Page 32 of Disguised Desires of a Scarred Duke
The duke sat on the stone bench in the neighbourhood park for more than an hour before he gave up.
Something must have happened to prevent Eleanor from meeting him tonight. But it wasn’t like her not to send a note, so William was worried.
Should I stop by her home and make sure she’s alright?
In other circumstances, that’s exactly what he would do. But pretending to be an estate agent gave him less consideration at the door of an earl’s daughter. Plus, Lady Whitfield had made her feelings about him clear without saying a word.
She did not approve of Anthony Black as a match for her eldest. And, based on his experiences with Lady Whitfield thus far, he couldn’t blame her.
Their introduction at the soiree had been less than pleasant. His showing up with flowers at their home without an invitation was damn near socially unacceptable to a woman like that.
Not to mention that Eleanor’s stepmother wasn’t even aware of the handful of other outings they enjoyed together over the past few weeks.
Then there was the frightening scarring on his face. It was a challenging detail for any future mother-in-law to become comfortable with, he was certain.
“Bloody hell.Did I just refer to Lady Whitfield as my future mother-in-law? Edward Montrose, you are a terrible influence!” William said out loud as he stomped out of the park and headed for home.
He thought about his romantic friend and how Edward was already imagining his proposal to Miss Regina someday. However, proposals were not likely part of William’s future, even if he were marriage inclined. There were too many opposing forces at play in his world to add the responsibility of a wife to it.
Yet if he were the kind of gentleman who could offer his Elle the sort of stable life she deserved, he would meet her at the church tomorrow with as many roses as he could carry.
Or maybe they would marry in that little park where they first kissed by the lilac tree, with petals floating through the breeze.
Then, he could finally undress her on their wedding night to consummate their union with all the carnal lust he’d been holding back day after day after day.
William stopped suddenly in the middle of crossing the street, then pulled his hat off his head and threw it to the ground.
Goddamn you, Montrose! You have me visualizing petal-filled wedding days!
The duke sighed and chuckled. Then his laugh became full and hearty as he retrieved his top hat and moved on.
There were far worse things to fantasize about then asking Eleanor Whitfield to be his wife. And nobody needed to know that thoughts such as these now entered his head on a daily basis.
It was just a fantasy, after all. And it was only on his mind tonight because Elle’s whereabouts were unknown at present.
William went out of his way to walk past the Whitfield townhome and wished he knew which window belonged to Eleanor’s bedroom. If ever there was a time he’d been tempted to throw pebbles at the glass, it was tonight. But he didn’t want to risk people seeing him lurking in the shadows, so he walked on.
Later that evening, Edward’s thundering footsteps awakened the duke from an unintentional nap in the drawing room. His friend was shouting gibberish, or so it sounded to his ears as he slowly came out of the foggy haze of deep slumber.
“... and then she fainted before God and country! Your Grace, can you hear me?”
William shook his head and wiped his eyes. “What are you going on about, Montrose? Who fainted?”
“Lady Eleanor!”
The duke snapped to life and bolted out of his chair. “Eleanor? Where? Is she sick? What happened!”
Edward tried to catch his breath as he described what he saw at the opera house. “I was helping Mother into the carriage when I saw Mr Phillips kneel in front of Miss Whitfield and ask her hand in marriage. It happened so quickly I could barely believe my eyes. Her back was to me, so I don’t know if she replied to him.
All I know is that within seconds, she fainted into the arms of her cousin, the Earl of St Coeur. I tried to get to her, but the crowd had already surrounded them. I’m … I’m not sure what happened next, Will. All I know is that her cousin was tending to her when we left.”
William scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to control his fury and fear, but that volatile mix of emotions was too much to contain. He grabbed the bronze goat head paperweight off his desk and flung it into the fireplace with all his might. Sparks and charred bits of wood spewed into the room and immediately set the corner of the woven floor rug ablaze.
The duke leapt with panther-like speed towards the rouge flames and managed to snuff them out with his boots before they spread.
Edward came up behind him and poured a pitcher of water over the smoking portion of the rug. Then, both men collapsed into the pair of lounge chairs resting on opposite sides of the fireplace.
“Why was Eleanor at the opera with Mr Phillips? I don’t understand. She was supposed to be with me.”
