Page 6 of The Wallflower and the Duke
She grimaced as he helped to haul her to her feet. She sprang forward, nearly colliding with him, and without thinking, he reached behind her and steadied her with his free hand at her waist.
“Hello, Alfie,” she said, blinking up at him.
Deep brown eyes, dark and full of mysteries. They were hard to miss when she wore her favorite color—peacock teal.
He might have been in hell since they last saw each other but hearing her voice? Smelling her perfume? After she left, he would be a man punished all over again. He was holding the one woman in England his parents had forbidden him to court.
The only woman he had ever loved.
“Hello, Marjorie.” He was careful not to smile, or maybe he was too distracted. He couldn’t help but fall into her kind eyes then, wishing to kiss her.
Christ, how he had dreamt of it all these years.
Instead, she broke out of her reverie and laughed, shaking her head from side to side before stepping out of his touch.
“I forgot I’m mad at you.”
“How? I haven’t seen you.”
“Precisely.” She clasped her hands behind her back and turned to survey his room. “The butler told me you aren’t accepting visitors. When I pressed, he admitted you haven’t left your rooms.”
Well, that would be a discussion for later.
“Did you know my mother was away? Or have you grown brave?”
She scoffed, sitting down on the chaise drenched in morning sunshine. “I’m not afraid of your mother.”
He snickered at her eye roll. They both knew she was terrified of the formidable duchess. The woman had made it her mission in life to keep Alfie away from Marjorie once she discovered their budding friendship.
No Merryweather will ever become duchess, she had coldly declared.
But Alfie was duke now, and if he could find it within himself to leave these damn rooms, he might have a word or two with his mother regarding who he could or could not marry.
Alfie shuffled forward and grabbed the teapot off the silver tray resting on the brocade ottoman. He poured her a cup of tea and added a pinch of sugar, just like she preferred, and handed it to Marjorie.
The light washed over her, and he noticed her eyes were swollen.
“Have you been crying?”
“Are you going to continue ignoring my questions?”
“What questions?”
She looked down at her teacup as if to hide the smile at the corner of her lips. He loved these small moments between them, the ones suggesting there was a private jest between them. A shared intimacy.
He didn’t want her here. Not really. Definitely not when he was out of sorts.
“Why are you here?” he asked instead of answering. “In my rooms, alone. That is risky, even for you.”
“Don’t send me away. I need your help, Alfie.”
CHAPTER 2
He made her a cup of tea without asking how she would like it. He just knew.
It made her chest ache all the same as he stepped in front of her, blocking the morning light as he stared down at her.
“I don’t know where to begin.”
