Page 4 of In Scandal with the Duke
Just then, her heart quickened as she noticed a figure approaching the terrace. Instinctively, she drew back into the shadows, her breath catching slightly. As he walked onto the balcony, he faltered into remarkable stillness. Elizabeth felt a spark of something she couldn’t quite name. His gaze lingered toward her direction, thoughtful and assessing. He walked forward, closing the distance between them until he was unsettlingly close.
“It was not my imagination. A lady is indeed hiding out here,” he said, his voice low and slightly amused.
A spurt of humor danced through her. “I was relaxing, sir.”
“Your tone suggests my presence is an intrusion.”
“It is.”
His eyes flared slightly, and then the corners of his mouth hitched in a small smile. The hint of carnality in his expression stole her breath for a heart-stopping moment.
“Ah, not the reaction I am used to,” he murmured, casually plucking a cheroot from his pocket.
Annoyed with her response, she said, “Of course not; men of your privilege are accustomed to adulation of those who wish to sit under their arse and a perverse enjoyment of such fawning.”
Elizabeth clapped a hand over her mouth, appalled by her frankness. She shot an accusing glance at the empty glass on the ledge.
“Hmm, are we to blame a single glass of champagne for that egregious slip?” he asked, his tone laced with wicked amusement.
It was surprising he was not offended by her words … or was he?
She felt the impact of his eyes as they studied her. This close, Elizabeth saw they were a bright, piercing silver.
An elegant brow arched. “Drowning sorrows?”
“Boredom,” she confessed softly, her heart strangely fluttering with the novelty of the exchange.
“That dreadful beast. There is nothing worse than a mind haunted by boredom. It might push one to presume men of certain ilk enjoy when others sit under their arse and flatter them.”
A choked laugh escaped Elizabeth, and she found herself reevaluating the man before her. Perhaps he was not the duke the ladies had whispered about.
“I had four glasses this evening, though I confess they are not entirely responsible for my candor.”
“An honest lady, how refreshing,” he replied, his voice holding a caustic edge that belied his amusement.
“I see you own to jadedness along with your conceited arrogance.”
“All part and parcel of a good duke.”
Elizabeth lightly chuckled. Who was he?
“A lovely laugh,” he remarked, lighting his cheroot and glancing at her with renewed interest. “Come into the light. I want to see you more clearly.”
“Denied,” she drawled, stepping further into the shadows.
He lifted an eyebrow, taking a slow drag on his cheroot.
“Another first for you, I can see,” she said softly.
“You are interesting. I like interesting things.”
A searing flash of awareness burned through her as Elizabeth stared at him. That soft, contemplative murmur felt decidedly dangerous.
“I have never met a rake before,” she said softly. “And I presume you are indeed the rogue ladies whisper about.”
“You are not running.”
“Should I be?” Elizabeth asked, her heart pounding with the thrill of the exchange.
