Page 52 of His Arranged Duchess
And all the while, her husband dear
Engages in behaviors queer.
I think it is not very long
Perhaps not e’en beyond this song
Till Lady P., her patience sparse,
Kicks her husband up the arse.”
There were squeals of laughter at this, and Frances let out a hoot of surprised laughter, clapping her hand over her mouth.
“It’s about Lady Ponshure!” she whispered. “She’s so quiet and dignified, but everybody knows that her wretched new husband is…”
“Yes, yes,” Lucien chuckled. “You’ll hear a good deal of poetry that would suit a gossip column. Well? What do you think? Do you like the place?”
“I adore it,” Frances said, laughing in disbelief. “It’s fascinating. I want to meet everybody. I only wish it wasn’t so hot down here, I can scarcely breathe.”
“It does get warm,” he admitted. “There is a poetry competition, you know. You could enter it and maybe recite one of your own.”
She shook her head. “I can’t write poetry. I write stories. I just began a new one, actually.”
He shot a quick, calculating glance down at her. “Oh? May I read it?”
She flushed, thinking of the lines she had written only last night, and how Timon had suddenly becomeLucien.
“Not yet. It isn’t ready to be read.”
He held her gaze for a moment, eyes flickering as if looking for something there. Then he nodded.
“Of course. Perhaps when it’s finished, I might take a look at it?”
“Perhaps.”
“What’s it about?”
She hesitated, a lie coming quickly to the tip of her tongue. She could answer vaguely, and he might not press the issue.
The truth, however, seemed to burn,longingto be spoken.
“It’s about you,” she admitted at last.
Lucien’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?”
“Yes. You, and your…” she paused, licking her lips. “Your punishment last night.”
He stared down at her for what seemed like an eternity, entirely frozen. it struck Frances that at last she’d managed to properly shock him.
Then he recovered, giving himself a small shake. He removed his arm from her waist, taking her hand instead.
“You said you were too warm, did you not?” he murmured, his voice low and heavy, full of promises that made Frances shiver. “Let us find you some fresh air.”
CHAPTER 18
Frances’s heart thudded against the inside of her ribcage. Lucien’s fingers were cool around hers, gently leading her through the crush of people towards the edge of the room. For the first time, she noticed a large alcove near the back, ringed with old Grecian pillars. It was the sort of place one might see on a folly, set at the top of a hill and half-forgotten. It was odd seeing it here, in the strange underground cavern.
Lucien seemed to know exactly where he was going. He led her into the forest of pillars, leaving the light behind. She could still hear the poetry recitation, however. Miss Sampson was reciting again, her words echoing around the room. Frances didn’t recognize this poem, but found she didn’t care.
