Page 42 of Disguised Desires of a Scarred Duke
Safely inside, with the biggest secret of her life intact, Eleanor washed her face in the basin and combed out her hair.
When another loud knocking on her own door made her jump, she fell into giggles again, thinking Anthony had come back for more.
But it was Lucy this time. Her eyebrows pinched together, and she wrung her hands.
“Oh, Eleanor! It’s terrible! One of the guests is missing a valuable brooch, and Lord Charter has just discovered that an heirloom ring from his father is missing. I don’t know what to do!”
Chapter 17
William awoke the next morning still feeling top-heavy from his drinks with Edward but happier than he’d been in years.
He rolled over, pulled one of the pillows into his bare chest, and basked in the memory of making love to Eleanor. Her intoxicating scent was still in his bed linens. The way she made his body come to life was still fresh in his mind as his sex stiffened with the heat of desire again.
But William’s arousal quickly diminished again at the memory of Elle whispering his middle name during their passionate embrace.
“Anthony, Anthony, Anthony!”
He groaned and clutched his pounding head. Eleanor had given herself to a man that didn’t exist.
He’d almost told her the truth last night but had been easily diverted from the story of his identity to the night his face was horribly scarred. A night that he was now certain he’d survived so that he could love this woman someday.
His Elle.She had wooed him to the point of no return.
William loved Eleanor so much that he rolled over to his other side and felt his gut wretch. It was the discomfort of loving a woman through a mask of lies.
He would have to tell her the truth immediately and hope that she would understand his reasons for creating another identity. He’d simply dreaded the visit home and wanted to remain anonymous for as long as possible.
Besides, the duke had never meant to fall in love. William was supposed to reconcile his father’s finances and then disappear again, undetected and still blissfully detached from London society.
But now, all that had changed in the blink of an eye. The Duke of Ashbourn, William St Clair, was out in London society as an estate agent, Anthony Black. It’s a damn miracle his mother hadn’t discovered it yet for all his appearances at balls and extended events like the house party.
Yet how William would ever overcome the lies he’d told society was the least of his worries. What mattered most was the lie he lived with Eleanor. And whether she would forgive him and embrace him as part of her future once she learned the truth.
The only reason to stay in England indefinitely was for her. If she refused him, he would disappear again and never come back.
But he would then always be a man who’d lost the woman he loved. William rolled over again and threw the pillows across the room.
If I cannot love Eleanor, will I ever find reason to enjoy life again? Has she ruined me for all other pursuits without her?
…
Breakfast service was a grand buffet in the conservatory, with many round tables placed among the plants. Late morning sunshine filtered through the windows as Edward and William filled their porcelain plates with eggs, ham, and pastries.
When the duke turned to walk to their table, his plate clinked with the one held by Cecil Phillips.
“My apologies. We seem to be blocking each other’s path, Mr Black. Or were you just blocking mine yet again?”
Cecil sneered at William, then stepped aside and made his way towards the food line.
“Don’t even think about it, Your Grace. That man is a problem best solved in private. When our heads are clear,” Edward said under his breath.
“You’re right, my friend. But solve that problem, I shall. As soon as possible.”
Once seated with their meal, the two friends ate with gusto before they continued their conversation with more tea.
William scanned the room for what felt like the tenth time, but there were no signs of Eleanor or Regina yet. He hoped Elle had got safely back to her room last night. He began to worry when not even the Earl of St Coeur had appeared for breakfast yet.
“Tell me, Captain. Was I as blissfully altered last night as my aching body is indicating today? I remember dancing with Regina, then sharing port with her cousin and some other gentlemen. Then there’s a fuzzy vision at the back of my brain of singing folksongs with you in the garden at an ungodly hour. Do tell. Was that an accurate account of my evening? Because I may never fully recall it!”
