Page 55 of The Girl Out of Time
Suspect anything.
“They’ve tried growing them here, but even in glasshouses, it wouldn’t work.” Louisa waved a spoon with raspberry jelly. “They’re long and slightly curved, and they say their flesh is delicious.” She gulped down the jelly. “Oh, how I would love to try a banana.”
“Right.” Daniel’s tone indicated he was done with the conversation. He rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies. Father, would you mind if I keep you company in the study?”
“Not at all.” The duke also stood, lightly bowed his head, and the two left the dining room.
“Why can’t we drink whiskey after dinner?” Louisa slouched back in her chair.
“Because ladies don’t do that,” the duchess said.
“I know ofthatreasoning. I’m only saying it’s a stupid reasoning.”
Emmeline endured a few more minutes of the duchess illuminating them on the things women couldn’t do—and why there were perfectly good reasons for it—until she and Louisa were released and headed up to their rooms.
“At least now you’re here, we can share the load.” Louisa hugged her good night. “Let’s see what I can upset her with tomorrow, huh?”
“Perhaps we should go for mangoes,” Emmeline said.
“A splendid idea! I think I have a book on the Portuguese mango trade …”
Back in her room, Emmeline changed for bed, putting on a light cotton nightgown and draping a wrapper around her shoulders. She climbed into the bed, fluffed her pillow … and stayed there, motionless, as the wheels in her head turned.
The wait was torturous—surely, she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. She had to go check out the pendant. She wasn’t sure what that would confirm, but she had to touch it, examine it; and she couldn’t do that in front of the duke. He might grow suspect if she expressed a sudden interest in the pendant, especially after she’d read the book.
The hour was late, and the lights had been turned down for the evening, only a few candles illuminating her way as Emmeline tiptoed down the hallway and bent over the railing of the staircase, checking the foyer. All was calm and silent, and no light came from under the door to the study. She continued down, put an ear to the door, and listened.
Still quiet.
Another door closed somewhere in the house—further away, but enough to make her panic. She stifled a squeal and slipped inside the study.
It was pitch black. The curtains were drawn, preventing her from seeing an inch in front of her. She tried to orient herself based on memory: the writing desk should be over there, which meant the bookshelves would be to the left of her …
Something stirred. Close by.
In the room with her.
She stepped back and bumped into something—someone.A tall, hard, but warm figure. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand covered it.
“Shhh,” the figure whispered. “Stay quiet. I won’t hurt you.”
A man’s voice—familiar, perhaps, although it was hard to tell from the whisper.
Oh, no.Daniel had said he’d be in the study with the duke. And this wasn’t the duke—he wasn’t tall enough.
“Daniel?” she mumbled through the hand covering her mouth.
He shifted, and the hand dropped. “Miss Grey?” He was still whispering.
She turned to face him, but in the dark, all she could discern was a vague outline of a head and shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I was—I was looking for a book to read. Your father has such an interesting collection.”
“Yes.” His voice, a shade above a whisper and strangely raspy, came after some hesitation. Perhaps he and the duke had an exhaustive post-dinner discussion.
If that was the reason, they should do it more often. There was something indescribably attractive about that voice. As he shifted, perhaps to leave, his clothes brushed against her thin nightgown, and her imagination bloomed in the dark.
She had to know if that kiss was a fluke.
“Wait,” she whispered, lifted an inch on her toes, and pressed her lips to his.
