Page 4 of Duke of Iron
“And you seem to prefer those, do you not?” he teased.
“You are an insufferable man!” She grabbed the small cushion beside her and tossed it at him.
He caught it easily. “You certainly are a harpy this evening!”
“Perhaps you deserve it?” she raised her brows as she looked at him… or rather, at his figure.
“This is the thanks I get for rescuing you?”
She groaned, rubbing her temples. “I know what you’re thinking. That I should have worn the spectacles. That if I had onlylistened to the doctor, I wouldn’t have made an utter joke of myself.”
“That would have helped,” he said. “But mistakes are made. I hope you’ve learned something tonight.”
She narrowed her eyes in the dark. “You are not supposed to agree with me.”
“You need me to be objective. That’s precisely what I’m doing.”
She exhaled sharply and leaned her head against the cushion. “I’m a failure. That’s what I’ve learned. Mama will have a migraine by morning, I am certain. She may faint before breakfast just to get a head start on the drama.”
“I am sure she won’t blame you entirely.”
“But thetonwill! Heaven knows what Lord Mortcombe thinks of me after I stepped all over his toes.”
August chuckled. “He will forgive you. We gentlemen know when fair ladies are not to be blamed.”
From across the dark interior came the sound of his rifling through her reticule. Then he produced her spectacles. She only recognized them because the lamps outside made the wire glint.
He held them toward her. “Wear them. Save yourself from future calamities.”
“You are laughing at me,” she complained when she saw his teeth flash.
“Because you’re making it dreadfully easy.”
He turned the spectacles over in his hands, inspecting them. “Good Lord, these have suffered. Are they always like this? Or did they meet with some catastrophe before the dancing began?”
May’s mouth dropped open. “How dare you mock my spectacles when you know what a sore thing they are for me?” she dragged herself upright, snatching another pillow beside her, ready to toss it at him.
He tilted his head. “Mock? Never. Actually, I thought they made you look rather fetching.”
She blinked. Once. Twice. “You… what?”
“Fetching,” he said again. “Beguiling, actually.”
She stared through the murky darkness. Her fingers curled tightly around the cushion. There was something off in his tone. Something wrong. And his voice sounded a touch too deep and too low.
“August? What did you just say?”
“The spectacles may cover your eyes,” he said slowly, “but they draw attention to your lips.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.That is not August’s voice… or words.
“Give me the spectacles,” she said, reaching out with a shaking hand.
He placed them in her palm. “I did advise you to wear them.”
She fumbled with the frame, nearly blinding herself in the process. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted them over her ears and finally—finally—saw clearly.
Her breath caught.
