Page 3 of The Duchess Trap
“Suggestive of nothing but coincidence,” she shot back. “You might as easily have arranged this yourself.”
“Had I wished to entrap a lady,” he murmured, “I should have chosen one less inclined to argue my every word.”
“Then you have no one to blame but yourself for remaining.”
Her chest rose and fell too quickly. She longed to shove him away, to restore the safe distance that existed between a lady and a Duke, but her hands felt stiff and rigid. It was all she could do to keep them still at her sides. And then?—
A sharp rap sounded at the door.
“Miss Terrell?” A man’s voice, low and oily one she recognized instantly, slid through the keyhole. “Are you in there? Speak again so that I may know I’ve finally found you.”
Every muscle in her body turned to ice.Lord Felton.
She jerked her gaze toward the Duke as panic flooded her body.
If Felton discovered them, he would not listen to a word of truth. He would be only too happy to spread vicious lies about her and the Duke. And mutterings of such a sort, whether they were true or otherwise, would certainly ruin her as well as cast a pall over the work she had been doing at Brightwater.
Uneasily, she sent a look squarely at her inmate—the Duke.
The children at Brightwater depend on me. If my name is tarnished, no one will support them.
Her lips formed a silent plea:Say nothing.
Instantly, the Duke fell silent. His jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped at his temple, but he did not utter a word.
On the other side of the door, Lord Felton continued, his tone tinged with false geniality. “I merely wished to remind you, my dear, that should your father fail to provide the sum by week’s end, Brightwater House and all his holdings will pass to another.”
Catherine froze. Her lungs forgot their purpose; her heartbeat thundered painfully in her ears.
Brightwater—the orphanage her mother co-founded and helped maintain, the children’s laughter, the very place where her happiest memories lived—reduced to a line in a creditor’s ledger. The thought of losing it felt like being torn in two, as though her mother’s voice, her promises, her legacy, would be silenced forever.
“Do keep that in mind,” Felton added smoothly, and the sound of his retreating footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Silence followed. Long, crushing silence.
Catherine pressed a hand to her racing heart. She was grateful to the Duke for remaining quiet, but now, she was unable to meet his gaze. The air felt heavy, suffocating, as though the walls themselves knew the shame that had just been laid bare. The Duke mentioned just a few moments ago that he knew her father’s estate was crumbling, and they were in a desperate way, but she did not wish for him to be privy to all her family’s affairs.No one needed to know that she and all she held dear were hanging on by a thread. She stared at the door, willing it to open, to free her, to undo the words she had just heard.
But no liberator came.
Only the sound of her own shallow breath and the unbearable awareness of the man behind her lingered. She had never felt so exposed or utterly defenseless.
“Explain.” The words came low and sharp, not shouted but pressed from the Duke’s jaw like iron.
Catherine had never heard a man command so much with so little sound. It was intolerable. But worse, it was effective.
“There is nothing to explain, Your Grace,” she said quickly, turning away, feigning composure she did not feel.
The paneled wall blurred before her eyes. She pressed her palm harder against her ribs, as though that might slow the frantic pace of her heart.
“No?” He pressed. “Felton threatens to strip your father of every last brick he owns, and you call that nothing?”
Her throat tightened. “It is none of your concern.”
He barked out a humorless laugh. “Everything about this is my concern when I am locked in a room with you, listening to that man threaten to take away everything you and your father own. He means to make you paupers—or mayhap I misinterpreted. Tell me the truth.”
She swung back to him, chin high. “And what will you do with the truth, Your Grace? Parade it about White’s? Mock me over port with your friends?”
He stepped forward. His hulking frame loomed over her own. Defiantly, she tipped her chin a pinch higher so that she could continue reading his expression and see clearly into his eyes. “Do I strike you as a man who wastes his time with gossip, Miss Terrell?”
