Page 23 of A Heart Disguised 1

With faltering steps that I prayed didn’t resemble a drunken chicken’s gait, I approached him. I mustered every ounce of grace I possessed to curtsy, silently begging my knees not to buckle and send me sprawling at his feet.Please don’t trip, please don’t trip, please don’t—“Good evening, Your Grace,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, and by some miracle, without a squeak.

The duke drifted his gaze over me slowly, methodically, as if he were savoring every detail of my appearance. His golden eyes seemed to caress every line of my body, their intensity so palpable I could almost feel their touch. When his attention lingered on my chest, I silently cursed myself for not wearing a scarf or having something to cover the exposed skin there. My mind raced with panic.

Oh gods, can he tell? Does he see through this flimsy disguise? There’s nothing womanly there to admire!

His scrutiny continued, unhurried and thorough. I felt naked under his piercing stare, certain that at any moment he would declare me a fraud. My imagination ran wild with terrifying scenarios.What if he decides to strip me right here and now to prove I’m a boy in disguise? Would he call for guards?Would he—I couldn’t even finish the thought, my terror was so complete.

Yet as frightened as I was, something else stirred within me. A warmth I’d never experienced before spread through my body, pooling in my belly and making my skin tingle. It was as if a fire had been lit inside me, burning hotter with each passing moment. An unfamiliar ache bloomed deep within, a need I couldn’t comprehend or control. I was both terrified and, inexplicably, thrilled by these new sensations.

Without a word, the duke closed the distance between us. My heart pounded so fiercely I was sure he must hear it. As he reached for my hand, every instinct screamed at me to pull away, to flee.Run, you fool!my mind shrieked, but my body betrayed me, frozen in place.

He took my hand in his, and the heat of his touch seared my bare skin. I wanted desperately to yank my hand free, to dash for the door, but I remained rooted to the spot, terror and something else I couldn’t name holding me in place.

He bowed over my hand, and as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin at the back of my fingers, a small gasp escaped me. The contact sent a jolt through my body, shocking me to my core. My senses reeled, overwhelmed by the unexpected gentleness of his touch. His breath was hot against my skin, fanning the flames of these strange new feelings that warred with my panic.

I stood there, trembling slightly, caught between the urge to flee and an inexplicable pull to stay. These strange new feelings coursed through me like liquid fire, igniting sensations I’d never experienced before. A warmth pooled in my belly, spreading outward, making my skin tingle and my breath catch. There was an unfamiliar ache, a craving for something I couldn’t name or understand. Part of me wanted to run, to escape these overwhelming sensations, but another part—a part I barelyrecognized—yearned to lean in, to explore this bewildering new territory. I remained frozen in place, my mind a whirlwind of panic and unfamiliar longings, unable to comprehend the conflicting impulses that warred within me.

“Good evening, Lady Robin,” Duke Darius intoned, his voice a smooth baritone that reverberated through the room. His gaze remained fixed on me, a golden stare that seemed to see right through the facade I clung to. “I trust you’ve had a good… rest?”

Rest? My mind scoffed. If byresthe meanta brief period of unconsciousness brought on by sheer terror, then yes, it was positively rejuvenating. A far cry from a gentle nap in a sun-dappled meadow, to be sure.

“Oh yes, Your Grace,” I squeaked, my voice sounding about as convincing as a mouse trying to roar. “Most… restful.”

He guided me to the table, his hand still clasping mine with a firmness that belied the casualness of his tone. I was grateful when he finally released my hand, allowing me to reclaim it as though it were a wayward lamb returning to the fold. Half expecting to see scorch marks where his fingers had touched, I discreetly flexed my fingers.

The duke poured me a drink—a deep-red wine that glowed like rubies in the candlelight. My fingers curled around the stem of the goblet, seeking solace in its cool touch. In my nervousness, I brought it to my lips and took an eager gulp, desperate for anything to calm my jittering nerves, as if it were the watered-down ale we drank back home.

Mistake. Big mistake.

The liquid ambushed my senses, a fiery assault down my throat that had me sputtering like an amateur fire-breather mid-performance. I erupted into a fit that would have put a dragon to shame. Spasms racked my body as I realized my faux pas—this was wine, and I had just taken it like a parched traveler at anoasis. Eyes watering, I wheezed and gasped, certain that my face now matched the color of the wine.

“Are you quite alright, Lady Robin?” Duke Darius asked, his eyebrow arched so high it threatened to disappear into his hairline.

“Splendid,” I gasped, waving away his concern with all the grace of a drowning cat. “Just… savoring the bouquet.”

“If the wine isn’t to your liking—” he began, reaching for another bottle.

“No!” I blurted, louder than intended. Clearing my throat, I tried again, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile. “I mean, it’s delightful. See?” I took another sip, smaller this time, and managed not to recreate the great fountain displays of Aldercrest.

With a subtle gesture from the duke, a parade of servants entered the dining room, each bearing trays laden with dishes that looked like they’d been conjured from a fever dream of luxury. My eyes widened as platter after platter was set before us, transforming the expansive table into a veritable landscape of culinary artistry.

There were roasted pheasants, their golden-brown skin glistening with herb-infused oils, surrounded by a moat of glazed root vegetables. Whole fish, their scales seemingly painted with silver, nestled on beds of vibrant greens and citrus slices. A towering meat pie stood proudly at the center, its crust latticed like delicate lace and emanating an aroma that made my mouth water instantaneously.

Dishes I couldn’t even name appeared: strange fruits cut into fanciful shapes, glistening jellies that shimmered like jewels, and sauces in colors I’d never seen before. A whole roasted pig, complete with an apple in its mouth, took up one end of the table, while the other end boasted a mountain of sweetmeats and pastries that looked too beautiful to eat.

I gaped at the spread, wondering if the duke had perhaps invited an entire village to dine with us and simply forgotten to mention it. This feast could feed Meredith, Bernard, and me for months! My mind flashed back to our simple meals at home—boiled potatoes, cabbage soup, the occasional bit of cheese or cold meat if we were lucky. This… this was beyond comprehension.

As the last dish was placed and the servants retreated, my stomach let out a growl so loud it could have been mistaken for a bear’s mating call. I froze, mortified, but the duke merely chuckled.

“Please, eat,” he encouraged, gesturing to the feast before us with a graceful wave of his hand.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I attacked the food with the enthusiasm of a starving man at a banquet, only remembering halfway through a particularly succulent slice of roast beef that I was supposed to be a delicate lady. I slowed my pace, trying to eat daintily while my stomach screamed in protest.

Each bite was a revelation—flavors I’d never experienced danced across my tongue, textures I couldn’t have imagined delighted my palate. I was torn between wanting to savor every morsel and the desire to try everything on the table before it mysteriously vanished like some cruel illusion.

As I reached for what looked like a miniature fruit tart, I caught the duke watching me. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, suddenly very aware of my less-than-ladylike enthusiasm. But hunger and curiosity won out over embarrassment, and I popped the tart into my mouth, unable to suppress a small sigh of pleasure as the sweet-tart flavor burst across my tongue.

“You have quite the appetite for such a small woman,” the duke remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

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