Page 38 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

As she approached, the door was opened by a large, burly man sporting a livid scar down one side of his face.

As soon as she stepped inside, the warm scent of leather invaded her nostrils. The lights were low, a comforting glow making everything seem soft and inviting, but her courage faltered when she found that it was just her and the giant standing in the foyer.

“I have come to see the Duke of Egerton,” she announced as loudly as she could.

The hulking creature walked behind the desk and, to her surprise, gave her a grin. He was missing at least two teeth.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

Louise was twice amazed. The man spoke with an upper-class accent that rivaled her own.

“His Grace is in his office at present, meeting with an associate. I will have someone show you into the main room, and I will inform him that you are here.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling raindrops trickling down her back. “Mr.…?”

“Jarvis, Your Grace. It’s this way,” he murmured and pointed to her left, where another door was half open. She could see cigar smoke in the air and hear the crackle of a fire.

“An associate, you say?” she asked, unable to entirely mask the suspicion in her voice.

“Indeed, Your Grace. I will make sure that he knows you are here, waiting for him.”

Louise scoffed. “Please do. I imagine he will bethrilledto hear it.”

CHAPTER 16

Louise was led into a room filled with men. A few women of her class, perhaps wives and mothers, were also seated at intervals throughout the room, but it was a masculine and pompous environment.

She was approached by a servant almost immediately as she took off her coat, and she ordered a glass of sherry while she waited. She was painfully aware of several eyes turning to stare at her and hovered awkwardly in the doorway, unsure what to do.

The room itself was decorated exquisitely, and no expense had been spared on the furnishings. A few card tables were scattered throughout the room, their dark green tops and mahogany surrounds giving the space a sophisticated air.

It was a long room, reaching back through an archway where more tables were visible. Men sat in armchairs, reading newspapers or conversing quietly. Louise released a slow breathwhen her drink arrived, and her fingers clutched at the glass desperately as she tried to appear as though she belonged there.

Lifting her chin, she walked between the tables, trying to affect the same disdain that Christian radiated wherever he went.

One table in particular caught her eye as she passed it. There was a man at the head of it, with a set of cards in his hands, which he was examining with his quizzing glass. She moved to the arched doorway ahead of her, and when the man seemed to think she was out of earshot, he leaned toward his companion.

“The Iron Harridan has arrived, Sir. The Duke has allowed her out to play, it seems.”

His companion snorted loudly, glancing over at Louise. She met his gaze steadily. He did not look in the least embarrassed to have been caught gossiping about her.

I wonder what Christian would say if I told him to throw him out.

She continued on, but the second room was far worse than the first. Many of the patrons glanced over their newspapers at her as she walked by, and several began to whisper. The sounds grew louder as she reached the fireplace and took a seat for lack of anything better to do. She curled her fingers into the skirts of her gown, nervous about the new rumors being spread about her.

“I wondered when she would show her face,” said a portly man at a chair a few feet from her. The volume of his voice was not appropriate for conversation in such a closed space. “Her father still owes me fifty pounds from the last time he played the tables at White’s. I wonder if the Duke is shouldering the burden of paying off Northbridge’s debts.”

Louise seethed quietly and sipped her sherry, her fingers clenching into a fist.

Did no one have any ounce of respect anymore? Was she forever to be tarnished by her father’s vices?

“He overlooked the burden of taking her on in the first place,” said the man’s companion. “I hear Fortescue had bruising for weeks after she assaulted him. It was bad form, and she deserves everything she gets. The Northbridges should count themselves lucky to have the Duke’s patronage.”

Louise stood up abruptly. Both men stopped speaking, and she walked slowly toward them, holding her glass loosely in her hand.

I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Good evening, Lord Mortimer,” she said evenly. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

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