Page 1 of Tempting the Reclusive Duke
Chapter 1
"Do you intend to block the entire shelf, sir, or simply every one worth reading?"
The gentleman in question, tall, impeccably dressed, and possessed of an air that suggested the world existed solely for his convenience, turned with the sort of measured precision that spoke of either military training or an abundance of self-importance. Given his perfectly tailored coat and the way he held himself as though he owned not merely the book he'd been perusing but the very floorboards beneath his gleaming Hessians, Eveline suspected the latter.
"I beg your pardon?" His voice carried the cultured drawl of a man accustomed to deference, tinged with what might have been amusement or disdain. Possibly both.
She cursed the warmth pooling low in her abdomen at something as ridiculous as the brush of a sleeve. What sort of woman grew heated over the mere nearness of a stranger’s body?
Eveline adjusted her grip on her reticule and fixed him with her most withering stare—the one she'd perfected during countless drawing room encounters with gentlemen who believed her spectacles rendered her both harmless and invisible. "The Roman histories," she clarified, gesturing toward the volume of Tacitus he held with the reverent care most men reserved for their hunting rifles. "You've been standing there for the better part of ten minutes, and I confess myself curious whether you're actually reading or merely admiring the gilt lettering."
Rain drummed against the windows of Hatchard's with increasing fury, as though the very heavens had conspired to trap her in this narrow aisle with this insufferable man. She'd stepped into the bookshop to escape the sudden downpour, her morning walk through Piccadilly having taken an unexpectedly soggy turn, and now found herself in the distinctly uncomfortable position of being both damp and irritated.
The stranger's grey eyes, and they were the most unsettling shade of grey, like storm clouds shot through with silver, swept over her with an assessment that made her acutely aware of her windswept appearance. Her dark curls had escapedtheir pins with typical rebelliousness, her simple walking dress bore the evidence of her hasty retreat from the elements, and she knew without looking that she had that slightly wild appearance that always made her mother despair.
"I was," he said with deliberate slowness, "attempting to determine whether Tacitus's assessment of Agricola's campaigns holds any relevance to modern military strategy. A complex endeavour, I'm afraid, requiring more than the cursory glance you appear to favour."
Eveline felt her jaw tighten. "How delightfully thorough of you. Though I wonder if you might not find the campaigns more illuminating if you were actually reading about them rather than staring at the spine with such intensity. The text, I'm told, resides within the pages."
A ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth, transforming his austere features in a way that was both annoying and oddly compelling. "Your concern for my reading comprehension is touching, Miss...?"
"Occupied with more pressing matters than introductions," Eveline replied crisply, reaching past him for a volume of Herodotus. Her sleeve brushed against his arm, and she caught a hint of bergamot and sandalwood or cedar. Whatever cologne he favored, it was undoubtedly expensive and chosen with the same careful attention to detail as his cravat.
He didn't step aside.
"How terribly mysterious," he murmured, and there was definitely amusement now, lurking beneath the polished vowels. "Though I confess myself puzzled by your choice. Surely a lady of your evident... erudition... would prefer something more suited to feminine sensibilities? The latest Gothic offering, perhaps? Or one of those moral tales that are so improving to the character?"
Eveline's fingers tightened on the leather binding until her knuckles turned white. She'd heard variations of this particular dismissal more times than she cared to count, and it never failed to ignite the sort of fury that made her say things her governess would have deplored.
"How thoughtful of you to concern yourself with my reading material," she said, her voice honey-sweet with the sort of false politeness that usually preceded bloodshed. "Though I fear I must disappoint your expectations. I find common heroines rather too inclined toward swooning to hold my interest, and as for moral improvement...well, I suspect I am quite beyond redemption."
She tugged the Herodotus free with perhaps more force than strictly necessary, sending the neighboring volumes into a briefly alarming wobble. The stranger's hand shot out to steady them with reflexes that suggested familiarity with crisis management, and their fingers brushed for a moment that seemed to stretch far longer than physics would suggest possible.
"Beyond redemption?" He seemed genuinely intrigued by this prospect. "How refreshingly honest. Though I wonder what terrible crimes you've committed to achieve such a state. You hardly look the sort to engage in highway robbery or seduce innocent people."
"Appearances," Eveline informed him loftily, "can be remarkably deceptive.For all you know, I might be the most notorious bluestocking in London, corrupting impressionable young minds with dangerous ideas about Greek philosophy and the radical notion that women possess functioning intellects."
"Heaven forbid." His tone was perfectly grave, but she caught the telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth. "The social order would collapse entirely. We should have ladies demanding the vote next, or insisting on reading newspapers."
"What a terrifying prospect," Eveline agreed solemnly. "Though I confess I've already fallen prey to both vices. Just this morning I read a fascinating piece in The Times about the debates in Parliament regarding the Corn Laws. Quite scandalous of me, I assume."
"Utterly shocking." He leaned closer, and she caught that intriguing scent again, along with something else—leather and ink, the particular perfume of someone who spent considerable time among books. "I suppose you have opinions on the matter as well? How perfectly dreadful."
Despite herself, Eveline felt her lips curve upward. This was better than the usual dismissive condescension she encountered. At least he was engaging with her mockery rather than simply tolerating it with patronizing smiles. "Indeed I do.I am persuaded that protectionist measures exist chiefly to line the pockets of the landed interest, whilst imposing undue hardship upon the industrious classes, for by contriving an artificial scarcity they raise the price of necessaries and deepen the distress of those least able to bear it."
His eyebrows rose. Dark, well-shaped eyebrows that matched his hair and gave his face a decidedly aristocratic cast. "A radical position for a lady to hold."
"I've never been accused of moderation in my thinking," Eveline admitted. "My mother despairs of me regularly."
"I start to perceive the cause." There was something almost approving in his tone, which was simultaneously gratifying and deeply suspicious. In her experience, gentlemen who encouraged her intellectual discourse usually had ulterior motives that had nothing to do with genuine respect for her mind.
She studied his face, searching for the telltale signs of condescension or worse, the sort of predatory interest that sometimes lurked beneath polite conversation. Instead, she found herself caught by those grey eyes, which held an intelligence that seemed both sharp and oddly weary, as though he'd seen more of the world than a man his age, around thirty, ought to have encountered.
"You're staring," he observed mildly.
Heat flooded her cheeks. "I was merely attempting to determine whether you're one of those gentlemen who collect books for their decorative value or if you actually intend to read that Tacitus you've been clutching."
"And your conclusion?"
