in the shared secrecy of the night.
“Why were you crying?”
Elizabeth froze, the inquiry striking closer to her vulnerabilities than she was prepared to admit.
“I …” she began, her voice faltering as she searched for an explanation that would satisfy without revealing too much. Her emotions were a knotted web, not easily untangled for anyone’s inspection, let alone for the duke’s.
He did not pressure her to speak, and he relinquished the decanter when Elizabeth reached for it and took a few more healthy swallows. Warmth poured through her body, and she felt almost as if she floated when she stepped away from him. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft, nocturnal chorus of the garden. There was a part of her that wanted to share her thoughts and anxiety, and it felt absurd. She did not know this man. Elizabeth swallowed tightly, yet there was no one else she could confide in. Her brother would not understand, and certainly not her mother, who knew what her aunt had done.
“I would not betray your confidence by repeating whatever you say, Miss Armstrong”
Surprised, Elizabeth peered up at him. “After our dance,” she said, “Lord Jenson asked me to the floor.”
“That is a good thing.”
Elizabeth lifted the whisky to her mouth once more, enjoying the heat expanding through her body. “At first, I was thrilled. My second dance partner of the season and a gentleman my aunt declared very suitable. As we danced, the earl delicately queried if I was an heiress. I was so alarmed I stumbled.”
“Lord Jenson has several thousand owed in gambling debts, a mistress in Cornwall who has two illegitimate daughters,” the duke said, his tone chilling. “Why would your aunt believe him suitable.”
Elizabeth laughed, the sound without mirth. A terrible ache pushed from her chest to her throat. “I daresay my aunt has no notions of these things. She spoke about his good nature and the prestige of Lord Jenson’s title. My aunt knew I wanted the matter of my inheritance to be private. I expressed more than once that if thetonwere to know that I am an heiress with greater wealth than many of their debutantes, men who were previously indifferent would now flatter me with their attention, false words, and gifts. I do not wish for such a marriage.”
Those wretched tears once more pooled and spilled over. Annoyed, Elizabeth swiped them away. “It seems that she took great care to drop tidbits here and there. When I confronted my aunt, she was apologetic and said if she knew you would ask me to dance, she would not have employed her tactic. I feel soangryand betrayed. I cannot accept any gentleman now who would pay their address to me. How could I ever trust they are interested to know who I am?”
There was a thoughtful silence. “There are many such marriages in theton. People align with each other to strengthen their wealth and connections. These people are not unhappy. You could consider that marrying for other reasons is not as terrible as you would allow. If others find contentment in such an arrangement, you could, too.”
“Perhaps,” she said softly, feeling for the decanter, taking it and tipping the whisky to her mouth. “Would you marry someone who only wants you because of your wealth and title?”
