Page 88 of Never Dare a Duke
He smiled at her, really saw her, and she realized he must never have shared this part of himself before, not even with his family. She felt closer to him than she’d ever imagined feeling to a man, and for a moment, she had the frightening thought that she could fall in love with him if she let herself. She chased that thought away.
“And then?” she prodded. “You wrote them down?”
“If only to make them go away. But the writing itself began to intrigue me. The characters could do whatever I wanted them to, behave as I wished.”
“Perhaps they could have the emotions you kept denying yourself.”
He shot a surprised glance at her, suddenly wary.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” she hastily said.
“No, no, I…see what you mean. It’s an interesting speculation.”
“But not one you’re ready to agree with.”
“Exactly.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve already said the rest. I began to have dreams that my play was worth being performed, and, using a pseudonym, I sent it out to various acting companies. I wanted people to enjoy what I’d created, just like I had enjoyed the works of others. I wanted to improve the reputation of theaters that showed more melodrama and farce than Shakespeare.”
“And now your dream is about to come true. Why haven’t you been able to finish the play?”
He touched a finger to her nose. “Someone seems to be distracting me.”
“Me?” she gasped, trying to push away in indignation.
He caught her back in a hard embrace. “I am teasing. My dilemma with the plot began long before I met you. I came here to write in peace, only to discover a house party orchestrated without my knowledge to help me choose a wife.”
“What a good transition to my next question. What is going on with Miss Preston, your newest guest? Elizabeth told me she wanted to marry you, and you refused. Seems opposite the traditional way of proposing.”
He sighed and didn’t meet her eyes. “You have it all,” he said.
She heard the distance in his voice, and knew this touched too closely to the other secret he’d kept his whole life. “You still have my help, you know. I can keep you distracted from her.”
“Oh, you’re keeping me distracted. But don’t worry about Madeleine. She’s already gone.”
He caressed the side of her breast, and she was amazed at how quickly her mind sank back into remembered pleasure. He rolled her onto her back, and she stopped him from kissing her with a hand on his chest.
“Chris, about your play—let your hero live. Let him triumph. I’ve reviewed too many depressing or unbelievable plays.”
“But it’s often real for life to be a tragedy, isn’t it?” he asked softly. “We can’t all have what we want.”
She whispered, “I think you’ve learned that lesson too often.”
They looked into each other’s eyes, and Abigail knew that their time together would be too fleeting. Even if he offered to keep her as a mistress, she wouldn’t do it. She could not shame her family—or herself—like that.
So she reached up and enfolded him in her embrace, living for the moment, enjoying their intimacy and mutual pleasure, because it was all they would have.
After Christopher escorted Abigail back to her room, he found he couldn’t sleep. He thought about the ancient manuscript, even read a couple pages carefully. It seemed to be a comedy, which was ironic. The ghost—if there was one—was surely part of a tragedy.
He thought he would feel uneasy now that Abigail knew that he was a secret playwright, but it paled in comparison to the whole world knowing about the indiscretions of his youth. He hated feeling so little in control. He couldn’t let Madeleine and the article stop him from enjoying the success he’d achieved in his life.
Or he’d end up like the ghost, so unhappy that he couldn’t rest.
Chapter 22
When Abigail awoke in the morning, she was pleasantly achy with sated passion. She bathed and dressed in a fog, remembering Christopher’s kindness, his gentleness, the way he focused on making her happy.
And he’d called her “my love.”
At the time, she hadn’t thought about the endearment, but later it had kept her from falling asleep easily, and now she could not stop thinking of it.
