Page 11 of Unbound Duchess

“How are my realizations or lack thereof any of your business, sir?” She demanded.

“Your Grace,” he corrected her, forcing his tone to be arrogant. He watched as she blanched again.

“I am the Duke of Blackford, my lady. You should address me as ‘Your Grace.’” He hated saying it. She’d already been embarrassed by one man. He didn’t wish for her to be embarrassed by another, but he needed her off-balance and distracted.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” she offered along with a curtsy.

“Don’t,” he said before he could stop himself. He didn’t need her curtsy. He just wanted to leave.

Ellen rose again, one brow arching curiously.

“Are you a friend of my cousin, Your Grace?” she asked.

Laurence thought quickly.

“I am a better friend than those out there with him,” he replied. “I must be the only one here not whispering about your rushed engagement.”

A blush rose in her cheeks as her gaze fell to the floor.

“It was a surprise to all of us,” she said softly.

“Was it?” he quickly replied, taking a step around the desk. “Do you even want this engagement?”

Ellen’s gaze flicked back up to him—her left eye hidden by a curl—with a mixture of shock and fear in her expression. She looked just as she had when Benedict had announced their engagement. Then, it turned to anger.

“Leave my home immediately,” she demanded as she clenched her fists.

His suspicions turned into realizations as he saw how quickly she reacted.

“You do not, do you?” he asked, taking another step—this time not toward the door, but toward her.

“I could help you out of it, you know,” Laurence went on, reaching a hand toward her. She flinched at the movement, the abruptness of it shifting her curl away from her eye to reveal a small mole underneath it. A mole that struck him as oddly familiar.

His gaze flicked from the mole to her tense stature, his mind torn between placing her face and dealing with the reason she was flinching away in fear.

“Did he hurt you?” he demanded, no longer able to keep his protective instincts at bay.

“How dare you,” she snapped. “I do not even know you, and you certainly do not know me. Why would I need a stranger’s pity?”

She was trying to sound strong, but Laurence caught the tremble in her tone, the look in her eyes that was not demanding he leave her alone, but pleading, and that was when it struck him.

He did know her. This was the woman he could not stop thinking of.

Ellen was the woman he kissed at the masquerade.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Iam not asking you to postpone our engagement, cousin; I am asking you to cancel it,” Ellen stated.

It was the next day, and after spending all night thinking about her refusal of the Duke of Blackford’s offer to help, she had decided to help herself.

Benedict looked up at her from his chair, his face a mask of calm as he laid down his pen atop his desk and sat back.

“Sweet, naive Ellie. You do not know what you are asking,” Benedict replied, using that same patronizing tone he’d used the night before. “I swore to your father that I would protect you. Marriage is the most logical way to do that.”

Ellen fisted her hands in frustration.

“But we are cousins, Benedict!” she said with clear exasperation. “First cousins! We were raised together as family.”