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The Duke practically leapt across the room as if he was looking for a hiding place, but he was out of time. The door was flung open.
At the front of the group was Caroline with an innocent expression.
“I wonder what is in here?” she asked. Clearly, she’d enlisted many other guests to join her self-led tour, for a group of people followed her with two ladies and three gentlemen. “Oh my!” Caroline’s voice was overdramatic when she saw Marina then her eyes fell on the Duke, and this time, genuine shock bled into her voice. “Oh dear…”
“Well, well,” one of the gentlemen said as he looked between the two of them, “we seem to have come upon quite the tryst.”
Marina looked down, seeing the way she held her gown over her body barely covered up anything. Her corset was on show, the tops of her breasts too, not leaving much to the imagination.
One of the ladies sniggered behind Caroline as silence stretched out.
The next thing Marina knew, a sheet was bundled over her. She looked up to see the Duke of Curton had crossed the room toward her. He had grabbed the bed sheet and tossed it in her direction.
“Cover yourself up,” he ordered then turned to face the others. “I think you’ll agree that this is a private moment.”
“Private? Ha! Not anymore,” one of the gentlemen laughed. The Duke merely took a step forward. He must have had a threatening expression, though Marina could not see it from her position, for the group all flinched and stepped back.
“Let us leave, now,” Caroline said to the others in a rush. She exchanged one panicked glance with Marina, and in that look, Marina knew exactly what her friend was thinking.
I know. It is the wrong brother.
“Go!” the Duke ordered again when one of the ladies did not hurry but angled her head, trying to get another glimpse of Marina. The moment they were out of the door, he grabbed it and thrust it shut hard, making the door wobble in the frame.
Marina slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling her body quite crippled.
What have I done?
Her eyes flicked up to the Duke. He was leaning against the door, his hand thrust into his dark brown hair, pulling at the tendrils in stress. He was shaking his head repeatedly.
“Pray, wake, and tell me this is a dream,” he said to himself.
“It is no dream.” Her words plainly angered him, and his eyes shot open, revealing an intense dark blue color.
“Whoever you are…” he paused, stepping away from the door, “you will dress yourself and meet me in the hallway. This needs to be discussed.”
“Must it?” she asked, but he didn’t say anything in answer. He flung the door open, stepped out, and slammed it behind him again. “Oh God,” she muttered as she dropped the bed sheet and began to dress.
The plan has gone horribly wrong indeed!
The whole idea about being seen with the Lord Frampton was so her reputation would not only be destroyed, but if he wished to do the honorable thing, he could make a fine husband. The gentleman she had been caught with in comparison she knew little about beyond the rumors.
They said he was a rogue, a gambler, a ruthless businessman, and frightening. None of that made a good husband.
Pray, do not do the right thing, Your Grace.
When she’d finished tying the laces of her gown, with some difficulty, she left the room, stepping out into the hallway. The Duke was there, pacing up and down, though he froze when he saw her.
Once more, those dark blue eyes looked down at her body. A heat overtook her, one she had barely been aware of, but that was now all too present. She couldn’t deny the Duke was a handsome man, and something in her body seemed to respond to that look, wondering what it meant when he stared at her so openly. Did he like what he saw? Could he be attracted to her?
Before her mind could wander on much longer, his eyes flicked back to meet hers.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice quiet but seething.
“Lady Marina Hodge, daughter of the Earl of Miller,” she explained, watching as he shook his head and turned away. He stepped in a frantic circle before reaching over to her. “Oh!”
She didn’t have time to step out of the way. His fingers brushed her shoulder and flicked her sleeve in place. It must have been askew from when she’d pulled her gown on again. The way he fixed it had been clean and quick, but the brush of his fingers against her skin had made that heat deeper.
What am I thinking of? Desist thinking of such a touch!
