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“You probably should not touch me,” she murmured. He glared at her in answer, stepping back from her.
“You probably should not undress and walk into other people’s bedchambers.” He pointed accusingly at his brother’s bedchamber.
“You were not supposed to be there,” she said in a whispered rush. “That was not the plan.”
“And what was the plan, exactly?” he asked, his hands splayed out wide. “Be prepared for impertinence, though based on what I know of you so far, propriety is hardly something that concerns you.” He gestured to her clothes. She cleared her throat and stood tall, folding her arms over her body.
She rather hoped if she could stop his blue eyes looking at her so much that this heat would disappear. It didn’t though. It simmered in her gut, wondering what it would be like if he touched her again.
I’ve seen him before, but being this close, it is apparent how handsome he is.
“My brother puts a lot of stock in his reputation and being honorable,” the Duke said in a rush. “This…”he gestured between her and his chamber, “I find hard to believe was something of his own doing.”
“It wasn’t.” She shook her head. She knew at this moment she had not covered herself in glory, yet she could not allow the Earl’s brother to think so little of him. “He knew nothing of it.”
“Then what was this?” the Duke asked wildly. He was strong in manner, and she supposed many would have found him intimidating. She was too angry to consider being cowed by such words. Come what may, the Duke had spoiled her plan tonight. She rather wanted to blame him for it. “Were you planning to entrap my brother in marriage?”
“No, the plan was something different altogether.” Her harsh response and lifted chin seemed to shock him. She realized that he had expected her to hang her head in shame. She had no wish to.
“God’s blood, whatever your plan was… we are both ruined now.” He turned with his hands on his hips.
“Oh, do not flatter yourself, Your Grace.” Her words shocked him, for his eyebrows rose.
“You know who I am?”
“The Duke of Curton. Your reputation precedes you,” she gestured toward him. “There is no need for you to look ashamed of your involvement, is there?” She pointed out. “You are a known rogue, and this will hardly tarnish your reputation. It will dull it for a few days like silver in need of a polish, but no further harm will come to your name. You are safe from me.” She turned on her heel and walked across the landing, determined to escape.
She hesitated at the top of the landing, looking down the stairs. The ballroom was not far away, and she feared what she would find when she returned. Would the gossip have spread already about her being found with the Duke of Curton? Would her parents have heard it on whispering tongues?
Her pause was enough to allow the Duke to catch up with her. He cut her off, placing a hand on the banister in front of her, so they were standing closer together.
Oh…
The scent of pinewood and musk filled her. The Duke was wearing a heady cologne, one that made her head swim though she tried not to show it.
“Just as you shouldn’t touch me, you should probably not stand so near, Your Grace,” she warned him though in spite of her words, she didn’t step away from him. His lips flickered into the smallest of mischievous smiles.
“You could have backed up by now.” His words prompted her hands ball into fists at her side, angered to have been caught out at her weakness. “I am stopping you from leaving at this moment. Do you have any idea what situation we are now in? Sure, deny it if you like, pretend we are not both affected –”
“You are not as affected as I.” She lifted her chin higher, matching his firm tone. He was so shocked that his brows lifted across his forehead.
“You have a strong voice,” he observed, his tone quiet.
“Did you expect a lady not to have a voice at all, Your Grace? For all I have heard of your reputation, I did not believe you to think ladies were quiet mice.” Her words made that mischievous smile return on his lips. She rather liked that smile. It had a habit of making her heart thud harder. “Accept the truth, Your Grace. My reputation is the one that is destroyed, not so much your own.”
Abruptly, his head cocked to the side as he observed her. In the dim candlelight in the hallway, she could see his features were rather more statuesque than she had first thought. His cheek bones were high and could have been carved by marble. On his chin, however, there was a bristling of whiskers. He was not quite as clean shaven as other men of the ton.
“You astound me,” he whispered. “Most ladies would be shocked, terrified of what they had done to their reputation. You talk of it as if you have merely dropped a cup. Believe me, My Lady, such shattered porcelain cannot be put back together again.”
“I know.” Her adamant refusal to look cowed or embarrassed clearly made him shake his head in disbelief.
“Was this your aim?” he asked in amazement. “To destroy your own reputation?”
She didn’t answer but stepped around him, trying to get down the stairs. She barely made it two steps before her hand was caught in his.
“What are you doing?” she cried as she was dragged back up the stairs and returned to the banister on the landing.
“You cannot go yet,” he pleaded, releasing her quickly. Once more, he stood close in front of her so near that they both froze, staring at one another. “You could back up,” he reminded her.
