Page 43 of In Scandal with the Duke
Shocked, she stared up at him, resting her chin against his chest.Will you marry me or ask me to be your mistress if I am with child?She silently wondered.
His silver eyes were dark, intent, watching her closely. “Afraid?”
A sharp tremor of uncertainty quivered through her. Then she thought about it, and Elizabeth smiled. “No.”
His brow lifted. “A rather uncommon reaction.”
“I am returning to New York soon. I am an heiress. If I am with child, I would be very happy.”
James stared at her as if he did not know what to make of her. “Happy?”
“Yes. I have decided against marrying. It would be a blessing to have a child to love in my lifetime.”
There was a calmness in his stare—lust and something infinitely tender. “What of your reputation?”
“I’ll claim widowhood. My love died in England because of his idiocy.”
He smiled, the quirk of his lips was pure, heated sensuality. “I see.”
“You make me feel so much.” She whispered it against his chest, but the stilling of his body told her that she had been heard. Elizabeth reached up and brushed locks of hair from his forehead. Then, with the tip of her finger, she gently traced the small scar, almost indistinguishable, at the corner of his mouth. “I hope you do,” she said softly. “It is almost one, James. I need to leave.”
“Stay with me a bit more, please.”
Elizabeth saw an emotion in his eyes that was unknown to her. A lump forming in her throat, she nodded. James wrapped his arms around her. His heat seemed to invade her body, filling her with a most pleasant sensation. Elizabeth took one of his hands and laced it between hers. It was then that she noticed the scars on his knuckles. They were puckered, and some were deep.
The rough scars and cuts were a stark contrast to the refined image he usually presented to the world. As she traced the lines with a gentle touch, she asked. “You have thirteen cuts on your hand. How did this happen?”
“They’re from my days as a bare-knuckle boxer.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. “You were a boxer?”
“Nothing so civilized. This was fighting without the rules of conduct that governed the sport of boxing.”
Good heavens. “How was this possible?”
“I inherited the dukedom at twenty; I was saddled with a massive debt, one that threatened to ruin everything my family had built. It was a desperate time. My mother and sister needed me to provide, and I had to find a way out. I fought in the underground pits of London, where fortunes were made and lost with each bout. It was a brutal world, but it was the fastest way I knew to pay down the debts and protect my family’s legacy.”
The revelation seemed to settle over them like a heavy cloak. Elizabeth looked at him anew, scanning his face as if seeing him for the first time. The scars on his hands symbolized a life fought in shadows, far removed from the glittering balls and polished veneer of high society.
She touched the corner of his mouth. “Is this also from fighting?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you seek help? Surely, there were other ways?”
James chuckled softly, a rueful sound. “Pride, mostly. And a lack of trust. I’d seen too many turn their backs on me when the news of the debt came out. Thetoncan be incredibly fickle. Friends became strangers overnight. I decided to rely on myself to fight my own battles.”
Her fingers gently caressed the scars again. “And now?” she asked quietly.
“Now,” he said, shifting to look into her eyes, “I’m free of debt and have enough wealth to last a few generations. My cousin will build upon it.”
“Your cousin and not your son?”
“I am not certain I will ever marry and have an heir, but I know of my cousin’s existence.”
“Why are you against marrying? Did someone break your heart?”
He laughed, the sound low and rich. “No.”
