Page 11 of Wedded to the Sinful Duke

“I think I just need to forget that this kiss ever happened,” Ciara said simply, but that was not as easy to do as she had originally thought. “And steer clear off Miss Danforth. If I never saw her again in my life, it would be too soon.”

Adeline laughed. “I know that feeling. But if you attend balls, you will probably stumble onto her again.”

“Balls,” Ciara pouted. “I wish I could avoid them altogether to tell you honestly, but Uncle is insisting I attend.”

“You have been away for so long, your life now is completely different, and it is a big change. Such big changes should happen gradually, one day at a time,” Adeline reminded her. “You know that he means well.”

“I know,” Ciara sighed. “And I am very grateful for his presence in my life. Life at St. Catherine’s was… well, you know. It was not easy. And my parents… Gah! What I mean to say is that, apart from you, Uncle Brendan is the only person I can rely on. It is so frightening sometimes to know one is so… alone.”

“You are not alone,” Adeline smiled, taking her hand into her own. “You just said it. You have us, and trust me when I say that when you need us, we will be worth a million people!”

Ciara chuckled at her friend’s words. “Yes, you are right. I do not need anyone but you two.”

She wrapped her arms around Adeline and embraced her. When she pulled away, she tried to change the topic of the conversation. “What about you, my dear Adeline? Has anyone caught your attention?”

“Oh, no, no,” Adeline shook her head. “I wish to be swept off my feet if I am to fall in love, and it seems that such a thing is rare to come by these days.”

“Don’t tell me you want a stranger to kiss you by the pond?” Ciara teased, and the two girls laughed sweetly, enjoying the relief of the moment.

“No, I shall leave that to you,” Adeline replied as they continued to tease each other, remembering why they were best friends.

CHAPTER 6

The gaming hell buzzed with lively chatter and the clinking of glasses as Jonathan stepped inside, his eyes searching the room until they landed on his friend Hector Allen, the Duke of Islington, who was already seated at a corner table, nursing a pint of ale. Jonathan made his way through the crowd, greeting Hector with a hearty slap on the back.

“Ah, Jonathan!” Hector exclaimed, raising a hand in a mock toast. “I was beginning to think you had found more interesting company than mine.”

Hector cut an imposing figure, standing tall and lean, with a presence that demanded attention. A faint scar ran along his right cheek, a subtle but unmistakable mark that hinted at a past filled with dangerous encounters. It added to the sense of danger that clung to him, a silent testament to the battles he had faced and survived. His hands bore the calluses of a man who was no stranger to physical confrontation.

Jonathan grinned. “Not yet, Hector. Let me get you another round, and we can see what this fine establishment has to offer.”

As he raised his hand to the bartender, signaling to him to bring them two pints of ale, Hector’s gaze followed Jonathan’s to a small gathering of women—or more specifically, courtesans— at a nearby table, their laughter ringing out as they tried to seduce the gamblers away from their card game.

“Ah, I see you have already found tonight’s entertainment,” Hector said with a knowing smirk.

Jonathan nodded, but his enthusiasm felt hollow. He could not shake the memory of the mysterious woman from the garden party: the softness of her lips, the way her hair felt as it slipped through his fingers, the intoxicating sound of her little moans. It was maddening how she occupied his thoughts so completely, even now, amidst the bustle of the tavern and the promise of easy conquests. All he could think about was the way she tasted, and he wanted more. So much more.

“Let’s see if we can charm our way into their good graces,” Jonathan suggested, standing up with a roguish smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Good evening, ladies,” Jonathan greeted as they approached them. “It seems that you are enjoying yourselves.”

One of the women stared at him straight in the eyes. He loved when women had the audacity to do something like that. Yet, this particular evening, not even the passionate boldness of sucha gaze was enough to distract him from the mysterious woman whom he had kissed.

“We are,” she said with a slight accent, proving that she was not fully English. The thought titillated him beyond belief. At least, it would normally but not this time. Everything was somehow different this time, and he couldn’t quite figure out why.

“But you are missing something,” Jonathan pointed out equally boldly, pulling a chair and taking a seat at their table without even being invited to do so. He tried to remain focused on what would usually be his goal.

“Oh?” the woman asked, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes were deep, dark with mischief and a promise of even darker delights. Usually, she would be just his type. “And what is that?”

“Handsome men,” Jonathan smirked.

The two women burst into an amused chuckle which Hector seized as a chance to take his seat between them. The woman Jonathan had been speaking to did not laugh. She was not even smiling. She was staring at him mysteriously as if she were still deciding whether to kiss him or slap him. Usually, he would not mind either.

But once again, he realized that he was not focused on the situation. He was not in the present moment, and he hated that. He didn’t like to dwell on the past. He didn’t like to dwell on the future because that was yet to come, and it was not determined. He liked the present moment the best. It provided instantgratification, and he loved it. However, this time, his thoughts lingered in the past.

“What if we do not find you handsome?” suddenly the woman asked, bringing him back to the present moment.

“Excuse me?” Jonathan asked, not because he was questioning her own question but because he had not heard it.

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