Page 14 of His Arranged Duchess
“And I want a sweet treat every day.”
That seemed to take Lucien by surprise. He blinked up at her, bewildered.
“What? A what? Is that some sort of euphemism?”
Color rushed to Frances’s cheeks. “It certainly isnot! No, I like sweet things! Pastries, cakes, jam tarts, and things like that. Mama always laughs at me and says that I have a real sweet tooth, and I suppose that I do. So, I would like a sweet treat every day.”
Lucien’s mouth worked, as if he were fighting back a smile. “Aren’t you afraid of getting plump?”
She threw a scornful glance at him. “You would beamazed, your Grace, at how infrequently such a thing crosses my mind.”
He gave a snort of laughter and rose to his feet, shaking his head.
“Goodness. Now, Gray’s wife, Joan, is coming to show you to your rooms, I believe, and Gray will soon bring tea. You can rest here and go to bed when you like.”
He turned to leave, but Frances sprang to her feet.
“Wait!”
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Hm?”
She flushed. “Can you show me to the library first, please?”
Cecilia threw herself down on the couch, flinging an arm across her eyes. “I beseech thee, milord, leave me be!”
Lord Malevonte dropped to his knees beside her couch, hands outstretched. Auburn locks fell across his forehead, shading forest-green eyes. In that instant, he reminded Cecilia of nothing so much as a fox, stepping delicately and cunningly through a forest.
“Let me speak of this only once, my darling,” he whispered. “Just once, then thou canst leave if it is thy wish. I love you. I adore you. I burn for you. ‘Tis an ache, and I believe with all my heart that thou feels this ache just as keenly as I. I would give my lands, my castle, and my very soul for one sweet kiss. Nay, even for one look of forgiveness for what I have done.”
He edged closer, reaching out until his fingertips brushed the soft skin at Cecilia’s throat, slipping downwards towards the unlaced front of her chemise….
“There you are, your Grace!”
Frances nearly leaped out of her skin, slamming the book closed.
“What? Who is it?”
“Only me, Your Grace. Only Joan.”
An old woman stood in the doorway, illuminated by a candle, and grinned up at Frances.
The library was a vast thing, spread over several floors, going up and up into the tower. Frances had stayed on the first floor, a round room full of bookshelves and plenty of boxes of books.
A stone spiral staircase led up to the second floor, but Frances had decided that she would tackle that in the daylight. Besides, in the boxes of books already open, she’d found a stack of novels, includingCecilia’s Trials. She’d opened it and begun to read,almost without thinking. At first, she’d been so shocked to see the title in the duke’s library, too shocked to even pick it up. What was a man like the duke doing withCecilia’s Trialsin his library?
Then she decided that perhaps the books had been bought wholesale, or perhaps this particular copy had been left by a guest and subsequently placed in the library as a matter of course. Certainly, the Duke of Blackstone wouldnotbe reading a book of this calibre.
The woman—Joan--trudged forward, and Frances guiltily slipped the book under the edge of her skirt.
“Forgive me, your Grace, but I thought you might want to go up to bed now? Would you like a bath prepared?”
“No, thank you, I think I’ll just go to bed. Are there… is there a nightgown I can use?” Frances asked a little bashfully.
Joan smiled, nodding. “Of course. We’ve got linens and all sorts, your Grace, you’ll be well cared for, and when your trunk gets here in the morning, we can go through it and see whether you need to buy new things or not. His Grace says that you’re to have all the money you need.”
“I should hope so,” Frances muttered. “It ismymoney.”
“What was that, Your Grace?”
