Page 52 of Never Dare a Duke
He left the dance as quietly as possible. His first thought was that she’d gone to her own room, but he didn’t believe it. He remembered her face when he’d mentioned a disguise. She was here under false pretenses, he already knew that. So what would she be trying to accomplish tonight, when everyone else was occupied? Certainly not ghost hunting.
The house was too big to search randomly. And he couldn’t believe she would be in any of the public rooms, or else she could simply have remained in the drawing room. So that left rooms she wasn’t supposed to be in.
And then he knew where she’d gone.
In awe, Abigail thought that the duke’s bedroom was sumptuous—all dark wood with maroon curtains and counterpanes. To her surprise, one wall was comprised of bookshelves. Of course, the library was far away, she thought with the threat of a nervous giggle.
The fireplace was massive, with an intricately sculpted mantel. And the bed—huge bedposts held up a canopy draped in velvet bed curtains. She thought of lying on that bed with Madingley, letting him finish what they’d started this afternoon…and felt like a fool. That was never going to happen. She was at Madingley Court for one purpose—to get to know the duke and his past, but not intimately.
She went to his writing desk first and found herself hesitating. How could she go through his private things? She told herself she wasn’t a thief, but she was trying to take a part of his life, wasn’t she? Her hands were shaking as she opened the top drawer, only to find writing supplies. A lot of them, more quills than a man could possibly use.
She didn’t want to do something so invasive to a man she’d come to appreciate. She liked him too much, from his sense of humor, to his sense of honor, to his acceptance of his responsibilities as head of the family. He tried to take good care of them, to be the best son, the best brother. And if that made him too overbearing, too in control, then he was to be pitied.
It was so obvious how hard he’d worked to achieve what he had. She wouldn’t be tearing that down. She would make it obvious that he’d come a long way from…whatever the secret was.
And he was the one who’d committed the deed. She had done nothing wrong, and yet she was about to lose her freedom if she had to marry, her future, if she could no longer write for the paper.
Gritting her teeth, she opened the next drawer and the next. She found an account book, and although she only glanced inside to make sure what it was, she gasped aloud at the sums involved. She felt…dirty, and quickly put the book away. She didn’t find anything that resembled a notebook at all, although, in the bottom drawer, she did find a sheaf of paper bound with a ribbon. She was just about to take it out when she heard something in the corridor that sounded like footsteps.
Oh God.She swiftly closed the drawer, grabbed up her gloves, and turned toward the draperies.
“Abigail.”
She froze. Very slowly, she turned toward the duke, trying not to twist the gloves in her hand. Wiping away all expression, she raised her eyes to his angry face and waited. She would take her clue from his response.
And he was more than angry; he was livid. His dark eyes blazed with it beneath lowered brows.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded harshly.
He caught her by the arms and she let him, knowing she deserved it. And then inspiration struck, although it was a dangerous one. Softly she murmured, “I’m waiting for you.”
He pulled her closer, up against the heat of his body. She could feel the passion of his fury overwhelm her…but she could also feel her own traitorous reaction to his touch. She wasn’t afraid of him; she thought she knew him well enough to know he would never physically hurt her. He could send her away, perhaps even humiliate her, but she had to take the risk.
She let her memory of his kiss show on her face, so close to the surface that she could almost taste it—taste him—again.
And something in his expression changed, growing harsher, but not with fury. There was a struggle inside him, and she knew suddenly, powerfully, that he really was susceptible to her, that he wasn’t just toying with her. She felt at once ebullient, then deeply afraid, for she knew she felt the same way.
“I am not trying to change our arrangement,” she quickly said. And although he still gripped her upper arms, she let her hands touch his waist beneath his black evening coat, then slowly began to slide them up his chest. “But that kiss we shared made me realize how little I know about men. It probably was very obvious to you that you’re the first man I’ve ever kissed. I thought that since we had to be together, and I was helping you, that perhaps you could help me, so that when I found the perfect man, I would know what to do, how to begin.”
His hot gaze dropped to her mouth, his hands pulled her closer. Now her breasts touched his chest, and she found a sigh of relief and expectation slipping between her lips. Good lord, he could make her feel such wonders with just a touch.
But inside he must be fighting a battle, for although he drew her flush against him, pulled her right up onto her toes, he didn’t kiss her.
“I have a friend who knows all of Society,” he said mockingly. “She has never heard of your family. Even your accent doesn’t speak of the northern part of the country.”
She blinked at him, hiding her vulnerability. He was already suspicious enough to look into her family. How much longer could she keep this up? And yet she had not discovered the truth of his past.
She tried to smile. “And it bothers you that my family is reclusive? I already told you that they never come to London. Even the city of Durham itself is too populous for them. And forgive me if my governess insisted I speak proper English.”
She could almost see his brain trying to work. Was she supposed to rub herself against him to distract him? But that might work too well. She didn’t want to find herself beneath him on that big bed, seduced and compromised.
But the thought of his long body covering hers—
“I think you have a hidden purpose here, Abigail.”
“I don’t.”
“I saw you talking to my tutor.”
