Page 19 of His Runaway Duchess

I did promise that he wouldn’t even know that I was here…

Daphne stared down at the gown for another minute or two. Really, she suspected that she’d already made up her mind. It wasn’t as if she would get any other opportunity beyond tonight.

Sighing, she reached for the dress.

Edward opened a book of ledgers and stared unseeingly at the figures. He could usually work late into the night, but now he found himself distracted. He kept thinking about Miss Belmont.

It’s only because she’s beautiful. I can’t remember when I last spent time in a lady’s company.

Not that Miss Belmont had looked much like a lady, soaking wet and covered in mud. But even so, Edward had felt that familiar, answering pull of arousal. How long had it been since he’d felt it? Too long, for certain.

He slammed the ledger shut with a groan, leaning back and covering his face with his hands.

This is ridiculous. Am I truly so reclusive that even the sight of a pretty woman sends me reeling?

It hardly mattered. She would be gone in the morning, and he would never see her again. That was a relief, wasn’t it? He could concentrate on his work here and on getting his son to behave while simultaneously convincing him not to hate his father.

So far, things did not seem to be going well.

Nobody warned me that it would be so hard. I thought it would be the easiest thing in the world, to be a better parent than hewas. And yet here I am, struggling. Oh, I’m such a fool.

Why did I ever think I could do this? Why did I think I could be better than him? I might as well give up and ship the boy off to Eton now. Maybe they’ll take better care of him than I can.

Suddenly, a tap sounded at the door. Edward flinched, sitting upright. He couldn’t imagine who would be calling on him this late at night. Not Clarissa, not after he’d all but dismissed her earlier. Mrs. Trench would have retired, and Peter had gone to bed about an hour ago.

Edward cleared his throat. “Enter.”

The door swung open, and it was, of course, Miss Belmont. He felt like a fool for imagining that it could be anyone else.

Edward leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “What do you want?”

“Good evening to you too, Your Grace.”

“I hope you’re remembering your promise not to try and seduce me.”

Her eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. “Goodness, you have a high opinion of yourself. I can assure you that you are not in danger from me, not if you were the last man in the world.”

Edward did not have a response to that. It suddenly occurred to him that he was in his shirtsleeves, with his shirt undone to reveal a triangle of skin at his chest. Her gaze kept flicking downwards as if drawn by magnetism.

He cleared his throat, and her gaze jumped upwards.

“I suppose I look different when I don’t appear to have been soaking in a pond for a day or two,” she said, holding out her arms.

“You do look drier,” he heard himself say.

She was wearing a pale green gown, obviously one of Clarissa’s on account of it being far too long for her. The hem trailed on the ground, and the sleeves all but covered her hands. It was loose and should have looked like a sack on her.

That was probably why Clarissa had chosen it. Even now, she liked to be the most beautiful woman in the room.

And yet, somehow, Miss Belmont looked…

Well, he couldn’t explain how she looked.

Good enough to eat.

He was not sure where that thought had come from and recoiled ever so slightly from it.

“Come, Miss Belmont,” he said sharply. “Tell me why you are here, at once.”

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