Page 11 of The Duke's Improper Bride
It didn’t escape Nora that very few women followed her mother’s guidelines—her mother included.
Nora’s father was already cozy with the rest of the gentlemen in the sitting room, discussing hunting as brandies were poured by the footmen. The ladies held their own by the piano, catching up on gossip before the subject turned to Nora’s upcoming wedding.
They carried on as if Nora were a ghost, discussing her and her future without drawing her into the conversation. Instead Nora lingered in the doorway, hidden in the shadows of the dark-paneled hall surrounded by people yet beyond reach.
What would happen if she left? Who would miss her?
No one.
But that wasn’t what upset her. No, it was more that she wouldn’t miss anyone either. Nora spent most of her twenty-two years being complacent enough to make others comfortable. In doing so, it was not others forcing her into the corners of ballrooms, but herself.
It was a lie to say she enjoyed her own company best. Nora had grown lonely, so incredibly lonely. Soon she would be Stuart’s wife, but she would still be invisible.
She hedged backward, ready to retreat when she collided against something. Nora jumped, startled, then turned to discover the fine buttons of Mr. Barnes’s evening suit. With a slow sweeping gaze, her eyes met his.
What welcoming green eyes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
What a warm, welcoming voice. And oh so dangerous.
She shook her head, unable to step away. He was solid against her, the smell of oil paint still clinging to him even though he had cleaned himself up for the dinner. The stubble along his chin had been shaven.
He inhaled, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Nora gawked. That was so completely naughty. She skirted around him, her body suddenly too warm. Best to leave before she lost her head altogether.
“Thank you,” he said behind her.
Nora paused, looking over her shoulder as he faced her, the rest of the party carrying on behind them both.
“For last week. For sitting with me. I wasn’t the best company, and it was kind of you to stay behind, especially given our first meeting.”
She went to reach for her notepad, then stopped. What would he say if she spoke? But nerves clawed at her once again. She flashed a small smile before retreating down the hallway in search of the library.
Mrs. White’s house had served as a sanctuary to Nora over the years, especially the library. But when she pushed through the door, a chill ran up her spine.
Stuart sat on the leather sofa by the fire, his shirt unbuttoned, and Maeve was straddling his lap. His hand was beneath her skirts.
A noise escaped Nora’s mouth—a squeak, completely undignified in every way as the blood drained from her face. Her hands and feet tingled before Stuart caught sight of her standing there.
His features cooled, and it was as though winter suddenly settled into the library. Nora herself was shivering.
“Maeve,” he said, tugging her sister up from kissing his neck. “Sit up, will you? And then return to dinner before anyone questions where you were.”
Nora balled her fists. Slowly, her sister untangled herself from Stuart and smoothed her hair before she met Nora’s stare. Her face blanched.
“I… Please, don’t be angry, Nora. It was a mistake.”
Behind her, Stuart snorted. “Hard to believe you accidentally fell on my—”
“E-e-enough,” Nora said, her own voice frightening her. “Maeve, l-le-leave us.”
Maeve hastily wiped at her face and smoothed her hair. She strode out of the room, shutting the library door behind her.
“We’re to be ma-married, Stu-u-art.”
She was dying, surely. Nora wanted the floor to break open and eat her, she wanted to sink into the darkness. Anything to not feel her body waver under Stuart’s knowing snicker.
